Life is Beautiful

I feel most Singaporean when...

2011-03-02T23:59:00.001+08:00

We waited. And waited. And waited.
In the midst of an empty stomach and a full bladder, the worst thing to have to do is to wait for the train that refused to arrive in a timely manner.
It was more than a tad late, thanks to an ongoing strike in Paris.
The wait, while agonising in our lousy physiological state, was nothing compared to the anxiety it was causing us: we had another train to catch to get out of Paris. But first, we needed to catch this train to get back to our hostel to get our stuff. Sure, we could forgo the tickets and catch the next one out the following day. No big deal, really.
But being poor students on their month-long graduation trip, the idea of staying another day in a city with super expensive accommodation simply wasn't appetising. And forking out extra money to buy train tickets? Nah.
And no way was I going to sleep on that bed in that cheap hostel again. No, I'm not being the spoilt, pampered Singaporean. It's just not too easy to forget how the bug-infested bed left me with a puffy ear double the original size and how I gave myself a scare when my new look greeted me in the mirror.
Great! The train's finally here! But guess what? There were faces plastered to the doors of the tube. The faces looked familiar. Yes! They bore an uncanny resemblance to the face in "The Scream". Haha. The irony of things was we would have to join in, contorted faces and all. And not to mention that I needed to bear with the odious odour emanating from the arm-pit of someone. The only saving grace was that I was 2 cm short of heading for a full-blown disaster, right to the pit.
And no, I didn't have to sleep on that bug-infested bed. We managed to catch our train, albeit with much running with our ton-heavy backpack.
Throughout our month-long trip, somehow, we always ended up having to dash from one place to another, catching trains just when they were about to leave. Blame it on the efficiency of Singapore. We were just so used to things running on time that we somehow lost the ability to anticipate how little things could go wrong here and there. Or rather, it was not within our imagination that things could go wrong.
So on the last day of our adventure-ridden trip , we decided to play it safe and went to the airport way in advance. Checked in our luggage and waited for time to while away. At the stipulated boarding time, we headed to the departure gate. And horror of horrors, there stood two snaking queues, so long that would put our local Hello Kitty maniacs to shame (okay, i exaggerated. Who could beat the Hello Kitty maniacs right? But you get the drift -- two really long queues, i.e. there's no way to board the plane on time if we were to wait in the queue for our turns to get our passports stamped.)
Two choices stood before us: Be shameless, go right to the front of the queue and ask to be given priority. Or stay on in Rome until the next available plane came along. The choice was clear. Flash the megawatt smile. Be shameless.
Hours later. Home. Back in familiar territory, the pristine condition of the airport brought a smile to my face. No hour-long queues to clear. No strikes to disrupt my day. Just the usual orderly and efficient manner in which the passport was duly stamped.
Glad to be home.
That's when I feel most Singaporean.

Back, But Not With a Vengeance...

2010-06-29T23:30:00.004+08:00

Have I stopped writing? The answer is no, but yes, it definitely felt like so for the past half a year. My inspiration for writing simply seemed to have gone south. Kaput.

Miss A encouraged me to start writing again, saying that writing is like muscles. You lose it if you don't use it. But it IS there. So here I am, trying to pick up the pieces where I left them after finally leaving behind a half-wrecked life that almost stole my soul.

So how has life been for the past year?

First month. Euphoriameter -- perfect 10. Characterised by a constant lightness in stride, maybe similar to being on drugs, but of course I wouldn't know.

Second month. Euphoria still kicking and alive. Dwindled a little but certainly still on a high that made me want to scream on top of a mountain. Or maybe Bukit Timah Hill. Or maybe just at the pinnacle of a miniscule slope at the park near my house.

Third month. Raring to go. All ready to head to the battlefield to claim my land of glory in photography. Or so I thought.

Fourth month onwards. Euphoriameter jammed due to excessive pessimism after realising how swarmed the market is. Thought I might just drown there. But I didn't.

So my moods have been wildly bullish and bearish, depending on how the shares of my photography stock perform.

But one thing I know for sure, regardless of how well or how badly my freelance job pan out to be, is that I do treasure my family a lot more.

It's hard to imagine how I've changed from being someone who's out with friends practically every other day to being someone who enjoys the company of her parents.

It's even harder to imagine how close my dad and I have become when I used to keep my distance because he was such a stern disciplinarian. We're not best buds but we do talk a lot because of our common outlook of life.

My nephew has been my bundle of joy too. So cute and animated, I just have to kiss him every other minute (or maybe two).

To clutter all of six months into a few minutes is rather impossible.

This is cliched but...

TO BE CONTINUED...

Yin and Yang...

2009-11-10T18:04:00.004+08:00

Joy. Misery. Diametric opposites that are ever so intertwined.
I felt really sad upon realising it.
We may be a lot less than being the best buds, but I really do wish the best for you, knowing you've been through a lot in life and have a lot to look forward to.

With the night comes the day.
That dawn, beckoning, promises to break that shade of black -- in surety, in confidence.

Status: Not Dead....

2009-10-27T20:05:00.002+08:00

I haven't blogged for 3 mths already?!?! Gasp!!!
Unbelievable. Times flies.
I guess now that i've managed to type 2 lines, you probably guessed it: I'm not dead yet...keke..
Too many thoughts going through my mind and i don't know what to pen down i guess.
All i know is, i'm getting happier by the day!!
I'm counting down my days to liberation: 1 mth 5 days i think.
My brain isn't quite made for even simple addition and subtraction.
What tragedy. Anything more than 10 is a chore since it is relatively known that i'm only born with two hands and 10 fingers.
Oh well, thank god for calculator and friends :P

Floss for Better Smile..Haha...

2009-07-26T13:10:00.005+08:00

A mama-to-be was once shocked by her colleagues' religious flossing of teeth. She then checked with me to see if i floss my teeth too as she was in disbelief that people actually take that as a ritual.
Short of using the word "fervent" (seemingly suggesting that i have nothing better to do than to spend half my day obsessing over getting bits of food stuck between my teeth out.) i must say i am indeed one who needs her teeth cleansed of food impurities.
And is it important?
The answer is, yes.
And how do i know that?
Well, my visit to the dentist is fewer than say, how frequently i clean up my room, how often i wash my shoes. The interval, longer than that between solar eclipses. Yet, when i did pay a visit to the dentist, finally, he said, " you must have flossed your teeth everyday".
Well, that must prove something, right?
So, floss to better smile! :)

Confession (Part 2)...

2009-07-17T23:06:00.003+08:00

Haha...After my entry "Confession", my dear friends were worried I'm offended that they are always laughing at me being different.
In my younger days, yes, I had a tough childhood. I felt different from most around me. That made me feel down at times. Not fitting in.
Now, if you say I'm different, I'm more than happy to embrace it.
I guess growing up is all about coming to terms, accepting and finally embracing what defines the unique you.
I like being different. :P
And I'm now confident enough to shout out loud that I'm different.
And boy am I thankful and blessed that I'm born me.

Confession...

2009-07-12T12:31:00.004+08:00

My status of being a single has gotten quite a number of concerned queries, even from close friends. These queries came in different variations that point to the question, "Are you gay?"
As if it is not bad enough to not find someone to share my life with yet when almost everyone around me is either very attached, married or married with kids, i needed to be dealt this double whammy of my orientation being questioned. Aiy, why can't people have mercy on singles like us? I know i shouldn't be offended because it seems to suggest that i have something against gays. I don't. In fact, i have good friends who are gays. But maybe because I'm so clear about my orientation that i find it bewildering that people will question it.
So let me just say this. I am not a gay. I've known this since the age of 5 when this boy gave me a present -- his pencil case with new, unsharpened wooden pencils and rubber in it.
So instead of maybe quizzing about my orientation, why not help me find someone suitable? I've gotten quite a number of concerned queries too: what kind of guys am i looking for?
Seriously, i don't quite know. Maybe the only concession i can make about myself at this present time is the fact that I'm quite strange and weird. Others who are kinder bestow the word "unique" on me. Whatever the case, if you have someone in mind that you think will match me to a T, perhaps the first criterion you may want to look out for may be that he must be strange in your eyes.
And perhaps this person shouldn't find it strange for someone to grow up on Horlicks, and not Milo or milk.
And he should agree that how well you hear is affected by how well you see. (You see, being a blind bat, i tend to not hear that well when i don't have my glasses on.)
And finds not being able to know the difference between Cookie Monster and Elmo perfectly fine.
And thinks that having thoughts of meditating at a temple for a week or so is damn cool.
And that wanting to play many sports like guys do and yet crazily love the arts is a potent mix.
He doesn't have to be like me. He just has to appreciate what and who I am.
Maybe, that may turn out to be the person for me. So, keep a lookout for me.
Thanks in advance!

Darius Singh...

2009-07-12T12:03:00.002+08:00

Announcing the arrival of my nephew on 23th June 2009, the one and only, Darius Singh.
A tad late to make the announcement, but it definitely deserves an entry, considering that my dad only became a grandpa at the grand age of 67 and my mum, 63. Really, this calls for a celebration that they've finally elevated their status to such. In the olden days (but who really cares about the olden days, right?) they would have great-grandkids already.
Darius is one huge baby. His face looked rather humongous and is blessed with voluminous hair, just shy of looking like a you-know-what-hangs-on-trees. (keke, i'm a bad and wicked aunt. I deserve an edict to be stoned to death.) Weighing in at 3.605 kg at birth, i could already have a very decent workout carrying him instead of the usual dumb-bells. (Not that i really dare to. He's too precious.) He's got the most peculiar big eyes. Rumour had it that when he finally popped out, the first thing he did was to open his eyes to check out the unfamiliar world, turned left and right to exercise his neck after being confined to the smallest space for the longest time before turning in cries in crescendo. The man behind the rumour mill is his dad, of course, whose senses and judgment might have already been tainted by the relief and joy of finally seeing his son after his wife's labourious 16-hour tussle to pop.
Lovely child he is. I didn't say this cos i'm the aunt. He really looks damn cute! Huge, almond-shaped eyes, cherubic cheeks and abundant, slightly curly hair. What more can one ask for?
But no, my maternal instincts have not kicked in.

Baby Baby..

2009-06-07T22:03:00.002+08:00

Eagerly awaiting the arrival of my nephew, probably next week. Yay!! I bet he's going to be one good-looking creature. Heehee.
My sis is bursting at the seams already. She's more huge than huge. He needs to come out soon. Quick! Quick! Stop sleeping in there! Come out soon!

One Step Forward Without Two Steps Back...

2009-06-07T21:22:00.002+08:00

When you're working towards something you want so badly, it is hardly any trouble the hassles you have to go through to get it done. I just sent out my first job application in almost 4 years. Due to some technical glitches, I took forever to send out the application. But when it was done, the sheer satisfaction i got was much better than anything i have experienced recently.
One step closer to a new life, a life that I've waited almost 3 years for. Now that my bond is finally ending in 6 months' time, everything i do is filled with so much hope, anticipation and excitement. I've never felt like this in a long time. Yes, i really couldn't wait for it to end. People once said things would get better in your second and third year, i thought it would be true. But that did not happen. It was one bad year after another.
Once again, I feel so alive. Inching closer to what i used to be. Happy and spirited. Hopefully, i can get my creativity back too. Think i lost it with the job too.
I want everything back!! And I have this feeling that i will.
But somehow, much as i gripe about the job, i am thankful for it. I made some amazing friends in this job and it made me realise how much i treasure the freedom to have fun. I think i just cannot do without it. Even when i'm 80. So I'm just going to embrace life my way, the way I'm born to enjoy it. In the most fun way. Yes, even when I'm 80.
My path is getting so much clearer, what i want and what i don't. I know life is all about searching. And i guess that's what i appreciate about getting older. The older I am, the clearer the road.
Life is beautiful.

In Memory Of...

