Memories of 2010

Memories of 2010

With legs all tangled up in comfort, with one hand tracing the smooth contour of the hot mug of the detox tea I’m supposed to drink as part of my “Ultimate and Super Serious No Joke Diet Plan”, with sore muscles aching from the sudden stress as part of the said plan, with indecisive heart bursting alternatively between joy and sorrow and love and pain, here I begin writing an entry filled with promises and hope for a better year ahead.

2010 was by far the most turbulent year I’ve had in my life. A year that felt so fleeting and yet so eventful I cannot begin to recount the events that had transpired. In a nutshell, it was a year that I had lost love, found love, lost love, found love, and repeat cycle too many times that my heart got all confused from the complexity and intricacies of my life. The earlier part of the year was only six short months ago, and yet whatever memories I have of it are either extremely hazy or completely nonexistent. Memories from the later part of the year, however, are so strong and prominent that I wish I could chuck them further away so I don’t have to be reminded of the confusing phase I was in.

I think that is it, if there was one word to describe my 2010, it’ll be confusing. An utterly convoluted and confusing mess, but nevertheless a mess that I don’t regret because of the lessons derived from it. I wish so much that I can write down exactly what happened so this entry doesn’t have to sound this vague and ambiguous, but I can’t because I don’t even know where to begin.

Although this entry is titled Memories of 2010, I think I’m not going to recap how my 2010 had been. Not that it was an awful year because it DEFINITELY wasn’t, but 2010 was the past, and now I’m looking forward to building new memories of 2011 instead.


I started playing basketball for the first time in many many years this week. I did so mainly because I want to lose weight, not because I miss the game. Once I stepped on the court, however, I realized how much I’ve missed the sight of it all. How I’ve missed the texture of the ball in my hand and the feeling I get when I’m in control over the movement of the ball. How I’ve missed the victorious leapt in my heart whenever the ball slips effortlessly into the basket, the swift “woosh” and the sight of the net flipping up when the ball enters.

After a game with my long-time basketball coach and nemesis, we walked to the nearby sundry shop to get our usual 100 plus. The bells on the door chimed gently and the familiar smell of incense immediately escaped through the crack of the door. The same Indian shop owner I’ve known for nine years now greeted me with his usual lazy He~llo, before continuing whatever Bollywood show he was watching on TV. I grabbed a bottle of the best sports drink in the world, paid, and sat on the stoop outside gulping everything to the very last drop.

Everything reminded me so much of something that was such a routine for me for years and years when I was in high school. I realized then that no matter how long I’ve been out of sync with this once familiar part of my life, I will always return to it one day only to realize that everything is still going to be the same. From the sound of the bouncing ball, to the joy of entering an accurate shot, to the incensed-filled sundry shop, to the taste of 100 plus.

It was then that I knew, that however much I’ve changed in 2010, whatever crazy adventures I’ve been through, however much my circumstances have changed, there will always be small inconsequential parts of my life that will remain the same. And that’s why I will always, without a doubt, opt to come back home.


My mom has been trying to understand why I want to come back home after I graduate. Everyday, our daily conversations will be peppered with a sudden “By the way, this aunty says you should stay in the states when you graduate. Remember Aunty Mary? Her husband’s sister’s son’s teacher’s daughter’s friend used to be in the same school as you. She looks very wise. I think you should listen to her. Don’t understand why you want to come back and help this country”.

At this point, I’ve given up trying to tell her why I want to come back home. Truth is, I’d rather be a second-class citizen here in my own country (although I still don’t think I am), than to be a foreigner in another country. I know this country like the back of my hand, what makes the people tick, how things work, the temperaments and quirks only obtained after a lifetime spent here.

There are a million and one reasons why I want to come home and although I’ve talked to many people about staying on and I’ve given it a thought myself, the pros of coming back still outweigh the cons. I know I should work a few years overseas for the experience, and for the money, and then import the knowledge gained back if I want to help my country, blabla yeah that’s the ideal situation but what if I get suckered in later and can’t leave.

Pokoknya, I’m coming home whether everyone likes it or not.

(also, it’s impossible to get a job in the states now) (maybe I’m just too lazy to get one and trying to find the easy way out by coming home).

I’ve been writing bits and pieces of this entry for the past four days. Sorry if those bits don’t sound coherent at all!