It is all about me

I am going to make a confession of selfishness.

I am happier in Singapore because I am indulging in my selfish desires. And I am only confessing it because I am feeling a little bit guilty.

My life is more of my own.

The main factor is time. How it comes to be that I have more time?

I no longer am obliged to visit grandma every weekend (sometimes twice a weekend).

I no longer feel obliged to have dinner with my family members (not that I don’t enjoy it, I just like not feeling the obligation).

I no longer work over weekends or reach home at 9pm. And still think about work.

My place is more of my own.

Even though I only rent a room, but thankfully from a very laid back Aussie.

I’ve never felt at home in my parent’s house. I don’t like the way the interior looks and feel. Now I am happy to lie on the sofa reading my book with only the sound of the pool and people playing tennis.

I never liked the kitchen at my parent’s house and how everything is placed. I never knew where they are and so I never cooked. Now I do. I even made konyaku jelly and chocolate pudding for my flatmates!

There is less noise pollution.

There is no mom and dad and sis taking turns to watch the TV which is turned on the whole day and night as a result, or sis playing Korean music all her waking hours at home, or sis’ mobile phone making a very annoying farting sound whenever she gets a text message, which is every minute. Her phone bill is higher than mine even though she doesn’t actually use it for making calls and I do.

In another word: peace.

It is all really selfish.

Grandma went into the hospital today to have a knee-surgery. I’ve called her two days in a row. But even so, the distance ‘helps’ me not be so involved. I don’t see her worry, I don’t hear my aunties complaining about taking care of her, and I don’t feel stressed by the easily agitated generation above me.

In other words: I no longer wish I could disappear or break-free all the time.

It is all very selfish.