beyond the surface

In this day and age, when everything seems to be falling apart, it’s amazing that one’s value system still has the ability and capacity to stand its own and not have fallen apart or has it? Really. Is it just a facade which portrays an image that one wants to see but in reality, the rot and dampness has already gotten to the core and heart of the system. Hence, the pseudo image that one conjures so as to pacify one’s inner self and peace of mind.

stargazing

9:35 AM
It’s so darn exhilarating. I’m going for my first ever singing/meet-the-popstars session. So I’m not doing any overnight queue thingy but it’s so exciting anyway. The droolable guys. The screaming fans. The sweaty bodies mashed together in a hot, temperature-rising place. Then again, maybe not. So today, I’m a tad espionage.

12:50 AM
It’s quite fun really. Stuck under a pretty red umbrella, sitting equally pretty. The bum hurts terribly though. Hope I didn’t overstress my tailbone. It’s almost one and the sun’s getting merciless. Time really flies when you’re doing no-brainer stuff like this. To think I used to diss such stuff. Have a nagging feeling those chaps are going to be late. *sigh*

fishy business

*a tribute to monsieur yellow tang fish*

dearly beloved,
we are gathered together to remember the short dismal lives of mr yellow tang fish. no, not just mere fish were they. they were friends, soul mates, comrades-in-arms. in short, brothers in very sense of the word. at $35 apiece, it was way expensive kinship I must say. but then, who are we to comment on the minute value placed on the greater love felt? today, we celebrate the short-lived journey and sudden passing of the ill-fated mr yellow tang fish and to condemn the lousy third-rate fish shop that they were procured from. they will be sorely missed, heart and pocket. may they contribute richly to the plant eco-system.

mayday mayhem

It took me 4 hrs to get settled and start work proper. Mind you. I was home today and not at the workplace. And all I had planned to finish doing today was to clear my clothes. Fold, iron, the works. Ya, clothes. Just pieces of colourful cloth. Not to imagine expensive. I used to think the best solution to one’s dwindling clothes situation was to get new ones. That was, until today.

I’m now saddled with a HUGE mountain to clear. Whatever was I thinking? Another hair-brained idea gone awry. Me thinks me so have to stop buying clothes… NAH. I almost succumbed to a weak moment of folly. Shopping will always be a woman’s prerogative. I’d say AMEN to that.

maybe baby

It seems, of late, the latest accessory to have is a baby. A must have apparently. Everyone’s getting one. From the who’s who in high pooh pooh society to the ordinary woman on the street. Anyone and everyone you meet these days either have one, is having one or trying to have one. And then what?

Erm… apparently, these things aren’t returnable. Neither do they come with a manual nor are they covered with a warranty of any sorts. And there definitely isn’t a money-back guarantee. And boy, do they cost an arm and a leg. And still, they’re flying off the shelves. One wonders why.

age acceleration

I’m feeling my age. Really. So quit laughing will ya. work. dinner party. choir. buying trip. rugby sevens. funeral wake. I’m totally completely whacked out. Even the adrenaline isn’t flowing.

Haven’t you gotten to a point when your age starts creeping up on you and pounces when you least expect it? There has to be a point when your body sends that all important signal that it’s time to slow down and quit pushing yourself too fast and too hard. So beneath the teeny-bopper clothes or lifestyle that we try so desperately hard to emulate, our body is growing older by the nano-second.

I’m thinking it only accelerates as the years go pass.

a life of firsts...

I’m getting into a terrible habit of writing on fast food tray liners. It’s MOS Burger Causeway Point today and they’ve got this lovely picture of their latest gratin créme burger. Too bad I’m not hungry right now.

Come to think of it, it’s my first time in this place. It’s been here for at least the last 2 years and I do believe I’ve never set foot in here. Why not? Why never?

And that got me thinking. Isn’t life full of firsts? The first time we fell in love. The first time we went to school. The first time we got our paycheck. Weren’t those great moments? Albeit all the tears and cheers?

When did we stop being happy and excited with new experiences? When did the dreariness of life start to dull our senses and bog us down? When did we stop feeling and seeing? When did it become almost suicidal to speak our mind?

Perhaps it’s easier when one compartmentalizes our thoughts, feelings and actions. The love goes here and then the happiness there and oh yeah, let’s squeeze in some grief in this little corner. There! All packed and stacked.

Has life been degraded to such a stage? I think mine has hit the rut and heading towards the downslide. Yours too?

trudging through angst

I sit here all prepared to write. My pen posed in mid-air and I don’t know how to start. The bane of a writer. But then again, I’m not a writer. Not yet.

It’s the perfect environment. I’ve got the Singapore River on my right, Shenton Way behind me, a cool breeze, a rattan chair, an umbrella to shade me from the scorching sun, a fruit tea and a slice of walnut brownie cheesecake and for a split second, I’m conned into believing there’s nothing wrong with my life.

