Almost a Hero

This account is way overdue, I meant to post it on the day it occurred but I guess I was preoccupied with the internship and other commitments back then, so here it goes:

This happened on October 8, 2009.

My colleague commented that I was the odd one out; the lunch group wore either black, white or gray.

I was in red.

A seemingly normal lunch at The Cathay on Thursday became an eventful one, with my Creative Director spotting what appeared to be a perverted man, trying to steal glances at a lady tending to a pushcart store from the second floor. While my colleagues bought their usual dosage of coffee, the rest of us continued scrutinizing his actions, moments later, the lady scurried off to the restroom and he disappeared, to our dismay.

He was once again in our line of sight, this time behaving furtively at the pushcart store. Realizing that he was eying the drawers rather than the lady, we began our pincer movement in a bid to catch him, when my Creative Director shouted and startled him, he made a dash for the nearest exit, which was where two security guards walked in timely and grabbed a plastic bag he carried, unfortunately the other guard did not manage to grab him.

I gave chase around the building to the main entrance, where I caught and pulled him by his printed shirt, in his desperate attempt to escape, he took out what appeared to be a pen and shoved it at me a few times before I relented.

When my colleagues finally caught up with me, they were shocked when I showed them the cuts suffered on my arms, but unbeknownst to them, was a throbbing pain I felt on the left side of my chest after the adrenaline from the chase wore out, when I got back to the office.

I checked out the sharpening pain in the toilet, where a wound that would camouflage itself well under the red t-shirt I wore, perturbed me. Turns out, in the thief's desperate bid to escape, he skillfully aimed straight for my heart:

As uploaded on Facebook on the day of the incident, after I got home.

"Wouldn't dare imagine how it'd be if it was a knife" was the picture caption, and I am indeed fortunate that it wasn't, until a week later, the Suits intern came in with The New Paper reporting the capture of a snatch thief.

The photos matched the description of the thief I tried to catch, so I went on to read about the courageous act of the good citizen who managed to subdue him:

"A PUBLIC-SPIRITED passer-by foiled an attempted theft at China Square Central on Thursday when he rushed to the aid of the victim who cried out for help


The 40-year-old woman was preparing to open her push-cart stall for business at about 11.15am when she was alerted by a staff from a neighbouring push-cart that a man had stolen her handbag.


When the victim turned around, she caught sight of a man running away. She immediately shouted: 'Robbery!' and asked passers-by to stop the man. Her cries attracted the attention of 25-year-old Romeo Alfen Bin Abdul Wahid who works as a manager at a nearby cafe.


Mr Romeo chased the suspect and caught him. As he was trying to subdue the thief, the suspect took out a screwdriver and stabbed Mr Romeo's stomach but missed. A scuffle ensued but Mr Romeo managed to pin the suspect onto the floor with the help of other passers-by.


Mr Romeo, who is also a police national serviceman, suffered a superficial scratch on his neck. Police arrived shortly afterwards and arrested the 52-year-old suspect. The victim's handbag was recovered with its contents intact."

This was quoted off The Straits Times website on October 15, 2009. Pretty much sums up what The New Paper reported, but what scared me after reading the report, was the fact that he stabbed me with, not a pen, but a screwdriver.

I still get goosebumps thinking about that.

Anyways, yes, kudos to Mr. Romeo for his heroic act of saving a damsel in distress, even though I was almost a hero, justice prevailing is what really matters at the end of the day.

Passion

What are you passionate about?

I seldom make logical conclusions, even though I remain highly rational in thought, I choose to let emotions take over at the end, because I still believe in what my heart tells me to do.

Many a times, I get disheartened by the realities of life; I failed to land my dream job as a copywriter despite graduating from university a year ago. I was in self-reproach during this period of time:

"Forget big names, why can't I even get a junior position as a copywriter elsewhere?"

"Man, they're drawing good salaries and enjoying their work, what am I doing?"

Jealously crept in, it was inevitable. It aggravated the blame that I was freelancing (read: a pleasant term to replace unemployment), struggling to make ends meet, while giving myself more time and space to rework my portfolio:

"Ah, such a convenient excuse!"

It was. I moved on from the incessant, tormenting monologues, giving much thought to how my reworked portfolio would feel like instead, but what I really wanted, was to get out of the country. I felt suffocated and estranged by the words and motivations of the people around me; a breath of fresh air, a change of landscape and pace, was something I needed.

So I went to London, where my long lost interest in the performing arts was revived. I wasn't born to sing (a recent trial recording went awry and I am somewhat, devastated), but I always had the reflexes and agility to dance. I was the bouncy kid some of my friends have come to know me as back in secondary school, I watched musicals and dance productions as often as I could with friends who shared the passion for the performing arts, but I knew my parents wouldn't approve of me attending arts school, knowing full well that I'd stick out as a sore thumb among cousins who were academically inclined.

And so I was herded along the educational system, unwillingly.

Till this day, I'm pursuing what eventually evolved out of my ability to write, to better express myself through words, to make a living out of writing in context for different industries and scenarios. But here I am, half past two in the morning, introspecting to a piano tune I'm used to listening.

So the question begets, what are you passionate about?

Passion is a positive, compelling emotion that springs me to action. At a certain stage of my university education, I was fiercely in love with words; the beauty of expressing oneself through poems, stories and songs. That hasn't waned as much as I feared, but passion is not one-sided.

Had I not been exposed to influences such as my wonderful English teacher who got me interested in linguistics, media such as Glee on television and Wicked on West End, there wouldn't be the revival of my other passion in the performing arts. So I'd like to thank my friends who have supported and encouraged me in the decision to pursue the performing arts.

It doesn't matter if I'm just a swing playing minor roles in a small production, as long as my passion burns fervently, with hard work and supportive friends, I know my passion will bring me fulfillment money can't.

So, what are you truly passionate about? Share with me your thoughts, and oh, if you've read till this bit, drop me a message so that I know you've been here. Cheers!

Frozen

Madonna's Frozen aptly describes how I felt over the past two months:

You only see what your eyes want to see
How can life be what you want it to be
You're frozen
When your heart's not open

You're so consumed with how much you get
You waste your time with hate and regret
You're broken
When your heart's not open

Mmmmmm, if I could melt your heart
Mmmmmm, we'd never be apart
Mmmmmm, give yourself to me
Mmmmmm, you hold the key

Now there's no point in placing the blame
And you should know I suffer the same
If I lose you
My heart will be broken

Love is a bird, she needs to fly
Let all the hurt inside of you die
You're frozen
When your heart's not open

If I could melt your heart

Emotionally frozen, rationally focused.

Yes, that's the way to tread the path ahead. Waste no time lamenting on the past, concerning what other people think, say or do, for I have many people to prove wrong.