Amelia Earhart

I feel...

2007-10-07T17:09:00.000+08:00

It's Sunday and it's really quiet (with no-one in the house). The sun is shining in, making the dust dance it its light. This is one of those moments when you catch yourself smiling.

It's incredible how things can change in such a short span of a few months - did I ever see it coming? Perhaps I did, but I refused to let it get in the way of living life and let it become a self-fulfilling prophecy. I'm at peace with the decision I had made then, in spite of the disappointment.

To celebrate the small things in life, here are the 10 things I love to 'feel':

1) Light rain shower pitter-pattering on my face, hands and neck

2) Being kissed lightly on the lips

3) Smoothing palms over satin

4) Stroking an almost clean-shaven head

5) A finger tracing down my back

6) Cool, gentle waves lapping over me

7) Kneading dough

8) Stroking animal's fur/feathers

9) Hands running through my hair

10) Rubbing palms together

Home is where the heart is...

2007-08-11T21:12:00.000+08:00

The year has not wrapped up, but judging by how it has unfolded so far, it has been the most enriching year of my life.

It all began with my Italy trip in March. It was significant in many ways. Firstly, it marked that I have arrived - I feel empowered, having foot the bill and traverse - all on my own back(pack). The choices I've made has allowed me to live one of my two dreams, that is travelling (the other is writing for a living). I am, simply, happy.

Secondly, I fell in love. Not just with M, but with the country he was born in. Sure, a million other people probably feel the same way as I do after visiting Italy, but I'm convinced that I was probably an Italiana in another life. I love their slower pace of life, their passion for food as well as their work (be it a handy or desk job), their bond with family and friends, and of course, their old towns and countryside. These are the things that I value, and all these years, I've been trying ways and means to live some semblance of that life in city-centric Singapore.

I am at home in Italy. And then, I met M.

To be frank, I picked him to host me in Venice because he has my-type-of-guy looks. I thought, hey you're a single girl, let your hair down, throw caution to the wind, quit being prissy and have some fun for once. It turned out to be more than the holiday romance expected.

Fast forward to now. M left Singapore to return home just a few hours ago. I feel displaced after spending the past two whole weeks with him. Last night, we went to a rustic bar by the balmy beach. There was an acoustic band playing and I asked for Eric Clapton's Wonderful Tonight to be dedicated to him. He cried, then I cried, so we cried in each other's arms in the full view of the public, but we didn't care.

It felt real. And that's what matters to me.

For months, we had been holding ourselves back, not wanting to be swept up by the moment and having our heads in the clouds. We wanted to spend more time together, and find out the raw deal. Suffice to say, my best friend observed he's the male version of me. And we fought just like any other couple in a relationship.

At the airport today - after another round of tearful embrace - we bade each other with a presto (see you soon) instead of ciao (goodbye). I hope to make my way to Venice this Christmas, and I hope I can find some work in Italy in one year's time.

There's no reason for me to do otherwise, not when I feel at home in Italy. And with M. Never mind if it doesn't turn out to be forever. All I want to do is: live and let live.

2007-07-09T23:35:00.000+08:00

Wow, this feels so strange. After so long, I'm able to log on. This is so random. Hmm maybe there's a bug in my pc.

Hurrah!

2007-02-10T01:13:00.000+08:00

I'm jumping for joy! My leave has finally been approved. I'll be off to Italy for a two-week holiday in late March.

Things have gone off to a great start this year, and I'm thankful for it. I just got a promotion and have more say at work now. Our magazine is going for a revamp so there will be exciting times ahead. My leave application was left hanging in the past few weeks, but - phew- all that is more or less sorted.

I'm pleased to report that I've been enjoying better sleep these few days than I have in the past few weeks (due to being overworked, including freelance jobs, and bearing the thought of having my holiday held over till August, thanks to the revamp). I was told that I grind my teeth in my sleep, and once, I woke up to the sound of the grr-grr-grr coming from my mouth. This is the first time I have displayed the symptom of a condition called bruxism, and it affects people who are stressed, anxious and have the type A personality. It's not as serious as it sounds, except for the possibility of getting jagged teeth. Hope it goes away for good!

I'm really looking forward to the trip as I haven't gone on a proper long holiday in the past two years. Libero! I'm taking a "survival" Italian language lessons at the Italian Cultural Institute, and it's all going very well :)

My violin lessons are also going very well, and my instructor (a former lawyer and the same age as me) is very encouraging, praising me for getting my posture right by the second lesson and having a sense of rhythm, although I still have to work on my legato (bowing). I can now play Twinkle Twinkle Star, Lightly Bow, Song of the Wind and Go Tell Aunt Roddy fairly smoothly. Kiddy stuffs but hey, I'm a beginner! I also get to play with my instructor's three cats, one of which loves the sound of the violin (even my terrible playing!) and always park herself next to my feet (without budging from the spot, despite my accidental stepping on her tail occasionally).

Preparation for the trip is going great. Booked my flight earlier today. Made some contacts at couchsurfing.com, where natives offer to host you in their homes and take you around their city. Surprisingly, only the male ones replied. Everyone thinks I'm crazy, but hey it's a leap of faith, and I can always check into a hostel if anyone tries anything funny.

This post is just an update of what's been going on over my side, and to sum it up: life has been kind to me.

Have many good days!

Double lives

2007-01-13T02:24:00.000+08:00

Earlier in the day, I interviewed two mums, who got sick. One battled with breast cancer last year, at the age of 29, and the other battled with life-threatening ectopic pregnancy (where the embryo is lodged in a fallopian tube) at the age of 38.

It was my idea: to find out how ailing mums cope with their family life. I got hold of the two newsmakers through routine check with people on my contact list.

It's a tricky thing, talking to ill-stricken people. On one hand, you've to be sympathetic, which is not a problem because I'm a softie. On the other, you've to be distant, lest you get too emotionally involved.

There are the hard questions, and one of them is: how do you get back to your physical relationship with your husband, especially after you've lost your breast or baby? I am amazed at how coolly these women take up the question.

I know these are going to be great stories. But they are more than just stories to me: they give a sense of renewed strength. Of living, against the odds. It beats celebrity journalism, which I used to do, any day.

After a good day at work, I went clubbing with my gal pals. I danced, drank and even kissed a stranger, which earned me a remark: "You're so wild. How do you go from doing what you do in the day and to doing what you do at night?"

Yes, sometimes I feel like I lead double lives (like the women have felt at a point in their lives).
But you know what, the most important thing is: I'm living.

How To Be Good

2007-01-02T20:48:00.000+08:00

How to be good

Just a few minutes ago I concluded the last page of the titular book by Nick Hornby – which I got for a steal at a book sale (never mind its brown stained condition). I suspect it had been my subconscious mind at work that led me to pick up the novel. It was a good read anyway.

I like to ask people if humans are born good or bad, and I’ve got mostly extreme views so far. But I don’t think humans are inherently good or bad. We’re both and that’s why we’re constantly battling to have good triumph over bad.

It’s the time of the year when many people take the time to reflect and introspect, and my one and only New Year Resolution is to make life more meaningful for (in this order): myself, my family and my friends. I don’t believe in saving the world; I believe in saving those who are dearest and closest to us (first). Just imagine, if everyone does that, wouldn’t that already make the world a better place to live in?

I want to do things that I enjoy; things that nourish my soul. So I had gone out to sign up for (in no order of merit) 1) a language class (starting with Italian), 2) a music class (violin; a childhood dream of mine), 3) continue my dance class (salsa, still) and 4) a reading programme for underprivileged children. I’m not ashamed to confess that I’m doing all these for me, me, me, because they will give me satisfaction and make me happy, yes, happy – not happier (there’s no such thing), just happy. These things are not bad; therefore I’m learning How To Be Good.

Things with my family are generally fine – of course, there could always be improvements. But I would hesitate to meddle in their affairs (like my brother’s volatile relationship with his girlfriend). You know about good intentions going awry? I would instead lend my support in small, little ways to let them know they are being valued and appreciated in a place they call home (like getting my brother’s army graduation photo framed up). As for my friends, the least I could do is to be there for them whenever they need my help (which also means having to reshuffle priorities at times). The reason many people fail to keep up with their list of New Year Resolutions is that they think they can accelerate from zero to 100. Bad idea.

The final thing I want to do differently this year is my relationship (or lack of). If it comes, it comes, and I’m going to quit whining about it.

So, there, all set and raring to go!

PS: Hurrah, I managed to post!

On my own

2006-11-19T03:11:00.000+08:00

I have been home alone for nearly five days. My parents are away on a holiday in Thailand. And my brother is away on National Service (army).

The loneliness has begun to creep in, and I'm laughing at myself, because I've been entertaining the idea of moving out for some time now.

I've always taken pride in myself for being able to do solitary activities, like reading, swimming, walking, shopping, etc. But now it hasn't even been a week since I've been on my own and I'm already getting cold feet? How ironic.

I suppose you'll always need some time to adjust to a new arrangement. I suppose you need a good bunch of friends to keep you company. I could certainly do with more friends. But real good friends are hard to come by.

It's times like these when I think I need a boyfriend. And I am this close to making a phonecall to a certain someone. It irks me.

I know this may seem a little odd to some of you that I'm nearly 26 and still living under the same roof as my folks. But there's a perfectly reasonable explanation behind this: it's the Asian culture, in case you aren't aware.

To the experienced: how do you get used to living alone?

Vignettes Part Three

2006-11-14T15:17:00.000+08:00

The phone rings. I hope it's a call I've been waiting for. "Hello". "Yes, speaking." "Oh hi, thank you for returning my call". For 10 minutes, we talk business. Strictly business.

"By the way, are you the XXX who lives in XXX?" Now, it gets interesting. "Yes." It's all coming back to me. "How about coffee next week to catch up?" I have no reason to say no.

---

Wonder how he looks like. It has been six years. I stride towards the train station, straightening my top, hoping every strand on my head is in place and my make-up is not streaking in this perpetually humid weather. My eyes sweep across 180 degrees. I don't think I see him.

I hear my name spoken, firmly but friendly and enough to rise above the late afternoon going-home crowd. Reflexes jerk my head to the left and within an arm's length is him. He stoops and kisses me on both cheeks. I don't remember him being so tall and clean-shaven.

"Let's take a cab", he says with a smile. Ah, that smile. The lips apart, slightly revealing that unmistakable incisor tooth. It may not sound like much, but it's a special ingredient that adds to his wonderful smile.

He opens the door and lets me in first. Seated half an arm's length away, he's a lot more muscular than the 23-year-old I used to know. But there's something else about him that's different. What is it? Ah, an air of confidence. That's it.

---

V takes me to an al fresco cafe by the calm river, overlooking tourist boats for hire, the half-lion, half-fish Merlion statue spurting forth a fountain from its stony mouth and twinkling city lights illuminating the dusk sky.

He tells me about studying in Germany on scholarship for over a year. And then he tells me something in German, which he translates as: "You're prettier than before."

---

We decide to take a walk. Under the bridges. Lots of couples sitting on the ledge, taking in the evening river breeze. V hooks an arm, silently encouraging me to put my hand under and over it. I do exactly that.

"How did we lose touch?" I ask. "You got yourself a boyfriend." Oh. He rests his palm on the small of my back. He looks at me. We stop walking. Before I look away, he plants a kiss on my forehead. I feel a warmth lapping over me like a tiny wave.

