Well hello stranger. It's been a long time hasn't it? I almost feel like I've been gone for ages and years, not months have flown by without the time for thinking, reflecting, simply understanding what is happening instead of being borne along the tide.
On hindsight, perhaps this constant riding the wave is much preferable to having time to stop and think, to do things not related to work such as looking on facebook and knowing what is happening in other people's lives, well a particular person's life that I just can't not poke my nose into. Curiosity killed the cat. Play with fire and you get burned. Yes always the wise words, always the advice but we just don't learn do we? We keep playing with fire, we keep opening up those Pandora's boxes in our lives. There is something to be said of the Freudian notion of the death drive. At least she's from Cambridge, at least she's totally different. Well, at least I'd like to believe she's totally different. Let's just leave it as different, not better. Move on, yes I hear you shouting, Poppy. I hear you, I really do. I hear the Sandman too. All your words whirling in my head and believe you me I am trying to wrestle with these demons inside. I can hear you shouting through the thick mist but I can't untangle the stranglehold of these ghosts. Even though you might think I don't hear you and choose to wallow - I do not wallow and will not wallow. I simply choose not to participate... - but the truth is that I do. I do hear you. You must know that. You creep in and out of my consciousness and you read my mind. You live in my mind. You me we three are one.
With time everything fades
yes indeed that was something i said
for change is the only ever-unchanging thing
now doesn't that too have a familiar ring?
Yet the shadows of the past continue to haunt me
rising from the shallow graves of memory
now and again - returning to plague me.
...
Well there it's obviously going to take some more time. Another couple of years perhaps?
The problem with having one's emotional state so far divorced from the other states of mind, for instance that which concerns itself with career building and sense of self worth from what one achieves in the arena of work, is that when you stop focusing on the career building and all that, you collapse into a chasm as your emotional state is akin to an inner city slum compared to the skyscraper of a career you are busy building. Yet what can one do? I can't rid the slum and grime all in one day. It's been accummulated for years that I can't even keep track of its inhabitants anymore and I do not wish to postpone my skyscraper building just because of the existence of the slum.
I'm rationalising again. Or am I making excuses? I don't know. All I do know is that work is in my power and looking at the photograph of them two, hand in hand, smiling, makes me recall a poem I wrote back on 18 Feb 2002 ... does everything come full circle? How many circles are there? How many times will we find ourselves opening our hearts and reaching out only to be dropped from sky high to rock bottom? Is it worth it? Why should I trust anyone with my life? I've picked up the pieces, cut my hands with the broken shards and with this incomplete puzzle of myself I now venture to build a life again, why should I risk it all again? A constant low is a choice of moderation. At least I know I chose to be at a constant low. The constant state is what I crave. I crave stability, security, to feel safe. People are inconsistent. I do not trust anyone. Sometimes not even myself.
And that is when my very sense of self is questioned and rendered unstable ... the state which I fear the most perhaps, and I hate it when I compare other people to you, to what you were to me, what you are or what I perceive you to be ... I look at the photo and question do I really want to stay in the UK for another year? Risk a meeting, all our mutual friends ... oh go and stay with your Cambridge possy and leave me be.
no words to say but just a smile
hangs upon my lips for a while
but neither blind nor deaf am i
and it was killing me just to stand by
to watch in silence, to pretend, to lie
that my heart and soul were not begging to die.
for every move you took
every word you spoke
and every little loving look
assaulted my senses and made me choke.
i was swept off my feet that's true
and nothing's left but me, the fool
it was all a dream that has now fallen through
for i am no longer loved by you.
so go ahead and treat me rough
for fortune never seems to have enough
and even though i'm not that tough
one gets accustomed to life as chaff.
...
and today, I cry again for you.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Wednesday, 26 September 2007
The Sandman:
Facebook is both a blessing and a bane. She has chosen to cut herself constantly, regularly instead of being stabbed when turning a corner. I'm not sure that's better than complete avoidance.
The Poppy:
She's tried avoidance. She'd have to avoid the lot of them if she wanted to be free. Every one of those Imperial people, anyone connected to him ... even if she's on the other side of the world it would be pretty difficult. Memories are interwoven after all. She has chosen to remain connected and so she has to pay the price.
...
This is my letter to the world
that never wrote to me --
I know I made a choice, possibly not such a considered choice but I think I did my best, all things considered. I chose to stay in touch, I chose to remain close. I was ignored, you tried your best I know but it is my fault for not letting go. Jasmine tells me that I should stop being so thick-headed and I simply told her perhaps she could see this as my OCD. I have chosen to cut myself because I would rather know than not know and avoid and pretend that things have not moved on that you had never gone. JB tells me to get an Aston Martin and stop harping over a Ford Escort but maybe what I'm really doing is giving up driving.
I am tired and last night I lay in bed, tears in my eyes ... they sometimes come spontaneously like old friends coming to visit and I can't stop them. They don't stay long so it's ok. I have made friends with them now. I think of what people will never see and only pray that Jesus is carrying me. I feel the solitary silence deep inside. It is not really loneliness ... it is perhaps more akin to one who has accepted that loneliness has become the norm. This is what life is like - it doesn't mean that it won't be fulfilling but that it is a long road that you will take by yourself. You will feel very much by yourself, you will have many silences, no one can reach into your heart now. That key has been lost and that room inside you have boarded up and only dust and spiderwebs will now dwell within. You have closed the door and kept out the draught as well as you can. You can't give it to someone else. It was only for him. It was custom-made - no one else measures up.
So I've given up driving. I know he won't come back. LF sent a message to him about doing a curry night and that he could bring whoever he liked. Two years ago that whoever would have been me. Today it will be someone else. The girl he is currently dating. The girl from Cambridge. I grit my teeth and focus on work and think about Van Gogh when he was rejected by the girl he loved. Sorrow is a great friend of art. I pray that I have some scattering of genius. If nothing else I will work hard and try to keep as warm as possible. I will not wallow. I will fight on and stand tall. I will smile until the last drop of blood leaves my body. I will fall and get up myself. I will keep moving I must keep moving I will keep smiling I must keep going. I will keep myself going.
You died two years ago and left me behind. There is someone who looks a lot like you but he is different I am sure. I will never feel your touch again, never hold your hand again. I only wish where your body lies so I may see you and run to you and sit by you sometimes when things get too much when I can no longer hold back the tears when the spectres visit my dreams ... if you could only see. But then you are dead. You died two years ago.
I walk a lonely road
the only one I have ever known
don't know where it goes
but it's only me and I walk alone.
Facebook is both a blessing and a bane. She has chosen to cut herself constantly, regularly instead of being stabbed when turning a corner. I'm not sure that's better than complete avoidance.
The Poppy:
She's tried avoidance. She'd have to avoid the lot of them if she wanted to be free. Every one of those Imperial people, anyone connected to him ... even if she's on the other side of the world it would be pretty difficult. Memories are interwoven after all. She has chosen to remain connected and so she has to pay the price.
...
This is my letter to the world
that never wrote to me --
I know I made a choice, possibly not such a considered choice but I think I did my best, all things considered. I chose to stay in touch, I chose to remain close. I was ignored, you tried your best I know but it is my fault for not letting go. Jasmine tells me that I should stop being so thick-headed and I simply told her perhaps she could see this as my OCD. I have chosen to cut myself because I would rather know than not know and avoid and pretend that things have not moved on that you had never gone. JB tells me to get an Aston Martin and stop harping over a Ford Escort but maybe what I'm really doing is giving up driving.
I am tired and last night I lay in bed, tears in my eyes ... they sometimes come spontaneously like old friends coming to visit and I can't stop them. They don't stay long so it's ok. I have made friends with them now. I think of what people will never see and only pray that Jesus is carrying me. I feel the solitary silence deep inside. It is not really loneliness ... it is perhaps more akin to one who has accepted that loneliness has become the norm. This is what life is like - it doesn't mean that it won't be fulfilling but that it is a long road that you will take by yourself. You will feel very much by yourself, you will have many silences, no one can reach into your heart now. That key has been lost and that room inside you have boarded up and only dust and spiderwebs will now dwell within. You have closed the door and kept out the draught as well as you can. You can't give it to someone else. It was only for him. It was custom-made - no one else measures up.
So I've given up driving. I know he won't come back. LF sent a message to him about doing a curry night and that he could bring whoever he liked. Two years ago that whoever would have been me. Today it will be someone else. The girl he is currently dating. The girl from Cambridge. I grit my teeth and focus on work and think about Van Gogh when he was rejected by the girl he loved. Sorrow is a great friend of art. I pray that I have some scattering of genius. If nothing else I will work hard and try to keep as warm as possible. I will not wallow. I will fight on and stand tall. I will smile until the last drop of blood leaves my body. I will fall and get up myself. I will keep moving I must keep moving I will keep smiling I must keep going. I will keep myself going.
You died two years ago and left me behind. There is someone who looks a lot like you but he is different I am sure. I will never feel your touch again, never hold your hand again. I only wish where your body lies so I may see you and run to you and sit by you sometimes when things get too much when I can no longer hold back the tears when the spectres visit my dreams ... if you could only see. But then you are dead. You died two years ago.
I walk a lonely road
the only one I have ever known
don't know where it goes
but it's only me and I walk alone.
Sunday, 23 September 2007
When it is only you that holds onto a particular memory or set of memories from a given time in your life, you feel as though perhaps they could be no more than a figment of your imagination. Especially if those with whom you shared the time with and shared those memories with have now ceased to feature in your life and also have ceased to hold onto those memories. It is as if the past as you know it never happened and you only imagined it. As time erodes the details of those memories you hold so dear, that remind you of where you came from and what you knew and learnt, that defines and shapes your identity, doubts about what really happened creep into your consciousness at an alarming rate abd you begin to question if you ever lived the life you thought you did, if you ever went through those experiences, if you ever had the relationships you thought you had, if you ever felt the things you think you felt, if you are who you think you are ...
Who are you?
If everyone or at least the ones with whom you shared the most intimate and vulnerable parts of yourself now cease to acknowledge your existence or partake in being a part of your identity, if they appear to be completely indifferent to your life or death, if they are indifferent to your existence, how then can one not feel that one's sense of oneself and one's past might have been the fruit borne of an overactive imagination? A second life that you thought you lived, but perhaps never really did. There is no proof that you did. Only your memories. Do you believe what you remember or is it only what you think you remember? How do you believe such intangible things as thoughts? If no one else knows you exist and those who ought to know appear to have disappeared off the face of the earth then you have no way of remembering who you were ...
Then how do you move on to become who you will be when you don't even know who you are, when you have all the missing pieces forming gaping holes you cannot seem to patch up or ignore without the apparitions rising in your dreams, your restless sleep. How do you become whole when you never were to start with? How do you secure the door to your heart when you gave the key away to someone who has thrown it into the gutter?
If you didn't have the remaining pieces then perhaps you could and would have to start over from scratch but because you have pieces of yourself you know there are bits missing and how then do you cast away the past?
Perhaps we only need pieces of ourselves to survive but then again perhaps we need to find what's missing in order to live.
To have no history is to be adrift in the vast ocean of anonymity. To have no memory - and I refer to shared memories - could well mean you have no identity. Personal memories and thoughts if not remembered, are as good as non-existent. Shared memories anchor you to a social network, a community. They are like invisible bonds that persist when the details cease to exist. You may not remember exactly what you did with another but you feel a closeness from having shared experiences, shared your time, shared yourself. When these bonds are broken or thrown out, discarded and forgotten, the one who still holds on the other side and depends on the bonds to build their sense of self, now becomes like a building with its foundations ripped out.
Who are you? Where do you come from? Is there anyone out there? Who knows you? Who really knows you? I think therefore I am. I remember and am remembered therefore I exist. There is no good in being without existing in a wider context. No man is an island. Nor woman, boy or girl.
Who are you?
If everyone or at least the ones with whom you shared the most intimate and vulnerable parts of yourself now cease to acknowledge your existence or partake in being a part of your identity, if they appear to be completely indifferent to your life or death, if they are indifferent to your existence, how then can one not feel that one's sense of oneself and one's past might have been the fruit borne of an overactive imagination? A second life that you thought you lived, but perhaps never really did. There is no proof that you did. Only your memories. Do you believe what you remember or is it only what you think you remember? How do you believe such intangible things as thoughts? If no one else knows you exist and those who ought to know appear to have disappeared off the face of the earth then you have no way of remembering who you were ...
Then how do you move on to become who you will be when you don't even know who you are, when you have all the missing pieces forming gaping holes you cannot seem to patch up or ignore without the apparitions rising in your dreams, your restless sleep. How do you become whole when you never were to start with? How do you secure the door to your heart when you gave the key away to someone who has thrown it into the gutter?
If you didn't have the remaining pieces then perhaps you could and would have to start over from scratch but because you have pieces of yourself you know there are bits missing and how then do you cast away the past?
Perhaps we only need pieces of ourselves to survive but then again perhaps we need to find what's missing in order to live.
To have no history is to be adrift in the vast ocean of anonymity. To have no memory - and I refer to shared memories - could well mean you have no identity. Personal memories and thoughts if not remembered, are as good as non-existent. Shared memories anchor you to a social network, a community. They are like invisible bonds that persist when the details cease to exist. You may not remember exactly what you did with another but you feel a closeness from having shared experiences, shared your time, shared yourself. When these bonds are broken or thrown out, discarded and forgotten, the one who still holds on the other side and depends on the bonds to build their sense of self, now becomes like a building with its foundations ripped out.
Who are you? Where do you come from? Is there anyone out there? Who knows you? Who really knows you? I think therefore I am. I remember and am remembered therefore I exist. There is no good in being without existing in a wider context. No man is an island. Nor woman, boy or girl.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Monday, 17 September 2007
I'm back home after the introductory lecture this morning. It was a little disorganised but it was all right generally in relaying the information. In a way I already knew most of it but it's always good to be told again about the library, student services, study support and there was also a nice slide-show of the work produced in last year's graduation show by students on our Diploma course. It all looked quite professional. There were 2 people who went on to do masters courses after this diploma. It may be something I would consider but only if I have funding and also if I find that the job-search is not working out. First things first, I'm going to do the best I can on this course.
Meeting the course librarian was useful - we had a handout that listed all the shoe and accessories resources in the library. Looks good. We also met a design tutor who is taking the footwear people - he's called something that sounds like Chocolate and it wasn't because my tummy was rumbling. He is teaching at Polimoda too which is the Florentine Design school which is known for shoe and accessory design. How exciting. Which reminds me, I need to write my thank-you letters to my tutors on the Foundation for their reference letters though I didn't get the funding in the end. Oh well eh.
Looking back, I sometimes have doubts as to whether I should have done the foundation, mainly because of the expense but then weighing up the pros and cons, the pros definitely outweigh the cons and when conviction ebbs away I really need to remember the pros of having done a foundation in order to stick to my guns. I'd spent all my own savings from working 2 years in London on the Art and Design Foundation and the expense is a big thing that freaked me out completely when I started one year ago. If not for the expense then I think I would be completely fine. It's probably partly because I'm thinking about the possibility of doing a masters but then I think I'm jumping ahead too much in considering that when I've not even started on this year. The other thing is having spent a year on a foundation which is sort of extra time that has made me feel that I'm 'wasting' time and it gets a bit scary when I look at my other friends and see that they have put down money for houses, investments and all that. Then again, there are those who haven't and I mustn't compare what I have achieved with what they have achieved because it's like comparing apples and oranges. It's only because I have successfully completed the foundation that I am thinking that actually I could have perhaps not done a foundation but then actually, I wouldn't be at the same state of mind had I not done a foundation.