2009-05-09T21:59:00.004+08:00

He is all of bones and skull.
He is heavily emaciated.
He lies there, gasping for breath -- even while the oxygen mask is clumsily strapped around his head -- fighting for his life.
His breathing is heavy, very heavy. But at least, you can tell he's alive.
His eyes are open, but you couldn't quite tell if he can see you.
You call him, and you wonder if he can hear you.
They say he can. Because he tears when he hears them calling him.
She says that he's crying, because he's scared. He's scared because he knows life is slowly slipping him by, yet he can do nothing to prevent it. He knows people will not be gathering around him, if not for the imminent. He's scared that so many people are visiting him.
He caresses his head, whispers lovingly into his ear, telling him to go peacefully.
His blood pressure drops gradually. 81.
"How long will he last, based on your experience?" They ask my sis.
"Probably not beyond tonight," she says.
A curious visitor looks at him. And looks.
Her gaze stays for a few more seconds. I stare at her. Perhaps, some people just not know what inappropriateness is nor what rudeness entails.
Staring is no subtlety, but oblivion persists.
He wasn't always this weak. He was healthy, he brought us to the beach a lot. But he stopped doing so. We didn't know why then. All we remembered was he was feeling upset. We tried cheering him up by planning a surprise birthday party for him. We thought he would feel happy that we celebrated for him. He shoved us away. He shouted when we brought the birthday cake to him.
Back then, we didn't know what kidney problem was. Or its implications. We were only kids.
His heartbeat is slowing. His breath is no longer heavy. His blood pressure: 78.....then 75.... then 72...then 68.....
He slips away, slowly. He shuts his eyes suddenly and lets out groans after groans. His blood pressure shoots up to 90 suddenly. A miracle?
"That's his last struggle," my sis says. He has always been a fighter. He tries all ways to "cure" himself. Too confident of himself, too cocksure that he's better than the doctor. He wants to live, yet he lives a life of self-destruction, downing soft drinks and fried food whenever possible. He trusts nobody but himself.
She switched off the machine and removed the oxygen mask.
The end. 6th May 2009.
In memory of...
My fourth uncle...

Life hasn't been kind to you.
May you find a better world out there.
A less cruel one.

Contented...

2009-04-26T15:56:00.002+08:00

I've reached a new phase in my life, I think.
I'm beginning to feel truly at peace with myself.
Maybe when you laugh at whatever life throws at you, life is quite easy after all.
Have less expectations and desires.
Maybe that's what life is all about.
And I must say I'm feeling really quite happy over nothing recently.
Maybe when you're truly happy, there need not be any reason for it.
Lalalalala. =)

The Sweetest Things?

2009-03-22T13:21:00.002+08:00

Once, i asked my dad if he loves mum. He couldn't answer me.
He didn't seem to know how to answer the question.
Perhaps, they've spent so much time together that he doesn't quite know how they feel anymore.
Friends? Lovers? Kins? All of these and more?
But one poignant moment stuck me that day.
Uncle was hospitalised for weeks and so my parents had to go to stay with my grandma and take care of her.
So their schedule went like this:
Mum: Mon to Thurs
Dad: Fri to Sun
This went on for 3 to 4 weeks. Day in, day out, i saw my mum but not my dad. When i saw my dad, we would be having our dinners without mum.
One fine day, my mum said: "Last time, in the morning, I'll make coffee and the two of us would drink coffee together. Now, it's just one person drinking."
I felt touched. For them, after 36 years together, maybe this is their kind of love -- not so much of passion, but love (if it is) just reveals itself in those little everyday moments.
And now that they're inching towards 70, the reality of death drawing nearer by the day becomes more and more real. It is good that they could joke about it. And I'll tell them that they should go together. To live without the other will be such misery. My dad would joke, "I'll be more selfish. I want to go first. If you go first, I'll go find somebody else. Hahahahaha."

Not Even if You're the Longest Surviving on Earth..

2009-03-06T21:50:00.002+08:00

I don't know what got into me. I suddenly got into this habit of killing....cockroaches this year.
Once, i was on a kill. 3 gone in a minute.
I wasn't that thirsty to kill really. But 3, doing their sight-seeing in the kitchen was just too much to handle. They left me with no choice. I'm forced to be a murderer.
And i really went all out to kill.
Phhhhhshhhh.....Phhhhhshhhh...Phhhhhshhhh...
So much insecticide trailed their flighty bodies. Fidgety. Struggling.
Almost...Almost..Gone..Not quite..
Struggle..
Final Struggle...
Dead.
Triumphant! I finally killed cockroaches after donkey years of turning a blind eye to them dashing across in zig-zag fashion in front of me.
Few days back. Another cockroach crossed my path.
This time round was a stack of paper rolled to become a formidable pseudo-baton.
Wham! Whack!
Dead.
Killing is not that difficult after all.

Heart-Stopping moment...

2009-03-06T21:25:00.002+08:00

Results are out! Results are out!
Finally, the moment.
A sea of words. Why can't i figure out where to look?
I can't seem to find the results of my classes.
Finally found one class! Oh dear. Some didn't do well.
My hand's cold and shaking slightly. But nowhere near when i took my piano exams where it shook uncontrollably, quite reminiscent of a seizure.
On to the next class.
What!?
What?!
What?!
I can't believe my eyes. Had i not controlled my muscles, my eyes would have popped out already. All passed. Unbelievable.
Yay!! On to the next class.
What!?
WHAT!? She got a B?
WHAT!??!?! He got a B too?!?
All passed. Incredibly unbelievable.
Hmmm...Maybe I'm not that bad a teacher after all.
Feel so happy for some of them. We fought a tough fight together. We did it together.
And the smses that came after. Very gratifying indeed.
Phew. I survived my first batch of graduating students.

Bust not...Boom!

2009-03-01T19:07:00.002+08:00

I wonder how it can be true that Singapore's total replacement rate is alarmingly low. I'm not sure about you, but it seems like people around me are getting pregnant like it's the simplest thing to do in this world, even easier than sleeping. It's scary.
On a separate note, i'm eagerly awaiting the arrival of my nephew in June. Mixed blood. I wonder how he'll look like. My brother-in-law said the baby's got his sharp nose. I wonder if a father's anticipation and excitement is getting in the way of making sound judgments. Haha. Can't wait for his arrival!

When People Go Yummy Yum Yum..

2009-02-15T21:21:00.002+08:00

Cooking once in a while is such amazing joy.
Especially when it was for a V-day dinner...for 5...Hahaha...
On the menu were Chicken Cordon Bleu, Dark Chocolate Semifreddo, Baby Potatoes with Herbs and Lemon-Olive-Rosemary Salad.
We cooked up a storm. And a storm it was -- the state of the kitchen at the end of everything, that is.
The quid pro quo was, however, the superlicious palette that tempted our tastebuds. Waaanderful!!! Yummieeee!!!
Fantastic cooks we tout not to be, but we sure know how to source for recipes and follow them to the T. The standard Singaporean behaviour of "just do what you're told" worked out really well this time round. Deference, once in a while, can't be that bad and this turned out to be one of those times. Yay!!
Of course, there were bloopers through and through. We overwhipped the cream (for the chocolate semifreddo). The almonds in oven got burnt (ooops! For the chocolate semifreddo too!). Whisking was a splattering mess.
BUT, well, well. I must say still my ego is greatly boosted by this somewhat successful venture, considerably high standards by amateurish cooks.
However, I did not do it alone, of course. The power of 5. Haha. Or rather the power of 2, but boosted by 3 sidekicks who helped by (just) watching, watching, washing the baby potatoes (which was really hard work!), washing up, cleaning, providing entertainment, enjoying the eating. Hahaha.
Cooking for people is really such great joy. I really think i'm turning into an aspiring cook!

The Jogger's Monologue

2009-02-04T20:42:00.004+08:00

8:30 p.m. Ok, i should go for a jog.
Cool air.

(Performs a high jump over gray matter) Why are people burning offerings now?
Better avoid stepping on them. In case i get possessed if i offend the spirits.
Hmmm...knees seems to be cranky again. I can feel it.
Almost 30. Gasp! I'm one-third through my life, suppose i live to 90?
Oh dear, oh dear.
Nice song on 987. Hmmm, don't quite like it afterall.
Sounds too young for my age.
(Tunes to class 95)
Nice. I must be super cao-lao. i like class 95 since sec school.
I can do this. I can jog. I hate jogging but i must jog.
Feels good to jog just so i can eat. A LOT. Still better to exercise and eat a lot than to curb my eating.
Yoga is really helping. I'm not panting at all. At the park now. Really cool air.
Don't look into the dark. Might just see eyes and be possessed. Be brave now. Just act normal.
Hey, isn't she my neighbour? Wait, she's with her GIRLFRIEND. She looks stumped. She's making me feel embarrassed cos i'm really ok with such things.
Wah, this guy jogs really fast. Wah, torso soaked in perspiration. Not too bad a bod but shoulders are not broad enough.
Shall go another round.
Oh, that can't be my neighbour. Looks like a 'he' now. Taller than my neighbour and slimmer.
Wah soaked torso zooming past me again. Quite a sexy sight.
Hmmm, if i blog about this, they're going to think that i'm perverted again. Sigh, what's wrong with looking at bods?
"No matter" playing on radio. "No matter what they tell us.."What? Song's from 1990? And I'm humming happily to it?Sigh. Getting old?
I better check to see nobody's around. Nobody. Ok, i can sing. Don't want to be caught singing out loud with a stranger beside me again.
Hmmm, I should blog about my jog.

Androgyny...

2009-01-19T21:41:00.005+08:00

There is nothing soothing about Shokubutsu's Lavender & Rosewood. Marketed as "soothing"body foam, i felt more disconcerted than soothed when i used it. Unable to find my usual Oat and Shea Butter, the adventurous decided to try something different. "Can't be that bad," thought I, the one much accustomed to Shokubutsu's other body foams.
First thought when i first used it: eeekkks, that smells like the cologne my colleague uses, only twenty times stronger. (Just think how some people pour the whole bottle of cologne on themselves.) Oh gosh, oh gosh. I smell like a man. I reek of masculinity! Even Dynamo smells better.
So how can i be soothed with so much dissonance?
Man? Not really, but smells like one.
Woman? Looks like one, but doesn't smell like one.
Hmmm, maybe it should be marketed as the "androgynous" body foam. And i can't help thinking of Shania Twain's song, "Man, I Feel like a Woman", but only the converse.

Declaration of Independence...

2009-01-05T22:38:00.004+08:00

of oneself, that is.
It's been often said that one needs to be independent. If not, the people around you will feel burdened by you. To put it succinctly, you'll be a leech who sucks the life out of people.
What has been lesser said -- but which i think is equally important, if not more -- is how one needs to give people the ability to be independent, by not giving too much to the people around them. In our society, it seems that people view the act of giving as something saintly, something sacred.
Something they need to do to validate their selves as worthwhile beings who have no qualms about making sacrifices for the people around them. Or something they need to do to make themselves feel good.
It is easy to confuse the act of giving as loving someone.
Personally, i think this act of giving, when taken too far, becomes a burden to the people around them too. Especially when they know they'll be unable to reciprocate just as much. When this act is taken too far, it also creates a sense of laziness in people, creating a need in them to want to depend on that giving, selfless you.
This is the hotbed that breeds laziness and dependency in people. In a way, it becomes a power play in which one dominates over the other because the latter is simply too weak to not depend on the giver anymore because he keeps receiving.
This, to me, is one of the most dangerous form of love because these people's actions -- ostensibly driven by that universal language of care and concern -- are simply crippling.
I think there's a reason why most of us come into this world alone. There's also a reason why most of us leave this world alone: to give people the lifelong chance to practise the art of independence, from the beginning, to the end.

2008-12-30T23:41:00.002+08:00

My friends always call me "silly", in an affectionate way, of course.
Sometimes, they call me gullible, thinking that I seem to believe in anything and everything they say.
Frankly, i can't do anything about the "silly" bit of the equation. I can't help it! I don't know what my mum ate when she was carrying me, but whatever she ate really left its legacy on me.
Gullibility, in my defence, is about my faith in possibilities in this world of boundless possibilites.
But seriously, I don't care what you think about me. I really don't.
Now will you add being "conceited" to the list that describes me?

What They Call Fate..

2008-12-30T23:12:00.002+08:00

They asked her, " Did you feel sad learning about it?"
She replied, :Yeah. Of course. Sad."
Afterall, that was a bittersweet past for her.
But now, significant not the past is. Best explained as something that was not meant to be.
The only explanation that could make her move on with life at that point.
Chapter closed. Like many other chapters.
As nondescript as everyone else's chapters...