Oh no no no, don't do anything silly, I tell myself. Not before T comes.

Vignettes Part Two

2006-11-07T00:23:00.000+08:00

The Inbox page flashes open and there, sitting at the top of the list, an email that is one year overdue. I do a double take. Is it an impersonal, chain email or is it a specially-for-your-eyes-only email? There's only one way to find out.
It doesn't disappoint. The first line sparks the same subtle innuendos that have been sorely missed: "Hello Miss XXX XXXXX...or has some lucky man changed that...". But the best part is the declaration: I'm coming. All the way from London.
Images, flashing like jump cuts in a film, appear in my head: T* in a basketball-type outfit walking, no, sauntering, away from Venice Beach. A dog-eared book in his hand. On a cool Los Angeles summer's day. Just a glimpse before I darted into the cafe to get a bottle of water.
Fade to black. What shall I wear? Do I need to lose some inches around the waist? I need a manicure. A spruced-up hairdo. Oh, I'm being silly.

---

I am officially exhausted. My head is floating, my shoulders are aching, my stomach's growling. Switch off the computer. Have just about had it with 12 hours straight of banging away on the keyboard to type out the 5,000-word essay.
Drag my heavy feet towards the bed. Stop. Look at the mirror. Look closer. God, I look like crap. A pimple is erupting on the left cheek. Greenish, dark circles glare under the eyes. The skin is pale and lifeless. How can I look like this when T comes?
Need to, as the cosmetics spin doctors like to say, rejuvenate myself. First, the bed.

---

Told best friend, S, of T's impending visit. "I've to approve of him first. If he's a bastard, don't waste your time." Wait, he's a friend. Did you think he's a suitor? "He may very well be."

---

A phone text message from T. Unexpected yet expected. When can I call you? (time difference, how thoughtful). You can call me anytime from now. I've just knocked off from work.
An hour later: my phone, which has been quiet, tucked in my hand rings to the tone of Van Morrison's Brown Eyed Girl. Answers it in my best casual, friendly voice. The usual niceties get disrupted over the Internet phone service. Hold on, I'll call you from the land line, he promises. Five heartbearts and the phone rings again. Crisp and clear, his British accent, despite the chug-a-chug of my train ride home.
How long is he going to stay. Which hotel does he plan on. He has some friends here. "I haven't called them. I called you first". Oh, boy. What else can I say, based on a series of half-forgotten emails.
At the cafe (which really looked more like a shack), I ordered a bottle of water. The dude ducked behind the counter, slid open the fridge and grabbed an Evian, and placed it on the counter, as I picked out the loose change from my purse. Paid what was due, lifted the Evian and turned towards the door. And there he was, standing tall. "This may sound terribly like a pick-up line but you really do look like a friend of mine from back home". British, what a surprise. I responded, I'm here on a business trip. Oh, you've been here for a while to start a clothing line. Wait, my tour bus is honking. Yes, you want my card? Okay, here you go.
I'm tripping over my words, getting ahead of myself. Be yourself, be yourself! Why do I have to behave like such a fumbling idiot around men I fancy? I want to proverbially kick myself.

---

*Funny but true, T is a different individual from the one mentioned in the previous post. And much younger.

Vignettes

2006-10-27T23:35:00.000+08:00

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

2006-10-20T02:00:00.000+08:00

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

2006-10-16T01:22:00.000+08:00

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!

2006-10-07T03:47:00.000+08:00

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

Sisterhood

2006-09-26T03:41:00.000+08:00

I've been happily playing big sister to my friend's younger sister, also an N, in the past few weeks.

She has been sharing my room and I'm glad to report that she keeps to her side of my four-post bed, in spite of her restless leg syndrome (the poor girl never gets a good night's rest).

We've been sharing quite a bit of stuff lately (she has been "living precariously" through my life, as she said). We went to Dali's art exhibition together, to the beach together, to the movies together, to the clubs together, to my dates together, to my work engagements together, did almost everything together. I thought, ah, this is what I've been missing out by not having a sister.

The other day, when I was feeling a tad moody from being maxed out at work, she surprised me with a lovely cake. Oh, how not to gush over her! That brief episode left my brother feeling, well, a little left out, as he shuffled to his room and holed up himself in there for the rest of the day.

I suppose it's just different having a brother... or is it? I can't talk about girly stuffs to him, but surely there are many things under the sun we can chat about? Are there really gender differences that govern the relationship between brother and sister?

N has shed a different light though:

N: "Your brother thinks you're fierce."

E: "Me, fierce?"

N: "Yes, you come across as the no-nonsense type, although you're one of the gentlest souls I've ever known."

Ah, such things she say. Makes me want to kidnap her.

But there's truth in what she said. I do give my brother a harder time than I give her, considering she'll be here only for a while until she goes home to New Mexico, where she has been living for half a decade.

So, for now, I'm just going to enjoy her company, and be thankful that at the very least, I got a taste of sisterhood. And perhaps learn to be my brother's sister.

Pic: Pablo Picasso circa 1921

Attention

2006-09-08T01:59:00.000+08:00

That caught your attention, didn't it? Chuckles.

That's what I've been getting a lot lately. And that's why I've lagged in posting an entry here!

It has been a crazy few weeks here - with my best friend, N, dropping by unexpectedly (all the way from Houston!) last weekend. Along with her, she brought her little sister (okay, not so little anymore, now that she's 19!) and her new beau (an okay Norwegian guy). Plus my other best friend, S, I've been split in so many directions!

S has been acting up, because (I know this for a fact, not her best friend for nothing) she feels left out in all the frenzied excitement (even though I tried my darnest to include her in our plans). But the storm is blowing over - N has left and I've agreed to go to a Westlife concert (which I clearly won't enjoy) with S tomorrow.

Boy, what a fabulous weekend I've had! N, who has made good, has shared some of that with me. Stayed at the Marriott, did the whole fine dining, spa and clubbing thing. Even allowed myself to splurge on a $300+ Kate Spade bag! Felt like a little rich girl and was even treated like one. And I'm not just talking about the doorman.

I met two guys, who are as different as, oh well, Elijah Wood and Owen Wilson (mind you, I've not dated for a whole year after that bad break-up last year and suddenly in one weekend, I bagged not one, but two suitors). Elijah, let's call him that, owns a car company (and has been shuttling me in different vintage cars, which he swore is his) and Owen is an engineer by day and deejay by night. They've got brains, that's for sure (otherwise, I won't be interested).

I just came back from a date with Elijah (he has been so sweet, he had even bought me a rose). He took me to this al fresco eatery just next to a Thai kickboxing ring somewhere off the beaten track. Although there was no sparring going on, it certainly made for an interesting ambience! Then, he sent me home (right to my doorstep) and called me "princess" (haha, how's that for an ego booster). Then, Owen called me, wanting to take me on a trip (presumably, all expenses paid?) to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia over this weekend (which I'm still undecided). He's been calling, asking me to hang out with him (at his club, I'm treated like a princess) and even talking about kids and the L word!

Man, are these guys for real? (FYI, they know I'm not rich). But you know what, I really don't care. Why? Because after having been treated shabbily by my past boyfriends, I believe I deserve some tender loving care.

It's about time.

Counting calories

2006-08-09T23:16:00.000+08:00

The other day, I was reading a report on Eat According To Your Blood Type Diet. Being O-blooded, I was told I could eat as much meat and as little grains as possible. Supposedly, my ancestors were the hunters. So, my body is made to take in a generous portion of meat.

That's all and well. But it's very difficult to start counting grains because rice is so much a part of the Asian diet. When I come home for dinner and restrict the serving of rice on my plate, my mum would give a long pout and pull a guilt trip on how she had toiled over the stove and no-one appreciates it!

I wish, I told her, I wish I can declare like a supermodel that I can eat anything I want and still look svelte (although I'm disinclined to believe that, as I've worked with models and observed they eat morsels).

I love food. It's hard not to when you live in a food paradise like Singapore. Our local food is oh-so-delicious as much as it's oh-so-fattening. That bowl of fish soup seems healthy, but look closer and you'll see something swimming in it. Oh, it's just pure unadulterated oil!

I think the reason waistlines are expanding globally (and it's not because we have chosen casual clothes over constricting corsets) is that people are spoilt for choices (I'm, of course, speaking for first world countries). Why have a plain sandwich when you can have roast beef sandwich packed with melted cheese, mushrooms and what not?

So, here I am, trying to get a healthier lifestyle going. On Monday, I trekked through the Machritchie rainforest for nearly two hours, covering at least a 10km stretch. After all that sweat, I felt good about myself and skipped away to a social dinner appointment with a friend. At the restaurant, I gave a once-over the menu and caught an Indonesian deep-fried tofu and egg dish topped with sweet soy sauce (yummy!). Hmm, if I order that, I'll be back at square one. My eyes searched for a healthier alternative and found Thai papaya salad.

Tough choice. What did I eventually pick off the menu? No prizes for guessing. Machritchie, here I come!

PS: Totally unrelated. Pingcat, from your previous comment: the book nearest to me had less than 123 pages!

Seven-year itch

2006-08-02T23:14:00.000+08:00

My friend, N, who's 27, has just got divorced from her husband of nearly seven years. Which might prove that the seven-year itch is not just hearsay, after all.

There was no major blow-up in their marriage (even she conceded so). They simply grew apart, that's all.

Now, how in the world did it come to this when everyday, they lived under the same roof. Anyone would be wont to guess that they don't communicate enough, which does hold some truth.

They had often quibbled over the Little Things that eventually snowballed into a Big Thing. Then suddenly, one day they woke up and concluded, oh, this marriage is just not working out, so let's call it quits.

It sounds like a pretty lame excuse for bailing out of a marriage. But this is exactly what's happening everyday, faster than you can say "I do". Marriages are going the way of Hollywood. Once the passion has fizzled, it's time to throw in the towel.

Why was Divorce almost a taboo word forty, fifty years ago? Did people respect the sanctity of marriage more back then? Perhaps. Were women more willing to suffer in silence back then? Perhaps. Did men feel a stronger sense of responsibility over their family? Perhaps.

This is all very phobia-inducing for unmarried women like myself. To have the thought of divorce as a probability and marriage of a lifetime as luck. So, marriage is a gamble, they say.

But I refuse to assume that belief (or else, I'm bound to become a runaway bride many times over). You've got to decide to get married with your eyes wide open. Leave all these happily-ever-after fairytale notion of marriage in fiction land. You've got to remember that you love your partner for his/her good points and accept him/her with warts and all - for the REST of your life. Take commitment not as a lip service but as an oath as if you life depended on it. I guess you just have to find like-minded people like myself.

And stick to it, for goodness sake.

PS: Tell me why you would or would never get married.

Venus envy

2006-07-23T20:39:00.000+08:00

My friend, S, is tall, slim, fair and has long hair. In other words, she's the traditional Asian ideal of beauty.

If I were a cynic and didn't know her better, I would have concluded she was trying to be cloyingly modest when she confessed she never felt as though she was a sight to behold. This is the same girl, who has legs that seem to go on forever and pouty lips that drove a male ex-colleague to whisper into my ears clandestinely, "Wish I could push your friend onto the table and make love to her right there".