So there is nothing wrong with my life. There’s something wrong with me. Every once in a while I evaluate myself. Fear. Is everyone afraid of being free? I panic wherever I have free time. Pockets of pure luxury and I hit the panic button frantically. For a brief moment, I hyperventilate as my mind races on about the multitude of things I’m not doing. I’m frightened that when my hands are idle, I think. Think of the very things that I try so hard to forget.

My mum says I’m angry. I think I’m perpetually angry. By working, I keep my anger away. Apparently. By being busy, I cease to have time to ponder on these issues. By staying on my feet, I run away. How far must I run when enough becomes enough? When will I ever be far away enough?

I have issues. Do I change my job? Is there something else in the big unknown? Am I missing out by not moving? Can I really map out what I want, when I want? I’m stuck in a rut and I don’t fucking know how to get out of it.

People I know will just smack me on the head and tell me to wake up. Smell the roses. See the clear blue sky. Breathe in the fresh air. I have a great job that I love and a pretty decent paycheck. No attachments. I live a charmed life. Have I no idea what contentment is?

I’m starved for knowledge and I hate change. I was in the cab today and it drove past Cathay building. The utter horror. The monstrosity of the building. A concrete slab devoid of feelings. I nearly wept. Where was the peeling paint? The aged walls? The warmth and intimate closeness one feels from a piece of architecture that holds more than mere faded fragments of days gone past?

I’m losing my past, whether I like it or not. They’ve taken away my Plaza Singapura, my National Library, my Cathay building. Heck! They’ve even taken away my primary school. Am I still clinging onto the past because of my fear of the future? Is it inhibiting my ability to see beyond? Does everyone go through the same thing or am I just alone in this?

It drizzled for a short moment just now. Fleeting. And suddenly, the sun didn’t seem all that hot anymore. The scorching heat had retreated to a lazy afternoon warmth. Is life like that? Do the occasional rain spells cool it and make it more bearable? Must life be bearable? Or is it an angst that all must trudge through? I’ll let you know when I reach the end of the tunnel.

Truth is, I think I’ve barely stepped in.

you don't have to say much to mean much...

I know I haven’t been writing much lately. Correction. I haven’t been typing in cyberspace. As for writing, I’ve been doing lots of that. More precisely, scribbling. Adorning smudged illegible scraps of paper with reds, purples, greens and blues. Someone once said that the English Language is a never-ending wealth of knowledge. I beg to differ. Last week, I suddenly ran out of words. Literally and metaphorically. Nothing rolled off my tongue nor from my head. A big slate of white. Somehow, unfortunately, they all seemed to want to take a holiday at the same time. But yesterday, I realized that sometimes you don’t have to say a lot to mean a lot.

I ate an ice-cream with Ju yesterday. Sitting on my kitchen floor, I actually realized that I love the little boy. Not just as a fun lil’ plaything that is growing up really fast but I actually really love him. And on a subconscious level, I think I finally mean something to him as well.

I heard this once –
“You can’t change the family you’re born into but you sure can make one for yourself”

Life is indeed peculiar and I’m relishing every moment of it.

what if...

I suddenly miss my growing years terribly. A kinda ache for the things that I should have done but didn’t get down to and now it’s all too late. The what-ifs in life that will resonate the rest of my life because there is no way I can turn back the clock. But then, if I didn’t miss those moments, I wouldn’t have the memories that are stuck in my head. A scenario of you can never have your cake and eat it.

a great day

It was a great day today. Three people told me that I’ve shed more pounds after my dengue episode. Simple stuff to make a girl’s day.

Diana held me hostage today. I had to agree to attend hip hop class and meet the nice butt instructor (she’s trying to marry me off, as with all the others) or be left high and dry without reinforcement rings. I caved. Don’t judge. At that point of time, I had to agree. Desperate times called for desperate measures ’kay. Now I just have to figure out a way to get myself out of that little white lie.

The secret seven is so weird. They’re either trying to marry me off or get Fang pregnant.

mad over mandarin

All the Chinese teachers that have ever taught me before would most probably be hyperventilating if they ever read just the entry title. Perhaps some might even take it as a cruel joke. Me, mad over mandarin. Even my other teachers long dead and forgotten would turn in their graves. I’m every Chinese teacher’s nightmare. The child that simply cannot cope with the language. My pronunciation is deplorable and my writing, just don’t even go there. But I can hold a decent conversation. So much so that I took home a merit for my O-Levels Chinese Oral Examination. I’m guessing the examiners thought it pretty funny just to hear me speak that they decided to reward me for the free entertainment in their otherwise boring job.

