Back From Bangkok

So I’m back from Bangkok, where its been an eventful trip, but otherwise absolutely boring shopping experience. My knee hurts like crazy and I’m having trouble walking properly cos we scoured three night markets over three nights, and spent the days wandering over all the departmental stores Bangkok has. We met a con team who tried to convince us to get into a taxi they hailed off the street to bring us to a store with big discounts, which my family almost went along till I pulled the plug on the guy. Can’t believe even my sis fell for it. Three people who consecutively walked up to us to “mention” how this store had great savings going on this weekend because of the Thai king celebrating his wedding anniversary. We had a disgruntled driver who tried to extort money from us cos of a cancelled appointment. We took a cab that felt as tho it was on a 500cc engine, yet somehow managed to maneuver its way through the traffic jam to plonk us at the heart of Chinatown.

Long rides on the cabs and bus also meant I had time on my hands to think abt myself. Abt my last entry, abt all my entries in fact. The plane ride wasn’t enough to cover a movie, so I didn’t want to be cut off before the show ends, so that meant more time to just sit and vegetate. And I was musing on something Paul said abt a common friend of ours. He said the problem with her is that she’s always second choice. That’s why she’s still single. That she’s not someone whom guys would fall all over to go after, but she’s someone else’s back-up plan. And while I protested that it wasn’t true then, I knew what he was getting at.

I knew, cos I’m like that too. There were days in the long long past when I knew girls in church had a crush on me, and there were friends outside whom I would have little problems asking out. Now the feeling I get is that most friends of mine would have something good to say abt me, but none would actually consider me as a “first choice”. At best I’m a back-up plan – if I’m ever in the equation, that is.

And that was a sucky realization to come to. Its not that I’m unwilling to grovel before the girl I’m crazy abt and beg her to take me in… Its just that I’d always have doubts abt the relationship knowing that it started as being so one-sided. I’ve been burnt once, and I guess its something I’ve learnt to avoid.

Another thing that was going through my mind was how I’ve watched three shows these past few days, where the funeral was a large part of it. And it left me wondering what sort of funeral would I have. I’ve written at least 3 eulogies abt my own life, as I pictured how it turned out and how it ended. But I started asking myself if there’s even gonna be someone who would end up doing my eulogy at all. Wondering how pple would remember me after I’m gone. I know I’ve done enough to be involved in many people’s lives to have them remember me, and for them to show up at my funeral. I guess except for my blog stalkers who otherwise don’t know me personally, I would expect almost all my readers here to actually show up, and to even mourn.

In the movies, the funerals ranged from big ones that involved a whole town, to a small one that basically was attended by the firm he worked at. Each one was a celebration where they told each other of the ways in which the person who passed away had been such a pillar of strength or support for him or her while alive, and it was a time to remember all the contributions he had made to their lives. I realized I’ve never been to such a funeral in my whole life. We remember the person as a friend, we pay our respects, then we sit down and we just play “catch-up” with each other. We shed a tear or two if its someone we know well, and we feel heavy-hearted because of the weight of sentiments that the reality thrust upon us – that we never got to know the person better, and spend more time with the person.

So it got me thinking abt what I’d have wanted for my funeral, beyond the ego trip it would have given me had I been able to witness the turnout. (Actually, mebbe its better that I won’t know. I might be absolutely crushed. Hehz…) Who would be there, why would they be there, what they would have said abt me, what they would have missed abt me… even the admission of the things that were irritating abt me. I’ve had a pretty polemic life, with friends’parents who adored me, and those that don’t trust me one bit. I’ve had friends who unexpectedly stuck by me through some really tough times, while I’ve had those who stuck a knife in my back when I least expected it. Friends who touched and shamed me with their concern when I had forgotten abt them, and friends whom I gave my all only for them to leave me hanging. I’ve had my moments when I’ve had girls who told me they liked me only for me to turn aside, and I’ve also been at the receiving end of the crushing realization that the girl I like doesn’t feel the same way abt me at all. I’ve received some really flattering compliments abt the things I’ve achieved, and also the ugly realizations of the even greater failures I’ve suffered in life.

I won’t say I’m someone who’s been through a lot in life since I know of so many who have so much less than me. I won’t say I’ve grown wiser from the things I went through because I know I failed to learn so many of the lessons. But I will say that I’ve already had more than enough memories to last me a lifetime. And I wonder how many of these will be shared memories after I’ve passed on and gone. How much of all these that mattered to me would mean anything to them, and how much of what meant a lot to them would have been all but forgotten by me.

And I guess its somehow so easy for me to get so raveled up in these thoughts of mine… musing and dreaming… reminiscing and recollecting… that I start to long for the day of my funeral… that I start looking forward to what lies ahead after I’ve passed away. Sadly, the greatest analogy for this to me would be the amusements I allow myself to harbor when I really like someone. I start to indulge in the hope that its possible. I indulge in the possible scenarios that would unfold. And I allow myself to start hoping so much that it hurts to not give it a try and tell her how I feel. And so the pain when I'm forced to admit to myself its always going to be one-sided, is only tempered by the relief that I never did actually tell her so.

That’s an experience that I’m well acquainted with. And its what makes me afraid my funeral would be one major let-down as well.

So there you have it. Death and love. Two things that I have absolutely no control over, but that leaves me very much fascinated with. Many people came up to me with the really crazy notion which I shall take as jest and being nice, that I should be a wedding planner. I would love to be one, actually, simply because I love weddings and what it stands for. After all, they say that those who can’t marry – plan. And the truth is, alongside that, I’d just as much like to be a funeral director… someone who helps people remember the life of a dearly beloved who has passed away, and to help them mourn when they don’t know how.

Ah well. There you go. Will post more abt Bangkok next time. Right now I can’t get these two thoughts out of my head.

And oh yes… one last thing.

Man Utd beat Liverpool 1-0. Last min goal by Ferdinand, of all people. Arsenal lost and Chelsea drew.

Yahoo.