The good things about having done a foundation course is that I've had exposure to fine art and design basics as well. Especially the life drawing and visual studies training - that has been really useful and my sketchbooks are things I am proud of. That has definitely given me confidence and I have learnt a lot about my abilities and limitations as well, breaking free and loosening up my work being the main thing to improve on though I'm not sure if I'm ready to go completely wild yet - Dr H says that perhaps I need to let go and fall off the edge. Baby steps, I say. Design studies have been insightful too in terms of preparing mood-boards, analysis boards, illustrations and all that has given me a better idea of how to present my work, which I was pretty clueless about before. Apart from the skills and knowledge gained on the foundation, I'm also probably in a better emotional state to take on this course. I have a part-time job now which is good for my financial state and sense of security. I have made the transition from working life to student life and so I'm not as traumatised by the constraints as before. One year ago, it was quite difficult settling into the whole returning to education thing, and this time round I'm definitely more calm about it all. I've come to accept loneliness as a part of life as well ...
God give me the courage to change what I cannot accept, the serenity to accept what I cannot change and the wisdom to know the difference.
We keeping going no matter what. God willing, I will keep going, in spite of it all. Tomorrow I will go for my first formal lessons at Golden Lane ... !
Meeting the course librarian was useful - we had a handout that listed all the shoe and accessories resources in the library. Looks good. We also met a design tutor who is taking the footwear people - he's called something that sounds like Chocolate and it wasn't because my tummy was rumbling. He is teaching at Polimoda too which is the Florentine Design school which is known for shoe and accessory design. How exciting. Which reminds me, I need to write my thank-you letters to my tutors on the Foundation for their reference letters though I didn't get the funding in the end. Oh well eh.
Looking back, I sometimes have doubts as to whether I should have done the foundation, mainly because of the expense but then weighing up the pros and cons, the pros definitely outweigh the cons and when conviction ebbs away I really need to remember the pros of having done a foundation in order to stick to my guns. I'd spent all my own savings from working 2 years in London on the Art and Design Foundation and the expense is a big thing that freaked me out completely when I started one year ago. If not for the expense then I think I would be completely fine. It's probably partly because I'm thinking about the possibility of doing a masters but then I think I'm jumping ahead too much in considering that when I've not even started on this year. The other thing is having spent a year on a foundation which is sort of extra time that has made me feel that I'm 'wasting' time and it gets a bit scary when I look at my other friends and see that they have put down money for houses, investments and all that. Then again, there are those who haven't and I mustn't compare what I have achieved with what they have achieved because it's like comparing apples and oranges. It's only because I have successfully completed the foundation that I am thinking that actually I could have perhaps not done a foundation but then actually, I wouldn't be at the same state of mind had I not done a foundation.
The good things about having done a foundation course is that I've had exposure to fine art and design basics as well. Especially the life drawing and visual studies training - that has been really useful and my sketchbooks are things I am proud of. That has definitely given me confidence and I have learnt a lot about my abilities and limitations as well, breaking free and loosening up my work being the main thing to improve on though I'm not sure if I'm ready to go completely wild yet - Dr H says that perhaps I need to let go and fall off the edge. Baby steps, I say. Design studies have been insightful too in terms of preparing mood-boards, analysis boards, illustrations and all that has given me a better idea of how to present my work, which I was pretty clueless about before. Apart from the skills and knowledge gained on the foundation, I'm also probably in a better emotional state to take on this course. I have a part-time job now which is good for my financial state and sense of security. I have made the transition from working life to student life and so I'm not as traumatised by the constraints as before. One year ago, it was quite difficult settling into the whole returning to education thing, and this time round I'm definitely more calm about it all. I've come to accept loneliness as a part of life as well ...
God give me the courage to change what I cannot accept, the serenity to accept what I cannot change and the wisdom to know the difference.
We keeping going no matter what. God willing, I will keep going, in spite of it all. Tomorrow I will go for my first formal lessons at Golden Lane ... !
Friday, September 14, 2007
Friday, 14 September 2007
Sometimes I wonder if I purposely remember dates or if somehow some dates just get stuck in my head. I looked at the calendar today and thought to myself, ah. It's a month to the day when it will be two years since my life got officially turned upside down and thrown on its back, left in the mud out in the cold. It was a Friday two years ago. This year it'll be a Sunday. I shall be at work. That is a good thing.
Anyway. This is my first post in a while and it's also my first post in London. I left Singapore on the 6th of September. It was emotional but I controlled myself and so did my mum, as always. We are so controlled or at least she is that sometimes it makes me feel weak that I cannot. She's really traditional as Auntie Anne says. I arrived at about 7pm London time and got stuck in a 2 hour queue at immigration which was gruelling as I basically stood for 2 hours and then had to look for my luggage which had been chucked off the carousel long ago (or maybe not so long ago, knowing the efficiency levels at Heathrow haha) and then came the long journey back to the flat. Thank goodness I wasn't made to go to the Health Control like 3 years ago - that would have added another hour and a half to my waiting time and thank goodness that the tube strikes had stopped and I could take the tube back. Otherwise it would have been tiring and expensive.
Finally got back to the flat at 11pm and caught my sister before she went to bed which was nice as I was going to take the Eurostar to Paris the next morning to visit trade shows with my auntie. I went to bed at 1am, got up at 6am and left for Paris on the 8.12am train. I was so tired that morning I walked into my bed and still have a bruise and cut to show for it! Arrived at about quarter to noon and then took the Metro to Argentine to get to the hotel. I arrived at 12.30pm and at 1pm off we went to the Maison&Objet show. It was very interesting though rather tiring. In the evening, we went to a Vietnamese restaurant on Rue Pierre Charbon for dinner. The fried spring rolls and pho was very nice though some of the other dishes weren't so good for what it cost. Never order vegetables in a restaurant is probably a good rule of thumb. Especially if they come by some generic name as seasonal mixed vegetables. We got beansprouts. I'm not certain that is at all seasonal or regional or very mixed at all! Oh well.
Next morning I woke up at 6am due to jetlag and then lay in bed till 7am when I got up and tried to take photos of the Arc de Triomphe from the hotel window by sticking my arm out with my cameraphone and then using the other hand to press the button. This was quite tricky as I was tired, slightly worried that I would drop my phone and also, I could not actually see the picture when it was being taken. After a few attempts I managed to get a good enough shot that could be used as my wallpaper. We had breakfast and then at 9.30am we set off for the trade shows again, this time till about 4.30pm. We went back to the hotel, had a rest and then went to an evening church service as we wanted to go to a Premiere Classe the next morning before I returned on the 2.43pm train to Waterloo. In the evening we went to a really lovely art nouveau restaurant on Rue Marbeuf called La Fermette Marbeuf where we had traditional french food and some wine. I chose Pouilly Fume which was quite light and nice. I wasn't that hungry due to jetlag but managed to have a main (artic char with almonds) and most of my dessert which was creme brulee. Auntie Anne had salmon and then flambeed crepes with grand marnier.
C'etait tres bien.
So that was the tiring but insightful weekend at the trade shows in Paris. I thought it was very interesting if a little tiring. It really isn't a jolly. It's pure solid work and after a while it was difficult to keep focused as everything started to look similar. Greys and silvers were big in the fashion trends, seaside themes and monochrome black and white was big on the interiors. It was a strange fusion of blingtastic modernism with lots of references to old-style grandeur done in a new way. For instance, you'd have an 18th century french chaise print in jewel tones more often seen on patent leather accesories of Spring/Summer 07 on an clear acrylic chair.
I arrived at 5pm back in the flat which was nice. I wasn't hungry at all, having had a filling lunch and a bite to eat on the train so I skipped dinner that evening. A good thing too since I didn't actually have any food. I had some Milo and that was it. I was really sleepy but then I wanted to stay awake till a reasonable time for bed. That was 10pm and I succeeded. The next morning, I had some Cocopops (my sis' preferred cereal) and then off I went to work at the shop. I was still quite tired but going to work was good - not only do I get to earn some dosh but also keeps me awake! I had to enrol at 4pm so it was only half a day and the enrolment went quite smoothly which was good - no waiting at all which was fabulous so I was all done in under an hour! Off I went home, taking a detour to the supermarket on the way, and that evening I dropped off to sleep at 9.30pm.
Tuesday and Wednesday were spent at work again and finally yesterday, I managed to have a wee bit of a lie-in and get some rest. I also tidied my room, vacuumed the carpet, cleared out old papers and sorted my stuff out, got organised. That continued till today and suddenly it's been a week since I've returned.
I put my old photos up on facebook yesterday, in between cleaning, and I was quite happy to put them up. I'd found them in a sealed box that hadn't been opened since 2004 when I graduated. They were photos of the 21st birthday party that Jon and James jointly hosted and photos of the graduation ball. I decided to put them on Facebook and share them with my hallmates after much deliberation. I decided that I wanted to remember my lovely Warwick days instead of chucking them all out just to avoid thinking about Jon. Avoidance doesn't help - it simply leaves a gaping hole in my memory of the past, which includes happy memories too which, if I simply shut out altogether, leaves me uncertain of who I am, where I have come from and I musn't do that. I mustn't avoid the past and erase everything. It hasn't helped in 2 years and if I choose to keep in touch with friends with whom we have a shared history together then I must accept that his presence will pervade my life to some extent. It is unavoidable. What is that saying, God grant me the courage to change the things I cannot accept, the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Going back to Singapore has reminded me that life is short, precious and life is not about yourself. Life is about your interaction with those you love, be it family or friends. In my case I feel a stronger tie to my mother, sister and grandmother. After waving goodbye at the airport I fought the tears till I went to the toilet and I had a bit of a cry. I would have cried a little more if the janitor hadn't come in to clean the loos. It was probably a good thing though. Last night, my sister told me the good news that she got a permanent job finally and I was really happy. She'd been hoping for this for a long time now and having a steady job meant security for herself and also for my mum, for the new place and it also made me feel more secure as at least my mother wouldn't worry too much about my sister (apart from her single status).
Last night as I hugged Monkey I suddenly had a flashback of when my mother went to London on holiday with a fellow secretary - a gift holiday from the company in recognition of their good service - and I was only little, probably about 6 years old and I got really scared without my mother at night. I remember my sister sitting me on her knee and letting me hold her special little pillow which she never ever let me hold (it was the soft one with fuchsia roses on it) but to comfort me missing my mother she let me hold it that evening when I got upset. My mother worries a little about us not having someone to look after us when she is gone. I hope that will be a long time yet. I told her that it didn't matter as my sister and I had each other and it didn't matter that we didn't have anyone else to look after us as we'd look after each other. That's the good thing about having two children instead of just the one.
I hate thinking about things like that as it upsets me. In many ways I am still the little girl sitting on her sister's knee who gets upset when her mother isn't there. I am fiercely independent in many ways but some children wander freely from their mothers but I was always holding onto my mother's skirt when she couldn't hold my hand when in the shops. I don't like to feel abandoned. This is still something I react to very strongly. Still, I've been quite lucky all things considered. I have a chance to chase a dream.
Run Forrest, run.
Anyway. This is my first post in a while and it's also my first post in London. I left Singapore on the 6th of September. It was emotional but I controlled myself and so did my mum, as always. We are so controlled or at least she is that sometimes it makes me feel weak that I cannot. She's really traditional as Auntie Anne says. I arrived at about 7pm London time and got stuck in a 2 hour queue at immigration which was gruelling as I basically stood for 2 hours and then had to look for my luggage which had been chucked off the carousel long ago (or maybe not so long ago, knowing the efficiency levels at Heathrow haha) and then came the long journey back to the flat. Thank goodness I wasn't made to go to the Health Control like 3 years ago - that would have added another hour and a half to my waiting time and thank goodness that the tube strikes had stopped and I could take the tube back. Otherwise it would have been tiring and expensive.
Finally got back to the flat at 11pm and caught my sister before she went to bed which was nice as I was going to take the Eurostar to Paris the next morning to visit trade shows with my auntie. I went to bed at 1am, got up at 6am and left for Paris on the 8.12am train. I was so tired that morning I walked into my bed and still have a bruise and cut to show for it! Arrived at about quarter to noon and then took the Metro to Argentine to get to the hotel. I arrived at 12.30pm and at 1pm off we went to the Maison&Objet show. It was very interesting though rather tiring. In the evening, we went to a Vietnamese restaurant on Rue Pierre Charbon for dinner. The fried spring rolls and pho was very nice though some of the other dishes weren't so good for what it cost. Never order vegetables in a restaurant is probably a good rule of thumb. Especially if they come by some generic name as seasonal mixed vegetables. We got beansprouts. I'm not certain that is at all seasonal or regional or very mixed at all! Oh well.
Next morning I woke up at 6am due to jetlag and then lay in bed till 7am when I got up and tried to take photos of the Arc de Triomphe from the hotel window by sticking my arm out with my cameraphone and then using the other hand to press the button. This was quite tricky as I was tired, slightly worried that I would drop my phone and also, I could not actually see the picture when it was being taken. After a few attempts I managed to get a good enough shot that could be used as my wallpaper. We had breakfast and then at 9.30am we set off for the trade shows again, this time till about 4.30pm. We went back to the hotel, had a rest and then went to an evening church service as we wanted to go to a Premiere Classe the next morning before I returned on the 2.43pm train to Waterloo. In the evening we went to a really lovely art nouveau restaurant on Rue Marbeuf called La Fermette Marbeuf where we had traditional french food and some wine. I chose Pouilly Fume which was quite light and nice. I wasn't that hungry due to jetlag but managed to have a main (artic char with almonds) and most of my dessert which was creme brulee. Auntie Anne had salmon and then flambeed crepes with grand marnier.
C'etait tres bien.
So that was the tiring but insightful weekend at the trade shows in Paris. I thought it was very interesting if a little tiring. It really isn't a jolly. It's pure solid work and after a while it was difficult to keep focused as everything started to look similar. Greys and silvers were big in the fashion trends, seaside themes and monochrome black and white was big on the interiors. It was a strange fusion of blingtastic modernism with lots of references to old-style grandeur done in a new way. For instance, you'd have an 18th century french chaise print in jewel tones more often seen on patent leather accesories of Spring/Summer 07 on an clear acrylic chair.
I arrived at 5pm back in the flat which was nice. I wasn't hungry at all, having had a filling lunch and a bite to eat on the train so I skipped dinner that evening. A good thing too since I didn't actually have any food. I had some Milo and that was it. I was really sleepy but then I wanted to stay awake till a reasonable time for bed. That was 10pm and I succeeded. The next morning, I had some Cocopops (my sis' preferred cereal) and then off I went to work at the shop. I was still quite tired but going to work was good - not only do I get to earn some dosh but also keeps me awake! I had to enrol at 4pm so it was only half a day and the enrolment went quite smoothly which was good - no waiting at all which was fabulous so I was all done in under an hour! Off I went home, taking a detour to the supermarket on the way, and that evening I dropped off to sleep at 9.30pm.
Tuesday and Wednesday were spent at work again and finally yesterday, I managed to have a wee bit of a lie-in and get some rest. I also tidied my room, vacuumed the carpet, cleared out old papers and sorted my stuff out, got organised. That continued till today and suddenly it's been a week since I've returned.
I put my old photos up on facebook yesterday, in between cleaning, and I was quite happy to put them up. I'd found them in a sealed box that hadn't been opened since 2004 when I graduated. They were photos of the 21st birthday party that Jon and James jointly hosted and photos of the graduation ball. I decided to put them on Facebook and share them with my hallmates after much deliberation. I decided that I wanted to remember my lovely Warwick days instead of chucking them all out just to avoid thinking about Jon. Avoidance doesn't help - it simply leaves a gaping hole in my memory of the past, which includes happy memories too which, if I simply shut out altogether, leaves me uncertain of who I am, where I have come from and I musn't do that. I mustn't avoid the past and erase everything. It hasn't helped in 2 years and if I choose to keep in touch with friends with whom we have a shared history together then I must accept that his presence will pervade my life to some extent. It is unavoidable. What is that saying, God grant me the courage to change the things I cannot accept, the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Going back to Singapore has reminded me that life is short, precious and life is not about yourself. Life is about your interaction with those you love, be it family or friends. In my case I feel a stronger tie to my mother, sister and grandmother. After waving goodbye at the airport I fought the tears till I went to the toilet and I had a bit of a cry. I would have cried a little more if the janitor hadn't come in to clean the loos. It was probably a good thing though. Last night, my sister told me the good news that she got a permanent job finally and I was really happy. She'd been hoping for this for a long time now and having a steady job meant security for herself and also for my mum, for the new place and it also made me feel more secure as at least my mother wouldn't worry too much about my sister (apart from her single status).