But then I digress. Frankly speaking, not withstanding the jibes, I actually dig the language. Ok. So I dig the songs and the people that sing them. I’m not ashamed to say that I’m a teeny-bopper. I actually like the multiple teensy boybands that have sprung up over the past decade or so. Now, now, don’t roll those eyeballs lest you can’t get them back in sync again. Whatever is so horrendous about that? *sheesh* Cute boys singing cute songs. You can’t get any better than that can you? Now that is what I call entertainment.

playing with words

I’m bored. Terribly bored. But at least this year, I’m not lying emancipated in my uncle’s house, listening to relatives play mahjong, subjected to Barney the Purple Horror’s umpteen rendition of listen-and-follow-along songs and force feeding myself on my grandaunt’s deplorable cooking. Ok. Ok. It isn’t all that bad. But it’s just that 25 years of voluntary subjected torture is just about all that I can handle. So that’s why when my mum suggested not visiting this year, I seconded, third, millionth the idea. And that leads me here. Trying my hand at a couple of new words I’ve been learning lately.

This is an excess usage of sesquipedalian words. However, it nary bothers me, the capricious person that I am. People might find me pugnacious. I might even become incommunicado. Who cares? I see it as my predilection for revolt.

K I’m REALLY bored nuts. The girls are coming over tomorrow. I’d better shove all my stuff out of sight.

mary martha

It’s been a pseudo week and I’ve mugging through.

Was at a wedding yesterday. A good friend’s. And I met a lot of people. People that saw me through my growing years. And suddenly I realized that that we’ve changed. There are more strands of white hair. More wrinkles and laugh lines. We’ve all grown older. And with another year full of hours and days comes another year of worries, problems, targets and goals. When will this vicious cycle ever end? When we decide to let go of our tenacious grip of our perceived and presumed reality and let what was designed to be run its course. Only then will we finally get to savour the days of our life to its fullest potential. The way it was originally created to be. In today’s society, there are more Marthas then Marys.

I want to be a Mary Martha.

Is it an impossible? Not with my God.

falling

I fell today. the one million and one time I suppose. Split my sandal *yippee* Didn’t bump my tail bone *phew* and lost all remaining shreds of my dignity *what’s new* Just realized that I’m forever falling. Be it literally or metaphorically. And more often than not, I end up flat on my face. Reality is the pain never ever goes away; neither does it dull with time, no matter how many times you fall. And there is never ever anyone there to hold you when you do.

Lift me up – when I’m falling
Lift me up – when I’m weak and I’m dying
Lift me up – I need you to hold me
Lift me up – keep me from dying again
Jars of Clay

time

Time is such a fleeting transient unfathomable thing. It’s so precious and so is the value of our lives. Life is so short and there are a million and one things that needs to be done. I want to do so much and see even more. Many people complain of the lack of time in each and every day. 24 hours is so little time. There should be more hours! And yet, I marvel at the wondrous wisdom of my Almighty God for only placing 24 hours in a day, 365 days in a year. Only with scarcity will we start to appreciate and savor. I have learnt to be content with my lot. If I can’t finish things today, I’ll do it tomorrow. Not because there will be more time tomorrow or even a tomorrow for me but because I have done my best for today and it’s time to rest for the day.

Do not worry for tomorrow for tomorrow will worry for itself.

before it ends

places I'd want to go before it ends.

• japan
• russia
• india
• hong kong (august 2007)
• vietnam
• cambodia (june 2006)
• bhutan
• mexico
• egypt
• africa
• portugal
• scotland
• ireland

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the road less travelled by. And that has made all the difference." Robert Frost

getting listed

I’ve gone public! For a moment, nearly typed pubic instead. That’s what happens when one gets so dependant on spell check. Tis a crying shame tho. With real people who matter reading this nondescript space, I can’t blabber about them all too much. Then again, who really cares eh? They choose to read what I’ve chosen to write. Let them deal with it.

"Always a side dish. Never a main dish"
Nazrana Zainuddin

a hard nut to crack

I suppose I’m quite a hard nut when it comes to the heart but there are still things in the world that have the power to melt my heart and make my insides go all soft and mush

• drop dead gorgeous guys
• when a guy tears
• a guy on his knees
• a guy in a well-cut suit
• when a child cries
• when ju calls me
• heart wrenching scenes from a movie or song lyrics
• wholesome family scenes
  

My parents just fought again. It’s been so long that I’ve long lost count. Just wonder how long I can hold out until something snaps within. Time will tell.

black

Your color is black. The color of night. Serene and mysterious, black conjures up images of elegant evening gowns, dashing tuxedos, and gleaming limousines. Traditionally a symbol of success, black also represents power and an uncompromising demand for perfection. Not surprisingly, you tend to set challenging goals for yourself and do whatever it takes to achieve them — your strength of character is second to none. This unfaltering determination, along with your natural elegance, impresses people. But keep in mind that your personality might be intimidating to some. Try to temper your demanding side with a little softness — trust us, it won't kill you. Overall, though, black is the color of professionalism and achievement, which means it's clearly the color for you.

*and i thought my colour this year was plum and red. a great excuse to go get a new wardrobe*