Bratherhood Talk...

2008-12-26T23:46:00.003+08:00

Warning: Content may not be suitable for consumption for infants.
Qualifier: The author did not intend this to be a risque blog entry.

We were having dinner and discussing Yoke's wedding plans. She, of all colours, had to choose yellow as the theme colour for her traditional wedding ceremony in the morning. So all of us had to wear yellow. But we didn't quite have yellow dresses. And because of that, somehow, the conversation drifted into nonsense and we started talking about each of us wearing something yellow at different parts of our bodies since we had no yellow dresses.
So, I, in the name of good spirit, just blurted out, "Oh, then i shall wear yellow bra."
Yoke burst out laughing, " You mean you have yellow bra?"
Without batting an eyelid, i gave a matter-of-factly "yes", the kind of "yes" you'd say when people ask you if you eat rice, or if you sleep, or if you read the papers.
The other two ladies were rather amused by my answer and started contributing to the laughter decibal in a rather quiet restaurant.
"Yellow bra? Hahaha...Who on earth wears yellow bra?"
More laughter.
The ambience -- needless to say, thanks to them -- had nothing to be spoken of.
"Eh, don't tell me you have a green bra too?" Yoke asked casually and jokingly.
"Yeah I do."
A very pregnant pause followed.
Silence. Telepathy between the three of them began and in synchonicity, they burst out laughing.
Thunderbolt laughter that was. It was as if the three of them heard the greatest joke of the century, or even the millennium.
I laughed together with them.
But not because I thought I'm a weirdo, having "weird"-coloured bras and therefore deserved to be laughed at.
I found it amusing that they found it so amusing. I was tickled by their amusement.
On a serious note, I think there's really nothing wrong with my penchant for colourful bras. I like them in varied designs and colours.
Lacy. Polka dotty. Sweet. Sporty. Cute.
Pink. Green. Yellow. Orange. Bluish-green. Brown.
Yes. I have them all. I just like variety and colour. They keep me happy and perky.
So, what's wrong with keeping myself happy? :P
Maybe you should try it too.
Afterall, people say that in order to be happy, everything gotta start from WITHIN.

Flashes: Japan

2008-12-20T11:43:00.004+08:00

Observe. Observe. Observe.
Arghh. Heck. Just do it.
You won't know how it works until you get into the action.
Balance. Balance. Oh-woohhh. Piak!
Get up now. Ahhhhh. Struggle.
My ankles are twisted. I'm flat on a slope.
I feel like a baby. I don't know how to get up.
Clumsy. I can't get up.
Use your abs now. Push yourself up.
Good. I'm finally up.
Balance. Balance. Piak!
Get up. I'm gonna conquer this.
Piak!
Got up.
Piak!
Grrrrrr. I'm gonna do this.
Piak!
Got up.
Piak! Ouch!!! That hurts!
Cool. Balance. I'm cruising down the slope.
Balance.
Piak!
Snowboarding.
Piak! Piak! Piak! Piak! Piak!

***************************************************************

It's heaven on earth. Or maybe, it's earth on heaven. Which is which. I can't decide.
Its beauty, indescribable.

***************************************************************

Feeling relaxed. Finally managed to flip the papers at the hostel. Massacre in Congo. Sad. Very sad. A son was killed in cold blood in front of his mother. The UN showed its incompetence again. A pang of guilt resided in me. By that stroke of luck, i didn't become one of them, constantly living in fear of what the next day might bring. I was enjoying myself in Japan. Mind started to wonder. Can i make a difference to their lives? We really can't wait for OTHERS (whoever is that?!?!) to help because help never seems to arrive. Can i make a difference, my short time on earth? How can we help? Help with their basic right to be alive. What gave the aggressors the right to kill? Your mother. His father. Her son. Their children.
Anger.
How can we help?

*****************************************************************

Trips always make me think. Like what Avenue Q talked about, what's your purpose in life?
Some people's purpose is to be living examples of how life should not be lived. Others, to aspire people to live like them. Recently, the idea of helping people is popping into my mind more frequently. I need to rethink my life again. Music is a great part of my life. But is there something greater out there for me to achieve?
I wonder.

******************************************************************

Got Car? Just need Kar...

2008-11-09T13:14:00.002+08:00

I was amused when my dear pal said her definition of an eligible guy was, "Nice guy. Got car." In her defence, it was an sms, hence the short reply.
I almost burst out laughing. I thought it was funny how having a car elevates one's eligibility status. That has never been part of my criteria. In fact, it was so much out of my radar system that i thought she must be the weird and odd one who would take that into consideration. Until i started doing my little research around did i realise that it was not uncommon for women to consider that.
But i refuse to believe I'm the odd one out. How many of you out there will not? Raise your hands please?
For me, what makes one really eligible will be the potent mix of intelligence + passion for something in life. (Ahem, but passion, in this case, does not include passion for making money. Enough money for a comfortable life is more than enough.)
Intelligence + passion + Kar = Really sexy for YWZ

The Epitomy of Calmness...

2008-11-09T12:55:00.002+08:00

Sometimes, all it takes is one or two people to start a movement of some sort.
Wanz and I started a bet to exercise 3 times a week, failing which we will need to treat each other to a meal.
Before i know it, three other people are on board. So if i don't do my exercises, you can imagine how big a hole i will burn in my pocket. And that really keeps me going.
And before i know it, I am starting to pass around copies of VCDs of yoga which i'm currently doing because i really think it has done me a lot of good. (Piracy for health. Will that be good defence?)
And mind you. Exercising is not just about vanity, though i must admit i get swept by a wave of happiness when i see my body toning up. I mean seriously, who don't want to look good right? And I get hungry very easily. (Ok, I've always had good appetite, but now i really just eat. And eat. And eat. And eat.) And the best part is, people say I've slimmed down. Hahaha. So how much better can it get?
Oh, and i forgot to mention how I've always been in a good mood ever since i started on the routine.
So what do you say about starting to exercising? Make a bet. For better health. :P

Do you know where you're going to?

2008-11-09T12:33:00.002+08:00

Looking at the lives of people around me, I can't help but be reminded of this song by Diana Ross.

How many of us truly know what we want in life? Do you know where you're going to? What separates great men from the mediocre? With only one life to live, can we ever let ourselves lament over what we should have done and what could have been?

I love life. I believe in possibilities. I believe there are things in this world worth doing and worth living for. I'm happy with my lot in life. Are you? Can you make it better?

Cheers.

Do you know where you're going to?
By Diana Ross

Do you know where you're going to
Do you like the things that life is showing you
Where are you going to
Do you know

Do you get
What you're hoping for
When you look behind you
There's no open doors
What are you hoping for
Do you know

Once we were standing still in time
Chasing the fantasies
That filled our minds
You knew how I loved you
But my spirit was free
Laughin' at the questions
That you once asked of me

Do you know where you're going to
Do you like the things that life is showing you
Where are you going to
Do you know

Now looking back at all we've planned
We let so many dreams
Just slip through our hands
Why must we wait so long
Before we'll see
How sad the answers
To those questions can be

Do you know where you're going to
Do you like the things that life is showing you
Where are you going to
Do you know

Do you get
What you're hoping for
When you look behind you
There's no open doors
What are you hoping for
Do you know

Goodbye Seems The Hardest Word

2008-10-16T13:42:00.002+08:00

Boohoo...My chummy buddies are/ are going overseas. I'm so going to miss them. Overwhelmed by the outflux of affections =(

JBJ's departure....

2008-10-05T21:38:00.002+08:00

When i heard of JBJ's departure, i felt a strange sense of loss.
He left too soon.
I was waiting for his comeback. This old man who was supposed to return to politics.
As a young Singaporean who lived in a very sanitised political environment, JBJ to me, was just someone who shot his mouth off and landed himself in trouble for defamation. A trouble-maker. That was me a few year back.
A few years later, I saw him at cityhall mrt selling his books. He was a mish-mesh of white hair. Rather unkempt looking, I thought he was a joke.
"What was he doing, this old man? He should just stop what he's doing. Surely he should realise that whatever he was doing was a rather futile attempt to flame the lethargic and indifferent hearts of young Singaporeans. Not that many are interested in politics, much less want to have anything to do with one whose nemesis is you-know-who.
Fast forward to news of his death. I was upset. Maybe secretly, i had been hoping that he could put up another good fight, this old man.
Next thing i knew, i was at his funeral. His sons' eulogies were touching. It was the first time i heard from someone closest to his heart. And i saw how his grandson broke down after he took one last look at his granddad. There lay the man, deeply loved by his family. His wife, who passed on before him, was said to have said that she regretted not marrying him earlier.
That old man. A loving family man whom i thought a laughing stock lived and died a tenacious soul. How many amongst us could proclaim we will hold on to our beliefs till our last breath?
Thank you, JBJ, for stirring my dormant heart.

Recipes Ahoy!

2008-09-28T21:04:00.002+08:00

Ok, I'm not a good cook. (That sounds better than saying that I'm a terrible one.) But that didn't stop me from looking at the cookbooks being peddled along orchard emerald and trying to see if there were any gems amongst them. I was supposed to be buying dresses and blouses at the Isetan sale. Don't ask me how i ended up being there. (Well, i wasn't particularly impressed by the collection of clothes this time round so the effect of my loot on my pocket was an S, but my disappointment, an XXXL.) Maybe i aspire to become a domestic goddess after watching too much of Jamie Oliver and Nigella Lawson. Or maybe i just love food so much that it makes more and more sense to learn how to cook really well. Or maybe the pictures in the cookbook just look so lovely that i fantasize about creating and eating them. With so many reasons to back me up, I bought a cookbook, of course. But whether i finally utilise it is another story. But it's not sitting pretty on the bookshelf at the moment. My sis and bro-in-law eyed the book and i decided it made more sense to lend it to them for the time being and hopefully let them try out the recipes so i might have something wondrous to eat. Or so I hope. I hope we're not going to be guinea pigs.

F1=FrenzyWonder

2008-09-28T20:34:00.002+08:00

I wonder why people love F1 formula racing and why they want to watch it live. The racers will be zooming past you within 2 seconds. And they'll do that for 61 times. To me, that really gave 'transience' new meaning. That also added an one extra entry to "Ways to make yourself giddy". Yes, I felt like puking watching it on TV.
While many Singaporeans are worked up over the race, it just didn't make any sense to me...until the accident Piquet had. And then Massa. And that made me sit up. WOOH, finally things are getting exciting. (Luckily, I don't think anyone was hurt. Please don't think i'm sadistic.) The screw-ups really added so much more to an otherwise bland game. YAWN.

The "What Was I Thinking of?" Moments

2008-09-28T16:17:00.003+08:00

How many "what was i thinking of?" moments do you have in life?
Something that made so much sense at that time (whether you gave it thought or not), but in retrospect makes you crinch and just want to dig a hole and hide your face.
Wrong dresses, wrong make-up. Basically fashion disasters. Plain stupidity. Silly actions you thought cool. Trying to act cool and aloof. Falling for wrong guys. Impulse to do things -- right and wrong. Taking things too seriously for your own good.
The good thing about having such "what was i thinking of?" moments is that you're out of those ridiculous moments?!?

Volcano...

2008-09-07T17:42:00.003+08:00

I guess i must have irritated my mum enough for her to respond as such when i suggested moving out :a nonchalant "move lor".
Well, i suppose all families have their own quirks and have wanted to strangle their family members at one point or another for doing things that just got on one another's nerves.
And the funny thing is, we're waging war over miniscule, mundane things like sofa, wardrobe, sink.
I couldn't stand it that she wants the sofa placed exactly on that line, as though 1 cm more or less would make sitting on the sofa any less comfortable. And her sink must be done to ISO standards for cleanliness. And I irked her because i did not push the sliding door of my wardrobe back after opening it. Citing how dust collects and how dirty it'll be, she was that hawk who refused to let down her guards, keeping her prying eyes on the wardrobe every time i needed to take something out from it and seemingly feeling triumphant whenever she caught me in the act of not pushing back the door. Her "See, you didn't do it again!" kind-of-smug-but-definitely-irritated tone was just piercing enough to send me fuming at times. What's with her preoccupation with a sliding door?
Mum complained to my recently-married sis about my ill behaviour and sis told me to be more considerate towards her. Ok. I will.
But seriously, had it not been for the costlier-than-costly room rentals in Singapore, i would have shifted out.
But not because home was unbearable. But rather, i guess it would make me appreciate whatever i have at home more and perhaps make me realise that being a homemaker is sometimes quite a thankless job and i should be thankful for whatever that i already am provided with at home. But sometimes, too much.