But S has not lost her marbles, because she paled in comparison with that Eurasian girl in the eyes of advertisers, who put the mixed-blooded on a pedestal for their mass appeal. That girl with the almond-shaped eyes, sharp nose, sparkling skin, and all the best bits of the East and West.

It's hilarious how many people have bought into that idea of beauty, simply because only a certain type of look has been deemed worthy of being splashed across the giant billboards. If the media were to tout Miss Piggy as God's gift to mankind, I wouldn't be surprised if the rest of the population say amen to that.

Surely, this must have been borne out of the human need to be socially accepted. If you're not in, you're out. And not many want to be outside the circle.

Anyway, S thinks that every guy, who has the hots for her, must have been stoked by her personality. Because she's not some kind of beautiful, right?

"Er, I don't think so," I told S. "Remember that ex-colleague of mine? The one who fell for you at first sight and followed you around like a puppy?"

Of course, at this point, she launched into a tirade against men. The numerous men, who had made advances towards her, while they kept their wives and kids at home. How she might have to accept the "fact" that she might just end up like one of those wives, sigh.

"Well, darling, you've to hold out for Mr Darcy (that English gentleman from Pride and Prejudice by author Jane Austen). He didn't marry Lizzie for her pretty head but rather for her beautiful mind," I pointed out.

"E! Life is not a movie or a book!", S said. (At this point, she thought I needed more rescuing than she does...)

Me: "But you see, darling, Mr Darcy does exist. Because I do. After all, we're humans, whether we're men or women. We're the minority, maybe. I just hope the men who falls within this category are not either gay or married."

S: "Well, I still don't think men go for me purely for my looks. You look more Eurasian than I do."

Ah, so, it's really all about venus envy, isn't it?

Untitled

2006-07-18T01:12:00.000+08:00

There's an anchor
Pulling me down,
Down, down to you

Salt and water
Filling me up
'ver and above
Can't breathe, can't breathe

My feet have left, me
Floating, past my hands
Breaking the surface
Musn't sink, musn't sink

How I harbour you
And harbour you,
You, you, you

Manipulation

2006-07-15T00:47:00.000+08:00

Okay, this post is going to sound very devious. And I've decided to call a spade a spade, as evident in the title.

During a conversation with my cousin the other day, I was sharing my experiences in managing relationships (of any kind). And he blurted out, "That's just a nicer way of putting manipulation across" (so be it).

The thing is, in every aspect of your life or in any line of profession, you've to work with people, and if you don't rub them the right way, life is going to be very difficult for you.

Maybe you can identify with some of these examples. Maybe you've done it unconsciously.

1) Seem sympathetic.
Some of my fellow co-workers seem to be busier than me. So, to make them feel more appreciated (and make me seem more hardworking!), I offer my help from time to time (of course, I'd rather be skivving somewhere else). Most of the time, they decline, because it's not my job. But when I make that gesture, I can see their eyes light up (dare I say with a tinge of gratitude). See, it's that simple. You don't even have to buy them snacks or pay compliments, which is such a blatant way of currying favour and get on some people's nerves.

2) Condescend those who condescend you.
Okay, I know you're supposed to be kind, let it go and all that. But I think people will continue messing with you if you don't put a stop to it. When someone picks on you for the sole purpose of feeling superior, hit him/her where it hurts, like: "Thank you for being frank with me. I must be frank with you, too. Perhaps you could speed up your working process." This is not taking revenge but making your stand.

3) Offer suggestions that fit YOUR agenda.
I do this all the time with clients. It also works with friends and family members (ah this is what I love about the anonymity of blog). Give them a million and one reasons (of course, these have to suit the context), so much so your ideas become theirs. Maybe it'll hit them later (sometimes it does). But the thing is, it's later and you've got your way. And they can't blame you because it's their fault for agreeing in the first place. This trick can be used over and over again, because many people don't have an acute sense of consciousness (tried and tested!).

4) Use positive words and always with a sincere smile.
Instead of saying "That's not right" (even if that's what's going through your head), say something like, "That's not quite what one would imagine". Seal it with a smile (which is always sincere if you believe in what you're saying). This is my favourite feedback from my dad (through my mum): "I can't take it. I think she's being sarcastic, but I'm not sure if I should get mad because she said it so sweetly!"

Wrapping up football

2006-07-11T13:52:00.000+08:00

I hope it wasn't a racist remark that made Zidane bulldoze Materazzi like that.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/world_cup_2006/teams/france/5164094.stm

How ironic it would be if it were true, because before every game, the teams had pledged their support against racism. Backtrack to my previous posts for a better picture.

On a lighter note, Cue Gal, this artfully shot photo of Cannavaro's for you. I'd like to caption it as: "How we'd like to rough and tumble with the Azzuri captain". Click on image to enlarge.

Oh man, I'm so free. Twiddling my thumbs in the office.

Italy - World Cup 2006 champions

2006-07-10T05:17:00.000+08:00

I'm ecstatic!

Italy triumphed over France with a penalty shoot-out* outcome of 6-4. They have reclaimed the coveted trophy after their last win in 1982!

Things got off to a shaky start for Italy when France scored a penalty* goal a few minutes into the game. But they bounced back with an equaliser in the first half when Materrazi netted a goal.

During extra time*, the game moved in Italy's favour when France's golden boy Zidane was sent off with the red card* for headbutting one of the Italian players.

I wished Italy had attacked more. I wished they didn't dive* so much.

Perhaps history is repeating itself - Italy facing a match-fixing scandal back home, just as it was the case in 1982.

But they won. And that's all that matters.

* Penalty shoot-out: one-on-one with goalkeeper. comes after extra time.
* Extra time: first half of game is 45min and second half of game is 45min. total 1hr 30 min. extra time of 30min comes after that.
* Penalty: awarded when opponent committed a foul near the goalpost
* Red card: player banned from the game after committing serious foul
* Dive: player exaggerating a fall to get referee to declare foul and award ball to his team

Colour

2006-07-07T22:27:00.000+08:00

If you've caught any of the World Cup matches, you would have seen the footballers pledging their support against racism. How apt. That's one thing I love about sports. It unites people of all colours.

Here in Singapore, we're trying to unite people through sports. I'm totally for this idea. We have "racial harmony", more so than other countries. But this is something not to be taken for granted (we had racial wars forty, fifty years ago). It's a worthwhile cause that should continue to be championed.

Now I don't want to sound like an activist or something. People here have been jailed over leaving racist remarks on their blogs.

Earlier I watched Crash (damn good movie), which deals with this very sensitive subject. The gist is people walk a fine line between good and evil everyday in their lives.

Issues like these make me reflect on myself. Have I ever had racist thoughts? I'd be only lying to myself if I denied it. Do I feel bad about it? 100 per cent. Which is why I keep reminding myself that people are just people. There are good people and bad people. And their colour has NOTHING to do with it.

I encourage everyone to embrace friends from all races. Let's show there's humanity left in this world.

Italy is in the final!!!

2006-07-05T05:38:00.000+08:00

I'm giddy with excitement (and also from the lack of sleep)!

Italy scored not one but two goals in the eleventh hour (last 5 mins of extra time)!

Del Piero scored one - it shows he still got it!

Top Italian footballers

2006-07-04T02:15:00.000+08:00

Left: Francesco Totti, Right: Luca Toni

Fabio Cannavaro

Left: Paolo Maldini, Right: Alessandro Del Piero

Alessandro Nesta

The World Cup

2006-07-01T18:33:00.000+08:00

Who's not talking about the World Cup? It's hard not to, when everywhere you turn to in Singapore, the spirit of football/soccer is alive and kicking (even though we're not in the World Cup, it's the most popular/loved sport here). Last night, I was at a club, watching Germany vs Argentina (more about that later). And when I rushed home to catch Italy vs Ukraine, there was my dad (and my mum, too!) tuned into the sports channel (strangely, my brother seemed unaffected by all of it).

I recall watching matches with my dad as a kid and asking a lot of questions. Essentially, he was the one, who taught me the rules of the game. But my induction into the game is the 1994 World Cup (because before that, I wasn't allowed to stay up late to catch the matches (due to time difference with the Western side of the world). From that year onwards, I decided to lend my allegiance to Italy and developed a profound respect for Brazil (who trounced Italy in the penalty shoot-out in the finals).

I wouldn't call myself a hardcore fan. I've watched football on and off over the years, a bit of the Italian, Spanish and English league and European Cup. But the World Cup, which comes once in four years, I make an effort to catch.

Last night, at the club, a Caucasian guy (he sounded German) came up to me during the Germany-Argentina half-time and said, "I noticed you're interested in the game. Are you in it for the guys or the game?" I replied, "Both, of course" (He found out my partiality to Italy and suggested we watch it at HIS place later. I giggled, shook my head and skittered over to my friends).

Okay, many girls I know find football very silly, "22 grown men chasing after one ball on the field". Then, there's another group of girls, who watch it just for the men and just doesn't get what offside means. But I'm passionate enough to round up the little boys (from the kindergarten I was interning at last month) to play football (with me pretending to be a clumsy goalkeeper). I would have joined a women's football team, if there were one in my secondary/high school days (I became a netball school rep instead).

Okay, I'm not going to bore you with the technical aspect of the game. May I just say that these players have gorgeous bodies, all lean and muscled, which they swerve and show off to great effect on the pitch (I love the slow-mo replay and pictures captured of them!).

I must say I'm very pleased with Italy's triumph of 3-nil over Ukraine this morning, Singapore time. They showed excellent teamwork and took an attacker's stance. Everyone loves Francesco Totti, but I'm going to keep my eyes on Luca Toni (pictured, with his cute victory hand wave), in the absence of Alessandro Del Piero (and since Paolo Maldini is not playing in the World Cup). They are up against Germany next, so that's going to be very an exciting game. Can't wait!

The L word

2006-06-24T02:39:00.000+08:00

My ex called me up the other day, confessing he has been thinking about me, what we have been through and all that jazz.

I thought I would feel something, you know, the welling up of emotions. I mean this is a long time coming and it's, well, good to know that you're being thought of fondly.

But I'm surprised I feel nothing. I don't know if this nothingness is a numbness or jadedness. The fact is, I don't feel anything.

I know for sure I'm not a cold-hearted person. Does this then mean I was never in love in the first place?

But you know, I did feel something for this man, which I had associated with love. Perhaps after all the things that have transposed between us, I felt betrayed - and good riddance.

But if you truly love someone, aren't you supposed to love him no matter what?

In restrospect, I realise I was perhaps in love with the notion of being in love. Our courtship was swift and the next thing we knew, we were talking about spending the rest of our lives together. But six months into the courtship, a voice within told me he was not the sort of man I originally set out to be in love with. Yet, I stuck it out for another year, which is partly due to my doggedness in 'working things out'.

Some people have hinted I'm choosy. But I just can't bring myself to settle down with someone for the sake of it. A relationship is supposed to enhance your life, not diminish it. If the latter's the case, well then I think I'm better off alone, thank you very much.

My ideal soulmate is a man, who displays lots of empathy towards me (not to be confused with sympathy). If he empathises with me, he'll take good care of my heart. I imagine us growing old and happy, knowing that even when I'm shrivelled at 60 and a sweet, exciting young thing comes his way, he'll say, "I'm sorry but my heart's already taken".

Does this sound too much like a grandeur idea of romance?

