Vignettes

I pull open the wooden rack, displaying thirty-odd pairs of shoes wrapped in blue plastic bags. Blindly, I open a package on the top deck. Another one on the middle deck (oh no, I'm going to be late). And another on the bottom deck. Ah hah, finally, the black velvety heels with white dotted lines. It'll look so fine with my black and white outfit today. And then I remember: "I've got to design a better system."

***
Ten past ten. People are still streaming in. Thank God, I'm not the last one. Take my seat, say hello to people, get up, go to the coffee dispenser outside, out pours diluted coffee into an economical styrofoam cup, spot the finger sandwiches on the side, toss a few onto a crisp serviette, and go back to my seat. Look around, make eye contact with T and exchange a smile. He has unleashed a song into the chilly, sedated room. A song I don't recognise, through his iPod connected to twin mini speakers - no doubt to show how we can learn to write better by listening to gut-wrenching lyrics. I'm inspired already.

***
Drop by my old office. My old pass still works. Cool. Lift myself up on my toes - to peer over columns of grey (and greying) cubicles to see if F is at hers. She is. Strut over, hoping no-one will hijack me. F greets me with sleepy eyes and an even sleepier smile, but doesn't stint on the hug. "Let's go for smoke," her opening line is. An offer I can't refuse. Side by side, we go out to the balcony. Light up the cancer sticks in silence. Never mind the haze. In between puffs, she announces: "I've separated from my husband." What? Just after one year? "Oh, what happened?" Can't live with him, she says. Wants to be a man but acts like a boy. "I thought something was not right before your wedding." She confirms: "I got cold feet the night before the wedding, but the invitations were already sent out. Didn't want my parents to lose face." You're brave to face up to it, instead of languishing in an unhappy marriage, I tell her. "That's why I'm still single," I sum up. She nods knowingly.

***
T's not much taller than I am. But nearly twice my age. His hair is silver (was he blonde before?). His beer belly protrudes, obviously from one too many drinks after playing catch-up with one too many deadlines. But oh, he's sexy. It's in his smile that generates warmth, his eyes that twinkle with his passionate speech and his carefully measured opinions. So unlike many Americans who have crossed my path. Gosh, I could fall in love with this man. And then he says: "I should get home soon. My fiancee is waiting."

***
My earpiece is at home. Sigh, a long 35min train ride without music thumping in my head. At least I have a seat in the crowd (my heels are bearing down my spine). What's there left to do, except to stare. Discreetly. Zoom in on subjects. Look away when they're looking. Two female lovers. Coiled in each other's arms. The taller one with spiky, gelled hair, full Pizza Hut ensemble, one ankle on the other knee. The petite one, surely not a day over 15, her giggles rising above toned-down conversations. Then, they drift off to a blissful sleep, against the chug-a-chug of the train. How nice.

***
An annoying SMS. From A. "Hi, I've just returned from Brunei. Missed you!" Never know when he's coming or going. Not even a decent phonecall. Does he think I wait for him, like his shoes?

Haze

It's hard to ignore the haze clouding Southeast Asia lately. Step out of the house and you're greeted with a foggy view. It appears a little romantic to me, perhaps because it reminds me of the misty mornings in Aachen (border of France and Germany) during my trip there four years ago.

Of course, the current weather condition is nothing like those fresh, dew-ed mornings. It's a serious environmental issue brought about by forest fires sparked off by Indonesian farmers out to clear the land for planting crops.

The local papers have gone to town with this news, reporting on how joggers, cruisers and families are being held hostage indoors. But really, it's worth much more dedicating the column spaces to discussing ways to avert the situation.

Everyone's miffed with Indonesia, because it's not an isolated incident due to unnatural causes. Leaders of the affected nations have met but have yet to come up with solutions. Certainly, the farmers have to be educated and agricultural experts have to provide an alternative.

But it's easier said than done. When you go over to your neighbour's and see some practices you don't like, you can only let your feelings be known, but it's really up to your neighbour to take action or not.

If the haze has taught anyone anything, it would be to be considerate, which has become such an understatement in today's increasingly individualistic world. It shouldn't be done just because it clouds your vision, but because it mars the bigger picture - the global environment.

Fight or flight

The other day, one of my soon-to-be-married male colleagues asked me: "Are you sure you're not dating anyone (exclusively)?" I told him it's not easy to find a good match, to which he said: "Ah well, for girls it's a little different, isn't it? For men, sex is enough."

Wow, how brutally frank. I'm sure some men are not going to agree with him, but I think if a girl can keep a man interested through physical connection, he's not likely to stray.

I remember a line I read from a lad mag: "If a janitor looks like Maggie Q (pictured), we sure don't mind (making her our girlfriend)." I'm not subscribing to the male psyche through lad mags, but I can't simply brush it off either. While guys are more likely to go out with a Paris Hilton-hot girl, girls are less likely to go out with a Jesse Metcalfe-looking gardener (unless they're just in it for (secret) sex).

The guys I'm dating: they're always telling me how beautiful I am. Are looks what they are truly obsessed about or are they just saying it thinking that's what girls want to hear? Honestly, that's not what I want to hear. I want to hear about how good I am at my job, how good I am to my family and friends, how grounded I am as a person. I want to hear about my beautiful character.

My godsister believes that life is easier for beautiful people. First, you've got to be beautiful and then your talent gets noticed. She threw this question at me: "How is being proud of your looks different from being proud of your talent? Both are God given." I'm not denying that, but shouldn't talent matter more than looks? I can't help but become a sceptic when dating guys these days. I've half of a mind to put a faux scar across my face, just to see if he's going to stay and fight (to be with me) or take flight.

What say you, guys?

I've been tagged!

I've been tagged by Pingcat/Reluctantriter! So, here goes:

Smells I love:
• The rain
• My mum's cooking
• Men's musky aftershave

3 Smells I hate:
• I don't know how to describe it, but it's the smell of stale saliva and sweat
from people who don't bath in the morning!
• Chinese herbal medicine
• Burnt food

3 Jobs that I have had in my life:
• Restaurant host
• Telephone operator
• Shopping mall announcer

3 Movies I could watch over and over:
• Under The Tuscan Sky
• Before Sunrise
• Cinema Paradiso

3 Fond Memories:
• Getting full marks in a Maths test!
• Playing with two-year-old A-----
• My last night in Frankfurt, Germany

3 Jobs I would love to have:
• Travel writer or host
• Business owner of kids' enrichment centre
• Superstar haha!

3 Places I have lived:
• Only Singapore

3 Things I like to do:
• Walk in the rain
• Read a novel on my four-post bed
• Dancing esp salsa

3 Of my favorite foods:
• Anything with chicken!
• Anything with potato!
• Crab caesar salad from Marmalade Pantry, Singapore

3 Places I would like to be right now:
• Italy
• Netherlands (where my best friend is)
• Canada (to visit Pingcat!)

3 Websites I visit daily:
• www.bbc.co.uk
• www.google.com
• www.thesartorialist.blogspot.com

3 Things that make me cry:
• Stories of abused children
• Heartbreaking romantic films
• Insensitive louts

I tag...

Freckle Face Girl

Isadoritita