Heaven is a place on earth...

2008-09-01T23:36:00.002+08:00

They say heaven is a place on earth.
My heaven on earth.
A marvellous read at the beach.
With breeze teasingly carassing me.
Feeling zen, as i tune in to the rhythmic waves crash on the shore.
No pretenses. No hurry. No nothing.
Just simply, a simple life.
My heaven on earth.

That Remorse through Time

2008-08-24T22:11:00.003+08:00

They say time heals all wounds.
So why did he so sob, that old man.
Of that impetuosity in youth?
The pain and regret, expunged not.
To eternity and to grave.

The Real Being...

2008-08-24T20:44:00.002+08:00

That masculine shield hides a girlish core.
Unfathomable occasionally.
Vulnerable at times.
Timid and intimidated many a times.
Incorrigibly soft.
To remove the shield? Exposed.
To harden the core? Lost.
But life seems just fine.
And some sing,
"I love you just the way you are".

Perfect 10

2008-08-24T20:19:00.002+08:00

That perfect body.
Packed in it, the epitome of perserverance and never-failing spirit.
Seeking perfection, with thirst and hunger for that mark in history.
Or maybe, simply seeking to pass that test in life.
To go beyond what might be, could be, can be.
Sooooo sexy!!!
Sooooo hot!!!
Those lines of athletism.

Slug Fest

2008-08-10T22:18:00.002+08:00

What sloth i have morphed into. Now that Olympics has started.
Short of literally glueing my eyes to the googlebox, yes, my world belongs to the Olympics now.
Oh no! I screamed. My heart skipped a beat when i saw how the little chinese gymnast fall flat after failing to get a firm grip of the bar for the uneven bars event. It's so sad to see how the gymnasts, having toiled for years, should have their minds and bodies fail them for less than half a second and deny them their legacy in finesse. And of course, some say, their money.
The sheer willpower, grit and tenacity to give their all is simply mesmerizing.
At the same time, every frame that flashes by seems to be a mockery of how weak I've been, physically and mentally.
Time to forsake my stalling for exercises.
But maybe until after the Olympics.
Michael Phelps is such a mean machine. Not human. But machine. Maybe a human-like machine. Or a machine-like human.
I'm not going to miss the quasi-humans in action. Not when i have to wait another 4 years.

Am i what they say?

2008-08-02T12:11:00.002+08:00

My kids popped a surprise birthday celebration on me yesterday.
It was sweet, really sweet, the extent and effort they went into putting everything together.
It was heartwarming when they wrote in my card that i was such a patient, caring, adorable, cute, pretty etc. teacher. (Which i graciously accept and acknowledge. Hahaha. Nah, they've been too kind. They gave me too much credit. I nowhere near any of those. And no, being humble is not my forte too, in case you're wondering.)
But it got me worried when they wrote in my card that I'm "the most entertaining teacher", "most comical teacher" they've had.
I wonder what i did in class that made them say that. I must have been a clown in class without even knowing it. The scary thing is, I don't quite think i'm quite funny at all. Nor do i have a great sense of humour. If i were to describe myself as an ice-cream, i think i'm just a vanilla with maybe some nuts as topping -- the nuts add an occasional zest to the taste of vanilla, otherwise very nondescript. That's all.
Entertaining? Comical? (_ _lll)

The Confluence of Magic

2008-08-02T11:42:00.002+08:00

Hey there Alicia! Hi Jason!! Yo go Rick! Stacy, how are you?
Can't wait to see you tomorrow!
At SingFest, UP CLOSE & PERSONAL!!
I'm thinking of putting my pretty brown and orange matty into use again.
Only thing is i wonder if it'll be so packed with people that cordoning off an area of 1.5m by 1m constitutes death by angry stomping feet.
Oh well. I'm sure the call for adaptability will come in tomorrow.
Right now, i just can't think straight anymore.
My body's already warmed up for possible contortionist acts when rhythms and beats set in tomorrow.
Hey there Alicia! Hi Jason!! Yo go Rick! Stacy, how are you?!

Yay!!!!

2008-07-29T21:48:00.002+08:00

My left knee is feeling almost normal again. Almost.
But certainly a cause for celebration already!
It is hard to imagine that something I've taken for granted all along can give me so much happiness now.
Yes, the proverbial saying to not take things in life for granted is true afterall.
Thank you, knee, for recovering.
I don't know what i would do, can do, if you were to remain that creaky, old thing you were.
Looking forward to your full recovery soon!
I'll be a much better companion this time round.
I promise!

Life Oh Life!

2008-07-20T22:19:00.002+08:00

My dear lil' friend, one who graduated from uni just two years back, commented once that ever since she started working, she has simply been working for the sake of working. She doesn't know what she wants in life.
i guess what she's going through is normal. I don't know whether i did her more harm than good when i said that life is a journey of searching so it does not quite matter if you don't know what you want.
For the super ambitious, this has got to be the lousiest piece of advice one can give. I mean, it can be interpreted as "not knowing what you want", "fickle", or maybe "just one without ambition", "a float who can only react accordingly to what life has in store for you".
For me, i really don't see anything wrong with that. How many of us actually can be really sure off what we really want? Sign-posts change along the way. Situations change. Outlook changes. Even passion and taste change.
Maybe we're just too caught up in trying to be successful. Thinking that if we don't know what we want, something is wrong with us. The fact is, nothing's wrong. Why should we think it to be so?
I'm nowhere near being successful in anything. But i must say I've really enjoyed my life so far because I've tried what i needed to in order to understand myself better.
I really do enjoy my journey of self-discovery. My connection to my inner self. Understanding what makes me feel good.
Live. Breathe.
The delusion of living a life, how a life should be and ought to be lived.
Who cares for that?

Battle of the Sexes...

2008-07-20T17:43:00.003+08:00

The perennial battle of the sexes plays out every day, ever so readily in my kitchen.

My dad and mum, always seeking ways to improve how things are done, are in this constant battle to outdo each other, just so the winner could say to the other party, "See! I told you i'm right!"

This morning, i woke up late -- as usual for weekends -- and was pleasantly surprised that my dad was supposed to prepare breakfast for me. (Yes, guilty as charged. I'm not the one to prepare breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. Or supper. Or teabreaks. Or anything...I only prepare my stomach to eat. -_-''' )

Mum cooked dao-suan in the morning. (For the uninitiated, dao-suan is the hot dessert made from some beans. Some say it's yellow beans. Some say it's green. Some say it's just made from flour, judging by what you get in foodcourts now.) But dad complained that it was too sweet and concentrated. So mum retorted, " why don't you cook it then?"

So dad cooked. "How sweet do you want it? How do you like the beans done? Do you like it starchy?" Very personalised service, i must say. If my dad was a waiter, i bet he'll get an excellent service award.

End result was not too bad. When my mum tried it, she retaliated, " It's better only because you're cooking a one-person portion. I cooked a whole pot this morning. It's more difficult to cook in bulk. It's also better cos she's getting it hot now."

And so the battle of the sexes continued, day after day.

To be fair, my mum is nowhere near mediocrity when it comes to whipping up 10 dishes in 2 minnutes flat. In fact, that she is a superb cook is a known fact in our fraternity a.k.a our large extended family that runs into more than 80.

So what i had today was as follows:
Breakfast: 2 bowls of dao suan
Lunch: 1 1/2 plate of chicken rice + lettuce soup. (A copyrighted speciality that serves rice with chicken as a whole entity, quite unlike Hainanese chicken rice)
Dinner: 5 hand-made dumplings with yellow mee. Two golf-sized fishballs. One square chunk of fried toufu. A splash of honey tomatoes and cucumber. Durian.

Is it any wonder why my dad could only talk about slimming down without getting it done? His waistline is expanding exponentially.

But technically, he has no waistline left to speak of anymore, because he no longer has one. Sigh.

Coke + Mentos = ?!?!

2008-07-19T13:02:00.002+08:00

What happens when you add mentos to coke?
That was one of the conversation topics that popped up during one of the lunch sessions with my colleagues.
After that conversation, i wanted to try it, in school, in fact.
Luckily i didn't.
This is super hilarious. Watch this video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l7Z818lnTK0

Creaky Cranky...

2008-07-06T14:59:00.003+08:00

My left knee is giving way!
I'm certainly not an old lady yet, but the maladies that creep into an 80-year-old are slowly manifesting in me!
Years of sprinting, dancing and hopping around is showing how disastrous it can be for one's knee.
Ouch! Ouch!
Age has a way of putting you in a state of paranoia. You start to wonder if the simple act of squatting will now become a herculean task. Or if, if, if your spine is going to be so curved that you become 10 cm shorter.
Oh my goodness!!
Even yoga delivered a stinging pain to my knee. I'm a goner.
And so said i, in my state of dispair and delirium.
Then glucosamine and chondroitin came into the picture. High calcium milk is in too.
Operation Reparative Mode is underway.
Mission cannot be aborted.
No room for failure this time round.
The stake is an 80-year-old mama.

The Old Young Lady..

2008-06-20T12:54:00.003+08:00

Who's that old lady?
The one limping, her knee cracking with every step she took.
That decrepit one, with the risk of multiple sclerosis setting in.
Who's that young lady?
The one dancing, with liveliness reigning her day.
That insatiable one, hoping to be quenched of her dreams and passion.
Who's that old young lady?
The one writing, setting off the rhythm of the computer keyboard.
That contemplating one, pondering when the old will usurp the young within.

Dance Dance Dance

2008-06-20T12:10:00.002+08:00

I picked up this book by Haruki Murakami and i must say, it's a damn good read!! While the title suggests acrobatic movements, muscle stretching and sensuality, the book, so far, is nothing about that. I had picked it up because i thought it's related to dance. But i couldn't be more wrong. My guess is that this book, with its whimsical plot and even more whimsical characters --without denial of them being so real -- gave it the element of being very fluid and that feeling of expectancy and unexpectancy, just like a dance.
I'm still at it, page 69. It's an accomplishment for me to read that far already because I simply can't quite handle novels. Most simply don't appeal. Flat plots with even flatter writing. My patience was tenuously tested when i tried to read Sophie's World and when i reached the 80-something page, I declared that enough was enough. The hype surrounding it certainly didn't live up. Much as i hope I'll be able to go "Yes!!! It's such a wonderful read!!" and join in the group who revelled in the read, things just were not heading that way. To me, it was one of the crappiest and most boring books I've ever read.

Parts from "Dance Dance Dance" which drew out laughs from me. Bus rides couldn't be more fun when you have a good book with you. And i say that even when i have to wrestle with more problems of being short-sighted and nausea from the jerking that bus-drivers from hell are way capable of.

"Due to the nature of these magazines, most of the people i had to interview were in show business. No matter what you asked them, they had only stock replies. You could predict what they'd answer before you asked the question. In the worst cases, the manager would insist on seeing the questions in advance. So it always came with everything written out. Once i asked a seventeen-year-old singer something that wasn't on the list, which cause her manager to pipe up: "That wasn't what we agreed on -- she doesn't have to answer that." That was a kick. I wondered if the girl couldn't answer what month followed October without this manager by her side. "

"Latter-day capitalism. Like it or not, it's the society we live in. Even the standard of right and wrong has been subdivided, made sophisticated. Within good, there's fashionable good and unfashionable good, and ditto for bad. Within fashionable good, there's formal and then there's casual; there's hip, there's cool, there's trendy, there's snobbish. Mix 'n' match. Like putting on a Missoni sweater over Trussardi slacks and Pollini shoes you can now enjoy hybrid styles of morality. It's the way of the world -- philosophy starting to look more and more like business administration."

"If left me wondering how the ancient Egyptians filled their days, what little pleasures they enjoyed as they whiled their weary way to death. Learning to swim, wrapping mummies. And the sum accomplishment of that you call a civilisation."

There..But Not Quite Yet...