I need to be rescued.

What luck has got to do with it

2006-06-17T02:06:00.000+08:00

Last night, I watched a film called Match Point. For those who haven't seen it, it's about a middle-class tennis player (Jonathan Rhys Meyer) made good by marrying rich. He then shot his lover (Scarlett Johansson) and got away with it. His opening narration was: some people just get lucky.

To me, luck had always been a matter of perspective. But this lucky, or rather unlucky, predicament seems to have caught up with my old pals, whom I met up with earlier today.

C was involved in a gas accident last year. She unknowingly lit up a cigarette in the kitchen, where the gas stove had been left on. As a result, she received burns on her hands, legs and part of her face. She needed skin graft, eight operations, two months in bed, and physiotherapy to re-learn things normal, abled people take for granted everyday, like walking and feeding herself.

T is in deep financial trouble. Her dad died, leaving her straddled with a pile of hospital bills. Shortly after that, her mum suffered a stroke and needed treatment. Her brother moved out of the house, leaving her to clean up the mess all by herself. A few days ago, she was served a lawyer's letter for getting into an accident last year, while driving an uninsured car belonging to her late dad, of which she had no idea about. That's on top of her thryoid medication, tuition loan and monthly bills. She makes okay money as a marketing manager, and because of that, she doesn't qualify for any social assistance scheme. She's contemplating the possibility of having herself declared as a bankrupt.

They are two of the sweetest girls I've ever known in my life, and seeing them suffer hell on earth just seems all so unfair. On the other hand, some girls, whose dishonourable character I can vouch for, seem to be having all the fun.

Do some people have more luck than others?

I'm loathed to just even think about it.

Making a list

2006-06-10T01:40:00.000+08:00

Inspired by todolistblog.blogspot.com, I thought I'd do up a list myself.

10 Things I Love About Young Children

1) They make you feel as though you are the most interesting person alive, when you're just humming tunes and making up lyrics as you go (hmm, does that put me in the same league as Barney?).

2) You just can't stay mad at them. Even after you tell them off, all's soon forgotten and they come running after you and smother you with hugs and kisses.

3) They stop crying the moment you pick them up and hold them close to you (and cry the moment you put them down).

4) They say no to everything you try to get them to do, but when you leave them alone and go about your business, they do exactly the things you want them to do.

5) They get excited at simple things, going aahs over a tiny stray spider (and don't touch it because you tell them it would hurt the animal).

6) They take your hands and proudly show you their work.

7)They run to their mummies and daddies, as though they have been missing their parents all their life when it's only been a day since they were apart (but when they are in school, you're the world to them).

8) They imitate the way you talk, the way you tell a story and even how you stand or move.

9) They crack you up with their silly antics, like jabbing their finger down your cleavage.

10) And they just look oh-so-adorable!

A moment of elation...

2006-06-03T22:46:00.000+08:00

When I asked people if they are happy, most of them had given me a puzzled look and had said something like "I guess I'm happy" and "There's nothing to complain about". Or they had gone on to say, I would be happy if I've this or that.

It's curious how some people think they will find happiness in the distant future and not the here and now. Perhaps it's human nature to be never truly satisfied and perhaps it's an acquired behaviour to be happy.

Earlier in the week, I had a moment of elation. It was on a cooling, quiet afternoon, when the children were sleeping soundly lulled by the pitter patter of the rain outside the window. And then I realised, yes this is where I want to be, should be, this moment, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, or do anything else, except to watch the peacefully asleep children and listen to the soothing sound of the rain.

It was as simple as that.

It's not that I wasn't happy before that. I was, I am, and I know I will be. I'm one of those people, who find it difficult to feel down for more than a few days, no matter how tough the going is. Perhaps it's also because I'm an optimist. I don't know if I were born one, but what I do know is that I constantly remind myself to pause and appreciate things around me every now and then, those little things that make me a happy soul. I think it's important to do that. Sadly, many people fail to see that.

Now I'm going to start gushing about all the children I've been working with for five good days. Each and every child has his or her own character, which is perhaps why I found it a cinch to remember their names by the second day and surprised some of the teachers at the childcare centre I'm attached to.

My favourite girl is A. She's two months shy of two years old. She's an easygoing girl and God, how I wish I had a child like that. Initially, you would think she's a quiet child, but she's actually a keen observer. She pays attention during story time and music & movement, but never participates or do the actions. But when you get a conversation going with her, you'd be amazed at how much she has actually retained. So far, she's the only child, who knows and refers to me by my name.

Some of her droolworthy moments: during meal times, when she's tucking in to a bowl of noodles, she would declare "It's hot" and point her spoon at me to blow and cool it down. After which, she would declare, "It's not hot anymore". Mind you, she said it perfect sentences. After her meal, she would declare, "Yummy, yummy, my tummy". Gosh, isn't she such a doll!

Then there's G, who's equally adorable. He's like a bundle of energy and there's no keeping him down. He never does what he's supposed to. In fact, he does exactly the opposite. During lesson or meal times, he would be running around the room. We try as much as possible to get him to pick up some social skills, which requires him to sit down and take part in the lessons along with his other classmates. He has been a handful, and sometimes, he would throw tantrums by whining or lying on the floor. But he's actually very smart and understands instructions, like put your toys or water bottle away.

It takes a lot of physical energy to work with children. When I came home one day, my mum said, "Your shoulders are slouching but your face is beaming." That pretty much sums up my experience. It has been mentally and emotionally rewarding. I haven't felt an ounce of stress in the past week and there wasn't a single time when my patience needed to be "tested", even though some of the children had thrown diva-esque tantrums or tried to poke their little fingers into nooks and crannies.

That's because, I recognise that children are learning about the world and are developing their social, intellectual, emotional and physical skills.

If you ever see a parent get exasperated over his or her child, do let him or her know this. After all, we must remind ourselves we were all children once.

PS: List five things that make you happy.

Hell of a week

2006-05-27T01:17:00.000+08:00

I've slept a grand total of 25 hours this week. I'm surprised I've not keeled over and passed out.

I've written two lengthy essays that make up nearly half of the marks in two of my subjects. I've written another three features for work. Some came easy, others were a b****. I'm surprised it still hasn't put me off writing and am making another post here.

Starting next week, I'll be on a month's leave from work. But I won't be getting much of a chance to laze on my lovely four-poster bed, stare at my toenails and look out of the window, with Jack Johnson soothing voice in the background and iced tea in my hands.

But that's fine by me, because I'll be working with children. I don't expect it to be a walk in the park, but it'll be a great learning experience and will remind me what's it like to be a child, as we all once were.

Many people seem to have clean forgotten that, and are not tolerant of children. I've seen how some people shoot a crossed look at parents, who are desperately trying to calm down a crying child. It sickens me, those people, who have neither empathy nor soul.

The thing about children is, they are so open. When they are in distress, they show it by crying, something we adults have been trained not to do by holding back our emotions. So, why don't we all just be more understanding and give the child a chance to learn?

Being a parent is not easy, that's for sure. Some parents are clueless about how to handle a child, and that's why I think it's important to know about child psychology. Not just for children, but also for yourself. The theory is, your early childhood (0-6 years) make up a very huge part of who you are right now.

Some of you may have watched Supernanny, about this lady going around helping families with children, who exhibit behavioural problems. But if you have ever paid close attention, you'll realise that:

1) Children model after their parents: if you shout at your children, they'll shout back at you. If you hit them, they'll hit back at you or their friends.

2) Children, like adults, need to be told their limits: if you let them throw their toys around, they'll start throwing other things around.

3) Some children, like some adults, misbehave because they want to be loved: It's a mistaken goal and children do it because they are insecure and want attention. That's why it's important to spend quality time with them and to catch them doing something good, because that'll reinforce good behaviour. Notice how we always tend to punish them when they do something wrong but never praise them when they do something right, like putting their toys away?

4) On another note, because I know a little more about the subject than the average person - children are born with different temperaments: the easy going, the cautious and the daredevil.

Another highlight of my week is I got to speak to those women, who excel in male-dominated fields and raise a family at the same time (remember from my first ever entry titled A Woman's Courage?) I would have told you all about it if I'm not so sleepy.

So, it has been one hell of a week for me - in a good way. Yawn...catch up with you soon...

PS: I often wonder why people have children. Is it because they think it's a natural thing to do? One of my teachers once said: children cannot give you happiness, but they can certainly enrich your lives. What do you think?

Da Vinci Code

2006-05-20T00:02:00.000+08:00

I read the novel by Dan Brown last year, on a plane to and from Sydney. Needless to say, it was a riveting page-turner.

Earlier today, I watched the celluloid adapation starring Tom Hanks, Ian McKellan and Audrey Tatou. There's only so much info a film can squeeze in, so I would have to say I enjoyed the paperback version much more (plus the couple behind me didn't know how to keep their mouth shut).

It's hard to separate Da Vinci Code from religion (a topic, if you recall, which I normally prefer to hold my tongue on).

From the Christian and Islamic perspectives, Jesus never married. He was miraculously brought into this world by Mary, who's a Virgin. In the Final days, Jesus, who has been sheltered by God since Cruxificion, will be sent down to earth to fight off the Devil and bring salvation to mankind. Uncanny isn't it, the similarites between the two oldest religions the world has ever known.

But I don't want to speculate who's probably right and who might have got it wrong. I prefer to cogitate on the thing that matters - faith (and perhaps spirituality).

There's a Creator for everything. That chair you're sitting on, that phone you pick up to speak to somebody thousands of miles away. The world was created by the Big Bang - which was created by a Creator.

At least that's what I believe.

If God has so much love, why then does He allow so much sufferings? Now that's a question I'll get answered when I meet my Maker.

Before that day comes, I prefer to keep a peace of mind and not get into a mental knot.

May you sleep in peace, too.

A Girl's Things

2006-05-13T00:31:00.000+08:00

Okay enough about politics and men for awhile. Let's talk about something fluffy and frilly.

I own 30-odd pairs of shoes (one for each day of the month!). My dearest are from Nine West (pictured) and Aldo for $200+ each. I would have loved to strut in Jimmy Choos or Manolo Blahniks, but I would have to bag three more promotions before I could take home at least one pair a month.

We have some cool local brands, which are inspired by designer labels and going for a fraction of the price. New stocks come in every month (tell me, how's a girl supposed to resist?).

Their quality is, of course, not on par with their well-heeled cousins. There had been more than one occasion when the straps or heels snapped or broke while I'm off to something important, re-routing me to the nearest shoe store to grab and go with another pair (perhaps this is one of their marketing strategies).

It may be unusual for an Asian girl with unusually large feet to be so much in love with shoes. So much so, I willingly squeeze the tremendous twins into pretty, pointy shoes. Today, my pedicurist lamented over the "sad" state of my feet (she actually used the very word more than once). Well, it was either that or letting my giant feet jut out there.

Many guys still don't get why girls need so many shoes. The reason couldn't be more obvious - women have and need a lot more choices. Fashion season changes. And we need different shoes to match different outfits.

Did you watch In Her Shoes? Boy, does Toni Collete's character have a rackful of gorgeous shoes. Her rationale is: shopping is no good, because nothing is right, eating makes you grow fatter, but shoes, they always fit. Obviously that doesn't apply to me, because my monstrous feet are best tucked into a pair of comfy sneakers and I don't even own one.

