noellelynn writes

After years of shameless denial of my age, I am completely fine “admitting” my age of 32. Frankly, it’s not that damn old and I’m still kinda hot.

However, with 32 comes tremendous societal pressure to measure up assets to this age: Husband, child, mortgage. I have none of these items and frankly, I’m damn happy about it. Now, don’t get all antsy, your choices are your choices – don’t begrudge me mine. As I tend to go out with my more time-available single friends, this leads to typical single behaviour – which is clubbing like you’re 25 years old. Nothing wrong with that till you realise most of the men you meet are just that – 25 year olds.

In the beginning, I was shocked and near-repulsed at the idea of dating an exceedingly younger man. (Once you hit 30, anything under 30 is considered “exceedingly younger”). And one brilliant night, I simply thought, “Why the hell not?” And so I did. Between then and now, I’ve dated a mixture of both younger and older (read: 35 years old) men. And here are my meagre observations on why dating a younger guy just simply works out for me.

•  Fun

Sweet and simple – they’re fun. Not to say a 35 year old can’t be fun but it’s usually manufactured, almost forced and let’s face it, anyone in their 30’s is sleepy half the damn time (myself included). They have no qualms being goofs (which I am), they’re not always conscious of their surroundings, they laugh their asses off when I trip (which makes me feel better), they smoke (who needs to worry about lung cancer when you’re 25!) and just generally know how to have more fun. And unfair as this seems, a 30-something trying to act goofy usually comes off as immature.

• No Serious Conversations

On a first date with a 35 year old, it feels like a speed interview to get all the life details out as soon as possible to know what we’re dealing with and it’s usually always about relationships: Relationships with parents (good or bad?), when was the last relationship (when and how did it end?), do they date often now (track record?) and career plans (are they motivated?). It is literally, for me, the most dull 2 hours I can ever imagine spending, cocktails notwithstanding. And I automatically become like that too – once I’m on a date with a 30-something. I become the crazed information-seeking droid, where my brain is working double time to process the content to the ever-present question of “What does it all mean?”. Now, with a 20-something, all you do is Jagerbombs and laugh your ass off at the people sitting around you. Literally. That’s what happens. I don’t ask them about their life story, they don’t ask me mine. And none have ever asked for my age, till I bring it up. They don’t ask me if I like kids (I’m forced to admit I loathe them), if I ever want to get married (*choke*) or how to further my business plans.

• No Pressure

Oh, the pressure of dating a 30-something! It’s not just the 2 people who are involved that put the pressure on – it’s the peripheral people. Once my friends find out I’m dating a 30-something, hope fills their eyes and the common sentence of “Sounds promising!” is uttered. Why? Cos he’s the same age as I am? He could be a total asshole but that’s still “promising” simply because of the age factor. It’s like I have to assume he’s viable lifetime partnership material because we were born in the same decade. The pressure is palpable sometimes and I’m so focused on looking out for the “good signs” that I’m not even enjoying myself. Every move I make, or word I say has to be weighed and measured in case I give the wrong impression and blow it too soon. Who wants to live this this! Now, when you’re dating a 20-something, there’s no pressure – we both know it’s never going to work out and when you already know, what else is there to do but enjoy yourself?

• No Baggage

If you think the baggage women carry around is bad, trust me, man-bags are worse! I find women’s baggage (while more substantial) is usually open and out there. Men’s baggage is always shifty – you know it’s there but it’s dark – like those travel money pouches. You know the kind that fits in your pants and you have to surreptitiously lift it up to take out some cash… that’s male baggage. Most of the time, you have to dig for it and once you find it, you either wish you didn’t or wonder why you went looking for it in the first place. A 30-something would have had at least 2 serious relationships in his life and are almost always ready for the next one. No thank you, Sir… just this martini for me.

• Music

While I’m a child of the 90’s and all the good music from that era, I also love music from today. A shocking amount of 30-something men have no clue that music existed past Tears For Fears and I’m left alone with my enjoyment of today’s musical pleasures. And… this one is a whopping big point for me… no 20-something has ever told me that I watch too much tv. And 30-somethings do. To that, I give them a big “fuck you and fuck off”. Which leads me to the next point…

• No Judgement

The 30-something date will usually pass judgment upon me at some point during the evening. Either it’s about my choice to freelance, my right to watch a lot of tv, etc… There’s the inevitable “Don’t you…?” question. “Don’t you want to return to a full-time job?” “Don’t you ever want to get married?” “Don’t you think you watch too much TV?”. To the 20-something, I’m the coolest person around. I’ve made a big choice for my life and I’m living the 20-something dream.