2008-06-15T14:49:00.003+08:00

One of my songs for the next exam.
A very beautiful piece: Chopin's Nocturne Op. 9 No. 1
http://youtube.com/watch?v=cFhaBEtmHeU&feature=related
First page out of four down. I'm looking forward to putting this piece together!
Its peaceful melancholia speaks so much to me and it was from this piece that my teacher said that i really have the musicality. Don't know if i should be happy or sad that melancholia and I are quite readily an item.
And playing it on a grand that day, the richness of the sound simply overwhelmed me. So beautiful!! Ha, i guess putting a baby grand at home is another secret ambition of mine. But that will have to wait cos it's just so damn ex!

Speaking of being in touch, it beats me how Sex and the City, the movie, managed to make me tear. Till i realised i was playing Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte. Being dumped at the altar, being betrayed by husband, not being able to have a baby. Haha. I just can't help being so imaginative. Empathy, i guess, is like breathing to me. Slap me please!

Happy Father's Day...

2008-06-15T14:08:00.002+08:00

I had the secret ambition to hug my parents. Being the traditional Chinese family, showing affection for one another isn't quite our forte. Yes, being engulfed in such an environment, hugging became a goal in life, something that i imagined doing, something that i thought i want to do and crave doing but never did quite get down to doing it. (It is THAT HARD. Unimaginable.) Yet, this daunting task seems ludicrous considering how you serve out generous portions of hugs to friends.
Just when i thought i would need to carry my secret ambition to my grave, i thought it would be nice to give my dad a hug since it is Father's Day today. (Of course you don't need a reason to give a hug, but i must say having an official day to mark how much you appreciate your dad makes things a lot easier, as it legitimises things that you won't normally do.) The surprising thing is, he is so much more receptive to the hug than i thought he would be. Somehow, over the years, his strict, stern exterior, the one who put his belt to the maximum use (and i don't mean him having his belt around his waist 24/7), has slowly dissolved. Now, he feels more like a friend, someone whom you can share a joke or tease mercilessly.
The hug felt natural, just like how it should feel between a father and his daughter.
It reminded me of how my mum enthusiastically reciprocated the hug i gave her on Mother's Day.
Perhaps, in our family, i'm not the only one who harboured dreams of more affection.

Following Your Heart

2008-06-08T16:56:00.002+08:00

Follow your heart. Those who always do, this entry will sound pretty idiotic. Pardon me!
When you need to make a decision, always follow your heart.
My best decisions made so far, were always based on what my heart told me. Based on what i felt. On whether dissonance seeped into my system.
The heart. Not the head.
Decisions made, based on conventions, disregarded.
Listen. Listen. Listen.
Failure to do so, disastrous.
Never, never rationalise how to reach that end point, ostensibly the best in people's eyes.
Because it is not.
At least not the best for you.
Regrets.
For not following my heart, at times.

An Inheritance...

2008-05-28T16:37:00.003+08:00

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

2008-05-20T21:35:00.002+08:00

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

2008-05-11T22:03:00.002+08:00

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

2008-05-11T17:32:00.002+08:00

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...

2008-05-04T21:34:00.004+08:00

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

2008-05-04T21:04:00.002+08:00

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

2008-05-01T20:33:00.002+08:00

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.

One Lifetime Enough Not

2008-04-29T22:05:00.003+08:00

Speaking from the point of view of someone who wants to do so many things in her lifetime, it is quite hard to comprehend when people say that they have no passion in life. How can it be?

Things i want to do in my lifetime:
1) Be a better piano player. (And possibly hold a recital once in my lifetime. Ha)
2) Be a better dancer. (Try out more dances: salsa, argentinian tango, belly and pole?!)
3) Sing better -- so much that i can be touched by my own singing.
4) Paint. Yes, I may suck at it now, but i will do better.
5) Volunteer and really devote time to help and love the less fortunate.
6) Read and read and read and read.
7) Being more in touch with myself spiritually.
8) Cook really well.

What about you?

March 8...

2008-03-27T22:07:00.002+08:00

My first public piano "performance" for a special occasion.
Well worth the effort.
Not as scary as i thought.
As long as no music examiners are in the crowd to scrutinize my playing, i think i should do ok. Will look forward to other performance opportunities just to numb my soul of cowardice.

Another Self-Indulgent Moment...

2008-03-27T21:35:00.003+08:00

Some find my blog entries funny. Some say they don't understand what i'm saying. Some say they enjoy reading it. Some say my blog is totally self-indulgent, in a silly (but good) way. Whatever it is, thank you for reading.
It's really the biggest form of flattery for someone who likes to write.
I know i write about ridiculous things at times, but i really have those weird images in my head and being able to translate those images into words...priceless... Ha...
Just realised that my blog is almost turning 3. Time really flies.
My memories all penned down, luckily.
For i'm getting more and more forgetful by the day.
Even the best moments fade with time.
So, thank you, Mr Blog inventor.

Honesty..for better or for worse?

2008-03-22T10:08:00.002+08:00

My sis called it complacency. I called it being sleepy and lack of spatial awareness (as usual).

Point of contention: how i lousily manoeuvred the family car out of the parking lot and allowed it to "kiss" the left-hand tip of the car parked on my left.

I tell you, that "kiss" was so potent.

Such a strong caffeine booster that was: i made me turn from deadlog sleepy the previous second to super alert the next.

And the effect it had on the heart: capable of inducing cardiac arrest.

I tell you, if my heart raced any faster, i would have breathed my last that very second.

My breathing quickened. My mind turned blank for a minute.

Got of the car. Looked that the war-torn region.

Enemy casualty meter: Fair amount of scratches. Definitely capable of aggression when the realisation of injury sinks in.

Casualty at own camp: Nothing. No! Wait! Superficial scratches observed over a spread of 15 cm in depth. Ahhhhhh!! Ouch!! Ouch!! Ouch!!! Damn painful!!! So painful that my heart aches.

My dad is going to kill me. It's not the first time i doodled something on the car (kinda accident-prone). School-going children all around me. Did they see it? Nobody's watching me. Should i sneakily pretend nothing happened and drive off? Afterall, the owner wasn't there. And i came home late last night so he couldn't have known who parked next to him.

No, no, no. I can't do that. I'll be cursing and swearing if somebody just did a hit and run on my car.

Drive off? Yes. No. Yes. No.

And so, the usual angel-devil tussle played up in my mind.

Being my angelic usual self (hahaha), i did the angelic (some would say, foolish) thing.

Wrote a note to the owner and left. Gonna be late for school.

I felt lousy the entire morning, waiting to hear from the owner. Totally prepared for his/her verbal assaults.

Then the pleasant thing happened: he didn't scold me at all. He was nice, to the point where i thought he might the one who scratched my car and i was waiting to hear an explanation from him. You get the gist. He said i was nice to leave my contact behind.

Anyway, eventually, i didn't have to pay for any repairs. Phew. What a total relief!!!

My sms went..went...

2008-03-06T21:59:00.002+08:00

into the Black Hole...for the past 5 days...
so if i didn't reply to your smses, please don't think I've my nose up in the air...:P
But i think it's working now...i hope...

Ephemeralness...

2008-02-08T23:56:00.000+08:00

I hope i don't quite sound like a jaded and cynical being, but the concept of eternal friendship sounds more like an eternal search for one than anything else. But i was once hopeful, like many others.

I remembered the three of us having a heated conversation with B over this issue. Him, a dogmatic belief in the transience of friendship. Us, an equally staunch faith about forever friends.

And it never occurred to me that i would ever switch sides. But here goes:

People go down very different paths after they start to work.
Some work for money.
Some scrimp to buy branded goods.
Some cling on to ideals.
Some give up on living.
Some fall into the abyss of cynicism.
Some start their families.
Some choose to be swinging singles.
Some develop different value systems.

Yes, so along the way, priorities, interests, outlook and values diverge, although ironically those were the very things that brought people together as friends initially.

So, I'm not as inclined to believe that friendships are meant to last forever anymore.

But wait!! While i have switched sides, I'm still a rather idealistic being. I still want to believe that many friendships can last me through half my life-time and more. At least i can envision half a dozen going down that alley. I hope i'm right.
I'll try to make that happen, but not too hard.
That's my new take on friendship.

Pet Peeves

2008-02-08T23:10:00.000+08:00

Watch out!!
1. People who are always unfashionably late.
2. People who cancel out on dates at the last minute.
I'm sorry, but unless you have a really GOOD reason for doing so, I'm not one to really entertain the above. For you, it may be not big deal. For me, i have whole loads of stuff i could have done had the above incidents not happened.
The time i spent waiting for you could have been better employed, say, for even sleeping. I don't get enough sleep already. A sleepy wz is an angry wz. I could have practised my piano, exercised, read. Everything beats waiting in vain for somebody who has no respect for another person's time.
And had i not agreed to meet you, I could have made arrangements to meet other friends instead. My weekends are precious beyond words given that i have to do weekend markings sometimes. The only reason why i'm meeting you, my dear friend, is because you mean a lot to me and therefore, i make the conscious effort to meet. It's not a random decision i make. So please respect my time.

Too overbearing for your liking? Too bad.

Gaga over Him...

2008-02-08T22:28:00.000+08:00

My two-year old nephew has got such lovely and big puppy eyes. Couple that with angelic demeanour. Oh and did i say anything about the way he laughs? Hearty, innocent, pure. He is so bloody (pardon my language), darn (pardon my language again. I can't help it) cute. If I were to see him everyday, that's it! I'm gonna get married by the end of this year and have a kid of my own next year. (Thankfully, i don't get to see him everyday. Ha)Perfect poster boy to bolster our abysmal population woes. Yes, i'm really, totally gaga over him!!!

Another humbling moment...

2008-02-03T21:53:00.000+08:00

I went to a neighbourhood secondary, on the mission to attract academically strong students to join our JC.
I didn't know what i was in for until a harbinger came from the principal. She made a passing remark as she walked passed my booth, "Wah, JC also here to set up a booth?"
I was more than shocked to hear that, but not so when i realised what would transpire in 20 minutes' time when students got their 'O' levels results.
The top student from that school was an 11 pointer.
No, i didn't fall off my chair, but it did put things in perspective...
My secondary school is a neighbourhood school, but many amongst us scored better than 11. Many eventually landed meaty scholarships and are now doing extremely well.
When our vice-dean welcomed us on our first day in uni, he told us we were the cream of the crop, the top 5 per cent of the A level cohort. Of course, my ego was boosted hearing that. It was reassuring.
Then i fumbled through my four years in uni, losing count of the many Cs i scored along the way. I felt like an underachiever even though i was supposedly among the best.
Landed a job that made many went "Wah...!!!" But i felt like "Duh...no big deal" because it really wasn't.
And our principal told us that teachers who are sent to JCs are, again, supposedly the better ones from the cohort. Again, i went "Duhhh..can't be...it has got to be more of a coincidence"...
Back to the neighbourhood school i told you about at the start of this blog entry. I saw a crowd of students patting a classmate's back going, " Ho seh lah U...17 points can go JC leh...Ho Seh lah..Do so well!" Then scores of students skipped away from my booth, as though i was a plague, while dismissing their results, saying, "Ehh, JC ah? Haha.."
I entered a completely different world. One that i was never exposed to. I didn't give much thought previously that only the top 20 to 25 % go to JCs in my time. No big deal.
On that day, i thought, "so what happens to the remaining 75% every year? That's a lot of people. Am i missing out on interacting with people of all strata? It's a scaring thought, that i'm only mixing with "my own kind" of people. What are their lives like, for the rest of them? What has education done to us? Stratifying us according to academia, so much so that we don't know how the "other kinds" lead their lives. No close contact with them in my life. So what have i got to offer my students anyway, when my exposure to fellow Singaporeans has been so limited? Yes, i suddenly felt like i was in "The Matrix", not knowing my life has already been shaped by SOMEBODY...