There's another character famous for her love of shoes - Carrie Bradshaw (played by Sarah Jessica Parker) of Sex And The City. She says on one episode: I spent $40,000 on shoes and I don't have a place to live? I'll literally be an old woman, who lived in her shoes.

Uhm, hope I don't turn like that.

PS: What do they say about women with large feet?

PSS: What's your expensive habit/guilty pleasure?

A good conversation

2006-05-10T00:45:00.000+08:00

I like a good conversation. In a quiet setting over a cup of tea.

I'm disinclined to shout at the top of my lungs in non-conducive places like the pubs, clubs and some parties. So, I may seem "boring" to someone who meets me for the first time. But because first impression counts, people form certain judgement about you.

And I'm disinclined to sound clever on subjects I don't know very much about (like politics and religion). But I've observed some people talk as if they know a lot (but based on their answers, I can tell they know next to nothing).

But I'm open to non-judgmental discussion and picking the brains of others (that's how you learn, right?). And it's best carried out in a quiet, relaxing atmosphere, yes?

Last Saturday night, I spent a good five hours chatting to a married friend at her home. A few times her kids came down the stairs, announcing "Mummy, it's movie night". (I did try to make a move a few times, but somehow another topic of conversation came up - and I enjoyed it immensely, so did she, I reckon).

This gorgeous lady is my schoolmate, who's a housewife, 10 years older (but doesn't look like it) and has neither the same academic qualifications nor the same lifestyle as I. In short, she's the complete opposite of me. But we connected - as women.

Her family has always seemed to be a picture of a happy one. But she made me realise that's not true - perhaps we see it that way because we just wish things are that way. It gives us hope.

She let her guard down. And I'm very thankful for that. Because the feeling of sincere closeness is something...money can't buy.

She told me how she found out her hubby had an affair and how they worked through it. I must admit I was disappointed to hear about the affair at first. In addition to all the extra-marital affairs happening around me (I, for one, was a gullible "victim" once), it made me feel many people no longer treat marriage as sacred.

I cried. I don't know how it happened but I did.

Despite her grief, she understood her hubby and forgave him. She said something that struck me: Men may seem strong and dependable outside, but inside, they are vulnerable and need approval of their masculinity. Women, on the other hand, appear weak and dependent but we're actually made of sterner stuffs. Sometimes, we have to make them feel like a hero. If not, they may run to another woman, who can make them feel that way.

It made me review what I seek in a man. I've always wanted a man to be my partner, you know the whole equal status thing, where I don't have to play "games". But I view things differently now.

It's not a matter of equal status. It's about understanding what a man is made up of, and what makes him tick. If it makes him feel good to fix things for us, why not? After all, we expect our men to tell us we're the most beautiful woman in the world, even though we're bloated and have break-outs at that time of the month.

I think sometimes we forget to make our other half feel good, because we've got too "comfortable". The reason the courtship period seems more sweet is because we, more often than not, try to impress and make each other feel good. So, why not continue doing it after marriage, which is much more sacred than bgr (boyfriend-girlfriend relationship)?

I promise to treat my next man better. If he tells me "how shall I compare thee to a summer's day, thou art more lovely and more temperate...", of course.

Will you promise, too?

Re: The state of politics...

2006-05-07T16:49:00.000+08:00

Ruling party vs Opposition : 82 - 2

Things haven't changed in the past two decades.

The state of politics...

2006-05-06T01:15:00.000+08:00

Now, I normally skirt around the issues of politics and religion. They are sensitive and I'm not keen on ruffling feathers.

I know as much about them as the next-door kid, who hears things. My general opinion on politics is: you can get your hands dirty, and religion: it keeps you clean.

But as this is the first time I'm eligible to vote, but won't get the chance to slip that piece of paper into the polling box today (will explain later), I thought I might say a thing or two about the state of politics in Singapore.

First things first, the Singapore governing party is somewhat like a monarchy. It's ruled by the Lee family. Lee senior is ex-Prime Minister and currently presides over the state affairs as Minister Mentor (yes, that's actually an official title). Lee junior is the current Prime Minister (somewhat like the Bush family, eh). One thing I notice the Lees share in common is: they don't need a script to give a speech.

But the one man, who truly captured the heart of politics in Singapore, is James Gomez, a member of an opposition party. He claimed he had submitted his form to contest in the elections, but as it turned out, a CCTV footage showed him putting the form into his briefcase before exiting the Elections Department.

This is the sorry state of politics in Singapore. We have a crappy opposition. Which is why I don't even get to execute my right to vote. The outcome of the elections in my residential estate is a Walkover, meaning there's no oppostion contesting for us.

Now, I can tell you for a fact that many Singaporeans have a nonchalant attitude towards local politics. Not because we are a simple-minded bunch. But because we're not facing any great threats from the ruling party. At this point, I've to acknowledge that the Lees and their lackeys have done a pretty good job in turning a tiny nation into one of the most efficient cities in the world.

When I took a cab the other day, the driver told me to vote for the opposition - just to "shake things up". I don't advocate admitting crappy people into the parliament but I've to admit I, too, like things to be shaken up.

But before that can happen, we need a credible opposition. So, my friend posed me this question: "Why don't you join the opposition then?"

I shall skirt around the issue.

PS: But you don't have to skirt around the issue. Go on, unleash your thoughts.

Men have it hard, too...

2006-04-30T02:53:00.000+08:00

The other day, while I was at the hairdresser's getting a Japanese perm, I read a magazine article about a woman, who went undercover as a man. Two things struck me:

1) Men are hesitant to approach a woman, lest they get rejected.

2) Men cannot open up to their buddies, because they don't want to appear vulnerable.

Now, it's easy to brush it off as macho crap and their egoistical nature. But I'm leaning towards a more sympathetic view.

At clubs, I've been approached by very forward men. I remember succintly a Turkish tourist, who came up to me and said "I need a girlfriend", to which I replied "Good luck". (Ouch?) Then, he ventured with "Is this Singaporean hospitality?" and I said, "No, this is the hospitality of any self-respecting woman". In a heartbeat, he went off in search of greener pastures (I bore witness to it). Now, maybe I had been presumptuous - that he was looking for, pardon my language, a fuck. But the way he said it, huh uh, came across as dubious.

And there was this time at a cafe in Los Angeles when a British expatriate came up to me and said, "I know this sounds terribly like a pick-up line, but you really do look like a friend of mine." I appreciated his honesty and exchanged name cards (because my tour bus to celebrities' homes was honking). It has been three years and we still keep in touch over email every now and then. Now, he's the kind of guy I'd want to date, dress in sexy knickers for and rub aromatherapy oil on his back (a pity he's thousands and thousands of miles away...)

So, anyway, what I'm trying to say is if a guy is looking for sex, just come right out and say it, and if the girl is up for it, there's no reason for her to turn you down. But you must be prepared for girls like me, who are looking for something much more than living out fantasies on a four-poster bed (hint, hint ;P).

But, guys, if you feel there's a tiniest possibility that the lady, who has caught your eye, could be something more, then go for it and say something like, "I would like to learn more about you and sex is the last thing on my mind" (this way, you acknowledge that yes, as a full blooded male, you do think about sex but your interest in her is not purely as a piece of meat).

As for part two, guys, talk to your friends. Why not, when you can spill your guts to the bartender after you've had one too many drinks. There's a time and place for that chat and it's certainly not when you're with your buddies post a soccer game (especially when nothing seems to be going right in your life and even your favourite football club has let you down). Confide in one trusted buddy - who cares more about you than the casual bartender - over the phone, coffee or a chill-out session at your place. And guys, if your pal is trying to confide in you, listen to him, weigh his worries and give him your measured opinion - see him not as a man, but as a human being, who has his share of insecurities, just like the next person - be it a man or a woman.

Ladies, you, too, can do your part. It's tough for a man to admit to his girlfriend that he has weaknesses, but if he can't face you, then just reassure him and let him know, "I'm here if you need to talk and I'll not judge you", seal it with a kiss and go about doing your normal, daily things, instead of pressurising him for an answer, which will all the more make him refrain from expressing himself. And when he does open up, be more sympathetic towards him, because we are HUMAN first, man or woman second, boyfriend and girlfriend third, and so on.

I'm not a qualified counsellor and I can only speak from experience. My ex-boyfriend once said to me, "I feel better after talking to you. I cannot do it with my friends, because I don't think they'll accept me for it" (if you're wondering why we broke up, it's because we failed to reach a compromise on our expectations on so many different levels, not because of a communication breakdown).

All the best.

PS: Feel free to share your opposing views or otherwise. We agree to disagree, yes?

My family

2006-04-29T02:14:00.000+08:00

Later today, I'm going to take my mum out to East Coast Park/Marine Parade (remember it from my previous Singapore Is The 25th Best City entry?).

In the past few years, I've been so busy with work, school, my friends and ex-bfs that I admit I've neglected my family.

Although we live in the same house - it's tradition for singletons to stay with their parents - my relationship with my family has been sort of a hi, how's your day, fine, ok good night.

In the beginning of the year, it dawned on me that my family gives me stability, they are always there, looking out for me quietly in the background. So, I decided that I would make an effort to spend quality time with them.

But I failed to keep my promise until today. My mum pointed out this to me a few days ago. Hence the planned outing to the beach and shopping.

I'm closest to my mum. I adore her, I do. For the longest time, my bane with her is she's too much of a cleanliness freak (perhaps that's why I'm so rebelliously untidy). But other than that, she has been pretty cool. She lets me do whatever I want, never imposed curfews, is always supportive of me (well, she'll air her grouses like the time when I wanted to change jobs, but in the end, she'll always relent). I've grown to appreciate her more than in my younger days. Perhaps that's what maturity is all about.

Let me tell you a little more about my mother. She's the sixth child of sixteen children. Her dad was a school caretaker and her mum, a housewife. Her role at home then was the housekeeper (which explains why she's so particular about neatness). She studied until third grade, thankfully, she can read and write simple stuffs. She dreamt of becoming an actress, but in those days, women are trained to be housewives and not to hanker after any personal ambition. She met my dad, who lived in her neighbourhood, at 18 and they dated until they got hitched when she was 24 (pictured during their courtship).

Now, let me tell you a little more about my father. He's the second of four children. His dad was a British colonial army personnel and his mother, a housewife. Among his siblings, he was the most responsible and he had always been the head of the household. He waited until all his siblings got married before he settled down at 28. My dad is a clever man, but whatever dreams he might have was suppressed when his dad passed away when he was 16. To support his family, he had to work as a security guard at night and went to school in the morning. He managed to scraped through his Cambridge O levels exam and joined the British army, as it seemed a natural thing to do and besides, it was a stable job.

My dad did rule the household with an iron fist. Which was why I had an estranged relationship with him - for seven years, we exchanged nary a word. But when I started working and my world was broadened, I realised he had done his job very well. He was a responsible dad and made sure we had proper education, apart from life's necessities. He also taught me one very important lesson in life - to be independent. When I asked him for a meaning of a word, he said check the dictionary. When I asked him for directions, he said ask a stranger. When I ask him to buy me something, he said earn it. I used to resent him for it, thinking he didn't care about me, but I've since realised the good that has come out of it.