Of course there are a plethora of points that don’t go in the 20-something’s favour, like money, experience, handling people etc… but I don’t fault them for these things. It comes with the 20-something territory. In the meantime, I just enjoy the ride. 🙂

(p.s. The photo of me featured in this post is courtesy of my 20-something youth)

It’s coming close to Singapore’s General Elections. To many Singaporeans, this means absolutely nothing. I live in a country where I have never voted before in my life. Never. Not once. This would not be surprising if I was 5 years old, but I am 32. I have watched countless other election races take place in the world, and we’ve discussed them – the most exciting of course being the election of Barack Obama as the first man of colour to be President of the United States. Of course what he’s done with that – is a different story. The point is that I’ve never had the opportunity to participate and partake of elections within my own country. And there are many like me as well. Oh don’t be so quick to yell “dictatorship” – you have to watch what you say in Singapore – while we’re not a litigious nation, you can be sued for defamation by the government quicker than double-checking the spelling of “defamation”. It’s this nature of government that has led to many opposition leaders being, either incarcerated or fined a hefty sum (which then, by Singapore law, prevent them for running for election). This was not in 1965 by the way, this was 2008. In protest to rising cost of living, an opposition leader and 18 other people stood in front of our Parliament House in red t-shirts and were arrested for doing so. Arrested for peacefully standing? Arrested for the fashion faux pas of wearing the same clothes? Perhaps arrested for having a point of view? Oh heaven forbid we have independent thought. p.s. 18 people does not a a demonstration make.

I don’t have any fancy (read: boring) political figures, dates or debates to talk about. Instead, I want to talk about my feelings on the whole matter.

I left for Australia in 2004 to get my degree in Communication Design – which at time, was a subject not available in Singapore. I knew, even before I left, that I would return home. Singapore is undoubtedly my home – even though I am a minority. I could only afford to visit home once a year and when I did, it made me miss it more. I missed the affordable cost of living, the high level of safety, the cheap taxis (a ride in Australia to the club would be about AUD40 then!), the food (dear God, I missed the food) and the little things that make Singapore, Singapore. I got my degree and returned home in 2006 – to my family, to my friends, to the plethora of readily available food. Did I mention I missed the food?

That’s when things started to change. In the last 5 years, I’ve watched and felt my country change from a familiar friend to a stranger that I barely recognise. It’s the fastest, slowest change you can imagine feeling. Almost overnight, Electronic Road Pricing systems sprung into place, to prevent road congestion, while I was stuck in jams in raised-price taxis. Suddenly, the faces of Singapore no longer spoke the same Singlish language – I had problems ordering food and drinks in the local dining places. All too soon, I had to let 4 trains (at 2 minute intervals) pass me before I was finally able to physically shove myself into one, to get home for dinner at 8pm. Of course, this hasn’t happened overnight – this has been a growing (literally) problem over the last 5 years – and I hate to break it to you, but 5 years is a very brief time for such major developments in a small nation like Singapore.

I hate what has happened to my country. It doesn’t even feel like my country any more. It feels like a temporary island of wild government experiments to see, perhaps, how many people can fit on one tiny dot before it sinks or how much money you can make per square foot. Strange policies of home ownership and citizenship has been adopted, abandoned, rewritten and reinforced – all over this span of 5 years. And it all, inevitably and obviously, comes down to our singular ruling party system in Singapore. The regime of the People’s Action Party (PAP) has controlled Parliament since 1959. This means no-one else has had a crack at it. I don’t know about you, but this doesn’t feel like democracy to me.

The upcoming election in 2011 might give you the power to exercise your take on democracy. Why might? The government (ruled by the PAP regime) has created Group Representation Constituencies for our housing estates (think of it like Nebraska and Winsconsin). That’s all fine and dandy, till they start redrawing the state lines – to become Nebraska-Wisconsin. So, since there’s now an uber-state, you would be hard-pressed to find an opposition that can take on this space and it goes uncontested, and once again, under the same regime. This is the reason why I have never voted before. I don’t anticipate being able to this election either – so my vote/voice goes unspoken, unnoticed and uncounted.

For everyone else that can vote this election, I sincerely hope that they vote for wisely and be informed. Do not rely on our print media sources – instead, check out the opposition parties and see if there’s any policy that speaks to you. While there may not be much of a presence from them, it’s highly unlikely that you’ve met your governing ministerial team either.

There won’t be an overthrowing of the ruling party anytime soon, so they should really be getting their knickers out of a wad and relax. But there can be the opportunity for healthy debate and questioning in the Parliament – isn’t this the way it should always be? But of course, this is just how I feel.

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I’m one pill away from being diagnosed as clinically depressed or exaggeration – either one.

Something’s missing – and I have no idea what it is. Lots of people have things missing in their lives – and it’s not easy to pinpoint what it is. Some people have too much and find it hard to cope – job, family, kids… usually, that’s about it. For me, I have a somewhat, downgraded version of life and I’m beginning to realise we’re not exactly built this way. I think our human selves are made to take on more and adapt and grow. So, your system goes into a state of flux when there’s not enough balls to juggle (“your” system = “my” system – there’s a strong chance this only happens to me, but honestly, I’m not that special).