Last night as I hugged Monkey I suddenly had a flashback of when my mother went to London on holiday with a fellow secretary - a gift holiday from the company in recognition of their good service - and I was only little, probably about 6 years old and I got really scared without my mother at night. I remember my sister sitting me on her knee and letting me hold her special little pillow which she never ever let me hold (it was the soft one with fuchsia roses on it) but to comfort me missing my mother she let me hold it that evening when I got upset. My mother worries a little about us not having someone to look after us when she is gone. I hope that will be a long time yet. I told her that it didn't matter as my sister and I had each other and it didn't matter that we didn't have anyone else to look after us as we'd look after each other. That's the good thing about having two children instead of just the one.
I hate thinking about things like that as it upsets me. In many ways I am still the little girl sitting on her sister's knee who gets upset when her mother isn't there. I am fiercely independent in many ways but some children wander freely from their mothers but I was always holding onto my mother's skirt when she couldn't hold my hand when in the shops. I don't like to feel abandoned. This is still something I react to very strongly. Still, I've been quite lucky all things considered. I have a chance to chase a dream.
Run Forrest, run.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Sunday, 2 September 2007
Whoosh and a week goes by. I had quite an eventful week - been working all week at my aunt's place, helping her out with graphic on Photoshop for her proposals for Christmas decorations, while fitting in errands and meeting friends. Monday I collected my passport so finished early but after that it was quite intensive but I was glad I had the discipline to leave on time-ish. Tuesday, I left at 5.45pm but only managed to get home at about 7.20pm so it takes quite a while ... sometimes I get worried about my work ethic, but then it's work life balance that I should really keep focused on, not working till there's nothing left in life than work. Especially when I have priorities to spend more time with my mother. I think my priorities are right. Even if I wasn't leaving for studies overseas, one mustn't let work become one's life. As Eunice says, even if the bosses reprimand you, even if you miss a deadline, you wouldn't die. After all, there are limits to how much one can and should work. Easier said than done sometimes, especially if everyone around you is working like a maniac.
Anyhow Wednesday I left early as well as I wanted to get home to get changed and showered before meeting Eunice for dinner at City Hall - that was quite pleasant though I got back late and had to fork out dosh for a cab to get to City Hall in time. Still, it was good as we ate at the food court and that saved some money. She's still the same and she's got a good head. She puts things in perspective for me sometimes as she's more worldly I guess. It's funny - she's like a big sister in a way though I'm actually older than her. But then she's more of a rebel and I'm pretty much the goody-two-shoes. At college I was designated the driver for everyone when people went out clubbing ... that was in jest but then I'm the responsible one who wouldn't drink, etc. The only problem is that I don't drive. I should learn someday but then if I haven't got a car there's no real point. One step at a time I think. Get trained up, get a job then get other things ...
Thursday ... ah yes I worked till 7.30pm and finally got home at 9pm - that was really stressful as I don't like to be outside my room when my father is around so I had to shower, have dinner, do laundry and dry my hair in double quick time. Gosh. Then came Friday. I worked till 6.30pm which was reasonable I thought, then went to meet Zhiying and Zhixiu in Orchard. I had finished the graphics for the second project so that was cool. I was meant to meet ZX and ZY at 7.30pm but got there early at 7.05pm so I popped to Osmose, tried on the couple of blouses I'd seen a week and a half ago but decided to think about it then ... and bought them. All in 20 minutes which was good. I like efficient shopping. I also like to think about things I'm not too sure about for a while and return. There aren't always return policies and mainly only exchanges within 7 days or 3 days even so it's good to prevent impulse buying. Obviously sometimes this backfires as when you finally decide that you want to purchase the item, many other people have decided that too and beat you to it such that it's completely sold out. Then you can blame it on divine intervention or be miserable forever. I usually take to the former school of thought and save being miserable for larger things like a dysfunctional family problems, struggling with existentialism and trying to get Jesus to carry me through.
I digress.
ZX, ZY and I had dinner at Thai Express and it was lovely to see them again. Friends like these you know will be friends of life, we can be the singlehood haha ... things don't seem to change fundamentally with friends like these and you feel so comfortable with them, though obviously you have to work on keeping in touch.
I met up with Zhiying again today. We went to Sentosa to walk by the beach. It was raining when we headed out at about 2pm but it cleared up towards 3.30pm so it was all right. There was even a nice blue sky overhead for a while and some decent sunshine. We chatted quite openly which we hadn't done for over a year now. She'd been distraught at having to return to Singapore from NYC at the end of 2005 and it had been difficult to speak being so far away and both of us being wrapped up in our own problems. But I'm glad she updated me on what horrors had happened to her after she'd returned to Singapore, about her various jobs and disappointments that she was being treated like crap at various production houses, and insulted financially, overworked and underpaid ... verbally insulted as well. I must confess I can't really know how she is feeling as I haven't experienced it myself but I was glad she was telling me stuff again as we'd told each other everything since we were 15 but since she returned to Singapore we'd had a break in communication.
It's virtually impossible to empathise and I found myself doing the apparently very male thing of trying to think of how to solve her problems. Oh dear, I'm sure I'm going to grow a beard soon at this rate but I guess when I don't have the emotional sides to her troubles and harrowing experiences, I tend to focus on what can be done about helping her move on now as she's still scarred from her jobs thus far. Sigh. Well, I'm glad at least she's started on a decent film-related job now again though. Hopefully the stigma of the vicious shark-infested media industry won't scar her too much. She is paranoid about getting into all that mess again, being abused, with no unions or representation, with threats of being blacklisted if she quits, not being paid on time, or enough even to live on, being told that her NYC experience counts for nothing because it's a different scene here, etc ... People can be so cruel sometimes it's unfathomable. Anyhow so far it's going ok in this job and she has a good chance of staying on till December or maybe June next year which will bode well for her bank account and loan repayments to her parents and her medical costs and hopefully heal the disappointment and disillusionment from her first experiences. I shall pray hard for her and I'm glad I know what I can pray for now.
Sometimes I feel quite lucky. At least according to the medical check-up I'm pretty much ok health-wise. As they say, health is wealth. That's very true. That is something that money cannot buy once it is lost.
Yesterday though, I thought I was going to injure the health of my father right in public. It sounds silly but I wanted to stab him with the pointed end of a large golfing umbrella. He'd called up in the middle of the day while mum, grandma and I were having lunch and then said he wanted to have dinner out either in the evening or the next day i.e. this evening. Mum and I had a nice afternoon browsing the shops and we also watched Ratatouille which was funny and enjoyable only to be capped off with my blood boiling and hot angry tears rising up in tandem with my blood pressure. I was so angry I even shouted out in the street. First he demands to eat out, obviously having no money to foot the bill and so my mother has to pay for the dinner as well as the cab fare to take my grandmother there and back ... what kind of lout does that? Family to him is only family when it is useful, when we can be cash cows to be milked for all we're worth. Then after finishing dinner, he asks to borrow $10 from my mother for his transport and I cannot believe my ears. I have heard of his borrowing antics countless times for much larger amounts as well as his 'borrowing' which really means he spends a vast sum he does not have, then waits for my mother to pay the debts or threatens that the house will go to the creditors if the debts are not settled. Just hearing about all these things incenses me but actually witnessing it happening, well that's completely different. When he opened his mouth to ask for money I was both shocked in a way (oh my goodness this is ACTUALLY happening) and gosh my anger levels accelerated faster than a DB9 driven by the Stig. According to my mum I was actually glaring at him and well on hindsight if I hadn't quite been so shocked I would have not given a flying f... that we were in a public place. So was he using the cover of public spaces to ask for money after getting a free meal? I was so angry so so so angry. It was probably a good thing that I was semi shocked that this was actually happening and didn't burst out otherwise my mother would have been terribly embarrassed. She is of the old-school stiff upper lip kind where even if a vampire was sucking the lifeblood out of you, as long as it was a public place one would not make a scene.
It makes me terribly terribly guilty for taking money from my mum though I am so glad that I paid for my visa myself even though my mother wanted to pay for that. She was quite annoyed that I'd gone and exchanged pounds for dollars and lost out on the exchange rate but I think that's the least I can do. For all the guilt and strain I bear here he was sticking his hand out for money after making her take him out to dinner. I was so incensed that when he gave me the umbrella to take home as he was going out gallivanting God-knows-where I was really really tempted to stab him with it or hit him with it to knock some sense into him. Doesn't he know what he's doing? Doesn't he have any shame? I just shouted it out after he left, asking my mother why she gave him her travel card with $25 in it when he'd only asked for $10. I just shouted that out and shouted that he had no shame and gosh I was so angry I wanted to hurl the umbrella or hit something with it. Or someone. Him. If it knocks any sense into him I would do it. Adrenaline fuelled by anger is a powerful thing. However, until I have a proper job and am not earning yet I cannot make my feelings clear to him as I am just like him in a way, a leech sucking money from my poor mother.
Dr Hadley would probably have disagreed to that statement. Ah well, I guess I might not be completely free from my destructive thinking patterns but at least I can identify them now and try to be more balanced. At least I have a part-time job and I don't spend more than I can afford to. At least I have guilt and shame so I won't be a complete waster. God willing, I will be financially independent. Thank God for my auntie who hires me part-time and for David Mellor for the weekend job.
And for all my friends who take me out and make me laugh and help me remember that I have them too. For now at least. Until they're all married, every single one. Well then there's the singlehood haha. Maybe I should make a pact like in My Best Friend's Wedding. What was it ... if we're both not married by 30 then we'll get married. Nah.. I couldn't do that. Not if I'm still thinking of Finch, to whom it probably would not matter if I'd died. That would be unfair to the other person. That's not the way to go. It must be for love. Am I being idealistic?
Bu zai hu tian chang di jiu, zhi zai hu ceng jin yong you.
Better to die having lived ideals than live having let ideals die ...
The Sandman:
She needs to work on that.
Poppy:
Hmm. Yes. She's thinking of "The Hours".
...
Leonard Woolf: If I didn't know you better I'd call this ingratitude.
Virginia Woolf: I am ungrateful? You call ME ungrateful? My life has been stolen from me. I'm living in a town I have no wish to live in... I'm living a life I have no wish to live... How did this happen?
Virginia Woolf: I'm dying in this town.
Leonard Woolf: If you were thinking clearly, Virginia, you would recall it was London that brought you low. Virginia Woolf: If I were thinking clearly? If I were thinking clearly?
Leonard Woolf: We brought you to Richmond to give you peace.
Virginia Woolf: If I were thinking clearly, Leonard, I would tell you that I wrestle alone in the dark, in the deep dark, and that only I can know. Only I can understand my condition. You live with the threat, you tell me you live with the threat of my extinction. Leonard, I live with it too.
Virginia Woolf: This is my right; it is the right of every human being. I choose not the suffocating anesthetic of the suburbs, but the violent jolt of the Capital, that is my choice. The meanest patient, yes, even the very lowest is allowed some say in the matter of her own prescription. Thereby she defines her humanity. I wish, for your sake, Leonard, I could be happy in this quietness ... But if it is a choice between Richmond and death, I choose death.
Virginia Woolf: You cannot find peace by avoiding life, Leonard.
Clarissa Vaughn: That is what we do. That is what people do. They stay alive for each other.
Virginia Woolf: Dear Leonard. To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it, to love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Leonard, always the years between us, always the years. Always the love. Always the hours.
Clarissa Vaughn: I don't know what's happening to me. I seemed to be unraveling.
Virginia Woolf: I've been attended by doctors, who inform me OF MY OWN INTERESTS.
Virginia Woolf: A woman's whole life in a single day. Just one day. And in that day her whole life.
Kitty: Oh, you're reading a book?
Laura Brown: Yeah.
Kitty: What's this one about?
Laura Brown: Oh, it's about this woman who's incredibly - well, she's a hostess and she's incredibly confident and she's going to give a party. And, maybe because she's confident, everyone thinks she's fine... but she isn't.
Laura Brown: It would be wonderful to say you regretted it. It would be easy. But what does it mean? What does it mean to regret when you have no choice? It's what you can bear. There it is. No one's going to forgive me. It was death. I chose life.
Sally: Why do I always have to sit next to the exes? Is this some kind of a hint, sweetheart? Anyway, shouldn't the exes have a table of their own, where they can all ex together in ex-quisite agony?
Richard Brown: Oh, Mrs. Dalloway... Always giving parties to cover the silence.
Clarissa Vaughn: Why is everything wrong?
Virginia Woolf: Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more. It's contrast.
Angelica Bell: What happens when we die?
Virginia Woolf: What happens? [pause]
Virginia Woolf: We return to the place that we came from.
Angelica Bell: I don't remember where I came from.
Virginia Woolf: Nor do I.
Clarissa Vaughn: I remember one morning getting up at dawn, there was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself: So, this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. And of course there will always be more. It never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment. Right then.
Virginia Woolf: Say something, Nessa! Didn't you think I seemed better?
Virginia Woolf: I am saying, Vanessa, that even crazy people like to be asked.
Angelica Bell: Goodbye.
Virginia Woolf: Goodbye, little girl.
Virginia Woolf: You return to what?
Vanessa Bell: Tonight. Oh, just some insufferable dinner not even you could envy, Virginia.
Virginia Woolf: But I do.
Virginia Woolf: Did it matter, then, she asked herself, walking toward Bond Street. Did it matter that she must inevitably cease, completely. All this must go on without her. Did she resent it? Or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely? It is possible to die. It is possible to die.
Virginia Woolf: It's on this day. This day of all days. Her fate becomes clear to her.
Kitty: All my life I could do anything. I could do anything, really. Except the one thing I wanted.
Anyhow Wednesday I left early as well as I wanted to get home to get changed and showered before meeting Eunice for dinner at City Hall - that was quite pleasant though I got back late and had to fork out dosh for a cab to get to City Hall in time. Still, it was good as we ate at the food court and that saved some money. She's still the same and she's got a good head. She puts things in perspective for me sometimes as she's more worldly I guess. It's funny - she's like a big sister in a way though I'm actually older than her. But then she's more of a rebel and I'm pretty much the goody-two-shoes. At college I was designated the driver for everyone when people went out clubbing ... that was in jest but then I'm the responsible one who wouldn't drink, etc. The only problem is that I don't drive. I should learn someday but then if I haven't got a car there's no real point. One step at a time I think. Get trained up, get a job then get other things ...
Thursday ... ah yes I worked till 7.30pm and finally got home at 9pm - that was really stressful as I don't like to be outside my room when my father is around so I had to shower, have dinner, do laundry and dry my hair in double quick time. Gosh. Then came Friday. I worked till 6.30pm which was reasonable I thought, then went to meet Zhiying and Zhixiu in Orchard. I had finished the graphics for the second project so that was cool. I was meant to meet ZX and ZY at 7.30pm but got there early at 7.05pm so I popped to Osmose, tried on the couple of blouses I'd seen a week and a half ago but decided to think about it then ... and bought them. All in 20 minutes which was good. I like efficient shopping. I also like to think about things I'm not too sure about for a while and return. There aren't always return policies and mainly only exchanges within 7 days or 3 days even so it's good to prevent impulse buying. Obviously sometimes this backfires as when you finally decide that you want to purchase the item, many other people have decided that too and beat you to it such that it's completely sold out. Then you can blame it on divine intervention or be miserable forever. I usually take to the former school of thought and save being miserable for larger things like a dysfunctional family problems, struggling with existentialism and trying to get Jesus to carry me through.
I digress.
