Woman On A Train.

On the train to Strasbourg, listening to Cold Play’s A Head Full of Dreams, hands waving wildly in the air. I feel joy underneath my skin and it makes me want to dance. I shared a jambon cru sandwich and apple juice with my companion, as we look forward to real hot Alsacien meal in approximately two hours’ time with our French friends.

I don’t know if It is the train travelling at high speed or perhaps it is Cold Play’s lyrics but i am feeling like everything is gonna be alright. As I leave behind the unpleasant news from home, at a velocity of 313km/hr.

A sky full of stars awaits…

Some journey, you cannot walk alone.

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Up or Out. 

I’ve stopped dreaming. I just do. Do all that I’ve been thinking of. Make it happen. I don’t want to play the “what-would-you-do-if-you-have-6-more-months-to-live”- game anymore. I don’t want to die a dreamer.


You will never be ready or ready enough. To make a leap you have to first jump. No amount of preparation will be sufficient. You can weigh all the pros and cons you and your friends can think of. But you will never advance, if you do not make the first step. Jump, and regret later. 

The thing is, there is no regret. Once you braved your fears and move from that stationary point you held on to so desperately, you will laugh at how unnecessary your hesitation was. There will be no looking back. I did it. Now your turn. 


Everyday we struggle between the sensitivity of art in front of our eyes and the conneries of the world. Parents, there is absolutely no way you can protect your children from materials you deemed inappropriate on TV or online. I encourage you to teach them to be open and discerning instead. I don’t have children hence you might say I have no right to talk about upbringing. Alors i was brought up in one of the worst circumstances myself. When I was 5-7 years old I even stayed with my grandma in a brothel because she ran the place. 

And content creators, if you don’t have any point of view, you are just a messenger conveying what everyone already knows. You are wasting our time. 


I don’t know why I am writing this. I just want to that’s all. Paris opens me up. Singapore, however your beauty is best appreciated from afar. And I still love you. From afar. #UpOrOut

New beginnings are blessings. They come from endings. Remember that.

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About Time.


It’s been exactly a month since I arrived in Paris. The initial overwhelming tirade of excitement has subsided, and I am left with a nagging sense of habitude, and hence, tranquility.

On my way to Monoprix, my thoughts were startled by a cheerful “Bonjour Sharon!” and I saw Vincent, hands full of groceries, beaming at me. Vincent runs a café which I frequent every morning, just because he makes the best Sharon’s café in the world, 3 shots of espresso, a dollop of crème, and a dash of familiarity. 


This is the quality of life I seeked, where you settle into a healthy routine, sans drama. Where you make friends with the boulangere, with the restaurant owner, and maybe your neighbour’s cat. You no longer rush to shop and to visit the crowded places-of-interest, but take your own sweet time to picnic at little charming gardens you chanced upon along the way. Nobody here knows me. I can do whatever I want. I can be comfortable with myself, my plain old unglamorous funny self.


I am alive again.

Sometimes, not saying anything at all says everything. I found the strength in keeping quiet at last. I am good to let things end.

Because Alexander Venheijer said, “when a flower doesn’t bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower”. So with the same courage I took to leave show business in 2005, I bid farewell again to a toxic relationship with a city, and packed my wounded heart, and my two luggages, for the second time.


It’s about time. It was good and I lived it. 

Now, your turn. 

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Make Your Own Mistakes 


90 mins in Fragments.

The waitress who served me, it is her first day at work today. Her earnestness is obvious. Like her, I am starting a new chapter in life too. And I can feel her heart beating as fast as mine. What a wonderful thing it is to be alive, healthy, working and supporting oneself.

I suppose she chose to work here because of the positive vibes. I chose to write here for the very same reason. I get to see Elie and I am inspired by the people who frequent here to share a fragment of their life.

I also had to leave my apartment because I did not want to get in the way of my cleaning lady. Safia is Moroccan and she seems kind and sweet. She is chatty. And I prefer to be quiet. As I just had an unpleasant cyber morning with some people at work.

Every other day, I find myself negotiating with you, your imprudence sense of entitlement never failed to shock me. I often unknowingly trapped myself in the abyss of such semantic-unpleasantness, unaware that the sooner I exit, the better it would be for my health, until it was too late. I guess I am simply too naïve. I thought you would want to learn the ways of the world, seeing that your generation is supposedly the more open, liberated one than mine. Now as my new policy I no longer want to negotiate with terr-ible people, ever. 

Frankly despite my encouragement, you were insipid when I needed you to be creative at work, and equally uninspiring over small talk. You only become truly alive and articulate when it came to demanding for terms and conditions. I strongly believe if you show the same amount of expectations towards your own performance over the next 10 years, I am confident you would get very far, way ahead in life than this. Do not, however, jeopardize your own paths with bad manners. Use your brains more, and your phones less.

Sometimes it’s stick, sometimes it’s carrot. I await to see you again, when you hit 40, 45, even 50 years of age. Let me know if you are still finding the perfect job.

The best solution in these situations is to go for a walk and see how beautiful the rest of the world is. We have to learn to surround ourselves with kind and positive people, and purge the petty ones. 

Watch word: Purge. 

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Bonjour Paris. 


I wake up in peace.

