In Search of Missing Pieces

The problem with growing up too soon is that you miss some rites and passages that most people go through.
We are nearing the close of yet another year and time seems to fly—too fast.
It’s times like these when I wonder in retrospect “How did all these years pass me by? What have I been doing? What are the beautiful/ bittersweet memories that I have collected along the way?”

My existence seems too surreal...whenever I look back.

I can recollect my childhood years in the most of vivid colours. I can still hear my giggles of happiness, feel my hot tears of sadness, and remember all the places I have been to.

My adolescent years however are littered with many empty spaces. Like an incomplete jigsaw puzzle, there are pieces missing from the picture.

In the end, I became a young lady who could not identify with many of her peers.
I cannot understand the pain of a broken heart, the joys of sharing an expensive Sweden’s sundae on a limited allowance, the ecstasy of winning a netball tournament.
My teenage years were spent chasing Grade As for academic subjects. It mattered to everyone around me then. Parents, teachers, principals (who will give prep talks during level assembly) and classmates. It wasn’t difficult since that was all I am required to do. But it was awfully boring.

I remember wanting to join the netball team when I started Secondary One. To my chagrin, my mother felt that it would make me too tomboyish for my own good. Not to mention the amount of damage the sport would do for my young skin. I was informed that I should not get into a boy-girl relationship too, since I was too young to understand love and studies come first. Honestly, I wasn’t even interested in guys back then. I was more into collecting pretty hair accessories and stuff toys. (Yea, I am a late bloomer in this department)

And so, I joined some apparently geeky drama and debate society. Away from all sunny activities. Life was good for us in ELDDS. We need not train rigorously in the heat, do marching drills and engage in any form of masochistic activities. When I started stage acting I took to it like a fish to water. I love the idea of living out the lives of other people without suffering any of the repercussions their lifestyle brings. That’s one of the joys of acting. It’s a form of escapism.

In adulthood, I missed out on several other things. One of which is clubbing. No, I didn’t attend any bashes organized in university. I didn’t hang out with people who were club goers. Collectively, we hated loud music, tobacco smoke and the nightlife. So there you have it.

I have yet to step foot into a club.

I know nuts about Zouk or MoS (Ministry of Sound).

Heck, I can’t even drive there!!! Cos I am unfamiliar with the parking and the club locations.

Aileen told me that on free entry days, the queues are horrendous and there are people trying to gain entry by pulling a fast one—going under barricades and worming their way through. I hate queuing but I wouldn’t stoop this low.

Like all other things I am not inclined towards, I have this inertia to experience the club scene in Singapore. Country bumpkin? But reminding myself of crowds, smoke, and noise make me think twice before venturing out. Yet, I just have to see it for myself, am I not right? To understand others, to gain an insight into society, and heck! For the fun of it.

Now I am presented with a sweet deal. A special invitation. Free priority entry into MoS. Should I, should I not? Toss a coin? No, let the weather decide.