So, what makes a healthy life? A good balance (almost impossible to achieve) of different elements that focus on self and others? Our culture is indoctrinated to encourage others to add more elements to their lives (“Oh, when are you guys getting married? When are you guys having a kid? Another kid? Dying any time soon?”) – so there’s always going to pressure from all sides. Last Christmas, a family friend shook my hand and in one breath, asked, “Hi! Merry Christmas! When are you getting married?” There’s no appropriate response other than open-mouthed shock (and slight awe).

Here are the elements I have deciphered that could possibly make me happier (or more miserable):

• Work
  Most people define themselves by the type of work they do. As a creative, I’ll admit to loving the sweet rush of coming up with a really great concept, executing it well and finally seeing it in spaces. The cherry on top is when the response to it is positive. Of course, all this comes with blood, sweat, tears and regurgitation. People in “regular” jobs also tend to be impressed easily when you tell them that you work in the creative industry – it seems like a dream job, a pursuit of passion. I think I have come to a crossroad – either I pursue freelancing aggressively (let’s face it, I’ve been working for about 2-3 days a week and watching TV for the rest of the time. I’ll admit it!) or go back to the workforce – to the land of disposable and steady income. I’ve been earning a pittance while freelancing and I sorely miss having my Art Director salary. So, I either start a small business plan or get a job. (I’m giving myself a 50% rate of success)
• Exercise
  It’s amazing that I’m putting this at No.2 – I have never liked exercising and have only been on a treadmill once in my life and spent half the time trying to figure out the buttons. I did a dance class once with a girlfriend and that was actually quite good fun. Other than that, I’ve never joined a gym or done anything vaguely exercisey. However, the inevitability of gravity has caught up with me – and I see no other chance but to incorporate exercise into my life – in one way or another. I think the key is finding what you like to do. I love cycling so I do that quite a bit now. I also love music so I do brisk walking with my giant headphones (I can’t jog, I have the shins of a 70-year old woman). I am now considering adding yoga to this busy regime of mine – bearing in mind that I can’t even touch my toes when I bend. I need stuff like this to be accessible to me, so I’ll need to find somewhere close to where I live to get this done – and of course, doesn’t cost my spine. I am, however, realising the value of movement and hopefully, this realisation carries through. (I’m giving myself a 50% rate of success)
• Hobbies
  I have ignored the unrecognised value of engaging your mind. I have not painted in years (potato-printing with my niece does not count) and I hate that I keep wanting to do and yet am fixed, rooted, in one spot (this by the way, is the story of my life). I live only with intentions. Another activity I sorely miss is drumming. For some reason, I don’t have single photo of me drumming – all I have is the warm memories of how I felt every time I sat behind a kit. Till today, I strongly believe it’s the one thing I was born to do – because my God, it came almost effortlessly. I taught myself to play “Are You Gonna Go My Way” (drummed by the awesome Cindy Blackman) within the first hour of ever sitting at a kit. Bear in mind, that I had no idea what any of the drum parts were called. All I knew was “hi-hats” and “snare”. I can’t remember the second song I played but I remember being stumped by Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters” for the few days after. Damn you, Ulrich – but thanks to him, all I wanted to do was run on the double bass. And within months, I played Dave Weckl licks and indeed, running on that double bass. I used to hear other drummers stop playing the practise rooms next door, and peep through my door. The last time I drummed was maybe a year ago – when I found a studio near my workplace and I was so unbelievably rusty and paranoid that people were peeping at me. So, do I have to drive to pick all this up again? (I’m giving myself a 50% rate of success) [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLhpHjmxNw8]
  
• Family
  Oh, this is a big one. My biological clock has been going off the hook recently – maybe it’s the flurry of peers having babies, maybe it’s PMS, maybe it’s inevitable, maybe it’s bullshit. Generally, I still don’t like babies but I’m at the stage now, where it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Of course, a supportive husband should come with that – I ain’t changing diapers on my own. But I’m still slightly sane enough to know that this is not the hole-filler I’m looking for right now.
• Volunteering
  I strongly believe that there is no such thing as true altruism. You still feel good when you help someone – and that pleasant feeling is of a benefit to you. That is of course, no reason to not do something nice for someone else. I won’t go into any volunteering work I’ve done – but I will accept that I have enjoyed it. The direction I would definitely love to see my helping out in, would be animals (of course). Animal rights would be my strongest rally – so I’d really like to organise my time to doing something with this. I’m fine with cleaning out cages. Twice a year, I round up Dolce’s toys and get some treats together to donate to the less fortunate dogs. Lord knows Dolce has plenty to spare.

So, in other words, I have some soul-searching to do. My biggest problem is that I’ll search and then do nothing about it once I realise the probable solutions. I need a motivator! A life coach! Someone like Tony Robbins, only not as tall. I need a hero!