Strange thing to say I know, but alas, there are stranger things. I wake up to the silence of a Parisian morning in my petite apartment. I listen intently to the thoughts running through my mind. And I find none. I dived deeper in my consciousness into the subconscious. I start to recall last night’s dream in montage. There were scenes of farewells, and tears, and maybe anger. I dreamt they shut down my website, they removed my TVCs, they shut me up, they make me small.

And now I am awake, and it does not matter anymore. Dream or no dream. I am safe. I am big. I am unstoppable. 

I need nothing. My new life begins.

 

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Let’s Misbehave.

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The march towards liberation started three months ago. And the universe brought me back to the place where I first knew what passion was. Awakening, it is all about timing.

I went back in time, to Paris. Spirit soared. Love the vibes of the city, light and yet soulful. I took many walks, I hungered for her scent and her lumière.

There I found the inspiration to communicate and to connect. In a deeper way that is. Neither through captions on Instagram, nor via emoji-ranting on Facebook. I am motivated to write, for those of you who are reading this right now.

Some friends told me that my last post “The Art of (Not) Giving Up” was painfully moving. I am glad my words did something for you. The thing is, what one takes away from a piece of confession actually depends on your perspective in approaching the piece. The objective of said blog entry was to motivate people, who like me, found themselves involuntarily stuck in a moment. However it received some unfavourable feedback from certain quarters of my life, who felt I should be more discerning of what I air on my blog, even if it was a personal one.

I guess that was why I have not able to pen my thoughts since, for I was unsure of what might or might not be acceptable, anymore.

We all have our own battles to fight.

But today I’ll say, let us end the inner-struggle. For once in your life, let us go where the heart leads us. We face enough external conflicts everyday. Why then do we still want to fight with ourselves. It is simply not natural.

Don’t tell me what to do. I am tired of following rules. This is my blog. Hear me roar.


She sent me a poem she saw engraved on a park bench, an extrait from Gaston Miron’s La Marche À L’amour:
je marche à toi, je titube à toi, je meurs de toi
lentement je m’affale de tout mon long dans l’âme
je marche à toi, je titube à toi, je bois
à la gourde vide du sens de la vie
je n’attends pas à demain je t’attends
je n’attends pas la fin du monde je t’attends

Love, it is a grand experiment. One that lights up your heart in delight. One that aches your soul with longing. This is the art of waiting.

Choose pleasure, not hurt.

Make love, not hate.

Do not wait for tomorrow, wait for me.

Wait, and hope.

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The Art of (Not) Giving Up.

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My six-year scholarship bond with my company ended 11 days ago, on 31st March 2017. I looked back at the past six years with fond memories: of new found friendships, of self-discoveries, and of surprising achievements. There were several painful experiences, of course, but as with all wisdom of hindsight, I am now able to focus on the benefits of those unpleasant moments. I finally understand how it truly feels to run a marathon and see through it from start till the finishing line.

Now that it is over, I can finally admit how I almost surrendered, several times in fact, and was determined to break the bond. You will find the following account of my biggest meltdown, rather amusing, but I assure you that at those moments in time, it felt like the end of the world. And there was no way out, but to give up.

Breakdown #1/100:

2013, with slightly more than three years to the end of the bond. I drove to work in tears. I arrived, carried my two heavy bags, and instead of walking towards my office, I marched (tears streaming down my face) in the direction of our legal office. I knocked on the glass door of the Head of Legal, and sobbingly I said, ” I want to break my bond. Please calculate the penalty I need to pay please”.

Frankly if I were her I would have burst out laughing at this pitiful sight of an adult woman clutching on to her two seemingly overweight bags filled with documents, files, rubbish and a laptop, mascara streaks down her morning puffy face. I would have sent this baby to a doctor.

But she did not. She replied calmly, in a neutral tone, careful not to show too much concern, that she would check on the terms and conditions of my bond agreement and would get back to me within the day.

I thanked her, with the tiny bit of dignity left, and walked back towards my office, feeling even more wretched. I was really disappointed in myself for surrendering the white flag at the half-way mark. But I could no longer lie to myself that I was happy in a corporate environment. I am a free spirit, I should fly. Well, at least that was what I strongly believed in then.

Later in the day, I was told of the amount I was liable for breaking the bond. It was slightly around $600K. I immediately embarked on a quest to raise this sum. I was going to:

  1. Sell my studio apartment.
  2. Sell my car.
  3. Empty my savings.
  4. Take up a loan.

I would be left with nothing, only debts. But at least I would be free. Freedom is priceless.

It was a good plan.

It was a terrible plan.

What do you think? What would you do?

Well, you know what I did.

I walked shamefully into the legal office a second time, all my shreds of pride down the drain, and I apologized to the same Head of Legal for creating a scene that morning, and for wasting her time. “I don’t have the money to pay the bond. So sorry. I will continue to work till the bond ends”, I said, looking even more pathetic than ever.

I gave up twice in a day. First time, on my job. Second time on my gungho declaration to break free.

Epic failure, one would say.

Fast forward to current status. Bond is over. And I did not leave my company. I actually do enjoy chasing targets, building a team, having something to wake up for. I am proud that I have a job that gives me satisfaction in all its victories and defeats. Work is still (very) tough, but I am grateful for the many character-building opportunities I have been given. And all this, is priceless too.

It is ok to give up, you know? We are too hard on ourselves. A wise man told me that the usual “I must prove myself” pressure should no longer be that urgent at my age of 42. Moral of the story, things do get exponentially better. Allow yourself to be surprised. And once you’ve scaled a mountain, no one can take that away from you.

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