ZX, ZY and I had dinner at Thai Express and it was lovely to see them again. Friends like these you know will be friends of life, we can be the singlehood haha ... things don't seem to change fundamentally with friends like these and you feel so comfortable with them, though obviously you have to work on keeping in touch.
I met up with Zhiying again today. We went to Sentosa to walk by the beach. It was raining when we headed out at about 2pm but it cleared up towards 3.30pm so it was all right. There was even a nice blue sky overhead for a while and some decent sunshine. We chatted quite openly which we hadn't done for over a year now. She'd been distraught at having to return to Singapore from NYC at the end of 2005 and it had been difficult to speak being so far away and both of us being wrapped up in our own problems. But I'm glad she updated me on what horrors had happened to her after she'd returned to Singapore, about her various jobs and disappointments that she was being treated like crap at various production houses, and insulted financially, overworked and underpaid ... verbally insulted as well. I must confess I can't really know how she is feeling as I haven't experienced it myself but I was glad she was telling me stuff again as we'd told each other everything since we were 15 but since she returned to Singapore we'd had a break in communication.
It's virtually impossible to empathise and I found myself doing the apparently very male thing of trying to think of how to solve her problems. Oh dear, I'm sure I'm going to grow a beard soon at this rate but I guess when I don't have the emotional sides to her troubles and harrowing experiences, I tend to focus on what can be done about helping her move on now as she's still scarred from her jobs thus far. Sigh. Well, I'm glad at least she's started on a decent film-related job now again though. Hopefully the stigma of the vicious shark-infested media industry won't scar her too much. She is paranoid about getting into all that mess again, being abused, with no unions or representation, with threats of being blacklisted if she quits, not being paid on time, or enough even to live on, being told that her NYC experience counts for nothing because it's a different scene here, etc ... People can be so cruel sometimes it's unfathomable. Anyhow so far it's going ok in this job and she has a good chance of staying on till December or maybe June next year which will bode well for her bank account and loan repayments to her parents and her medical costs and hopefully heal the disappointment and disillusionment from her first experiences. I shall pray hard for her and I'm glad I know what I can pray for now.
Sometimes I feel quite lucky. At least according to the medical check-up I'm pretty much ok health-wise. As they say, health is wealth. That's very true. That is something that money cannot buy once it is lost.
Yesterday though, I thought I was going to injure the health of my father right in public. It sounds silly but I wanted to stab him with the pointed end of a large golfing umbrella. He'd called up in the middle of the day while mum, grandma and I were having lunch and then said he wanted to have dinner out either in the evening or the next day i.e. this evening. Mum and I had a nice afternoon browsing the shops and we also watched Ratatouille which was funny and enjoyable only to be capped off with my blood boiling and hot angry tears rising up in tandem with my blood pressure. I was so angry I even shouted out in the street. First he demands to eat out, obviously having no money to foot the bill and so my mother has to pay for the dinner as well as the cab fare to take my grandmother there and back ... what kind of lout does that? Family to him is only family when it is useful, when we can be cash cows to be milked for all we're worth. Then after finishing dinner, he asks to borrow $10 from my mother for his transport and I cannot believe my ears. I have heard of his borrowing antics countless times for much larger amounts as well as his 'borrowing' which really means he spends a vast sum he does not have, then waits for my mother to pay the debts or threatens that the house will go to the creditors if the debts are not settled. Just hearing about all these things incenses me but actually witnessing it happening, well that's completely different. When he opened his mouth to ask for money I was both shocked in a way (oh my goodness this is ACTUALLY happening) and gosh my anger levels accelerated faster than a DB9 driven by the Stig. According to my mum I was actually glaring at him and well on hindsight if I hadn't quite been so shocked I would have not given a flying f... that we were in a public place. So was he using the cover of public spaces to ask for money after getting a free meal? I was so angry so so so angry. It was probably a good thing that I was semi shocked that this was actually happening and didn't burst out otherwise my mother would have been terribly embarrassed. She is of the old-school stiff upper lip kind where even if a vampire was sucking the lifeblood out of you, as long as it was a public place one would not make a scene.
It makes me terribly terribly guilty for taking money from my mum though I am so glad that I paid for my visa myself even though my mother wanted to pay for that. She was quite annoyed that I'd gone and exchanged pounds for dollars and lost out on the exchange rate but I think that's the least I can do. For all the guilt and strain I bear here he was sticking his hand out for money after making her take him out to dinner. I was so incensed that when he gave me the umbrella to take home as he was going out gallivanting God-knows-where I was really really tempted to stab him with it or hit him with it to knock some sense into him. Doesn't he know what he's doing? Doesn't he have any shame? I just shouted it out after he left, asking my mother why she gave him her travel card with $25 in it when he'd only asked for $10. I just shouted that out and shouted that he had no shame and gosh I was so angry I wanted to hurl the umbrella or hit something with it. Or someone. Him. If it knocks any sense into him I would do it. Adrenaline fuelled by anger is a powerful thing. However, until I have a proper job and am not earning yet I cannot make my feelings clear to him as I am just like him in a way, a leech sucking money from my poor mother.
Dr Hadley would probably have disagreed to that statement. Ah well, I guess I might not be completely free from my destructive thinking patterns but at least I can identify them now and try to be more balanced. At least I have a part-time job and I don't spend more than I can afford to. At least I have guilt and shame so I won't be a complete waster. God willing, I will be financially independent. Thank God for my auntie who hires me part-time and for David Mellor for the weekend job.
And for all my friends who take me out and make me laugh and help me remember that I have them too. For now at least. Until they're all married, every single one. Well then there's the singlehood haha. Maybe I should make a pact like in My Best Friend's Wedding. What was it ... if we're both not married by 30 then we'll get married. Nah.. I couldn't do that. Not if I'm still thinking of Finch, to whom it probably would not matter if I'd died. That would be unfair to the other person. That's not the way to go. It must be for love. Am I being idealistic?
Bu zai hu tian chang di jiu, zhi zai hu ceng jin yong you.
Better to die having lived ideals than live having let ideals die ...
The Sandman:
She needs to work on that.
Poppy:
Hmm. Yes. She's thinking of "The Hours".
...
Leonard Woolf: If I didn't know you better I'd call this ingratitude.
Virginia Woolf: I am ungrateful? You call ME ungrateful? My life has been stolen from me. I'm living in a town I have no wish to live in... I'm living a life I have no wish to live... How did this happen?
Virginia Woolf: I'm dying in this town.
Leonard Woolf: If you were thinking clearly, Virginia, you would recall it was London that brought you low. Virginia Woolf: If I were thinking clearly? If I were thinking clearly?
Leonard Woolf: We brought you to Richmond to give you peace.
Virginia Woolf: If I were thinking clearly, Leonard, I would tell you that I wrestle alone in the dark, in the deep dark, and that only I can know. Only I can understand my condition. You live with the threat, you tell me you live with the threat of my extinction. Leonard, I live with it too.
Virginia Woolf: This is my right; it is the right of every human being. I choose not the suffocating anesthetic of the suburbs, but the violent jolt of the Capital, that is my choice. The meanest patient, yes, even the very lowest is allowed some say in the matter of her own prescription. Thereby she defines her humanity. I wish, for your sake, Leonard, I could be happy in this quietness ... But if it is a choice between Richmond and death, I choose death.
Virginia Woolf: You cannot find peace by avoiding life, Leonard.
Clarissa Vaughn: That is what we do. That is what people do. They stay alive for each other.
Virginia Woolf: Dear Leonard. To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it, to love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Leonard, always the years between us, always the years. Always the love. Always the hours.
Clarissa Vaughn: I don't know what's happening to me. I seemed to be unraveling.
Virginia Woolf: I've been attended by doctors, who inform me OF MY OWN INTERESTS.
Virginia Woolf: A woman's whole life in a single day. Just one day. And in that day her whole life.
Kitty: Oh, you're reading a book?
Laura Brown: Yeah.
Kitty: What's this one about?
Laura Brown: Oh, it's about this woman who's incredibly - well, she's a hostess and she's incredibly confident and she's going to give a party. And, maybe because she's confident, everyone thinks she's fine... but she isn't.
Laura Brown: It would be wonderful to say you regretted it. It would be easy. But what does it mean? What does it mean to regret when you have no choice? It's what you can bear. There it is. No one's going to forgive me. It was death. I chose life.
Sally: Why do I always have to sit next to the exes? Is this some kind of a hint, sweetheart? Anyway, shouldn't the exes have a table of their own, where they can all ex together in ex-quisite agony?
Richard Brown: Oh, Mrs. Dalloway... Always giving parties to cover the silence.
Clarissa Vaughn: Why is everything wrong?
Virginia Woolf: Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more. It's contrast.
Angelica Bell: What happens when we die?
Virginia Woolf: What happens? [pause]
Virginia Woolf: We return to the place that we came from.
Angelica Bell: I don't remember where I came from.
Virginia Woolf: Nor do I.
Clarissa Vaughn: I remember one morning getting up at dawn, there was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself: So, this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. And of course there will always be more. It never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment. Right then.
Virginia Woolf: Say something, Nessa! Didn't you think I seemed better?
Virginia Woolf: I am saying, Vanessa, that even crazy people like to be asked.
Angelica Bell: Goodbye.
Virginia Woolf: Goodbye, little girl.
Virginia Woolf: You return to what?
Vanessa Bell: Tonight. Oh, just some insufferable dinner not even you could envy, Virginia.
Virginia Woolf: But I do.
Virginia Woolf: Did it matter, then, she asked herself, walking toward Bond Street. Did it matter that she must inevitably cease, completely. All this must go on without her. Did she resent it? Or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely? It is possible to die. It is possible to die.
Virginia Woolf: It's on this day. This day of all days. Her fate becomes clear to her.
Kitty: All my life I could do anything. I could do anything, really. Except the one thing I wanted.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Monday, 27 August 2007
It occurred to me, while handwashing my clothes plunge and scrub style, squatting over two basins of water, that I do a lot of my thinking, or reflecting, while engaged in some form of water-related activity. Usually this means in the shower, and a week ago it was while I was swimming, and this evening, it was while I was washing my clothes. I thought that it was a great shame that family issues mess people up so badly, in spite of their best efforts to stay sane. Today has been an up and down day. My stiff neck has become less painful though I have a bit of a headache perhaps from staring at the computer for so long today, but more of that later.
The morning started at about 5.30am when mum's alarm went off. I was already partially awake as one cannot sleep very well when every slight movement renders a pain of some degree. It is not natural not to move while asleep and one would be amazed to find out, should one have a stiff neck upon going to bed, that the slightest movement seems to utilise neck muscles. You would think that neck muscles are pretty basic ones for turning one's head but gosh how wrong can one be. Turning one's body requires neck muscles, lifting one's arm requires neck muscles, even walking requires neck muscles. Like the muscles in the eyes, neck muscles are unsung heroes, which can be quite literally a pain in the neck.
Anyway the next time I woke up was at 7.30am and that was still half an hour to go before 8am for which I had set my alarm. However in reaching for the alarm clock I knocked it over and out popped the battery. Great. I had to get up now - which was painful not only mentally but physically - but I still couldn't locate the battery which had probably rolled off to some really obvious position but obviously as I was looking for it, I couldn't find it. So I gave up and relied on the mobile phone for time instead. Finally I got up and showered etc and then I had to psyche myself up to leave my room as my father was outside. It's ridiculous but I've not felt safe in his presence since I was 14 probably, when we had to choose subjects for O levels which would decide our fates at A levels which would then decide our lives forever so it was terribly important and I'd obviously decided to fling my A grades into something hopeless and useless and stupid etc to him so that's when I realised that actually education had a motive as well. Where I grew up, it didn't matter if you were the cleverest kid on earth. If you didn't make money you were as stupid as stupid gets. And so I was one of those. Worse yet, I was one of those who had been earmarked for potential as a money spinner but then I had a fatal flaw. I wanted to do something I enjoyed. The fool you could hear him and everyone cry.
I do so hate to be made to feel like I've been a fool. It makes me angry and that anger makes me keep going to try to prove them wrong, prove all those wagging tongues wrong that I can be happy in spite of them, in spite of what they deemed wrong. I would fight to make sure that meaning in my life is not dictated by having the newest it-bag and driving the big red car. I like nice things but these are not things I miss deep down inside. These are distractions that take one away from the blinding existentialism that those who would see would be blinded by, from the people around you, from real feelings, real emotions, real concern, real connection, real communication. Humanity is something money cannot buy. Money can only buy appearances of what we so wish for, distractions that prevent us from looking beyond the superficial, what it can provide. I sound like I'm going into some Capitalism rant ... now what's that reading that I did for Film and Lit. Thinking about it now, film and lit at Warwick, even the cultural studies at college in an abridged way, was a lot to do with social psychology. Art imitates life, but more importantly art questions life as we fabricate it, art resonates with the things we look for, are looking for, that we do not know but will immediately recognise once we find those things. I suppose on the journey, we just have to trust God.
Faith of a mustard seed.
So anyway, I had a really stressful morning and once I got on the bus I thought, oh God, when will I ever be able to feel comfortable in what should be my own home? I guess everything will fall into place soon enough. Much is changing now, with the en bloc sale. I will be sad to leave this place but then with the general comfortable familiarity comes the uncomfortable minutiae. Dysfunctional families can really really mess you up. It's like a life-sentence for a crime you never did commit. Still at least I have my mum and Sis and grandma. I just hope one day soon enough I won't have to sit at the dinner table having flashbacks about what happened in the past during dinner time, the shouting, the tears, the arguments, the being unable to eat, then I have images in my head about what I should do or how I should react if he was to do this or say that ...
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless lost under the surface
Don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you
Can't you see that you're smothering me
Holding too tightly afraid to lose control
Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
And every second I waste is more than I can take
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to doIs be more like me and be less like you
And I know
I may end up failing too
But I know
You were just like me with someone disappointed in you
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
... I like Linkin Park.
Anyway, that aside, I finally got to my auntie's office and that passed quite quickly - I remember the last time I worked at her office was in the summer of 2004, when I was waiting for my visa so I could take up the temporary position at Warwick's London Office.
I went to collect my visa today. It was very quick and efficient which was good. The first thing I saw was my next expiry date. 31/10/08. As I took the lift down and walked out of the building I felt strangely lonely. The loneliness of someone who flies alone, goes to the airport alone, lives alone, is very much alone ... I worked alone for 2 years in an office completely on my own. I guess it didn't help that I felt so out of place wandering around in the central business district among all the official-looking people in their suits and shirts and formal attire and there I was ... I guess I cannot run from the sneaking feeling that society here looks down on people like me. They see me as a waste of potential talent ... at least in London I don't feel I am a waster, I don't feel the prying eyes of neighbours and busybodies. I just feel alone in London, not an outcast. Crushingly alone sometimes but still that's the only thing that crushes me. Here ... Maybe I am deluding myself. London is another financial hub after all. It's the world's most expensive place to live. I am running toward a mirage.
Perhaps money is the only reason for living. Perhaps they are right.
I miss Finch. Memories are all I have to remind myself that there exists a better state than this that I am in. Outwardly everything is going well enough, but the rot is eating me inside out. I am being eaten alive, slowly but surely. I will never give away the key to my heart with eyes closed. Once is enough. I wonder what happened to that painting. You fool.
The morning started at about 5.30am when mum's alarm went off. I was already partially awake as one cannot sleep very well when every slight movement renders a pain of some degree. It is not natural not to move while asleep and one would be amazed to find out, should one have a stiff neck upon going to bed, that the slightest movement seems to utilise neck muscles. You would think that neck muscles are pretty basic ones for turning one's head but gosh how wrong can one be. Turning one's body requires neck muscles, lifting one's arm requires neck muscles, even walking requires neck muscles. Like the muscles in the eyes, neck muscles are unsung heroes, which can be quite literally a pain in the neck.