Humility

2008-01-20T22:08:00.000+08:00

I failed my dip exam again. Not that it wasn't expected. When i played that terribly. 3 unmistakable breaks in 4 songs. The only saving grace was I didn't make that a perfect score of 4.
A consolation though: I only failed by 5 marks. The examiner's concluding comment was, "unfortunately, your nerves did affect your performance".
Technically speaking, i should have passed if i played like i did for practices. No, i'm not deluded. I know where i stand. Don't worry about asking me about it. I'm really not affected by it. Really! Though i know my standard, of course it'll be better if i had a cert to prove it. (Very Singaporean hoorrr?!? I mean, after sinking in more than a thousand bucks to take the exams. Naturally I hope to get the cert right?)
But am i throwing my money away, since I don't quite need that cert for a living? To me, no. It was a challenge i issued myself. I want to overcome my fear of performing. Of course, a thousand bucks could have gotten me an LV bag, which many would splurge on, but brands have never appealed to me. Don't ask me why. I don't see the need to because what i adorn do not determine my self-worth. I don't need a bag to make me feel good. My experience, stepping into the examination room, is a whole lot more enriching to my life.
In fact, it added a new dimension to my thoughts: failure is new longer that frightening. My life so far has been smooth sailing. I took whatever tests and exams at only one sitting, with good results to boot. I took pride in doing well, everytime, all the time. That was why i piled myself with stress when i took my dip exam the first time round. And thinking it could be the last piano exam i could afford to take amidst my busy teaching, my only thought was only about passing the exam. And of course, that -- being bent on passing -- ironically led to failure.
The exams were lessons on humility. Having gone through it, i realised failing isn't that horrible afterall. It made me look at people who failed, in whatever ways, in a different light too.
Yes, I'm not infallable. Truly humbled.
The failure, of course, does not mean that my musical journey is drawing to a close. I'm having another go at it. But this time, I'll trying for a dip that's of a slightly higher standard. No point banging for the same exam just for the cert. Two years to prepare. Looking forward to more challenges.

2007-12-31T12:25:00.000+08:00

That humans and human relations are the most complicated things in the world must be the grand dowager of all understatements.

Yes, humans beings are just so complicated. Yet, things appear clearer to me by the day as to how human relations should be handled.

(WARNING: Haphazard ramblings. Read at your own risk)
Make your views heard but don't impose them on others. Don't pose your expectations on them either. Everyone has different value systems, beliefs, likings, temperaments. There are hardly any rights or wrongs in this world, just different perspectives. Just because you think you're right doesn't mean that you are.

Eg: Monogamy is a prized possession for many in our society but a person who practices monogamy may be a laughing stock in polygamous societies. (But one might argue monogamy is mired by very liberal thoughts now. Suddenly, it has become cool to be a divorcee and an adulterer.) So a person whom you think committed a grievous crime could just be a victim of circumstances. A pawn in the game of conventions and norms. A person who is born into a wrong society, era and family. Someone who refuses to be conditioned.

Bottomline:
Be open-minded. Be accepting and tolerant. Live and let live. Take things easy. Everyone has his/her right to live and think the way they choose to and we're only responsible for own well-being. Let people be responsible for theirs because we really don't know any better. Don't let our egos and our illogical need to feel superior get in the way. There really isn't a need to. And someone who practices that, to me, is the hallmark of a truly confident, self-assured individual.

Conversely, we have the right to live the way we want, without subjugation of any kind. Yes, we should strive to design our lives and imprint them with our personal, distinctive strokes. We should have the courage to live, without fearing how others might perceive us. Don't do things simply because others say them to be right. Do it because it feels right to you.

Caveat: Hmmm, most importantly, do no evil. Because like what Alicia Keys sang in her song "Karma", what goes around comes around. What goes up must come down.

Signing off,
A surrendered being who has decided to let life teach her whatever it wants, wherever, however.

Ommmpphhhh.

Lord of the Rings...

2007-12-11T00:08:00.000+08:00

Yes, off the NZ. :P
16 days. Yippee!!
Back on the 27th.
Don't miss me, ok?
I bet you will. And my thick-skinned ways. Haha.

Glutton Me

2007-12-10T23:52:00.000+08:00

My sis brought a piece of black forest home.
Immediately, she asked me if i wanted a bite.
"Aiya, you always want a bite of everything lah. Eat lah. Eat lah."
Ha. Yes. I can't resist food. I need a bite of everything i see.
To put it in a nice way, I'm just a naturally curious being.
I just have to find out how things taste.
Next time when you're eating something, please offer me a bite!!
This glutton needs to know if it's good!
If not, i can't stop thinking about the food and will start imagining what it would be like to sink my teeth into them. And before i know it, i'll salivate. Heh.
So...one bite please! Thanks in advance!

5 days of BooHoos..

2007-12-08T13:28:00.000+08:00

3 Dec:
Snip! Snip! Snip! Boohoo! Not nice.

4 Dec:
Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Boohoo! Nothing left.

5 Dec:
Swish! Splash! Zap! Boohoo! No wind on my face.

6 Dec:
Da! Doo! Bido! Boohoo! No more flings.

7 Dec:
Talk! Shop! Laugh! Boohoo! No more egg yolks.

Things Happen for a Reason

2007-12-02T00:59:00.000+08:00

I find it hard to explain. But suddenly, for the first time in my life, i really start to believe that there is a Creator out there. Somehow, things in my life suddenly seems to unfold as though they have been planned, in a particular order, to make me learn more about life and myself. It's scary. Maybe our lifepaths really have been planned. Suddenly, life feels exciting. No, I'm not becoming religious. But maybe, i'm beginning to explore what spirituality is about.

I Don't Want to Sleep Tonight...

2007-12-02T00:04:00.000+08:00

I don't want to sleep tonight. I'm afraid that when i sleep, i'll lose my sudden "right" touch for my left hand on the piano.
For the first time in 17 years, i finally feel that my left hand is really playing the piano, not ravaging the keys. This episode is rather bizarre. Somehow, it just happened. Or rather, it did not just happen. It was a cumulation of different things.
Thing No. 1: Reuben Kee
Saw how he played the piano on youtube. He made me realise what enjoying music meant, something i forgot about when i started learning piano from my new teacher and became too conscious about my left hand. I was trying to adapt to the new technique, which requires me to channel my energy to my fingertips. Simply put, i forgot what really mattered in music.
Reuben's hands were relaxed and really feeling the music, embracing the keyboard. So, Reuben Kee, thank you so much. Here's a stranger wishing you that you have an equally fulfilling life up there, as much as you did.
Thing No. 2: My Piano Examiner
I did a horrible exam again on Thursday. How bad was it? I felt so terrible that i cried after the exam, which i have never done before. Yes, it felt like shit. The funny thing is, i now feel that it was a blessing in disguise. If i had not done badly, the examiner probably would not have said what she said to me. (Yes, horror of horrors, gasps!! A female examiner. They say it's probably gone case when you get female examiners. The irony of things is that i'll probably remember her for the rest of my life for her kindness. In retrospect, she felt like the fairy godmother who helped a poor lass in total distress. My first encounter with fairies, or maybe guardian angel.) I thought she was going to praise me even though i performed badly when she said she was pretty sure i had listened to professional recordings of the songs that i played. I thought she was going to say something like this: "Yes, you interpreted the music like what the professionals do."
However, this was what she said instead: "You are not playing your own music. I come here to listen to your music. Not to the CD. What you're playing is their interpretation of music. I want to hear your interpretation. You did not show me your interpretation. Next time, don't listen to the recordings. Even composers interpret their songs differently each time they play, depending on their moods."
Ouch.
OUCH.
OUUCCCHHHH. TOTALLY BRUTAL WORDS.
Then came the less-ouch part: "You played some beautiful sounds for this piece (Beethoven). You were playing your own music. You have good technique."
Lesson learnt: Just play what you think feels right, but of course within certain confines.
Thing No. 3
ATM lent me a book called "The Law of Attraction". In it, the law of attraction is defined as such: That which is like unto itself, is drawn. In layman's term, it's called "birds of the same kind flock together". So when you think negatively, negative energy gets attracted to you. When you think failure, failure comes to you. Of course the book contains more insights than that, but this is enough to make me look at my world in a different light.
As a result of these events, i start to force myself to think that i can do it. I can channel my energy to my fingertips. I can immerse myself in music.
And viola! It really happened. The power of positive thinking.
Not convinced? Try it yourself. Positive thinking really does wonders.
Right now, i'm just going to commemorate this day where i really start to feel that i might one day become a piano teacher because my left hand is finally sorting itself out. And for the first time, the idea of turning professional becomes real.
Feels great. And no, it's not a dream.

I'm Alive!!!

2007-11-23T13:22:00.000+08:00

Yes, I'm back!! After a hell ride.
Sorry if i seemed to be out of sorts. Sorry if I didn't seem to be paying attention to you when we were together. I hope i did not make you feel like i didn't enjoy your company. My fault. Has nothing to do with you.
This year has been a really tumultuous one for me. i feel as though my life has been played out like a drama. If it's made into a show, you might think the script-writer is being over-the-top. How can it be so "drama"? And i thought i'm sinking into depression. I don't even feel like meeting friends i adore.
And you might think i'm exaggerating. Maybe I am. After all, when i compare myself to many others around, i'm still very fortunate. It really is a matter of perspective. Yes, I had an epiphany just. Things that seemed darn serious now feels rather laughable. Hark! What was i thinking!?!?
No big deal. Slap me on my cheek. I'll turn back to face the front. Punch me in the stomach, i'll kick you back.
I dare you to try me.
GGGGRRRRRRRRRR.......
Hi. I'm glad to be back.
Thank you, Life, for making me stronger.
It's been quite a ride.

Initiation...

2007-11-14T21:55:00.000+08:00

I've been feeling kinda down lately.
I feel I've aged 10 years. Call it my initiation to adulthood. (although technically speaking, that should have taken place six years back). Or call it just plain jadedness.
The multitude bombardments to the realities of life left me with much mental fatigue and a general disappointment with life.
I must have been just a silly, naive fool to believe in the good of people.
Fidelity is no longer in vogue. Perhaps it has never been.
And how can a person be so devoid of empathy, care and love? I fail to understand. My heart aches.
Don't ask me what exactly made me say this. Some things are not meant to be said.
I'm fine. I'm just being initiated to adulthood.

My Big Day

2007-11-10T09:34:00.000+08:00

29 November is my Big Day. Please get ready the champagne glasses. And champagne, of course.
No, i'm not getting married, although sometimes i do fantasize about that once in a while. Well, i can't help it, being at this age and getting wedding invites from my pals every other month. At the last count, six guys from my secondary class have gotten married while two gals are aready speaking the "gaga, googoo, okok, mummy's here" language. One is heavily pregnant now.
But of course, a fantasy, according to dictionary.com is defined as imagination, esp. when extravagant and unrestrained, hence a fantasy remains something that is played in the mind, not the real life.
Eh, i think i've digressed. This blog is not about weddings and having babies. Nowhere near, although the experience will be equally nerve-wrecking.
I'm gunning for my piano diploma again, after a failed attempt to clinch the deal last year, thanks to my rather disastrous showing. Can't believe it's been a year since i last took the exams. The jittery, can't-sit-can't-stand-can't-eat-can't sleep syndrome haunted overbearingly. Somehow, when it's exam time, it's usually poo time rather than show time. Yes, it feels like i'm defecating, where i get everything out at one go.
No pauses, no thought, no nuances, no expression, no nothing. Such odious playing. I always felt helpless, when the hands refused to do the bidding of its master. The obstinate creatures go into the little dance of shaking from left to right, non-stop, as if performing the butt-shimmying, only that they aren't half as sexy.
Arghhhh, i want to pass the exam. Anyone wants to be my audience, so that my hands can be tired from all the shimmying and are finally willing to cooperate for once at the right time?
Bring in the champagne glasses!

Tall, Dark & Handsome

2007-10-23T22:18:00.000+08:00

Our eyes met. First reaction: What a gorgeous-looking man.
He looks familiar. Wait, i know who he is. He's the suave swimming instructor i always see when i go swimming. What an eye candy.
He looks better without his swimsuit. This is the first time i see him wearing normal clothes.
I've never imagined him to be that tall. He seemed to be of a rather small frame when in water.
Tall, dark and handsome. He should go be a model!
Drool factor: 8/10

The Most Unsexy Being of All...