My mother, on the other hand, taught me compassion. She taught me to see the good in people instead of focusing on their faults. She taught me to forgive and forget. She taught me to be down to earth, despite my successes. And the most important thing of all, she taught me to smile, despite whatever life dishes out to me.

Whatever my parents imparted to me has made me the person that I am. And I can only be better. Both of them give me balance - to seek my fortunes and at the same time, to remember the less fortunate. Which is why I am, to a great extent, a peaceful and happy person, because I learnt not to swept away by material things and to count my blessings. And I'll take care of my parents until the day they die (or I die but I've got it all covered).

Yesterday, my 19-year-old brother asked me for a loan for his Vespa licence. He asked my dad, who said, you guessed it, earn it. I told my brother dad's right, but he said he didn't want to work and enjoy life first, because he was going to be enlisted in the compulsory national service (army) for two years soon. And he said he would pay me back from the allowance he would get. I gave him a speech about independence but also decided to cut him some slack (am I doing the right thing?). I gave him a deadline to pay me back in full. And pray to God he'll learn about responsibility. My mum refused to have any part in it, because she doesn't want him to put himself in danger by riding a scooter.

At this point, my brother seems different from me. He's very much swayed by emotions and acts on impulses (whereas I'm a calculated risk-taker). He doesn't like school, so he doesn't put in effort and flunks his Cambridge exams, without thinking how it might affect him in future. He wanted to be a sound engineer (he's a very good drum player, since his marching band days) but the prospects weren't good here, so my dad objected since he was the one, who would be paying for the private course. So, my brother did the next best thing - by going to a public technical school and taking up graphic designing (he also happens to be good at sketching). I had to put in an appeal to the school because he wasn't eligible due to his exam results. But he failed one subject - because he didn't wake up in time for the exam! - and had to stay back another half a year in school just to retake it.

When I asked him recently what he plans for his future, he just looked at me and said "I guess I'll sign on with the army". He clearly has no interest in the army, but he's just going with the flow, because it's a stable job (and perhaps he thought it would make us get off his back). My goodness, doesn't all these sound too much like a blast from the past?

I can only hope that he would take the best of what our parents taught us and use it to his advantage. I don't expect him to be like me, but I do expect him to feel accomplished, independent, peaceful and happy.

PS: Pray tell, how can I help my brother?

PSS: Until I figure out how to insert links on my blog, I'll have to do this manually - please visit Blog Virgin/LP/Whiteboard Sandpit Blog at http://justtryinitout.blogspot.com/

Listless

2006-04-28T00:47:00.000+08:00

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm bored. Me, who always finds something to do or find solace in just lounging in my nice four-poster bed, sipping ice tea, eyes on a novel.

But I just can't get into the Virginia Woolf paperback I'm currently halfway through, ice tea just doesn't taste appealing and I'm tossing and turning on the mattress.

It's past midnight here, and I can't think of anything else to do. If I did, then I wouldn't be here moping around (bear with me).

Let's see, what did I do today. I was roused by the alarm at 6.30am, just couldn't muster the energy to haul myself out of bed and convinced myself I would be able to in five more minutes. Wrong. I woke up at 8.30, made it to work by 9.30am, an hour past the official time.

Today was deadline day. And my clients were giving me a headache - and a heartache. This is something I got to get used to - working closely with clients, something, which I never had to do much before (until the job transfer).

Somehow I managed to plough through work - even unhooked the phone for awhile to have an undisturbed, peace of mind while trying to tie the loose ends. As usual, my boss was out for meetings. I had to email her just to get a simple message across.

I was craving for a cigarette, but I held myself back - until a colleague bumped into me on my way out of the ladies and offered, "You look like you need a puff." I caved in.

I finished work at five minutes to 6pm, official knock-off time, brilliant, now what did I do. I looked at my desk at a state of disarray. It looked worse than my room. But if I tried to do something, then I wouldn't make it (have this obsessive-compulsive disorder to finish what I start) to my salsa class. So, I powdered my nose instead.

Did my usual salsa routine, but felt bored. Skipped dinner and went straight home, feeling really bored. Watched Lost and Law & Order, and felt bored.

Thought about the weekend - this is my schedule on sat: Topshop closed-door shopping and grooming (occasional perk that comes with the job), aerobics and light training class, hair appointment (getting a Japanese perm), dinner with old friend from my restaurant days, movies and then drinks. Sounds like a fun urbanite lifestyle, yes? But I still feel bored.

So, what would undo my boredom? A backpacking trip in Italy (Milan, Venice, Rome and Florence). Yes, that's what I really, really, really want. Now. Right now. I want adventure, unpredictability and romanticism. Even if it's all just in my head. (The last holiday was a year ago, in Sydney, Australia, where I fought everyday with my ex-bf).

Can someone tell my boss to let me go!

Daredevil streak

2006-04-26T00:35:00.000+08:00

Inspired by Pingcat and Coffeebigplz comments, I thought I'd list some of the daring things I've done in my 25 years. They aren't your Fear Factor feats but I think they require some chutzpah anyway.

In no order of merit:

1) Never give up dancing: During my fourth birthday party, I danced like a crazy horse, thanks to my dad who put me up to it. The aunts and uncles laughed so hard, I bawled like a baby. But I emerged from the episode as a dancer, who can rival the Crazy Horse cabaret girls.

2) Become a school prefect: Determined not to get bullied by others, I volunteered to become a prefect during primary three (third grade). I was also in the Top 10 every year and engineered my career from then onwards.

3) Revamp a society: Sick of other uniformed groups making fun of us Girl Guides, I standardised the look of our uniform (shirt tucked in slick, skirt above the knees, socks pulled up (literally), and shiny boots - to borrow Vidal Sassoon catchphrase: if they don't look good, I don't look good), and trained my girls in marching during the holidays. After the contingent marching at Speech Day Parade, one senior came up to me and said, "Good job". Till today, my girls, when they spot me on the street, refer to me as M'am (haha what an ego trip).

4) Save education: Because of too much partying and skipping classes, I was nearly kicked out of my diploma course in a public tertiary institution. I spun a sob story (genetic insomnia) and begged my lecturers to give me another chance. I made it to my graduation.

5) Start early independence: at 14, a McDonald's crew member. At 15, a HSBC bank clerk and a costume jewellery sales promoter. At 16, a restaurant host and an English and Maths tutor. At 17, a quality control factory worker, toiling the graveyard shift. At 18, a shopping centre announcer. At 19, a quality surveyor for a Mercedes distributor and a freelance writer. At 20, landed in the biggest publishing company in Singapore at my first real job interview.

6) Going on secret dates: Dated, though not proud of it, my physical ed teacher (no jokes, please :), a chief financial executive officer, my ex-schoolmate's ex-bf and a married man on the brink of divorce. It was painful but I walked away because it was the right thing to do.

7) Trip to Netherlands: Took something I wasn't supposed to and in my daze, stepped into the wrong bedroom, where my married friends were in action. Apologised profusely and treated them to a nice Mexican dinner the next day.

8) Trip to Los Angeles: First work-cum-leisure trip on my own. In between doing the Pretty Woman strut down Rodeo Drive, having fun on Santa Monica Boulevard feeling like Sheryl Crow, and getting in touch with inner child at Universal Studios, among other things - I managed to fend off the wolves (boy were there plenty) and returned in one piece, much to my mum's relief.

9) Trip to Thailand: Went parasailing, crashed into the waters because I couldn't reach the lever and dying to do it all over again, went to the ping pong (among other objects) show and smiled graciously through my dating friends' incessant bickerings.

10) Buy a big-ticket item: Signed on the dotted line for a $250,000 apartment I currently share with my parents and younger brother.

11) Make a career move: Against everyone's wishes and consent, I put in for a job transfer for less moolah but more time, then took up a degree course unrelated to my industry and never been happier.

PS: Share with me three instances of your daredevil streak

Personality order....

2006-04-23T18:39:00.000+08:00

This week, inadvertently, my personality was put under the spotlight.

First, I was advised to take a leadership style test during class (part-time degree course).

And thanks to Canagal's website, I was spurred to find out What Classic Leader/Movie Are You?

So, I decided to wrap it up with an online IQ test. I don't know how much I can trust it but I scored 130 anyway.

For what it's worth, here are the details:

My leadership style: Influencing & Inspiring.

General Characteristics:
Enthusiastic
Trusting/Optimistic
Persuasive/Talkative
Emotional/Impulsive

Value to Team:
Creative problem solver
Great encourager
Motivates others to achieve
Positive sense of humour
Negotiate conflicts/ peace maker

Possible Weaknesses:
More concerned with popularity than tangible results
Inattentive to detail
Overuses gestures and facial expressions
Tends to listen only when it's convenient

Greatest fear:
Rejection

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Now if I were to combine all of these, I'd be a cool Abe Lincoln with a daredevil streak of Indiana Jones, who exploits wits and connections to escape the impetuous peril I land myself in, without bursting into tears.

Not bad, eh ;P

Salsa dancing and all that jazz....

2006-04-21T23:14:00.000+08:00

Today, every Friday, is my salsa dance class. I'm now at the intermediate level, which means I can turn and spin without slapping anyone or tripping over myself.

Speaking of tripping, my shoes are abominable for the dance floor. The heels are too thin and the straps, too tight. I'm literally killing my feet slowly (imagine not being able to dance anymore!). But help is on the way. A Chinese uncle came to take measurements of my feet and those of my classmates, who were interested. Between the smattering of Mandarin I know and his halting English, I figured he said my feet are really broad (size 9 on a good, cold day and 10 on a bad, hot day).

Speaking of broad feet, I'd tried unsuccessfully to purchase a pair of dancing shoes from department stores. Which is why I had been wearing my Nine West shoes, which are, really, only appropriate for getting out of the house to the car and getting out of the car to the office. And I don't own a car (too costly in Singapore, a Toyota second-hand costs about $50,000 with certificate, taxes and what not).

Speaking of costs, I think I need to invest in a really good support bra (are there dancing bras?). I didn't like catching the sight of my bosoms bouncing in the ceiling-to-floor studio mirror. It made me self-conscious and I forgot my steps. I don't think the few men (there are always fewer men in dance classes in Singapore), minded though, and I swear I caught quite a few of them staring at my chest when they were supposed to be making eye contact.

Speaking of eye contact, I, unfortunately, haven't got the eyes for any of the men there. One is an ah pek (an old uncle, who swept his few remaining strands to cover his pate). Another is a Caucasian expat, whose wife is fiercely possessive. Another is a stiff schoolboy in uniform. The other is my instructor from my beginner's class, who chips in, nice chap, smallish and I suspect his girlfriend is one of the school's dancers. So much for expanding my social circle.

Speaking of social needs, dancing feeds my soul in a way. It's my only musical/artistic talent and I desperately cling on to it. I have to go and watch Take The Lead, starring Antonio Banderas as a salsa dancer. Last week, I watched Dirty Dancing 2 (I much prefer the first one with Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey). I've seen others like Save The Last Dance with Julia Stiles and the other one with Richard Gere and Jennifer Lopez, but none of them moved me. I quite enjoy the British Billy Elliott but my most favourite dance movie has got to be the Australian Strictly Ballroom. It's about this unattractive Spanish girl, who hooks up with a relatively hot Aussie guy and heat things up on the dance floor, and in the bedroom.