Anyway the next time I woke up was at 7.30am and that was still half an hour to go before 8am for which I had set my alarm. However in reaching for the alarm clock I knocked it over and out popped the battery. Great. I had to get up now - which was painful not only mentally but physically - but I still couldn't locate the battery which had probably rolled off to some really obvious position but obviously as I was looking for it, I couldn't find it. So I gave up and relied on the mobile phone for time instead. Finally I got up and showered etc and then I had to psyche myself up to leave my room as my father was outside. It's ridiculous but I've not felt safe in his presence since I was 14 probably, when we had to choose subjects for O levels which would decide our fates at A levels which would then decide our lives forever so it was terribly important and I'd obviously decided to fling my A grades into something hopeless and useless and stupid etc to him so that's when I realised that actually education had a motive as well. Where I grew up, it didn't matter if you were the cleverest kid on earth. If you didn't make money you were as stupid as stupid gets. And so I was one of those. Worse yet, I was one of those who had been earmarked for potential as a money spinner but then I had a fatal flaw. I wanted to do something I enjoyed. The fool you could hear him and everyone cry.
I do so hate to be made to feel like I've been a fool. It makes me angry and that anger makes me keep going to try to prove them wrong, prove all those wagging tongues wrong that I can be happy in spite of them, in spite of what they deemed wrong. I would fight to make sure that meaning in my life is not dictated by having the newest it-bag and driving the big red car. I like nice things but these are not things I miss deep down inside. These are distractions that take one away from the blinding existentialism that those who would see would be blinded by, from the people around you, from real feelings, real emotions, real concern, real connection, real communication. Humanity is something money cannot buy. Money can only buy appearances of what we so wish for, distractions that prevent us from looking beyond the superficial, what it can provide. I sound like I'm going into some Capitalism rant ... now what's that reading that I did for Film and Lit. Thinking about it now, film and lit at Warwick, even the cultural studies at college in an abridged way, was a lot to do with social psychology. Art imitates life, but more importantly art questions life as we fabricate it, art resonates with the things we look for, are looking for, that we do not know but will immediately recognise once we find those things. I suppose on the journey, we just have to trust God.
Faith of a mustard seed.
So anyway, I had a really stressful morning and once I got on the bus I thought, oh God, when will I ever be able to feel comfortable in what should be my own home? I guess everything will fall into place soon enough. Much is changing now, with the en bloc sale. I will be sad to leave this place but then with the general comfortable familiarity comes the uncomfortable minutiae. Dysfunctional families can really really mess you up. It's like a life-sentence for a crime you never did commit. Still at least I have my mum and Sis and grandma. I just hope one day soon enough I won't have to sit at the dinner table having flashbacks about what happened in the past during dinner time, the shouting, the tears, the arguments, the being unable to eat, then I have images in my head about what I should do or how I should react if he was to do this or say that ...
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless lost under the surface
Don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you
Can't you see that you're smothering me
Holding too tightly afraid to lose control
Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
And every second I waste is more than I can take
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to doIs be more like me and be less like you
And I know
I may end up failing too
But I know
You were just like me with someone disappointed in you
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
... I like Linkin Park.
Anyway, that aside, I finally got to my auntie's office and that passed quite quickly - I remember the last time I worked at her office was in the summer of 2004, when I was waiting for my visa so I could take up the temporary position at Warwick's London Office.
I went to collect my visa today. It was very quick and efficient which was good. The first thing I saw was my next expiry date. 31/10/08. As I took the lift down and walked out of the building I felt strangely lonely. The loneliness of someone who flies alone, goes to the airport alone, lives alone, is very much alone ... I worked alone for 2 years in an office completely on my own. I guess it didn't help that I felt so out of place wandering around in the central business district among all the official-looking people in their suits and shirts and formal attire and there I was ... I guess I cannot run from the sneaking feeling that society here looks down on people like me. They see me as a waste of potential talent ... at least in London I don't feel I am a waster, I don't feel the prying eyes of neighbours and busybodies. I just feel alone in London, not an outcast. Crushingly alone sometimes but still that's the only thing that crushes me. Here ... Maybe I am deluding myself. London is another financial hub after all. It's the world's most expensive place to live. I am running toward a mirage.
Perhaps money is the only reason for living. Perhaps they are right.
I miss Finch. Memories are all I have to remind myself that there exists a better state than this that I am in. Outwardly everything is going well enough, but the rot is eating me inside out. I am being eaten alive, slowly but surely. I will never give away the key to my heart with eyes closed. Once is enough. I wonder what happened to that painting. You fool.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Saturday, 25 August 2007
Gmail seems to be playing up these days and I can hardly get to my emails which is a bit of a pain. Luckily there's still facebook so I can nosy about other people's lives by looking at their photos and status updates. Today was quite a pleasant day. It was sunny for one, which makes a big difference as it's very troublesome to traipse around town with an umbrella and in a semi-drenched state. We may be an island but it's not quite island living idyll when you're not on a beach in flipflops but in town getting sloshed and splashed by dirty water then getting chilled in the shopping mall.
So it was good that it was sunny today. Plus my friends Fongtien and June were about an hour and a half late for lunch ... sunshine always makes things more bearable. When we finally met up at about half past 2 instead of 1pm, we had Taiwanese style beef noodles and bubble tea which was very nice and cooling. The noodles were very nicely cooked in steamy fragrant beef broth and I had some soya bean milk while waiting for them to stave off hunger pangs so I wasn't too hungry. A hungry woman is an angry woman.
We chatted about lots of stuff, about work - they're both journos so I got some insider information about where I could possibly work and was also exhorted to keep that as a last resort - we were classmates in secondary school so it was nice to have that connection that goes back a long way. Plus we kept in touch through junior college and then we all went to Warwick together. I found out something which made me smile today - June was talking about Final Fling and then she mentioned how Fongtien's friend Richard from Economics was aghast when he saw me with Finch. He thought I was hot (haha) and so what on earth was I doing with him?! That's funny. But it's true that Finch is a real geek. But love makes fools of us all. Oh well eh. Anyway I think it's only because of that dress I was wearing. It's pretty much my only black tie party dress. It's a cocktail dress and I've worn it 4 times now I think. Jon bought it for me (I chose it though hmmph) as he was throwing his 21st birthday do and he was doing it blacktie and I had to wear a dress. So we went around looking for stuff and while we were at Selfridges in Birmingham, at about closing time I finally found this dress in the right size hanging on the sale rack in the Karen Millen concession. I love getting a bargain. It's worked out really well too as I wore it to the 21st party, then to a blacktie do in Oxford, then to Final Fling graduation ball at Warwick and then I wore it again on a boat trip with the boys that Emily had arranged and ooh the fifth time I wore it was to the Royal Chelsea Hospital do. That works out at 15 pounds per wear hahaha...
I'm such a miser.
Anyway, it made me feel smiley inside as Richard was quite a good-looking guy and usually good-looking people are too busy to look at other good-looking people in their own league to care for other people. And I regard myself as one of the plain people so it's a silly school-girly response to getting noticed by someone whom you'd think wouldn't really take a second look at someone like me. Anyway I'm making too much a big deal about it. Gosh I'm regressing in my mental state while piling on the years physically. Oh dear.
Dress can really make a difference though. Dress and fashion is an attitude and I am hoping to buy a few pieces to add to my wardrobe that are quite formal-looking. A pencil skirt and two blouses. Unfortunately the pencil skirt seems to be out of stock - everyone's into power dressing evidently - so I might not be able to get that. The other two pieces are a (1) a dusty pink blouse with a bow tied at the neckline - not too girly colour, fiesty feminine, passive aggressive colour with a Victorian take on fastening with the high neck - and (2) a gathered pleated sleeveless blouse with hints of tailoring but random black ribbons that give it an edgy rock chic take - that's quite a high neck too but it looks different and alternative, not frilly but pleated. And then there's the slate denim pencil skirt ... I hope there's still stock when I go to the mall tomorrow. I'm getting my glasses adjusted and mum's going to make a new pair so let's see if there's still my size ...
The choices so far are leaning toward a masculine style I think but today I was seduced by a tube top with smocking ... it's such a cute little summery top in a lovely blue-based print ... I might get it too. Save it for summer if it ever comes! Sigh. Anyway, we'll see if any of these items are still in stock in my size when I finally stop deliberating and decide to make the purchase. Haha this is probably my most girly post thus far. I tend to feel less than girly when I meet other girls, like Dave's / Rob's girlfriends and their friends. They're all so feminine whereas I feel somewhat like they've grown up into women and I'm still rough round the edges, walking everywhere in flat shoes very quickly, never ever had a pedicure or manicure or those things that are nice and girly ... they sound painful to me and expensive too! But JA says I'm naturally graceful and I'm a benchmark for the girlfriends (haha it makes me laugh, I feel a bit like a mule around the dainty long-haired girls in their heels and me in my birkenstocks, hair rolled up just so it stays away from my neck and doesn't make me hot, half a day's worth of pollution stuck to my face ... looking at the girls around me in Singapore, it's no wonder so many caucasians like asian girls, stereotypical asian femininity, orientalism, etc ... ). Hmm I wonder what will happen to JA's chinese girl.
Men can be so heartless sometimes. Women can be so crazy sometimes too. There's nowt as queer as folk.
So it was good that it was sunny today. Plus my friends Fongtien and June were about an hour and a half late for lunch ... sunshine always makes things more bearable. When we finally met up at about half past 2 instead of 1pm, we had Taiwanese style beef noodles and bubble tea which was very nice and cooling. The noodles were very nicely cooked in steamy fragrant beef broth and I had some soya bean milk while waiting for them to stave off hunger pangs so I wasn't too hungry. A hungry woman is an angry woman.
We chatted about lots of stuff, about work - they're both journos so I got some insider information about where I could possibly work and was also exhorted to keep that as a last resort - we were classmates in secondary school so it was nice to have that connection that goes back a long way. Plus we kept in touch through junior college and then we all went to Warwick together. I found out something which made me smile today - June was talking about Final Fling and then she mentioned how Fongtien's friend Richard from Economics was aghast when he saw me with Finch. He thought I was hot (haha) and so what on earth was I doing with him?! That's funny. But it's true that Finch is a real geek. But love makes fools of us all. Oh well eh. Anyway I think it's only because of that dress I was wearing. It's pretty much my only black tie party dress. It's a cocktail dress and I've worn it 4 times now I think. Jon bought it for me (I chose it though hmmph) as he was throwing his 21st birthday do and he was doing it blacktie and I had to wear a dress. So we went around looking for stuff and while we were at Selfridges in Birmingham, at about closing time I finally found this dress in the right size hanging on the sale rack in the Karen Millen concession. I love getting a bargain. It's worked out really well too as I wore it to the 21st party, then to a blacktie do in Oxford, then to Final Fling graduation ball at Warwick and then I wore it again on a boat trip with the boys that Emily had arranged and ooh the fifth time I wore it was to the Royal Chelsea Hospital do. That works out at 15 pounds per wear hahaha...
I'm such a miser.
Anyway, it made me feel smiley inside as Richard was quite a good-looking guy and usually good-looking people are too busy to look at other good-looking people in their own league to care for other people. And I regard myself as one of the plain people so it's a silly school-girly response to getting noticed by someone whom you'd think wouldn't really take a second look at someone like me. Anyway I'm making too much a big deal about it. Gosh I'm regressing in my mental state while piling on the years physically. Oh dear.
Dress can really make a difference though. Dress and fashion is an attitude and I am hoping to buy a few pieces to add to my wardrobe that are quite formal-looking. A pencil skirt and two blouses. Unfortunately the pencil skirt seems to be out of stock - everyone's into power dressing evidently - so I might not be able to get that. The other two pieces are a (1) a dusty pink blouse with a bow tied at the neckline - not too girly colour, fiesty feminine, passive aggressive colour with a Victorian take on fastening with the high neck - and (2) a gathered pleated sleeveless blouse with hints of tailoring but random black ribbons that give it an edgy rock chic take - that's quite a high neck too but it looks different and alternative, not frilly but pleated. And then there's the slate denim pencil skirt ... I hope there's still stock when I go to the mall tomorrow. I'm getting my glasses adjusted and mum's going to make a new pair so let's see if there's still my size ...
The choices so far are leaning toward a masculine style I think but today I was seduced by a tube top with smocking ... it's such a cute little summery top in a lovely blue-based print ... I might get it too. Save it for summer if it ever comes! Sigh. Anyway, we'll see if any of these items are still in stock in my size when I finally stop deliberating and decide to make the purchase. Haha this is probably my most girly post thus far. I tend to feel less than girly when I meet other girls, like Dave's / Rob's girlfriends and their friends. They're all so feminine whereas I feel somewhat like they've grown up into women and I'm still rough round the edges, walking everywhere in flat shoes very quickly, never ever had a pedicure or manicure or those things that are nice and girly ... they sound painful to me and expensive too! But JA says I'm naturally graceful and I'm a benchmark for the girlfriends (haha it makes me laugh, I feel a bit like a mule around the dainty long-haired girls in their heels and me in my birkenstocks, hair rolled up just so it stays away from my neck and doesn't make me hot, half a day's worth of pollution stuck to my face ... looking at the girls around me in Singapore, it's no wonder so many caucasians like asian girls, stereotypical asian femininity, orientalism, etc ... ). Hmm I wonder what will happen to JA's chinese girl.
Men can be so heartless sometimes. Women can be so crazy sometimes too. There's nowt as queer as folk.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Friday, 24 August 2007
As it turns out, I've had another turbulent night of dreams but I can't remember the dream that I had last night. However, while I was on my way to buy chicken rice for grandmother yesterday, I was reminded of what yesterday night's dream. It was a rather gothic one. It was a stormy day and there was a tour group and Jon and I were there. We were not together at that point but somehow we went on the same aeroplane sculpture for some reason, it was a strange 3D virtual reality experience of Canterbury Cathedral ... I can't actually remember what the cathedral looks like though I've been. To be honest, it looks more like Chartres Cathedral instead from the outside. Anyway we got separated from the tour group and clambered up this aeroplane sculpture to take a photo or something arty like that when suddenly while we were inside, we plunged down a very strange landscape. It was as if we had fallen into a rusty tube with a slit through which we could see the cathedral far far away. Jon tried to manouvre the aeroplane while I was trying to reason with him that we shouldn't have moved at all since it was a sculpture and not a real aircraft. Still, he tried to do a L turn of some sort and then suddenly we were swung back to where we were as quickly as we fell into something that felt like an alternative universe.
I remember he was wearing pink and all the time I was shouting at him to tell him that it's completely crazy to try to steer an aeroplane sculpture and all, he was ignoring me. It was like I wasn't there. Then suddenly we were out in the rainstorm again with all the other tourists, standing along a stone wall like those in Yorkshire. Everyone started running away to hide from the storm but I just stood there, next to the unmoving aeroplane sculpture while everyone left. I looked to the left and there was the old grey stoney cathedral, looking like the House of Usher, just before lightning hit it.
So that was the dream.
As it happens, my conjectures on myths and legends and fortune telling have hit upon some inaccuracies. My mother in her past life killed an elephant, not a bird so my theory goes to pots. Oh well. It only goes to show that Dan Brown must have done lots of research for the Da Vinci Code otherwise his theories would fall to pots really quickly.
Yesterday, I went around viewing flats with my mum and there were a couple with good potential and I was glad. However when I lay in bed at night I felt a little sad that I was going to leave this place. It was going to be demolished. I feel somewhat as if my past is being erased from me. It's a rather debilitating feeling. Life is uncertain enough and now even history seems to be erasing itself from physical memory. What would we be without our memories? Nothing more than dandelions floating in the wind, aimless and rootless.
Perhaps it is as they say, we come with nothing into this world and we leave with nothing. But yet we are born into something aren't we? Why does everything get eroded once we move onto something else? Are we not allowed to have memories, why indeed do they always say don't look back? But I wish that you were here with me, not forever because there is no forever but as long as I have life in this world I wish so much that you were with me and every time I see your face in a photo or I feel your presence I wish that you would not go away and you would just look at me like you used to do and I wish so much that we could go back into the days when you held my hand in yours and wouldn't let go and we played silly games when we were bored ... only you and I know this but as the buildings fall and the memories fade forever for you only I am left standing on that barren heath holding onto nothing but my ragged memories which threaten to disappear forever into nothingness and what would I have left?