2007-10-21T11:42:00.000+08:00

Whiny. Undecided. Attention-seeking.
I dislike people who whine a lot. When people whine, i tune off. And when men whine, i feel them turning into lizards and cockroaches -- to be shunned upon sight with fright and disgust.
Call me a feminist, which i don't think i am, but i find it totally unsexy when men whine. Of course I'm not saying that whining is a prerogative of females. But somehow when men do it, it seems to add an effeminate streak to them. That they're not able to take things in their stride. Men, being the macho beings that they are SUPPOSED to be, should be calm, collected and unshaken by trivial, inconsequential things. Nothing is SUPPOSEDLY too huge to ruffle their stately shoulders. When met with problems, they are SUPPOSED to just think coolly and solve them. Hassle-free. (Okay, i have my own stereotypes about men. How they should and should not behave. We all do. Not going to be apologetic about that.)
What makes a whiny man more unsexy is one who is undecided at the same time.
"Yes, i feel like doing this, but there are so many other things to consider. Yes, i should. No, i shouldn't. Yes. No. Yes. No."
The march of "yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, yes". Regimental yet wavering.
Keep the march for the National Service. And i thought NS is supposed to turn wimps into winners.
Apparently there are some cracks that need mending.
The world is already bad enough a place with women having PMS. I don't think we need unmanly men to add to that.

Weirdos Us All...

2007-10-15T21:21:00.000+08:00

I'm weird..The only consolation that i get is that knowing that...you're weird too...
Hate as i to admit it, yes, i think we're really strange creatures, each and everyone of us.
Weird in our little ways. Some weirder than the rest, in the eyes of others.
And sometimes i wonder if we think other people are weird because they've less sucked into systems we call institutions, less caught up in rules, regulations and norms.
Marriage, as an institution in Singapore, states that one man can only marry one woman. But who made it that anyway?
Who ever said a man must be married to a woman? Who said a man can only marry one woman? Who said a man cannot marry another man? Who said a woman can only have a husband?
Aren't we just animals all the same? Free to have more than one mate?
People who do otherwise are given names, "adulterous", "abnormal" or simply just "eeekkkss".
People who don't fit into classroom teaching. Are they weird, or is it that they're less programmed to follow the rules and regulatiosn that the rest are wired to?
Who are the "normal" people? What if the people from IMH are really the only normal ones?
Ha. Sorry. I'm just thinking too much. Please don't think i'm weird.

Facing the Book...

2007-10-04T22:39:00.000+08:00

Facebook is not my friend. I don't know him. He doesn't know me.
I've been trying really hard to know him but i think he's playing hard to catch.
And I've tried coaxing him to pinch others, make vampires out of them but he simply refused.
What a loyal friend.
So it might be my loss if i don't try to get to know him. So i'll try again.
But still, the mention of him makes my blood boil.
At the same time, he sets my heart racing whenever he acknowledges my presence by sending invitations to me at times.
What should i do about him? Help!

Bah-bah-dum di-dum

2007-09-23T20:31:00.000+08:00

It's as much a pleasure as it is a torture when you have that much internal rhythm in you.
It's so much a blessing when you feel so much joy listening to music, singing and dancing.
Music and dance are in my blood. And that's when i feel the most alive.
I watched Hairspray yesterday. It wasn't a fantastic musical. Much catered to the teens crowd, it has a simple plot, with the usual accoutrements of the underdogs, puppy love and inequality.
But i still enjoyed the movie, purely for the music and dance in it.
I was tapping my feet throughout the show. I wanted to dance while watching it, but of course i couldn't do that in public. That's why i say having so much internal rhythm can be a torture too. I wanted to stand up on the seat, and dance and sing.
I dreamt about being a star, performing as the light shone on me, doing the shimmers and singing honeyed tunes.
Such wondrous torture. Such painful pleasure.
The gift of music and dance.

Colour Me Bad...

2007-09-23T19:46:00.000+08:00

I'm back...with just another post after soooooo long. I can't help it. Guess i've been working very hard. Trying to play hard too, but nowadays, i gotta admit i'm quite a LOSER. A lot more work, much less play. With life so unhappening, i decided it needed some spicing up.
I decided that my legs ain't colourful enough. I mean, it's only beige and ain't quite pretty. So i decided to add some colour to them. Red. Blue. And Purple.
And i did it using one of the most unconventional methods. Not with coloured pens or poster colours. My method took but only three seconds: heels got caught in my pants, went into kneeling position before tumbling down four to five steps. Thump! Thump! Thump!
There! Done! Takers anyone?
Warning: Super effective as a colour enhancer. Colours only wear off after 3 weeks or so. Not removable before that. Initial excruciating pain expected, especially in the immediate ten seconds after.
P/s: This method is also a good test of balance. I was amazed at how i managed to stay in the prayer position throughout the five steps down. At that instant, i had a better understanding of the term "Stairway to heaven".

Melt Their Cold, Cold Heart, Please!

2007-08-17T22:19:00.000+08:00

I showed a documentary on the Rwandan genocide to my class.
There was a scene where i thought was fabulous to bring out the issues of moral courage, media ethics and discrimination and where i thought would surely evoke and stir up some emotions in the kids.
Imagine this:
A horde of Tutsis had been hiding from the murderous Hutus. Upon seeing a group of foreign soldiers, they thronged forth, thinking that salvation finally arrived. Yet, the foreign soldiers ignored their pleas for help, rationalising that they were under instructions to just escort the expatriates safely out of Rwanda. Sensing that the soldiers would not help, they turned to the media, who were there to tail the foreign soldiers' mission. The Tutsis pulled out all stops while they were in front of the camera, making monkey faces, ridiculous antics and all, hoping that could change their seemingly inevitable fate. It was an all-out, last-ditch desperate bid to save their own lives. The media, with their irrepressible urge to perform their role, simply shot the scene and left.
Then, gun-shots were heard.
The inevitable happened.
It was a very emotional scene that showed the cruelty of life, the ugliness of humans and the unimaginable affront one could possibly commit against other fellow human beings, ordinary men and women who, too, had families, who, too, could feel pain, happiness and sadness.
I paused at that scene and asked my kids what they felt. They said they felt nothing. I prodded them for more. No answers were forthcoming.
I was aghast and disturbed. I shouldn't be the only one who thought insurmountable injustice had been lashed out.
An hour into the show, they thought it was simply boring, because it was not "action-packed", with what you know.
I felt so sad for my students. Are they already dead men walking even before they step into the working world, stripped of emotions and feelings?
Education must have failed them.

Freakish....

2007-08-12T19:52:00.000+08:00

A few days back, i had diarrhoea, fever, coupled with vomitting.
Nothing out of the blue.
Except that two days later, my father came down with fever. Then a day after, my mum vomitted. My maid's stomach felt funny. Then my first sis had fever. Another day after, my second sis vomitted nine times throughout one night.
Yes, i was the host. But i just wonder where i got the virus from. Scary huh?

Empowered for More...

2007-08-12T12:57:00.000+08:00

I just came back from a swim.
Draped in much flab and fat, i was amazed by how much ease i managed thirty laps, without much stopping in between, except to clear my googles. I haven't really exercised for the past few months.
I must sound like someone with a super huge ego, but i'm really flabbergasted by my stamina. I must be a superwoman in my previous life. Haha.
But swimming in a public pool on a Sunday morning isn't much of a pleasure. Not when the pool is packed with kids with raging hormones bent on being juggernauts, kicking and splashing their way through the pool in one straight breath, determined to ascertain who the Great One is to reign the pool.
Thank goodness I emerged alive from the crossfire, save for some internal injuries sustained from kicks by the darned ones who lived in their own Universe.
Oh well, the things you have to put up with when you need to fight flab.

Oh and when i was at the carpark leading to the sports complex, i saw the tarmac floor littered with tiny dots, remnants from the parking coupons that car-owners had conveniently poked, plucked and thrown.
I was disgusted. Argh. It reminded me of a phrase i always use in class "With freedom comes responsibility". You can have all the freedom, do whatever you want, but only when you know how to act responsibly. If you can't, you have deprived yourself of that right to freedom.
And i quiver at the thought of whether we are ready to have less rules and regulations in our nation, when we can't even have the basic civic-mindedness to even throw litter at places where they should belong. And i hate to admit that sometimes rules and regulations are necessary, thanks to such people.
And then i remembered why chewing gums were banned. Some idiot decided to stick the gum on the door of the mrt, and the door got jammed, stalling the entire train system. It sounds like an over-simplistic explanation, but it was one of the reasons. What were these people thinking?
I fail to comprehend.
Sigh.
Bring me to utopia.

So Alive...

2007-08-09T23:52:00.000+08:00

I get worried when euphoria sets in.
I'm too happy. For no reason.
Not that i don't revel in that.
But i'm just worried about my state of being when i'm in that euphoric state.
I laugh too much. I talk too much. I adore too much. I love too much. I start acting like a kid (Hmmm, although some might argue that i act like one even WITHOUT euphoria.), innocent, with lots of love for the world.
It feels as though happiness is overspilling, so much so it feels wicked.
I felt so alive during the national day celebration in school, but i think i was the only one who felt so. The students apparently thought it way too uncool to sing along to the national songs. The teachers apparently cared too much about decorum. It would have been better if someone tried to block the songs from my ears. I just couldn't help but start tapping to them and singing along. Somebody please bind me to my seat! Tie my hands!
I started clapping loudly to the rhythm of the songs, hoping that even the dead would be roused. But nonchalance ruled the house.
The dead couldn't move. Of course. I forgot they were nailed to their coffins.
Hail Staidness! Hail Stoicalness! Hail Rules! Hail Regulations!
But i won't have no part in this.
I've been reborn. Alive. Well. Kickin.

The Beauty of Less

2007-08-08T22:42:00.000+08:00

The beauty of less.
Not of skin, but of words.
This resonates more and more deeply with every essay that i mark. Ha.
I simply cannot understand why people see that urging need to use pompous words, when delivery with simple, clear English will more than suffice.
We write to be understood first. Then to impress.
We don't write to confuse. Then HOPING to impress with whatever nonsensical what-not concocted to drag the mind through a journey of oz.
Make every word count. No more. No less.
And my marking becomes a pleasure.
Hark. I think insanity from marking has set in. Because i have just asked for more than the impossible.

Eager Beavers Them Two

2007-07-15T22:02:00.000+08:00

My dad and mum took to life in retirement like eager beavers wanting to make the best of everything they have now.
And if our govt ever needs mascots to front lifelong learning, they're the ideal choices!!!
My mum's experimenting with kueh-this and kueh-that every other day. I know it overly indulgent to say this, but i think i have too much good food and that feels so sinful. To have a full platter of good food always waiting for me.
My dad's learning to use the internet so that he could track the stock market movements. He's a young old man who's game to take life on like a foolhardy teenager who has never tripped over life. I mean it in an affectionate way. "Foolhardy" as in "Brave". His passion for life is not an inch diminished by age nor risk.
i hope to be like them when i'm old: the wrinkles being the only thing that betrays them.

catharsis for sale pls...ANY...

2007-07-08T15:57:00.000+08:00

I wanna dance...
I need loud music...
I need to read...
I need to run...
I need to jump...
I need to sleep...
I wanna sing...
I wanna drink myself silly...
Anything...but work...
I even resorted to reading bimbotic CLEO to stop my mind from thinking about work. How bad is that?
And I thought i should stop being a loser and do something about my situation. So i decided to go for a jog.
Then a bigger loser situation popped up:
Raindrops keep falling on my head...(No i'm not humming the song. It's for real)
And when i went up, the rain seemed to have stopped!!! AHHHHH....loser with a BIG CAPITAL L.
And thereby resulting in me taking on another form of catharsis that you're reading now.