Speaking of making love, dancing is such a personal and intimate thing that it's not surprising many dance partners salsa all the way into each other's arms. Hmm, I would really love it if my future husband can dance...

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've an appointment to wiggle in front of my dressing mirror.

When friends drive you crazy...

2006-04-18T00:05:00.000+08:00

My two closest friends once told me (on separate occasions) that they would marry me if I were a guy. I simply smiled in return.

It's a compliment, considering women are the harshest critics of their own kind. But they seemed to have forgotten to ask if I would accept their proposals.

The truth is, I wouldn't. I love them (as much as I hate them at times) and that's perfectly normal - healthy even - in any relationship, including friendship. But as narcissistic as this may sound, I want to marry someone more like myself.

I'm calm, patient, level headed and always take a step back and look at the situation. I haven't arrived at this conclusion overnight - it has taken years of self-reflection and practice in order to be so acutely aware of myself and live up to the person that I set out to be.

My friends' lives seemed much more exciting, with ups and downs, the euphoria and the tears. And, dare I say, there had been times when I felt a sliver of envy. Men flock to them, because they're vivacious, unlike the sedated me, who doesn't throw a hissy fit because I broke a nail.

Let's start with N, whom I met through college:

She's the outwardly bad gal. Smart and beautiful, she puts herself before others. She's a Capricorn, hates animals, doesn't suffer fools and expensive gifts are the way to her heart. She lives the high life (very well, since she earned it herself) and likes men, who fit into her lifestyle. Life is one big bubble of fun for N, and if you burst it, she'll just find another. She's prone to acting on impulse and worry about it another day (it's called living life to the fullest, she says).

She once said to me, "You love me because I'm a cold-hearted bitch" - yes, there are days she really deserves a tight slap - but I told her: "No, I love you because you've a ray of light and I can only hope it'll become a beacon one day." She shines in the way she has shown generosity towards me and her family, and that shows she's not incapable of being a good wife and a good mother.

And then, there's S, whom I met through work:

She's the outwardly good gal. Also smart and beautiful, she's caring towards others. And that's a trait that's easy to love. She (take all of these literally) washes, cooks, cleans and mothers you, and stands up for animals, the elderly and the poor, and will give away her last cent and go on an empty stomach.

But if you as much as raise the tiniest objection, she makes the cliche, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned', painfully real. Imagine, she's a Gemini, has thyroid problems and her moodswings change course faster than the viking ride at the fun fair. God, you've to seriously bite your tongue in order not to turn it into a ugly war of words.

Your closest friends can turn out to be toxic for your soul, serenity and sanity at times. And I deal with it by distancing myself away (I'll say, "I'm sorry, I'm terribly busy with stuffs" like contemplating whether I should actually tidy up my room). A time-out has really proven to be effective - those around you, who take you for granted, learn to appreciate you more, apologise profusely and try to make it up to you. And to forgive, oh, it's so divine.

So, this weekend, I shall take myself out, like I always do, for a trek at the Macritchie rainforest, drop by the Animal Resort and feed the rabbits and ponies, whip up a mean mushroom curry dish and enjoy it while raging or raving over the daily news reports, and sashay my tush down to the salsa club - not as the exciting La Nina but as the cool summer's breeze.

PS: How do you deal with toxic friends? Drop me a note.

Re: Singapore is 25th Best City on Lonely Planet's list!

2006-04-14T22:03:00.000+08:00

Hi folks, as promised, the final leg of my Singapore tour. This is going to be my entry for the whole of next week, as I'm going to be busy.

Cheers!

ESCAPE FROM THE CITY

Singapore is also known as the Garden City. Even though the old kampung (village with houses on wooden stilts and attap leaves for a roof) had made way for an industrialised nation, you'll see a tree practically everywhere you turn (thanks to the urban planners). But there are some places you can go to escape the bustling city life.

CHANGI VILLAGE (not far from the airport)

1) Retreat: Rent a bungalow chalet by the beach (a friend had a marquee wedding here, it was gorgeous!). Or Meridien Changi Hotel, which has a wonderful spa that lives up to its name, The Retreat.

2) Activities: You can stroll or cycle along the beach. Not nice enough to swim. Once, my uncle rented a boat and took me fishing, but I got motion sickness. Think there are other sports you can do here.

3) Food: Nasi lemak* here is famous. Many stalls sell it.
*Malay cuisine: coconut rice eaten with sambal (chilli paste) and fried fish, anchovies, nuts,egg, chicken wings, otak-otak (fish cake), and sliced cucumber.

4) Sight: Just fyi - the tranvestites-hookers come out to play here (interesting
choice of spot)

SENTOSA ISLAND (an island off Singapore, which belongs to us)

1) Cable car ride: you can take it there and even enjoy a romantic gourmet dinner on it.

2) Attractions: Buttefly and Insect Kingdom and former military/war time Fort Siloso, among others.

3) Rasa Sentosa Resort or The Sentosa Resort & Spa: The former is pure luxury living. The latter has the most lushful spa in Singapore.

3) Party central: There used to be foam parties but now the hotspot is KM8 pub, where there's a pool for people to lounge and sip a cocktail under the stars.
FOND MEMORY: Met my ex-French bf at a dawn-till-dusk party. First lip-lock here...darn the French!

EAST COAST PARK

1) Beach: not as fantastic as Sentosa's but hot with locals. They pitch up tents (you no longer require a government permit), do a barbecue, cycle, roller blade, surf (in spite of the weak waves) and so on.
FOND MEMORY: Welcomed the millenium with ex-Indian bf here. Played with sparklers as the ships shot their flares into the sky.

2) Residential estate: It's hot with the locals because it's near the Marine Parade estate (under the charge of our former prime minister). You can see the different types of housing, the sky-rise public blocks, the private condominiums and landed houses.
FOND MEMORY: Fell in love with ex-Malay bf while watching the sunrise at his apartment on the 19th floor.

3) Parkway Parade: I love this cluster of shopping centres. You can also go bowling, play pool, arcade games, visit the library or get books from the rent and sell bookstore, drop by the pet shop and of course eat till you go dizzy at the mega hawker centre.

MACRITCHIE RESERVOIR

1) A nature escape from the bustling city - you can take the tree-top walk (built by HSBC bank), simply trek through the rainforest (monkeys are friendly until you feed them and they go gaga) or traispe on the specially constructed board-walk or even canoe here. Mornings are the best time to go.

There are, of course, the popular tourist spots like the Bird Park (a friend once held a wedding here with hundreds of flamingoes for a view) and Singapore Zoo (while on the night safari tram, saw lions making out, oops).

NOCTURNAL SPOTS

The spots I'm recommending are relatively sugar, spice and rather nice. There are seedier places (which some might find interesting) but not my kind of scene.

ORCHARD ROAD

1) Bar None - housed in basement of Marriott Hotel. Has stood the test of time. Was once home to S'pore premiere rock band (who enjoyed a hit on US Billboard Top 100 back in the '80s). Now resided by Jive Talking, one of the top Top 40s band around.

2) Devil's Bar - a homage to the Red Devils aka Manchester United (half of S'pore's fans are partial to this English football club). Dear Dennis Foo, the very hospitable owner, is a big fan and blows tens of thousands of dollars on soccer betting in one night. His place has got a house music room, live band room, pool-playing room and a patio, where they serve coffee.

3) Others worth a mention: Hard Rock Cafe - salsa nights are on Thurs (tell you more about my affection for dancing another time) and Thumper at Goodwood Park Hotel, the celebrity haunt du jour.

4) Peranakan Place: another stretch on Orchard Road. Lined with pubs like No. 5, Ice Cold Beer and Que Pasa. Great spots for chilling out, knocking back a couple of drinks and nibbling on finger foods.

CLARKE QUAY

Note: Boat Quay, the lesser cousin (some might disagree with me), is a 10min stroll away. Linked by Singapore River, so you can shuttle by boat.

1) Ministry of Sound: The UK franchise has done up its place nicely. Different rooms for different music tastes: Studio 54 (disco), Smoove (R&B) and so on... But I can't say much for the service. My girlfriend once quarrelled with a rude doorman.

2) Crazy Horse: Artistic nude cabaret shows. My question is: why isn't there a male version?

3) 1 Nite Stand Comedy Club: as its name suggests, it features stand-up comedians (am so waiting for Russell Peters (he's Canadian, isn't he?). Also has a live Top 40s band. A colourful place (have spotted hookers) but you can go crazy here and nobody gives two hoots.

4) Others that might be worth a mention: Crazy Elephant (which also stood the test of time, has got a live rock/blues band, populated with expatriates and tourists) , Hooters (no busty girls, but lots of cellulite-free bums in short shorts, surprisingly, food's not bad) and Attica, where the models go.

MOHAMED SULTAN (a stone's throw away from Clarke Quay)

1) Coyote Ugly - first pub to go big on bar-top dancing girls after it was made legal. Enough said.

2) Dbl O - big place, good variety of patrons, plays R&B, house, '80s retro and Top 40.

JIAK KIM STREET

1) Finally, the long-standing, award-winning cluster of clubs - Zouk, Phuture and Velvet Underground (all under the same management). They've got international visiting deejays spinning regularly like Paul Van Dyk, Sasha, Carl Cox, John Digweed, Basement Jaxx, Underworld and so on.

So, when are you coming ;P

Singapore is the 25th best city on Lonely Planet's list!

2006-04-13T16:39:00.000+08:00

I feel very proud that a small country-cum-city like Singapore can beat bigger and better known cities like Shanghai and Sydney. We're nestled in a tiny, red dot on the world map, takes up no more than 647km square area, only a matter of half hour's drive from one side of the island to the other (with light traffic flow).

I haven't got a chance to read the content of the list but got wind of it from newspapers reports. A local professor pointed out the list failed to mention the greatest Singaporean passion: food. And I totally agree.

For a start, you should go to the average coffee shop or a hawker centre, which is available in practically every housing estate. It's made up of rows of food stalls beckoning you with anything from Chinese to Malay and Indian food at dirt-cheap prices (you can get a fulfilling plate of chicken rice for $3). It's usually in an outdoor, non-airconditioned setting, so you can smoke, chew noisily and let your hair down without ever feeling out of place.

MUST-TRY (at any time of the day): A cup of strongly brewed kopi (coffee), kaya toast (charcoal-toasted bread spread with jam made from coconut, sugar, egg and pandan leaves) and half-boiled eggs eaten with soya sauce or white pepper. Costs a grand total of $5 (approx. US$2.50).

So, today's entry is dedicated to all things I love about Singapore. If you want a tour guide and a roof over your head, that can be arranged. I'll work for soup (maybe one of those bone soups, slurps) and let you share my four-poster queen-sized bed (provided you clean up the room, hehe).

HERITAGE TRAILS

Singapore is made up mainly of three ethnicities: the Chinese, the Malays and the Indians (something like 70 %, 20 % and 10 % - others make up a very small percentage). I shall introduce three cultural spots: Arab Street, Little India and Chinatown. They are made up of rows and rows of British colonial two-storey shophouses ( you live upstairs and work in your shop below) - in different areas though.

ARAB STREET

This is where the Malay-Muslims congregate. It's a very safe place - S'pore is a multi-racial and multi-harmonious society. I've friends from many different races and religions. We haven't had a riot in 30 years - we make noise by writing to the national newspapers ;P

1) Sultan Mosque - makes you think of 1,001 Arabian Nights. You can enter just as long as you take off your shoes.

