An Inheritance...

Where did my passion for dance come from?
The story dates back to the time...long time ago...when my dad could still see his feet, before his belly got in the way. Ahem, according to him, when he still cut a trim figure in his heydays, i.e. about half a century ago, he used to be the lead dancer of his dance group. And he did many different types of Chinese folk dances, Russian dance even.
And i must say, his poise has not been ravaged by time...and his belly. He still had it in him after so many years.
How do i know? Well, he kind of "performed" yesterday. He could still remember some of the steps.
I'm totally impressed, considering how i would forget my steps about a month after my performances. Ha.
Speaking about dance, i get to go for my flings now cos it's the holidays! Thursdays will be happy days for the next month!! I feel happy just thinking about it!!

My Disbelief With Myself

I can't believe that at my age, I still have issues with existentialism. I hate myself sometimes. Had i been less convinced that I'm here for a purpose, I'd probably be happier with life. I crave to change things around me, to fight for a cause, to devote myself to a life of giving, yet i can't quite decide if this is just hypocrisy at work. Maybe it is. But I know of many people who don't even harbour such thoughts at all. Surely this means something?! I'm not sure.
Many artistes are tormented souls and people who ain't any near experiencing that could only wonder why people can sink into depression at times, or are plagued by bouts of melancholia. Yet, these people are those who probably have experienced the whole range and depth of emotions to be able to write fabulously. To compose earth-shattering music. To reduce men to tears. Why are some people more emotional than others? The fault of the environment or just a coindental creation of nature? I am hardly an artiste, but I can empathise with how sometimes, maybe it is not about who you hang out with, how you desperately try to keep a positive outlook. Things just are.
No buts. No ifs.
Sometimes i wonder if i can be born with a less complicated mind. Simplicity is bliss.
Complexity hardly matches up.
I crave.
The craving...relentless...unrepentent...

Accidental Voyeurs Unite

I admit that I'm a voyeur...when it comes to blogs, that is.
Reading about the lives of friends and acquaintance. How lives just simply diverge in unexpected ways.
While this voyeur went about her ways just now, something suddenly struck her: ever wondered who made a blog entry, the same day and time you did? What was the other person feeling at that exact moment? Could you have found an entry that speaks the same feelings you do, at the same time?
Just a thought. Ha.

When Baking = Pandemonium

I need the "Idiot's Guide to Baking". And I'm sure i'm not alone.
Come on, who would actually know that there is a difference between "whipped cream" and "whipping cream" until...i mean...you really pay attention to the very subtle difference behind the words "whipped" and "whipping". Yes, I'm an English teacher, and there can be no excuse to not note the nuance. But...but...i happen to be a blur English teacher and my eyesight is beginning to fail me as i inched nearer and nearer to the big three-you-know-what.
And anyway, how many amongst us are supposed to know that there is a difference between bake and broil and that the two words beginning with the same alphabet can result in such drastic difference when you put in a supposed-yoghurt-cake-to-be?
I mean, how was I to know that if it says bake, I'm supposed to turn the knob on the oven to the cute, little picture that shows heat coming ONLY from the bottom metal bars?
Yes, the next time when somebody makes that mistake, i can proudly laugh at the person because i've lived to tell the tale after being intoxicated by the smoke that came puffing out from the oven when my supposed-yoghurt-cake-to-be was in the process of almost becoming one. My suposed-yoghurt-cake-to-be never lived to tell the tale though, and I was determined to be its messenger to commemorate its bravery for dying, literally, in the heat of action.
Oh, and i didn't know that cups are just like what teaspoons and tablespoons are -- SPECIFIC measurements that tell you the exact amount to use for whatever ingredients. I mean, i see so many different sizes of cups at home, so any Tom, Dick or Harry cup will do the job, as long as i mix everything in the right proportions, right? Wrong, AGAIN.
A cup, is like a super huge scope that we use for ice-cream, and not the mugs that i use for drinking.
What about the fact that we should always use the stipulated amount of ingredients suggested in good recipe books and not let our mood and imagination get the better of us, thinking that this and that amount should do and..and..according to our imagination, everything will work out and viola! the most delectable pastries will appear before us.
Yes. Your faith in my baking skills must be deeply shaken. I don't blame you.
But do take heart that whatever you see before you is done with a lot of heart, after umpteen times of trials and tribulations.
A product of love.
A tale of an idiot's journey.

27 Dresses...

I did not watch this movie, but it's supposedly about this gal who's always the bridesmaid but never the bride.
Since it's 27 dresses, i suppose she's been the bridesmaid 27 times before the usual gal-finally-meets-love-of-life ending?!?
I've been a jie-mei, hmm, god knows how many times. Just friends alone (excluding my sis and relatives), I've been a jie-mei for 5 times, with 2 more to go at the moment.
And you know what they say about not being jie-mei for more than 3 times, if you still bear any hope of marrying?
Darn, i broke the deal. But they also say, if you do it more than 3 times, stop at 7 to break the spell.
Ha, i know this sounds silly. Sometimes, i fear such urban legends. What if ...what if...it turns out to be true?!
But to ask me to miss out on one of the most important moments of my close pals' lives, I'd rather choose to ignore superstitions.
I'll do it anytime. Even if it's 27.

Beautiful Moments In Life

The two of us were at ECP, eating chicken rice, after a loser's day of events. Life wasn't exactly great, with the scabs of betrayal still visible.
Then, there were the three of us talking at the Macs at KAP about our love lives, how ambiguity was driving us crazy.
Yesterday, she walked, hand in hand, with her bunny, down the aisle.
How time flies.
Yes, the journey wasn't the easiest.
I'm honoured to be a witness through it all.
And i think, she's become a better person because of him.
This has got to be the chessiest line ever, yet you just can't deny it -- the power of love.

Highway of Idealism

No prizes for guessing what happens when you're on this highway.
Crash and burn, no doubt.
It used to be one smooth ride. That is, that's what I imagined it to be.
I thought it cool, to be able to hang on to ideals.
Now, ..................................... _ _///
I've defected.
I'm sorry.
It just isn't that appealing anymore.
I mean, not that many are travelling on it anyway.
It's lonely.