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Tick-tock, tick-tock. I hear this pretty often. Everytime I slow down. Sorry to disappoint you, but that is not my biological clock ticking.

Not when I look at children and often think ‘Ew, monsters!’ I don’t hate children, and they generally like me, but they know not to mess around with me, so…bottomline is, I’m a scary witch. Hahaha! Anyway, I don’t know what clock that is, but I really hear this ticking sound.

Digression: There is really much to be said about my procrastination habit when I’m continuing this draft only more than 6 months later. A new year has come, dear self…( -_-;) Anyway, I don’t really remember since Vietnam seems like a long time ago. But I do know that I wanted to write about the security guards I saw at the airport. Maybe they weren’t security guards, but they were definitely airport staff. Skip the details! >< They were cycling beside the runway. I saw this single rider go past. Patrolling, or just transiting from one place to the next? Not sure, but he was cycling beside the runway. My eyes did widen a bit, because I find it inexplicably funny. Yes, I think I experienced culture shock. If I were a child, I would definitely wave to the man. As it was, I had to control that urge seriously because…well, I guess I’m still a child in some ways.

And like a child, I love the feeling of anticipation, love the exhilaration of being in the moment, and thrill at childish rewards like dashing into fountains on a hot day. Er…as long as the wind is not icy cold, make that any day.

But also like an adult, I care about others’ perceptions of me to a certain extent, and ponder over the consequences of my actions way too often.

And the clock continues to tick-tock along, amidst this internal conflict.

Looking back, I must have felt the thrill of a child at the anticipated reunions. One with an old, old friend. Another with a friend whom God or the fates threw in my path during one of the major turning points in my life. Or rather, we were thrown in each other’s paths to make us realise something about our lives as they were then.

There was also, undoubtedly, unease. That was the adult part of me coming in. Unease at who I would find at these reunions. Whether they have changed or not changed; I couldn’t decide which was better. The worry that we would no longer be able to converse easily with one another also plagued me.

Whether child or adult, ultimately problems are meant to be faced.
Whether child or adult, I detest running away as the last resort.

I guess some things never change.

Travel Log – Part II