A Record of Some Sort

2007-07-01T23:36:00.000+08:00

I have a pretty picnic mat. It is brown in colour, with slashes of orange at the corners. It is so pretty that i have to tell everyone who goes to picnics with me about it. One fine day two weeks ago, it took up a task it had never quite had before: to become exhibit A.
Here was what happened.
On a not-too-sunny Saturday that drizzled on-and-off like a woman having her pms, my mates and I went BBQing at East Coast park. Mr Bunny, in his trusted mini van, came to pick us up from our houses. Along the way and when we finally arrived at ECP, the Grand Dame wasn't particularly in a good mood and we had to take whatever of her insolence that came our way, be it an overcast sky, sudden gust of wind, etc. But the BBQ had to go on. And so we did.
We needed to choose a good spot to BBQ. Afterall, it needed to be a place where there's light, since it was already evening. But finding a good spot on Saturday evenings at ECP was so much of an arduous task, with people occupying the tables and seats like they were glued to them for the rest of their lives.
After tracking through a jungle of trees, we finally came to our little idyllic piece of heaven, the breakwater. With no time to lose, we started on our picnic adventure, hoping to beat the Grand Dame at her game, frantically setting up the pit and taking out all the food that was to be grilled.
While Mr Bunny and I were trying to set up the pit, Mrs Bunny, Ms Tay and Ms Lim had other plans in mind: they wanted to set up the perfect picnic spot. So they started discussing -- at length -- where they should place the newspaper such that the newspaper wouldn't get wet with all the puddles of water at the breakwater. After much thought, consideration, analysis and evaluation, they found the perfect position, which was exactly 30.00 cm away from the bbq pit. And then, the highlight of the evening, my pretty picnic mat, was going to make her appearance, on top of the newspaper. After laying it down, the newspaper sheet looked like a giant, waiting to gobble up the puny picnic mat that was sitting pretty on it. I told them my mat was pretty, not BIG. I didn't know what gave them the idea.
So we started bbqing. 5 minutes down. Bits of the pork chop, satay, hotdog and fishballs were done. 10 minutes later, our tray of food multiplied. Within 25 minutes almost everything was done. Thirtieth minute. Drizzle. BBQed last batch of food. Packed up. Thirty-first minute. Packed up. Packed up. Packed up. Panic. Rush. Packed up. Extinguished fire. Packed up. Packed up.
Oh wait. We haven't even sat on my pretty picnic mat yet. So there goes the fastest BBQ ever recorded in my Guinness Book of record, with the pretty Exhibit A playing the role of the bimbo -- nice to look at, but of no use.

Sweet scent...Not...

2007-07-01T23:10:00.000+08:00

She had too much money? She did a nose job? She wanted additional attention? She wanted to boost the roaring economy?
That lady must have poured one whole bottle of perfume on herself. As if it was not enough to make herself a walking stench, she had to stink up the whole bus. And i had to sit beside her. My nose died, almost. Thankfully the bus journey wasn't long enough and my dear nose was resuscitated with a whiff of fresh air after i alighted. I don't know what might happen to it with that sustained exposure to the high concentration of perfume molecules. My nose and I were not the best of buddies. She used to always give me a hard time in the morning, as if she derived pleasure from me blowing her. Wooh. That sounds really wrong. As if she derived pleasure from me rubbing her. That sounds equally bad. Ok, i realise i'm not exactly good at describing sinus. Or sometimes, personification doesn't quite work. Right, i'll keep it simple. I have sensitive nose. Ha. So perfume and I aren't exactly good friends too. Hence my mindless grouse here. Full-stop.

I miss you...

2007-07-01T23:09:00.000+08:00

I miss you. I do. Sigh.

Misnomer not...

2007-06-24T00:00:00.000+08:00

Looking at my posts recently, my blog's title seems so much a misnomer.
Life is beautiful.
What i wrote weren't about the beautiful things in life anymore.
Just my incessant complaints. I'm morphing into a creature i hate. The complain queen.
Ok, i'm gonna abdicate that throne. No takers please. I'll flush it down the bowl even if people offer a million for it. Eh i'm joking. Anyone who offers a million bucks to complain, i'll take whatever filthy verboseness that cascades my way. Haha.
But Life should be beautiful. And it should stay that way, in spite of the hiccups along the way.
I guess i haven't said this in a while, which i should more often: CHEERS, EVERYONE!
Now hold your champagne glasses up in the air and repeat after me: LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL!

I'm a warrior...

2007-06-23T22:57:00.000+08:00

I'm a warrior. I'll put on a good fight. I will not let life get me down.
I'm a warrior. I'll pack a punch. I will be no pushover.
I'm a warrior. I'll keep the faith. I will fight for what is right.

Shut my mouth please. Shut my mouth. If i shoot my mouth off, i'll be dead.
Impetuosity, remain where you are. Any step closer, i'll be off the cliff.
I can't have you. At least not for now.
For there's a greater being called the BIG M that stands the way.
Patience, the understated virtue, be with me.
Hold me, guide me, but never control me.
Be with me, my compatriot.
Stay with me till i see the day.

In case you have no inkling of what i'm writing at all, it's just the mundane -- work.

Jaded...Ja..Ja..Jaded

2007-06-19T23:34:00.000+08:00

The line from Aerosmith just kept looping in my mind. I don't know why. I think i've been gotten down by Life.
I didn't know that has been hovering around until i talked to Missy Rossalini that day when she uttered, "You sound so jaded." Talk about something seeping quietly into the system. I was alarmed by her remark. Helpless too, the same time.
I don't like the status quo. Something's gotta give. Either my idealism. My sanity. Or my money. Ha. If you know what i mean.
Do i sound like a cynic? I don't know. I seem to have lost myself. I'm not even half my previous self, i think.
What got me down, i can't say for sure. The bureaucratic giant machinery? The weakling in me? Or my life's just too good that i've forgotten how to appreciate when i have already?
May be everything. May be nothing.
Or maybe it's the lack of time for dancing and piano that i feel i've lost touch with the creative aspect in me. Operating like a pragmatic, methodical robot, I can't seem to feel anymore.
And that got me really scared. What is worse is i could sink into moodiness almost immediately when i'm alone after one bout of hearty laughter with friends.
But this holiday is a good break from it all. At least i get to psyche myself, to brace myself for what is to come next. And to change my perspectives towards things. Re-adjust my priorities.
Can't quite make sense of what i wrote. It's ok.
I'm worried for myself. I don't know if i should be. But I'm very clear what needs to be done. So i guess that's a good sign.
"Always look on the bright side of life...."

Return of the Innocence...

2007-06-10T15:28:00.000+08:00

I woke up one morning and saw the sky.
It was coloured with hues of red, blue and yellow.
It was beautiful.
It put a smile on my face.
I marvelled at the picturesque sight.
The friendly giant, changing by the second, blossoming quietly.
Beautiful.

Clouds of animals. We've all heard about how only children can see them. When people grow up, they get buried in the flurried pace of life. In comes the money. Out goes the innocence. Out goes, too, the ability to see the animals.
Can you see the animals?

I'm finally seeing the light...for now

2007-06-03T20:45:00.000+08:00

I've not blogged for so long that i almost forgot how to login to my blog. And what spurred me to write my first entry after so long?
A human beehive.
A permed head.
Slightly asymmetrical in nature.
One that is ordered. Neat. Stiff.
I almost burst out laughing when i saw it.
I mean, when do you get to see a mobile bee-hive? And up for close scrutiny? And with no bees surrounding it, circumventing any risk of getting stung?
Hardly! And i declared myself lucky for the day. Yes, even I couldn't believe how easy it was to humour myself. So easily satisfied.
So there i was, in a sprightly mood for the rest of the day as i enjoyed my first facial in ages.
It's the school holidays. Although i still have to go back to school, not having to wake up at an hour where u could hardly make sense of anything is a miracle drug that does wonders to annihilate my most feared and revered enemies: dark eye circles and fine lines.
Okay i'm joking. Who am i fooling? Annihilate. Hark!
But at least less obvious.
Age is apparently catching up. Those things on my face could hardly be mistaken for anything else but fine lines. Sigh.
And i'm sighted with a slight paunch too. Oh my goodness!!!
I've lost it.
I'm going to do my yoga now.

Ugly is the New Beautiful...

2007-04-21T10:38:00.000+08:00

If you want to know what "ugly is the new beautiful" means, look no further. It's right at our doorstep. No, I'm not talking about Ugly Betty on Channel 5. Just look at our finalists for Miss Singapore Universe 2007. They must be competing to see who's the ugliest of the lot. (I'm so mean. I'm so mean!!)
I thought all along, we've been clamouring for the notion of beauty AND brains? That's not in vogue anymore? But surely if the judges are not looking out for a brainy beauty, they must be at least looking out for people with beauty, since by definition, it is a beauty contest. Or to put it bluntly, it must at least be a search for bimbos. But apparently, it's been proven otherwise.
No way will i encourage my friends to join such a competition. Because if beauty is defined only as such, they would need to join Miss Universe already.
The organisers might as well scrap the event. It's turned into a mockery of some sort. It's so degrading to the rest of our female population, seeing them represent Singapore women on the world stage. All right, i'm just being mean. But can anyone tell the organisers the meaning of quality control, please?

Ode to retirement...

2007-03-13T00:05:00.000+08:00

This blogging frenzy must be spurred by the lack of it for the past few weeks. I do have many updates i wanna pen down. Hopefully my fingers could keep up with my thoughts.
My parents are officially going into retirement, after 21 years into the retail business. How exciting! How scary! How wonderful! Clashing thoughts definitely. Well, after so many years of not having them around too much at home, suddenly they are always going to be at home. At least for most part of the week. I think my family's up for hell of a ride.
My mum can be quite a control freak. All the time she's not around, i'm already a rebel in her eyes because i just couldn't stand her controlling ways. Parents should just stop treating their kids like babies, when they reach the age of 18. Because if they do, here's the result: My first sis is still a baby in her early 30s and that irony pisses the hell out of me -- the youngest. Not that i like being treated like a baby. I detest that absolutely. For me, the idea of anyone above the age of 21 and still behaving like she needs to be taken care of deserves to sleep in the streets. Set the dogs on her. Life has been too merciful to her. Someone up there should give her a wake-up call. I hate that she's still lapping up the attention my mum's showering on her when it should be the other way around. She's indulging in my mum's indulgence. And because of that, my mum thinks she should indulge in me too. Again, something i strongly detest. We should be doing the taking care of instead. (Ok, i shouldn't be bad-mouthing my sis, but she really does irritate the hell out of me. I'll stop, for now. Whatever i've written, some are for comic relief. I dislike her actions, but i have nothing against her. I don't mean it when i say "Set the dogs on her". Haha.) They've worked hard enough for us. They should be enjoying themselves now.
Having rebelled against my mum for half my life, i think she got the message. Though understanding does not mean acting on that understanding, of course. And frankly speaking, to be fair, i do get a lot of freedom. But just not enough for me. I can't imagine what's going to happen now that she's going to be always around.
Maybe that's her ploy to get her daughters' asses out and make them get married soon. Ha. Such great length she's going to. But doomed for failure, i must say, because while she's a control freak, fate is not something in her purview.
Their first assignment after retirement would be a tour to Korea in April. Yes, they should travel all they want when they're still fit and healthy. They really deserve to take it slow now. Raising four daughters, providing for a small contigent of relatives in times of need is really not an easy task. My parents are super, having toiled for the family the way they did. My dad's white hair isn't genetics probably. It's the result of the heavy burdens he carried half his life. My mum's hands aren't rough from ageing. It's proof of her tireless dedication to care for her siblings, then her children since she was ten. Gripe as i may about my mum, but i really salute her.
So after so much complaining, i guess this entry is still dedicated to celebrating their retirement and the thought of spending more time with them. Cheers to retirement!! :)

A Queen's Blessing...

2007-03-12T10:06:00.000+08:00

A simple hand-made card. A few lines of words. A birthday card that came 7 months late felt as good as if the card had arrived on my birthday itself.
A card from her Royal Highness, The Queen.
The card, air-flown from Manchester, would not have arrived in such late fashion had the number on the envelope been written as 102 instead of 203.
In the end, The Queen herself, had to personally hand it over to her loyal subject, as she made her annual round to Malaysia and Singapore to bless her beloved subjects with Mandarin oranges and her royal air.
The Saturday she flew back with her Prince PhD to Manchester, the parting wasn't that hard. Probably have gotten more used to not having her around. Probably also because she looks as though she's very happy with her new life.
But seeing the card and reading the contents, boy, drew back lots of memories. I'm gonna miss her again. Sigh.
A card's only a card. But the memories, friendship and well wishes that came along with it made it such a priceless gift.
A simple hand-made card. A few lines of words.
Thank you, Your Royal Highness.
Your beloved servant is touched. Signing off, wishing you the best as you continue with your adventure in that foreign land.