Il y a longtemps que je t'aime
jamais je ne t'oublierai ...
I met up with some friends for dinner last night and it was very jolly - I've known these friends for ages. Joanne I've known since primary school as she was my neighbour and we had Chinese tuition together. She lived on the 12th floor and I on the 9th. Leyu I've known since I was 13, when we went to secondary school together and Marianne I've known since I was 8 years old, when we were in the same class at primary 3 to 6 and then again in junior college, where we were all in the same class together.
I've made it a point to see friends whenever I'm back and it gets more and more difficult each year as people get married, move away, are too busy with work, and their own social lives with workmates, university mates, etc. I guess I'll stop moaning when I too get too busy with work to do anything else. I told Dr Hadley that I look forward to that day to come, when I have work. JA says that with work, one feels less bored and doesn't question things in life so much. Anisha and Dr Hadley don't think it will solve anything by burying oneself in work but at least I'm trying to do work I would enjoy. It's gone dark and angry-looking outside. It's another monsoonal thunderstorm I expect. Deep down I am so afraid but I struggle to steel myself against everything. I will not fall because of men. I will go on and conquer in spite of them. Sigh. The storms seem more and more like a reflection of my internal state. It doesn't rain here but it pours.
I remember he was wearing pink and all the time I was shouting at him to tell him that it's completely crazy to try to steer an aeroplane sculpture and all, he was ignoring me. It was like I wasn't there. Then suddenly we were out in the rainstorm again with all the other tourists, standing along a stone wall like those in Yorkshire. Everyone started running away to hide from the storm but I just stood there, next to the unmoving aeroplane sculpture while everyone left. I looked to the left and there was the old grey stoney cathedral, looking like the House of Usher, just before lightning hit it.
So that was the dream.
As it happens, my conjectures on myths and legends and fortune telling have hit upon some inaccuracies. My mother in her past life killed an elephant, not a bird so my theory goes to pots. Oh well. It only goes to show that Dan Brown must have done lots of research for the Da Vinci Code otherwise his theories would fall to pots really quickly.
Yesterday, I went around viewing flats with my mum and there were a couple with good potential and I was glad. However when I lay in bed at night I felt a little sad that I was going to leave this place. It was going to be demolished. I feel somewhat as if my past is being erased from me. It's a rather debilitating feeling. Life is uncertain enough and now even history seems to be erasing itself from physical memory. What would we be without our memories? Nothing more than dandelions floating in the wind, aimless and rootless.
Perhaps it is as they say, we come with nothing into this world and we leave with nothing. But yet we are born into something aren't we? Why does everything get eroded once we move onto something else? Are we not allowed to have memories, why indeed do they always say don't look back? But I wish that you were here with me, not forever because there is no forever but as long as I have life in this world I wish so much that you were with me and every time I see your face in a photo or I feel your presence I wish that you would not go away and you would just look at me like you used to do and I wish so much that we could go back into the days when you held my hand in yours and wouldn't let go and we played silly games when we were bored ... only you and I know this but as the buildings fall and the memories fade forever for you only I am left standing on that barren heath holding onto nothing but my ragged memories which threaten to disappear forever into nothingness and what would I have left?
Il y a longtemps que je t'aime
jamais je ne t'oublierai ...
I met up with some friends for dinner last night and it was very jolly - I've known these friends for ages. Joanne I've known since primary school as she was my neighbour and we had Chinese tuition together. She lived on the 12th floor and I on the 9th. Leyu I've known since I was 13, when we went to secondary school together and Marianne I've known since I was 8 years old, when we were in the same class at primary 3 to 6 and then again in junior college, where we were all in the same class together.
I've made it a point to see friends whenever I'm back and it gets more and more difficult each year as people get married, move away, are too busy with work, and their own social lives with workmates, university mates, etc. I guess I'll stop moaning when I too get too busy with work to do anything else. I told Dr Hadley that I look forward to that day to come, when I have work. JA says that with work, one feels less bored and doesn't question things in life so much. Anisha and Dr Hadley don't think it will solve anything by burying oneself in work but at least I'm trying to do work I would enjoy. It's gone dark and angry-looking outside. It's another monsoonal thunderstorm I expect. Deep down I am so afraid but I struggle to steel myself against everything. I will not fall because of men. I will go on and conquer in spite of them. Sigh. The storms seem more and more like a reflection of my internal state. It doesn't rain here but it pours.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Thursday, 23 August 2007
Yet another of those dreams came along last night though this time I'm slightly frustrated that I remember remembering it at 7.30am when I awoke from it but then I'd forgotten it by 9am when I finally woke up properly. It didn't make for a very restful night but I guess it's all right. I'm lucky that I'm on vacation at the moment so I can sleep in till 9am. Anyway.
Yesterday I started reading again. I read Vogue and finished the articles I'd left behind, mainly the style reports and a few other features, one of which was on Aerin Lauder, managing director of Estee Lauder (her grandmother). It was an interesting article, most interesting thing about it was the insight into Aerin Lauder's life philosophy of keeping private life from public. No doubt it must be challenging to run a global business empire without being in the public eye. I think that is something that I respect - keeping oneself separate from the public eye. She has a happy marriage and 2 children and only now is she becoming the face of one her grandmother's old products that is being relaunched - Private Collection- and thus making herself known, or at least her face will be recognised and splashed over all the cosmetic counters in the world. My mum used to use Private Collection. Must be quite a while now as I think she used it while I was in primary school ...
The article wrote about her as someone who was happiest at being with her family and taking pleasure in the simpler things in life. It struck me as quite ironic in a way as her 'going to the beach' was going to a seaside villa but I guess the main thing as that no matter where you went, what was most important was who went with you. I had a conversation with Zhiying yesterday, over the phone. This was the second long phone conversation we had since, probably about a year and a half ago, when she came back to Singapore from New York. She had called to say she couldn't go to the beach with me next week as she'd landed a 2 month contract job as a film editor with a production company. I was really glad for her as she'd been in and out of work (not even film-related work which is a blow to her confidence since she is a Tisch graduate in Film) this was a good boost. It might lead to getting more contacts for contract work or even more work though she is adamant about leaving Singapore and does not want to work in a job here for any more than a few months.
I guess after hanging around for a year, being paid really badly on her first few film-related contract jobs and then trying out for some crappy temporary administration positions, it really does kill the spirit. She is not really that close to her family, which has its own set of problems ... as the Chinese say, every household has a difficult rulebook to follow ... haha that's not a very good translation oh dear. We're the only two people in our group of friends that hasn't got a proper job yet, apart from those who are still studying architecture or something lengthy and have yet to finish. Everyone else pretty much who has a job works pretty long hours, after which they tend to go home and chill out with their family or with their fiances/husbands/boyfriends and then before you know it, you've run out of time for anything else.
JB once said that happiness is moving faster than you expected toward your desired target. Expectations are important as they can make you feel better or worse if things turn out better or worse than what you had prepared yourself to accept. However there is the second part - the desired target. Zhiying said that she wanted to do film-related stuff; that is her desired target. However she also wanted to be able to pursue film-related stuff in a place other than Singapore - so not being in Singapore is also part of her desired target. She'd been disappointed by the jobs she'd taken on and I guess she simply feels stuck. She is not moving toward leaving Singapore (what with visas and all, it's pretty impossible and it's something she'd tried and failed to achieve while in NYC) and she is not really finding any film-related jobs though I think her main desired target is to leave Singapore as she didn't really want to stay on any longer in the film job that she'd just got - she said she couldn't see herself in anything, especially something in Singapore for the next 2-3 years. She didn't even want to think about staying till December, let alone 2-3 years ...
I think that perhaps in 1 year's time I will be in a similar situation. Well, probably not that similar as I would not have lived in Singapore for over a year after returning yet and perhaps my kinds of jobs might be slightly easier to find though obviously that's not a guarantee that I will get a job in my desired industry. However, despite the differences I think there are some similarities. I feel stuck as well. I don't feel like I am moving toward my desired target faster than I expected. In some ways I am not sure I have a very clear desired target and perhaps this lack of focus is what is causing the unhappiness. So perhaps I should define my desires, regardless of how realistic they are ...
(1) to have a fulfilling job that builds on and challenges my creative abilities: to be a Designer or a Fashion / Design Journalist - what I'm doing about this is that I've finished an Art Foundation course and am going to take a shoe design diploma to focus my skills, carve out a niche route into the industry. The journalist bit is my back up since I've got a Film/Lit degree already.
(2) to be financially independent - this comes with getting (1) so in the meantime, I'm partially independent by taking on a part-time job which makes me feel better about myself. I think that while I love being given gifts and treats, I am quite fiercely independent. I wouldn't ever ever want anyone to see me as someone who only knew how to get free stuff from others without ever working for things. I think in that way I am quite a proud person.
...
Looking at the two items I've put down, I am quite pleased with what I have achieved so far. Yes there is a little more that I should do such as collecting names of shoe retailers in Singapore that I can apply to work for in a year's time ... should I not be able to get anything else. Somehow deep inside, much as I'm trying to be realistic about things and manage expectation so as not to fling myself into abject despair, I have the hope that things will be as before. That stability and security that I so desire. I have never quite felt that I belong in this little island. That is not to say I have no fond feelings for it in any way but rather while I have some attachments to this little island I cannot say that I feel one with myself here. In all truth, while part of me is making contingency plans for when I have to return for good, another part of me is yearning to be whisked away, wo de bai ma wang zi or my prince on a white horse so the Chinese say.
A neighbour enquired of my mother, if I was still going out with the English boy. Jon and I bumped into them a couple of years ago, when he was staying here. My mother always told everyone that Jon and I were only university friends, nothing else. I guess she was protecting me from the idle talk that passes through the conversations among neighbours when they run out of small talk. Gossip is a great binder of people. Silence is a great dismantler. That's why tabloids and Heat magazine sell so well. People are social creatures but then they do not always have the stamina to keep up real conversations and nor do they always have the courage to trust that others will keep their confidences. They wish to talk, but they have nothing to talk about or do not wish to talk about something. So they talk about nothing. Gossip is essentially about nothing of much importance and yet it provides a talking point wherein the most pointless exchanges can be made for days and weeks on end yet forgotten in an instant. No one's egos are hurt while one can criticise to one's heart's content. One can speculate, one can say whatever one wishes without thinking. That's probably why celebrities are always hiding. They are people too and when all the world's wives gang up against you, it's no wonder their marriages fall apart, their lives fall apart and their bodies fall apart as well under the pressure of prying eyes.
Even 400 year old paintings fade with too much flashlight. What of the human soul that hates exposure?
Of course there are always exceptions. Paris Hilton is one. Though when you share a name with a building maybe you're made of tougher stuff or you're just hollow inside and you need other people to constantly fill you in to make you feel whole and forget you're just a hollow shell done up with a bit of paint work and glitz.
Haha, I'm so mean.
But it's my party and I'll cry if I want to
Cry if I want to
Cry if I want to
You would cry too if it happened to you
(3) to share in someone else's life. In this I really mean to be part of Jon's life, hence the deliberation and hesitation in coming up with these more difficult and uncontrollable aspects of life - emotions. You can set as many targets as you want in career decisions and yes while there are always external factors, you can always tell yourself to accept that you did your best or you did not and then decide what to do next. Emotions are not so simple. They are complex and bound up in all sorts of psychological threads that are illogical and irrational which make them very troublesome to solve. They pop up in your subconscious, unconscious and conscious states and are terribly difficult to get rid of. So I have chosen to lock them up and try to focus on (1) and (2) instead.
Reader, I assure you that Jon is no demi-god. He is not perfect and he has his fair share of flaws just like the rest of us. He is not everything I would ever want but then he is a good bit. Perfection does not exist after all and he is the best I've ever had. He gave me the security and stability that I had not known before, all from a random stranger who didn't have to care. We laughed together, were silly together, enjoyed each other. And I cannot look at anyone and not see his image instead. And ok he doesn't care now but that he did, has changed everything for me.
Bu zai hu tian chang di jiu, zhi zai hu ceng jin yong you.
I do not care for forevermore, I only treasure what was once before.
Today I am reading EM Forster's Where Angels Fear to Tread.
Yesterday I started reading again. I read Vogue and finished the articles I'd left behind, mainly the style reports and a few other features, one of which was on Aerin Lauder, managing director of Estee Lauder (her grandmother). It was an interesting article, most interesting thing about it was the insight into Aerin Lauder's life philosophy of keeping private life from public. No doubt it must be challenging to run a global business empire without being in the public eye. I think that is something that I respect - keeping oneself separate from the public eye. She has a happy marriage and 2 children and only now is she becoming the face of one her grandmother's old products that is being relaunched - Private Collection- and thus making herself known, or at least her face will be recognised and splashed over all the cosmetic counters in the world. My mum used to use Private Collection. Must be quite a while now as I think she used it while I was in primary school ...
The article wrote about her as someone who was happiest at being with her family and taking pleasure in the simpler things in life. It struck me as quite ironic in a way as her 'going to the beach' was going to a seaside villa but I guess the main thing as that no matter where you went, what was most important was who went with you. I had a conversation with Zhiying yesterday, over the phone. This was the second long phone conversation we had since, probably about a year and a half ago, when she came back to Singapore from New York. She had called to say she couldn't go to the beach with me next week as she'd landed a 2 month contract job as a film editor with a production company. I was really glad for her as she'd been in and out of work (not even film-related work which is a blow to her confidence since she is a Tisch graduate in Film) this was a good boost. It might lead to getting more contacts for contract work or even more work though she is adamant about leaving Singapore and does not want to work in a job here for any more than a few months.
I guess after hanging around for a year, being paid really badly on her first few film-related contract jobs and then trying out for some crappy temporary administration positions, it really does kill the spirit. She is not really that close to her family, which has its own set of problems ... as the Chinese say, every household has a difficult rulebook to follow ... haha that's not a very good translation oh dear. We're the only two people in our group of friends that hasn't got a proper job yet, apart from those who are still studying architecture or something lengthy and have yet to finish. Everyone else pretty much who has a job works pretty long hours, after which they tend to go home and chill out with their family or with their fiances/husbands/boyfriends and then before you know it, you've run out of time for anything else.
JB once said that happiness is moving faster than you expected toward your desired target. Expectations are important as they can make you feel better or worse if things turn out better or worse than what you had prepared yourself to accept. However there is the second part - the desired target. Zhiying said that she wanted to do film-related stuff; that is her desired target. However she also wanted to be able to pursue film-related stuff in a place other than Singapore - so not being in Singapore is also part of her desired target. She'd been disappointed by the jobs she'd taken on and I guess she simply feels stuck. She is not moving toward leaving Singapore (what with visas and all, it's pretty impossible and it's something she'd tried and failed to achieve while in NYC) and she is not really finding any film-related jobs though I think her main desired target is to leave Singapore as she didn't really want to stay on any longer in the film job that she'd just got - she said she couldn't see herself in anything, especially something in Singapore for the next 2-3 years. She didn't even want to think about staying till December, let alone 2-3 years ...
I think that perhaps in 1 year's time I will be in a similar situation. Well, probably not that similar as I would not have lived in Singapore for over a year after returning yet and perhaps my kinds of jobs might be slightly easier to find though obviously that's not a guarantee that I will get a job in my desired industry. However, despite the differences I think there are some similarities. I feel stuck as well. I don't feel like I am moving toward my desired target faster than I expected. In some ways I am not sure I have a very clear desired target and perhaps this lack of focus is what is causing the unhappiness. So perhaps I should define my desires, regardless of how realistic they are ...
(1) to have a fulfilling job that builds on and challenges my creative abilities: to be a Designer or a Fashion / Design Journalist - what I'm doing about this is that I've finished an Art Foundation course and am going to take a shoe design diploma to focus my skills, carve out a niche route into the industry. The journalist bit is my back up since I've got a Film/Lit degree already.
