Leaving Las Singapura

I'm leaving.

Just like that. No, it's been planned. For nearly all of my life actually. This is the moment. It's happening. I'll be at the airport with all my stuff, getting on the plane. Arriving in that land near yonder, all set for the rest of my life as I know it. Yes, I HAVE been waiting my whole life for this. And I tell myself I am all set.

Or am I?

The last few weeks have been crazy. Crazy when you look at all the decisions I have to make regarding what to take and what to leave behind. How complicated can it get? Well it all sounds really simple in theory. It's another thing to have to stare at all the stuff you've acquired all your life and realising that so much of is irrrelevant. I am leaving and yes, I can't possibly take all of THIS with me. Besides I really don't want to. In fact, what I really want to do is get rid of it all: my CDs, my old clothes from trends past, my magazines, my books. Oh dear. Look at where all that money's gone to. Look on the bright side, at least there isn't a wife and child in sight, or a terribly devalued automobile or "subsidised" government flat to crack your head open with.

Leaving for a new country is like dying.

Well, sorta. When you die, you can't even take your moisturiser with you. So really, what's the deal? Picture this: you're at heaven's gate and the angel says: "Check in your baggage over counter 3 over there. No sir, we mean your EMOTIONAL baggage sir." And then you realise that the iBook and iPod stays behind. Only possession allowed is iSoul. Remember my friend Amran/Ayden who checked out some time ago? Well I do, still. And I wonder. It's true isn't it? Real mobility is defined by NOT being bound by liabilities of possessions and real space is not having to deal with the clutter, tangible or no. Mister Tan and his realisations, oh dear.

What DOES one leave behind?

You don't have to leave for a new country like me to know what I am going through. I remember an old friend who was about to be married the very next day. I recall that night I was all hands at the Church helping with decorations with her relatives. Then I took off for a while only to find her kneeling by herself, in tears. I had never seen her cry before. As clueless as anyone else would in the presence of someone in tears, I didn't do a thing. This was her own moment and she was dealing it her way, with her prayers, her tears, her thoughts of what her life will become after tomorrow. She must be, in her own way, praying for the courage to accept what lies ahead and at the same time, making peace with all that she was leaving behind. Today, two lovely children and a home bound business later I wonder. Does she recall that night she cried? It's all going to work out. Really it must. If anything, this decision has forced me to keep that chin up and take the leap. Every kid has his first day of school and there is always the moment when mom stops feeding you because you're a big boy now and big boys know how to use the knife and fork on their own chicken cutlet. Same goes for knowing better this time the how's and what's of spending time, spending money and living.

For the longest time now, Las Singapura has been for me, just like a typical skyscraper in the CBD, with it's immaculate marble and granite walls and floors; miles of metallic trimmings, not to mention wide, sun control glass windows: and me, I am just a worker, like everyone else. And we're all working very hard in this building, like we have for most of our lives, competing, competing. But I'm over it. Mister Tan has left the building. So long, guys.