2) Shisha pipe places - there's a string of Middle Eastern eateries, which also offer you a healthy, fruity-flavoured smoke (Love the look and feel of the pipes! Makes you feel like a sultan (or maybe a sultanah) !).

3) Frilly fabric stores - the ladies will lurve this. You can get hold of laces, brocade and any other fanciful fabric to make tops and dresses here. There's also a cool Commes Des Garcon Guerilla store in the area, too.

4) Spa Sauvignon - the first spa on the island to offer wine-dripping bath, scrub and massage (S'pore is a spa haven). Had a chance to try out. Very chi-chi.

5) The popular Malay and Indian eateries here like Sabar Menanti and Zam Zam respectively are worth checking out.

LITTLE INDIA

1) Sri Perumal Temple - apart from housing Hindu deities, the temple also hosts weddings. No-one will know if you gatecrash, as long as you copy what the other guests do!

2) Mustafa Centre - it's a 24-hour shopping haunt, popular with tourists and locals alike. You can find anything from electronic goods, jewellery, toiletries and groceries here. Sometimes, after watching a midnight movie, I'll go there and stock up on toiletries and frozen foods. Prices are slightly cheaper, because the centre makes money by selling in volumes.

3) Tekka Market - here's a good place for you to experience the sights, sounds and smells of a typical wet market, where you can buy meat, vegetables and so on at prices lower than the supermarkets'. Great food stalls and clothing stores here, too.

4) Haniffa Textile - you'll get starry-eyed from seeing the glittering sarees sold here. Other places sells cheaper sarees but this place still has the most variety.

5) Beauty parlours and spas - another treat for the ladies. Services include eyebrow threading (using strings to shape your eyebrows, it takes skills) and intricate henna tattoo (lasts for a month or more) on your hands.

6) A good mix of high-end and budget diners, North and South Indian cuisines here, although it's hard to tell them apart based on the food (they are all scrumptuous, especially when you eat with your hands). Some places I recommend: New Delhi, Banana Leaf, Komala Vilas, Ananda Bhavan and Akbar.

CHINATOWN

1) Thian Hock Keng (Taoist temple) - it has got a loonngg history.

2) Jade (cinema): Okay, I'm not exactly recommending it, but this is, like, the only cinema, who's not embarassed and openly shows explicitly sexual movies (RA, restricted for patrons under 21). It's very old and smells, erm, spunky. Because of its dodginess, the first Scream movie premiere was screened here, which marked my one and only visit.

3) Shopping: Chinese decorative items like painted masks and Chinese embroidery for women as well as men. I once got a cheongsam-inspired top for $35 (approx US$15, it's so cheap, one feels guilty to bargain). US popstars like Alicia Keys and (okay, Canadian) Avril Lavigne did a fair bit of shopping here.

4) Too many good makan (eating/food) places to name. Try the celebrity favourite spot Kah Soh, if for nothing else, its beansprouts and salted fish dish.

5) Rustic Nirvana - the innovative spa, one of the early ones on the market, offers services like Chopstick Massage (have tried it, very shiok (great)) and Prata Claypot Therapy.

Okay, I'll return another day to share with you my picks of Night and Nature spots.

Amelia Earhart said...
Hello ladies!

I am welcoming you with arms wide open to visit my wonderful city.

Just save for your passage and a bit of pocket money (SGD$1 is approx. CAD$0.60). You can stay with me and my family (it's part of the Asian culture for singles to live with their parents until they get married). It doesn't hurt that my mum is a terrific cook.

Chill out for a few days. And if you've a bigger budget, I'll take you to the famous Bangkok, Thailand (just an hour flight away).

See ya!

12:43 AM

pingcat (reluctantriter.blogspot.com) said...
Your writing paints an interesting and exciting city of great variety; particularly attractive to me is the focus on food. the smoking I can do without, finally having quit after a number of years of trying but "slurping", well that is a different story! Nothing like a good "slurp" at sometime during the day:-)

7:43 PM

CanaGal (canagal.blogspot.com) said...
thanks for the post on my blog - now, colour me stupid, but do I know you outside of the blogsphere??

9:10 PM

Quodlibet (mypetitequodlibet.blogspot.com) said...
Ahhhh! Now I have to add Singapore to my list of places I must visit! It sounds amazing! I just need an airline job so I can fly for free (or nearly free)!!

11:41 PM

Most men are needy?

2006-04-12T14:52:00.000+08:00

This entry is sparked off by something a fellow blogger, who goes by the moniker ArtSlob, brought up (read his comments on my Boobs Over Brains entry below).

He said something I've always suspected to be true - that most men would rather date a bumbling beauty queen than a self-assured superwoman (Artslob: I, too, think the well-endowed winner is hot. By the way, runway chest refers to the state of being flat-chested).

Apparently, most men go for the damsels in distress because of their predatory instincts and nose for vulnerability. I'd say these men are needy, because they need to feel needed, yes?

Sigh. I can't help but feel a swirling mix of resignation, melancholy and disappointment. I remember vividly what my ex-boyfriend said to me when we broke up half a year ago, "You don't need me. You're going to be fine".

I've had well-meaning girlfriends, who hinted that I should try to seem less capable and ask for his help, even though I can very well accomplish it myself, and stroke his ego a little. Unfortunately, I'm not the type who'll dance to anyone's tune.

The thing is, I do NEED a man - but just not in the way he would expect me to. I need a man to hold me, make love to me, make me laugh, make sweet, little gestures to make me smile and so on. Just love me, know what I mean? On the other hand, I also need a man because I've so much to give and I want to shower my affection on him and basically be there for him.

At times, when the loneliness gnaws at me, I find myself pondering: should I, as Artslob put it, dumb down a little?
Tell me your thoughts.

On a lighter note, as promised, these are patterns of Singapore men according to their ethnicity and age of 25 to 40. I wouldn't call myself an expert but well, I've dated quite a few...

Chinese men: They will buy you anything you want. Because they think that if they don't, you'll leave them. Their sense of self-worth is determined by how much they have in their banks. Often, they work so hard for their money, they have little time for anything else, including sex.

Malay men: They are easy to please and you'd better be so, too. Because they are always counting their blessings, they don't think it's necessary to work harder, get a better job and move ahead in life. Chances are, things will be preserved exactly the way they are 10 to 20 years down the road.

Indian men: They love women like their pets. They don't want you to "invite trouble" by putting on a sexy outfit or go on a girls' night-out. So, just stay at home and you can make them happy. And they WILL keep you at home because they never seem to need a break from a romp!

Caucasian expatriates: They think they are God's gift to Asian women. They expect all Asian women to be subservient. If you're not, they look at you as though there's something wrong with you. Best to play Suzie Wong with them.

Boobs over brains

2006-04-10T17:40:00.001+08:00

Last night, my girlfriend and I gleefully settled down on the couch to watch a telly programme on the search for Singapore's representative to Miss Universe (if you don't know what it is, you must have been living in your own world since the 1950s!)

The Singapore version of the beauty pageant has somewhat become a guffaw- because every year, you're greeted by women, who flaunt their flaws in more ways than one.

I would think you need to be physically outstanding to join a contest primarily based on looks. But we observed there were:

1) Pockmarked faces
2) Improportionate, pear-shaped hips
3) Runway chests
4) Duck walks
5) Forced smiles
6) Broken-necked heads (I've worked with model wannabes and I can tell you they tilted their heads to show off their best profile)

Somebody help yank them out of their delusions!

We're, of course, not dealing with rocket science here. Many of the contestants were inarticulate, kept tripping over their words and couldn't muster a witty answer to save their life.

In case you're wondering, the question posed during the pageant's final round was: Are foreign men better than Singapore men? (It's frivolous but tricky and some wit is certainly needed to tackle it)

The gist of the winner's answer was: Foreign men may be taller, more muscular and better built but I think Singapore men have good values like sensitivity and sincerity (in other words, foreign men are shallow and Singapore men are wimps. Haha!)

Anyway, I think the conclusion of the pageant was: boobs over brains.

The winner (pictured) was all supersized boobs on a stick-thin body. I can't tell whether she had work done because her boobs are kind of droopy (so, they are either au naturel or the result of a botched job). In the earlier parts of the show, I had joked she would bump (pun intended!) all the other competitors out of the way. Little did I expect my prediction would come true!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a feminist - or a chauvinist for that matter. Would I have loved to look glamorous, wear beautiful clothes and be admired? Yes, which woman wouldn't, honestly? But I wouldn't strut my ass in front of a million eyeballs to derive or deprive my self-worth. I would do it only for my man (but that would be, ahem, for a different reason altogether).

Next year, you can bet your last dollar I'll hop on the couch with my best pal in tow and anticipate a good laugh when I turn on the telly and tune into the pageant. Because let's face it, pageantry is for pure entertainment and I'm pretty sure the contestants know it fully well.

I'm not making any apologies for it.

PS: Tell you my thoughts on Singapore men vs foreign men another day.

A woman's courage

2006-04-08T16:55:00.000+08:00

"I want to do it because I want to do it. Women must try to do things as men have tried. When they fail, their failure must be but a challenge to others." - Amelia Earhart.

It feels strange to be writing this. I suppose everytime you step into the unknown, into unchartered waters, it's natural to feel an apprehension. You might think, "What's the big deal? It's just a blog!" But to me, it's a move to bare my soul and connect to people (though I haven't told anyone about this blog, but who knows who might read it).

I don't really have an agenda but I'm just going to dive right in. So, allow me to start from the basic: my name is not Amelia Earhart. Earhart, as some of you might already know, is a great female pilot of the early 20th century. She was brave, never afraid to pursue her dreams and plunged herself into a male-dominated field, which pilot-ing still very much is today. Even though I don't have a particular inclination towards aviation, I truly admire everything that she embodies.

Earhart disappeared mysteriously during her first ambitious round-the-world trip. I reckon she expired along with her plane, which last reported technical difficulties. Despite a massive search-and-rescue party sent out for her, she was never found. Her sudden disappearance made her all the more of an enigma. I don't think she would have wanted to part from this world in any other way - not that being blown to bits paints a pretty picture but because she died doing what she loved.

Her aura of mystery projects a little of the mystery I'd like to keep about myself. I'm a fiercely private person but who knows, one day I might just find the courage to come out of the closet (figuratively speaking).

How did I come to know about Earhart? I was thinking of a blog name for myself and decided to pick a name I've always loved: Amelia. When I google-d the name, I discovered Earhart and her story stirred me. Coincidentally, one of my favourite singers, Joni Mitchell, wrote the song Amelia for her (listen to it when you've time). Funny how things just fall into place.

That's not all. Recently, I chanced upon a group of women, who have succeeded in male-dominated fields. There were a budget airline CEO (wow!), a high court judge and a VP of a leading telecommunications company. They are truly amazing women, who managed to raise their family and at the same time, scaled the corporate ladder. I would like to get them to know better (and am taking steps to do so). They truly inspire me, like Earhart did, and maybe, I'll tell you more about them at a later time.

I guess I've arrived at the topic of my entry today: courage. Courage is what I need to take my career, my relationships and my life, as a whole, to another level. I'm still working on it. Please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences with me.

Thank you and God bless.