(2) to be financially independent - this comes with getting (1) so in the meantime, I'm partially independent by taking on a part-time job which makes me feel better about myself. I think that while I love being given gifts and treats, I am quite fiercely independent. I wouldn't ever ever want anyone to see me as someone who only knew how to get free stuff from others without ever working for things. I think in that way I am quite a proud person.
...
Looking at the two items I've put down, I am quite pleased with what I have achieved so far. Yes there is a little more that I should do such as collecting names of shoe retailers in Singapore that I can apply to work for in a year's time ... should I not be able to get anything else. Somehow deep inside, much as I'm trying to be realistic about things and manage expectation so as not to fling myself into abject despair, I have the hope that things will be as before. That stability and security that I so desire. I have never quite felt that I belong in this little island. That is not to say I have no fond feelings for it in any way but rather while I have some attachments to this little island I cannot say that I feel one with myself here. In all truth, while part of me is making contingency plans for when I have to return for good, another part of me is yearning to be whisked away, wo de bai ma wang zi or my prince on a white horse so the Chinese say.
A neighbour enquired of my mother, if I was still going out with the English boy. Jon and I bumped into them a couple of years ago, when he was staying here. My mother always told everyone that Jon and I were only university friends, nothing else. I guess she was protecting me from the idle talk that passes through the conversations among neighbours when they run out of small talk. Gossip is a great binder of people. Silence is a great dismantler. That's why tabloids and Heat magazine sell so well. People are social creatures but then they do not always have the stamina to keep up real conversations and nor do they always have the courage to trust that others will keep their confidences. They wish to talk, but they have nothing to talk about or do not wish to talk about something. So they talk about nothing. Gossip is essentially about nothing of much importance and yet it provides a talking point wherein the most pointless exchanges can be made for days and weeks on end yet forgotten in an instant. No one's egos are hurt while one can criticise to one's heart's content. One can speculate, one can say whatever one wishes without thinking. That's probably why celebrities are always hiding. They are people too and when all the world's wives gang up against you, it's no wonder their marriages fall apart, their lives fall apart and their bodies fall apart as well under the pressure of prying eyes.
Even 400 year old paintings fade with too much flashlight. What of the human soul that hates exposure?
Of course there are always exceptions. Paris Hilton is one. Though when you share a name with a building maybe you're made of tougher stuff or you're just hollow inside and you need other people to constantly fill you in to make you feel whole and forget you're just a hollow shell done up with a bit of paint work and glitz.
Haha, I'm so mean.
But it's my party and I'll cry if I want to
Cry if I want to
Cry if I want to
You would cry too if it happened to you
(3) to share in someone else's life. In this I really mean to be part of Jon's life, hence the deliberation and hesitation in coming up with these more difficult and uncontrollable aspects of life - emotions. You can set as many targets as you want in career decisions and yes while there are always external factors, you can always tell yourself to accept that you did your best or you did not and then decide what to do next. Emotions are not so simple. They are complex and bound up in all sorts of psychological threads that are illogical and irrational which make them very troublesome to solve. They pop up in your subconscious, unconscious and conscious states and are terribly difficult to get rid of. So I have chosen to lock them up and try to focus on (1) and (2) instead.
Reader, I assure you that Jon is no demi-god. He is not perfect and he has his fair share of flaws just like the rest of us. He is not everything I would ever want but then he is a good bit. Perfection does not exist after all and he is the best I've ever had. He gave me the security and stability that I had not known before, all from a random stranger who didn't have to care. We laughed together, were silly together, enjoyed each other. And I cannot look at anyone and not see his image instead. And ok he doesn't care now but that he did, has changed everything for me.
Bu zai hu tian chang di jiu, zhi zai hu ceng jin yong you.
I do not care for forevermore, I only treasure what was once before.
Today I am reading EM Forster's Where Angels Fear to Tread.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Wednesday, 22 August 2007
Had another restless sleep ... though this time I had my crazy dream around quarter to 8 as that's approximately when I was awakened. I fell back to sleep again and woke up once more at 9am. I couldn't remember my dream this time but somehow there was a horse in it. That's probably because I was watching West Life videos on youtube last night while waiting for the news to come on. Just goes to show that too much of reminiscing about the past isn't always a good thing as bits might get lodged in your memory in new ways and come back to haunt you. Still, it was a ludicrous video though. They were pretending to be musketeers of some sort. Haha ...
It's a quarter to 11 now and I've done my morning routine of breakfast, paper, emails, facebook and now I'm a little stuck for something to do. I might read a bit but I'm not sure I feel up to reading as I keep yawning. I guess that's probably because I haven't had restful sleep. Later this afternoon, I shall ring the visa call centre to check if my application is ready for collection. They said to ring on the 4th working day to check if it's ready for collection on the 5th working day which is tomorrow. So I shall ring just after lunch. I hope it's ready. If nothing else, just so I don't have to call them again tomorrow to check as the call centre is in Malaysia and the website is being overhauled/upgraded/some other IT related jargon so I have to ring up to find out. They used to ring us up once they had our passports but well, I guess that must have gotten too expensive.
I didn't get to bed till around midnight last night. My mum was telling me various family stuff and issues and she also told me about how her schoolmates and her once went to the temple near their old school to get their fortunes told for fun. There were 6 of them altogether but she only remembered the fortunes of 2 others and her own. The first was of a hotelier friend - she was told that she had good fortune, that she'd never have to worry about money, she'd always have enough and more of everything and true enough, she's a hotelier and things have generally gone ok for her. Though obviously there are some things that can't have been too smooth sailing as her husband died young and her 3 daughters are unmarried except for 1. So one has to take these fortunes with a pinch of salt I guess. They're very general after all. The second one was told that she would not be a first wife but a second wife. That came true. As for my mum, she was told that she wouldn't have an easy life if she got married. If she didn't marry, she'd be as successful as anyone could be but if she did, she would have to suffer because in her past life, she was a little nun and a naughty one too as she killed a little bird so she would have to spend this life repenting.
Now, legends and myths generally need a little peppering of imagination and it suddenly occurred to me that if one wanted to muse on the topic of fortunes and karma, etc. Would I be the little bird that has come back to haunt her present life, well not haunt in a bad way but perhaps like a reminder. After all, my name is Snow Swallow and a swallow is a little bird. Maybe the moral of the story is to not kill little birds.
I don't know. You can never prove these things and sometimes I think perhaps different fortune tellers will tell different fortunes so it's a bit like horoscopes, interesting to read, pretty general but never quite agreeing on details. Like when they tell you this is the right time for you to put decisions you've been thinking about into actions and you'll come out tops. You read it and you think ooh, great, time to take action but then you think again and actually you haven't really been making decisions at all so hmm. decisions? What decisions? Actions? What actions?
It's a cloudy day again today - yellowy grey. Everything is bathed in a yellowy grey light, and shadows are brown with hints of ebony in stronger ones and ochre in the lighter ones.
It's a quarter to 11 now and I've done my morning routine of breakfast, paper, emails, facebook and now I'm a little stuck for something to do. I might read a bit but I'm not sure I feel up to reading as I keep yawning. I guess that's probably because I haven't had restful sleep. Later this afternoon, I shall ring the visa call centre to check if my application is ready for collection. They said to ring on the 4th working day to check if it's ready for collection on the 5th working day which is tomorrow. So I shall ring just after lunch. I hope it's ready. If nothing else, just so I don't have to call them again tomorrow to check as the call centre is in Malaysia and the website is being overhauled/upgraded/some other IT related jargon so I have to ring up to find out. They used to ring us up once they had our passports but well, I guess that must have gotten too expensive.
I didn't get to bed till around midnight last night. My mum was telling me various family stuff and issues and she also told me about how her schoolmates and her once went to the temple near their old school to get their fortunes told for fun. There were 6 of them altogether but she only remembered the fortunes of 2 others and her own. The first was of a hotelier friend - she was told that she had good fortune, that she'd never have to worry about money, she'd always have enough and more of everything and true enough, she's a hotelier and things have generally gone ok for her. Though obviously there are some things that can't have been too smooth sailing as her husband died young and her 3 daughters are unmarried except for 1. So one has to take these fortunes with a pinch of salt I guess. They're very general after all. The second one was told that she would not be a first wife but a second wife. That came true. As for my mum, she was told that she wouldn't have an easy life if she got married. If she didn't marry, she'd be as successful as anyone could be but if she did, she would have to suffer because in her past life, she was a little nun and a naughty one too as she killed a little bird so she would have to spend this life repenting.
Now, legends and myths generally need a little peppering of imagination and it suddenly occurred to me that if one wanted to muse on the topic of fortunes and karma, etc. Would I be the little bird that has come back to haunt her present life, well not haunt in a bad way but perhaps like a reminder. After all, my name is Snow Swallow and a swallow is a little bird. Maybe the moral of the story is to not kill little birds.
I don't know. You can never prove these things and sometimes I think perhaps different fortune tellers will tell different fortunes so it's a bit like horoscopes, interesting to read, pretty general but never quite agreeing on details. Like when they tell you this is the right time for you to put decisions you've been thinking about into actions and you'll come out tops. You read it and you think ooh, great, time to take action but then you think again and actually you haven't really been making decisions at all so hmm. decisions? What decisions? Actions? What actions?
It's a cloudy day again today - yellowy grey. Everything is bathed in a yellowy grey light, and shadows are brown with hints of ebony in stronger ones and ochre in the lighter ones.
Later on Tuesday, 21 August 2007
Forget James Bond. Jason Bourne is much cooler. Even if he is really David Webb in real, well reel life, which is a rather uncool name. When I was in secondary school I used to think hmm.. I'd like to go out with someone called Jason. I don't know why. I didn't know any Jasons but I just liked the name. It sounded cool. I don't think it's particularly cool nowadays, and even though I've met about half a dozen Jameses, I still don't know anyone called Jason. I've only ever been out with a Jonathan ... gosh that's a lot of Js going on there.
But yes, Jason Bourne. He probably doesn't exist so I'll just have to use Matt Damon's face for now even though Team America detracts from the coolness. Still, one must always be able to laugh at oneself otherwise that's just boring. The Bourne Ultimatum is a very good action film - I'd not seen the ones before this third installment but then it was still riveting stuff. No accessorising Bond girls, just intelligent women whom he does not lay a finger on. Excellent. Clean, lean and mean. Blue-eyed too. Very good. I like.
It's funny but I've never really thought about male characters in movies like that before. I almost feel like I'm (1) either going into fantasy mode where I've gone off real emotions and decided to pay some attention to reel heroes instead. Reality always falls short anyway and so I might as well take unrequited to the max ... or (2) I'm having some kind of teenage hormonal mix-up. Mind you, I never really gushed about any particular actor or singer or boyband so I might well just be having a really late teenage hormonal surge. It's all under control though as the mere thought of that is completely putting me off.
Went swimming today. Swimming is a good activity to undertake when one needs to think. It just occurred to me that I think best in the shower (not bath ... it's too still) or in the pool. Something about running water. While swimming today, I thought to myself that well, actually I don't think I'm suitable for anyone. I'm too volatile, too prone to emotion, too stubborn, too ... too much to take. I'm like wildfire in a way. You can't control me. If you do, I'll cease to exist. That sounds rather melodramatic. Hmmm.
But yes, Jason Bourne. He probably doesn't exist so I'll just have to use Matt Damon's face for now even though Team America detracts from the coolness. Still, one must always be able to laugh at oneself otherwise that's just boring. The Bourne Ultimatum is a very good action film - I'd not seen the ones before this third installment but then it was still riveting stuff. No accessorising Bond girls, just intelligent women whom he does not lay a finger on. Excellent. Clean, lean and mean. Blue-eyed too. Very good. I like.
It's funny but I've never really thought about male characters in movies like that before. I almost feel like I'm (1) either going into fantasy mode where I've gone off real emotions and decided to pay some attention to reel heroes instead. Reality always falls short anyway and so I might as well take unrequited to the max ... or (2) I'm having some kind of teenage hormonal mix-up. Mind you, I never really gushed about any particular actor or singer or boyband so I might well just be having a really late teenage hormonal surge. It's all under control though as the mere thought of that is completely putting me off.
Went swimming today. Swimming is a good activity to undertake when one needs to think. It just occurred to me that I think best in the shower (not bath ... it's too still) or in the pool. Something about running water. While swimming today, I thought to myself that well, actually I don't think I'm suitable for anyone. I'm too volatile, too prone to emotion, too stubborn, too ... too much to take. I'm like wildfire in a way. You can't control me. If you do, I'll cease to exist. That sounds rather melodramatic. Hmmm.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Tuesday, 21 August 2007
Today seems to be turning out to be relatively sunny. I might go for a swim in a bit, just before lunchtime and before going to meet Zhiying to watch The Bourne Ultimatum. I haven't seen an action film in ages. Should be interesting.
I had a restless night last night. I woke up at least twice, and I had a nightmare of sorts between 8am and 9am, when I finally got up. I dreamt that I saw a black and violently swivelling tornado headed towards Gillman Heights from the direction of Sentosa and as it came towards Gillman Barracks, there was a spark and the trees burst into flames. It must have caught an electric cable enroute. I ran to my mother who was in the kitchen and shouted for her to take cover in my room. I wanted to hide under the bed but there was stuff under it so I lay with my mum by the bed, hoping that the tornado will swivel past and not come for a direct hit. After what seemed like quite a while - it was strangely silent as well - we finally got up from the floor. It felt slightly surreal but we were quite sure the tornado must have passed by after all that time as it was coming at us at such speed. Everything was still and silent. I went to look out the window at the HK neighbour's flat and to my shock and horror, it was half crumbling. Suddenly, whether it was my legs or the building, I felt the floor beneath me move. It didn't move again so I wasn't sure if it was my imagination but the first thing I thought to do was to get everyone to evacuate the building. At this point my sister appeared and so did a little white puppy and I changed hurriedly into jeans and pulled out my red Polo Ralph Lauren jumper (my mum bought this for me when I first went to England). For some reason I thought it would be cold outside. Anyway we went to the lift, my mum got into it but I preferred the stairs so my sister and I ran down the stairs and around the 5th or 6th floor, an Indonesian maid came out pushing a trolley that was made of stainless steel. I seem to remember it was her employer's medical kit or something like that but she was desperately trying to move it down the stairs. I decided to help her and we went down carrying the trolley which didn't have any wheels on it anymore and got to the 3rd floor when the stairs looked distorted. My sister found the door to the next flight of steps leading to the second floor tucked in an awkward position under a lowered bit of ceiling. Mind you, the stairs were quite compacted and very cramped already.
When my sister and I finally came out of the building, we saw that our building was the only one left standing. Even then, there was a section of it that had been shaved off so it probably wouldn't stand for long. As I looked around me, Block 1F, 1C and 1E were all gone, only frames of the buildings remained like in the aftermath of 9/11. Everything was bathed in a blue grey light and everything was white and grey with ash and debris. It was a scene of utter devastation and I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks. Everything was gone. Everything but our memories.
...
I listened to the main piano themes of "Amelie" this morning, and they reminded me of Fabrice. He played that for me when we first met, as we had been talking about films and we both knew "Amelie" though he knew it to be "Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amelie Poulain" which was the full French title. It was released as Amelie internationally though. Probably wouldn't have remembered the rest of the title even if they had retained that for the international audience! I remembered the German film "Das Leben Der Anderen" and how the gestapo officer was touched by music he'd heard while spying on the theatre director. "The Pianist" too is another example of music touching the SS officer who was hardened and who pretty much would have ordered the killing of the Jew if not for the fact that he'd felt his humanity again on listening to Chopin's Ballade no. 1.
