I remember when I was in my early teens, I fell in love with this pair of white Fila track pants which cost $89. That was a huge amount to me then given that my allowance was only $50/week. But I was so besotted with the ivory whiteness and baby blue linings that I made up my mind to save up for it. I can't remember how long I took to save it, but I do recall the scene when I finally picked out my size and the happiness I felt when I paid for it.

After I bought it I could find no use for it until several months later during a dance item in our school Talentime. But that was probably the first and last time I ever wore it because slowly I started to hate the cutting and how unflattering it looked on me.

Why am I mentioning this all of a sudden?

I finally finished reading Memoirs of a Geisha today and basically the story was about how Sayuri the Geisha fell in love with the Chairman at 12 and worked so hard, scheming and contemplating, for the day that she will be able to be with him. Her wish was granted when she was nearing 30. I can almost feel the bliss she must have felt when he told her about how he had feelings for her right at the beginning. It was like a dream come true, a hope fulfilled, for her.

And still you must be wondering what I am trying to get at.

Patience, I am about to get to that.

I was just thinking, sometimes the process of hoping for something, and then working hard towards that goal might be more desirable than actually attaining it. Why do I say that? Well look at the above 2 stories I've told. When you're working hard for that something, you're under the impression that that something is truly important to you. As you dream about having it and finally become close to realising that goal, the feeling is indescribably awesome. So what happens when you finally get it? I don't know. If you're lucky, that thing is exactly what you want and you live contented and happily ever after. But pretty often, reality hits and what you thought was great may only be just mediocre. Or otherwise, a lot of work is usually involved in keeping and maintaining it.

Which is why sometimes I find myself rooted to the spot, feeling too frightened to move, too scared to discover the unknown. Does that mean I don't know what I want? No, but I think it means I am afraid that I will lose what I am about to have. Because sometimes, hoping is better than having.