I didn't realize till I was on my way home that I'd last worn the shoes in New York. I mean, New York, man. Dreams of a career in publishing deflated by the fact that my parents couldn't/wouldn't pay off my scholarship bond. Not that I blame them --- I barely have a sense of independence now, when I'm not owing them US$200,000 for my college education alone --- but I still feel the loss of missed opportunities keenly. New York --- five? six? interviews during one week of spring break --- yielding a welcome from St. Martin's Press --- that I declined because I didn't want to burden my parents (again) with the cost of putting me up in New York City for a whole summer. St. Martin's Press. Dammit.
It still burns.
Today, my blue shoes took me on the more prosaic route to and from work. They felt looser than before, which made me wonder if my feet have shrunk since I moved back to Singapore, but still chafed sufficiently at just the wrong spots on my little toes to give me mild achiness. They can join my usual circulation of work shoes, but I certainly won't be wearing them everyday.
Funny enough, I also recently found my blue skirt (from the abovementioned blue suit for New York interviews). It'd been living in T's suitcase since we tagged along on that school trip to New York/DC in December 1999. We found it only because T was emptying the suitcase for India. I don't think I'll let the blue suit rejoin my circulation of work clothes, though. It's so marmish --- it was my first suit, I didn't really know what I was buying --- and not at all like how I dress now, even on days when I'm dressed more like the civil servant I'm supposed to be.
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