Flying

I just searched google for flying clubs in Cambodia. Very sadly, the Cambodia Flying Club, which had apparently been doing well, was forced to close in May this year after air regulations and whatnot made it impossible to fly. Their beautiful fleet was grounded. And so I will not be able to continue lessons whilst I am there next year.

The past few minutes of looking through different flying clubs’ (of the region) webpages put an inexplicable joy in my heart. Perhaps it was the mental picture of me moving to Thailand or somewhere of the sort, actually owning a plane – that much dreamed of classic yellow biplane – and taking it up every now and then; that is something which is impossible in Singapore, but very possible just a few hundred miles away. Yes, I do allow myself to dream happy dreams.

Ideally, just so that I will not decompose into a complete anti-social, isolated introvert married to a plane, I would probably look into setting up a kind of Joy Ride Club for children. The prospect of it makes me extremely excited. The sad part now is that I will not be getting my PPL within the next year, unless I morph into a miracle kid and obtain my license by February. My greatest consolation for this comes from what I was recently told (perhaps reminded of): it is never too late to begin to change your course in life. Everything you are doing now is a start to what you will eventually find yourself doing years down the road. Fulfill your dreams.

And somehow the practical side of me is now telling me that I should be realistic, that I should just stop dreaming and accept that I need to wake up to a life less than extraordinary.

I know. I have an amazing ability to be my own joy giver and my own killjoy.

On another less depressing and unrelated note, I was just thinking about how social media sites have managed to groom an army of attention-seekers in our society. After half a year of being off facebook (and not having missed it at all), I am now back ‘online’ and connected with the world. People are going to know just what the hell is going on in my life without even having to talk to me. I am determined to abstain from revealing too much in an attractive bid to get long lost friends to talk to me. I quite fancy the idea of people asking me where I went to for the Christmas holidays rather than having them tell me where I went to. The latter is utterly unexciting and leaves little potential for conversation.

4 MORE WEEKS.

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