I think I would like to learn how to play the tunes from "Amelie". Usually when I get a chance to play the piano I will play the theme from "The Piano" by Michael Nyman. That is the song that reminds me of Battersea; I used to play the piano while waiting for Jon and JA liked that tune very much. I used to play the main theme from "Emma" too which I think Dave liked as I heard him whistling the main refrain once. The piano. Like an old friend, my personal confidante, with whom no words need be exchanged yet emotions are laid bare. Unfortunately the piano at home is in need of repair and I can't really play it. Jon is an excellent piano player but he usually played Classical pieces whereas I'd pick pieces from movies. He had a more mathematical approach. Indeed music is very mathematical. But I tend to pay more attention to the irregularity of emotion.
I had a restless night last night. I woke up at least twice, and I had a nightmare of sorts between 8am and 9am, when I finally got up. I dreamt that I saw a black and violently swivelling tornado headed towards Gillman Heights from the direction of Sentosa and as it came towards Gillman Barracks, there was a spark and the trees burst into flames. It must have caught an electric cable enroute. I ran to my mother who was in the kitchen and shouted for her to take cover in my room. I wanted to hide under the bed but there was stuff under it so I lay with my mum by the bed, hoping that the tornado will swivel past and not come for a direct hit. After what seemed like quite a while - it was strangely silent as well - we finally got up from the floor. It felt slightly surreal but we were quite sure the tornado must have passed by after all that time as it was coming at us at such speed. Everything was still and silent. I went to look out the window at the HK neighbour's flat and to my shock and horror, it was half crumbling. Suddenly, whether it was my legs or the building, I felt the floor beneath me move. It didn't move again so I wasn't sure if it was my imagination but the first thing I thought to do was to get everyone to evacuate the building. At this point my sister appeared and so did a little white puppy and I changed hurriedly into jeans and pulled out my red Polo Ralph Lauren jumper (my mum bought this for me when I first went to England). For some reason I thought it would be cold outside. Anyway we went to the lift, my mum got into it but I preferred the stairs so my sister and I ran down the stairs and around the 5th or 6th floor, an Indonesian maid came out pushing a trolley that was made of stainless steel. I seem to remember it was her employer's medical kit or something like that but she was desperately trying to move it down the stairs. I decided to help her and we went down carrying the trolley which didn't have any wheels on it anymore and got to the 3rd floor when the stairs looked distorted. My sister found the door to the next flight of steps leading to the second floor tucked in an awkward position under a lowered bit of ceiling. Mind you, the stairs were quite compacted and very cramped already.
When my sister and I finally came out of the building, we saw that our building was the only one left standing. Even then, there was a section of it that had been shaved off so it probably wouldn't stand for long. As I looked around me, Block 1F, 1C and 1E were all gone, only frames of the buildings remained like in the aftermath of 9/11. Everything was bathed in a blue grey light and everything was white and grey with ash and debris. It was a scene of utter devastation and I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks. Everything was gone. Everything but our memories.
...
I listened to the main piano themes of "Amelie" this morning, and they reminded me of Fabrice. He played that for me when we first met, as we had been talking about films and we both knew "Amelie" though he knew it to be "Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amelie Poulain" which was the full French title. It was released as Amelie internationally though. Probably wouldn't have remembered the rest of the title even if they had retained that for the international audience! I remembered the German film "Das Leben Der Anderen" and how the gestapo officer was touched by music he'd heard while spying on the theatre director. "The Pianist" too is another example of music touching the SS officer who was hardened and who pretty much would have ordered the killing of the Jew if not for the fact that he'd felt his humanity again on listening to Chopin's Ballade no. 1.
I think I would like to learn how to play the tunes from "Amelie". Usually when I get a chance to play the piano I will play the theme from "The Piano" by Michael Nyman. That is the song that reminds me of Battersea; I used to play the piano while waiting for Jon and JA liked that tune very much. I used to play the main theme from "Emma" too which I think Dave liked as I heard him whistling the main refrain once. The piano. Like an old friend, my personal confidante, with whom no words need be exchanged yet emotions are laid bare. Unfortunately the piano at home is in need of repair and I can't really play it. Jon is an excellent piano player but he usually played Classical pieces whereas I'd pick pieces from movies. He had a more mathematical approach. Indeed music is very mathematical. But I tend to pay more attention to the irregularity of emotion.
This Used to Be My Playground ... Later on Monday, 20 August 2007
As I look around me, knowing that in a year or less, I will never see these apartments I've known as home and been so familiar with ever again and this song comes to mind, as I walk the familiar paths, remembering the buildings that no longer stand and think about those that will no longer stand. Playing over and over again ...
This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need
Of a friend
Why did it have to end
And why do they always say
Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why
Because life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old
And your heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past
Well that's too much to ask
Live and learn
Well the years they flew
And we never knew
We were foolish then
We would never tire
And that little fire
Is still alive in me
It will never go away
Can't say goodbye to yesterday
No regrets
But I wish that you
Were here with me
Well then there's hope yet
I can see your face
In our secret place
You're not just a memory
Say goodbye to yesterday
Those are words I'll never say
This used to be my playground
This used to be our pride and joy
This used to be the place we ran to
That no one in the world could dare destroy
This used to be our playground
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
I wish you were standing here with me
This used to be our playground
This used to be our great escape
This used to be the place we ran to
This used to be our secret hiding place
This used to be our playground
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
The best things in life are always free
Wishing you were here with me.
This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need
Of a friend
Why did it have to end
And why do they always say
Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why
Because life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old
And your heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past
Well that's too much to ask
Live and learn
Well the years they flew
And we never knew
We were foolish then
We would never tire
And that little fire
Is still alive in me
It will never go away
Can't say goodbye to yesterday
No regrets
But I wish that you
Were here with me
Well then there's hope yet
I can see your face
In our secret place
You're not just a memory
Say goodbye to yesterday
Those are words I'll never say
This used to be my playground
This used to be our pride and joy
This used to be the place we ran to
That no one in the world could dare destroy
This used to be our playground
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
I wish you were standing here with me
This used to be our playground
This used to be our great escape
This used to be the place we ran to
This used to be our secret hiding place
This used to be our playground
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
The best things in life are always free
Wishing you were here with me.
Monday, 20 August 2007
Today is Helen's birthday and I sent her a little message on Facebook, to which she replied and told me how she'd received a mystery chocolate cake delivered to David Mellor! How lovely - it's nice to have chit chat thousands of miles away, across different timezones. I guess that's why Facebook and suchlike are so popular. It makes you feel connected, taps into the deep human requirement of connection.
I met up with Zhixiu and Zhiying this afternoon. We had coffee at Starbucks as Coffee Bean was too crowded, Coffee Connoisseur too upmarket and Yakun Kaya was only a takeaway joint and not a cafe! So we stuck with Starbucks. It was quite nice to have a chat with the pair of them. It's harder work talking to Zhiying these days as she's quite emotionally on the edge after all her problems with having to leave NYC and not being able to find a fulfilling film job and struggling to stop herself from being pushed off the cliff of hope (to work in the film industry and to leave Singapore) ... I feel somewhat guilty about being a bit down and out with her as she's probably thinking I'm being totally unnecessarily pessimistic and I understand from her point of view I'm further from the cliff edge than she is. However I guess to some extent JA was right about how 'suffering' is relative. Still I think it's a good thing to not dwell too much on one's own problems and see it in a bigger context. I hope she finds a way somehow and I too must try to give it a good go this coming year when my work will be on show with the graduates and more likely to be viewed by industry people. Zhixiu is finding it hard to continue with her job at the law firm too as she'd really like to do History, perhaps some kind of course but that means going back to study and having a plan for the end of her studies so she doesn't end up falling back into law again.
We also spoke about being left on the shelf. I guess we don't mind it that much as such - only when lots of friends start getting engaged and married that we feel hmm ... but then we're not sorted in our careers yet, or at least ZY and I aren't so it's hardly the most important things on our minds. We have to support ourselves first after all. The only person you can depend on is yourself. Still, it would be nice to know that you had someone to catch you if you fell. Oh well. Some people can sort their careers out and sort other parts of their lives out but then everyone's journey is different. One simply has to accept that. I wouldn't want to settle for anyone. I don't think I could. It wouldn't last anyway. I'd always be wondering about the perfect one and comparing with Finci and the shared times we had. Maybe it'll become more pressing with time, who knows, and I'll simply settle. Somehow I don't think I will. I hope I don't.
On the way home, I went to the supermarket for some milk and they were playing Abba's "One of Us" in the background. As I stood in the queue to pay, these lyrics caught my attention:
One of us is crying
One of us is lying
In her lonely bed
Staring at the ceiling
Wishing she was somewhere else instead
One of us is lonely
One of us is only
Waiting for a call
Sorry for herself, feeling stupid feeling small
Wishing she had never left at all
I like songs by Abba. My favourite is probably Fernando ...
Can you hear the drums Fernando?
I remember long ago another starry night like this
In the firelight Fernando
You were humming to yourself and softly strumming your guitar
I could hear the distant drums
And sounds of bugle calls were coming from afar
They were closer now Fernando
Every hour every minute seemed to last eternally
I was so afraid Fernando
We were young and full of life and none of us prepared to die
And I’m not ashamed to say
The roar of guns and cannons almost made me cry
There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, fernando
Though we never thought that we could lose
There’s no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando
Now we’re old and grey Fernando
And since many years I haven’t seen a rifle in your hand
Can you hear the drums Fernando?
Do you still recall the frightful night we crossed the rio grande?
I can see it in your eyes
How proud you were to fight for freedom in this land
There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, Fernando
Though I never thought that we could lose
There’s no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando
There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, fernando
Though I never thought that we could lose
There’s no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando
Yes, if I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando.
I met up with Zhixiu and Zhiying this afternoon. We had coffee at Starbucks as Coffee Bean was too crowded, Coffee Connoisseur too upmarket and Yakun Kaya was only a takeaway joint and not a cafe! So we stuck with Starbucks. It was quite nice to have a chat with the pair of them. It's harder work talking to Zhiying these days as she's quite emotionally on the edge after all her problems with having to leave NYC and not being able to find a fulfilling film job and struggling to stop herself from being pushed off the cliff of hope (to work in the film industry and to leave Singapore) ... I feel somewhat guilty about being a bit down and out with her as she's probably thinking I'm being totally unnecessarily pessimistic and I understand from her point of view I'm further from the cliff edge than she is. However I guess to some extent JA was right about how 'suffering' is relative. Still I think it's a good thing to not dwell too much on one's own problems and see it in a bigger context. I hope she finds a way somehow and I too must try to give it a good go this coming year when my work will be on show with the graduates and more likely to be viewed by industry people. Zhixiu is finding it hard to continue with her job at the law firm too as she'd really like to do History, perhaps some kind of course but that means going back to study and having a plan for the end of her studies so she doesn't end up falling back into law again.
We also spoke about being left on the shelf. I guess we don't mind it that much as such - only when lots of friends start getting engaged and married that we feel hmm ... but then we're not sorted in our careers yet, or at least ZY and I aren't so it's hardly the most important things on our minds. We have to support ourselves first after all. The only person you can depend on is yourself. Still, it would be nice to know that you had someone to catch you if you fell. Oh well. Some people can sort their careers out and sort other parts of their lives out but then everyone's journey is different. One simply has to accept that. I wouldn't want to settle for anyone. I don't think I could. It wouldn't last anyway. I'd always be wondering about the perfect one and comparing with Finci and the shared times we had. Maybe it'll become more pressing with time, who knows, and I'll simply settle. Somehow I don't think I will. I hope I don't.
On the way home, I went to the supermarket for some milk and they were playing Abba's "One of Us" in the background. As I stood in the queue to pay, these lyrics caught my attention:
One of us is crying
One of us is lying
In her lonely bed
Staring at the ceiling
Wishing she was somewhere else instead
One of us is lonely
One of us is only
Waiting for a call
Sorry for herself, feeling stupid feeling small
Wishing she had never left at all
I like songs by Abba. My favourite is probably Fernando ...
Can you hear the drums Fernando?
I remember long ago another starry night like this
In the firelight Fernando
You were humming to yourself and softly strumming your guitar
I could hear the distant drums
And sounds of bugle calls were coming from afar
They were closer now Fernando
Every hour every minute seemed to last eternally
I was so afraid Fernando
We were young and full of life and none of us prepared to die
And I’m not ashamed to say
The roar of guns and cannons almost made me cry
There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, fernando
Though we never thought that we could lose
There’s no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando
Now we’re old and grey Fernando
And since many years I haven’t seen a rifle in your hand
Can you hear the drums Fernando?
Do you still recall the frightful night we crossed the rio grande?
I can see it in your eyes
How proud you were to fight for freedom in this land
There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, Fernando
Though I never thought that we could lose
There’s no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando
There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, fernando
Though I never thought that we could lose
There’s no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando
Yes, if I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Sunday, 19 August 2007
Gosh this weekend has been quite hectic as James A was in town, popping over from JB after working in Malaysia the week before. It was quite pleasant actually to have someone to show around and hang out with - not since Jon had I done any sightseeing and though it was on a much smaller scale (a weekend as compared to a month) it was still quite fun.
He arrived on Friday evening and I met up with him at the Goodwood Park Hotel. I hadn't been there since I was 13 or so and it was a little odd as I always passed by but never went in. It's a lovely old-fashioned hotel and James' room had a good view of the pool, all very tranquil. Anyway it was lovely to see him again after all this time. I was a little hesitant at first as we'd not really kept in touch very much at all since he'd gone to China and over the past year the group dynamics had altered beyond recognition - none of us hang out anymore, everyone has separate lives, new lives, girlfriends and new living spaces ... and I guess I just didn't feel part of it anymore. Anyhow, we met up and it was quite jolly - we had a drink at the Crossroads Bar at Marriot Hotel then wandered down Orchard Rd to The Mandarin Hotel's Chatterbox for Hainanese Chicken Rice for JA while I had nasi lemak. He had his fix of a nice glass of wine or 2 - apparently one cannot find decent wine at decent prices or extortionate ones in Guangzhou yet. After that we walked back to his hotel and I got the bus back home.
10.30am next morning we met up at the hotel again but unfortunately it was raining and the rain got properly monsoon-like as the day progressed and we got absolutely soaked. In spite of the weather, we still managed to walk around City Hall and visit the Raffles Hotel, Cathedral of the Good Shepherd, see the door of Hope at CHIJMES, pop into the Singapore Art Museum, take a peek at St Andrew's Cathedral, walk the length of the Padang, see old Parliament House and various other old colonial buildings before ending up at Fullerton Hotel, which is the Old Post Office. We took some photos along Boat Quay, looked at the Merlion and the Esplanades on the Bay aka the durians and even walked through CityLink Mall. Lunch was at Prego - nice Italian place at Swissotel the Stamford (hotels are a good places to stop for drinks or meals I find - reliable and convenient) and we managed to get a table at Saint Julien (posh french place as JA wanted nice red wine and big meat - basically wanted to be English through and through after being stuck out in a place where it was so different culturally) by Marina Bay which was lucky. We had asked The Fullerton Hotel staff to help us with that and they got us a really good table for the viewing of the fireworks. The fireworks were cool - JA took a picture on his phone with me and the fireworks. I think I look a bit silly in it but it was a lovely meal. We had a nice chat over a long meal - 4 hours! ... he is very tolerant of my directness, which sometimes I think must seem rather rude but I guess my mouth runs away with me at times, with good friends at least. I am perhaps a little too candid. I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing. I guess the answer is it depends, i.e. there is no answer to that. It's a grey area.
We finally left the restaurant at midnight and then I had to get JA home - it was a kind of funny role reversal haha as I was playing the 'gentleman' of making sure that he got back to his hotel ok. The MRT had stopped running and the taxi queues at the Swissotel were really long so I suggested that we walk to Raffles Hotel where there was no queue hurrah and we got a taxi quite quickly. JA took a photo of me walking down the corridor of the Raffles Hotel on his phone - He had to use his phone to take a number of pictures as my camera battery had run out. I'd meant to change it to the new full-charged battery but for some reason when I came to change the battery I'd evidently put the wrong one in the camera so it died during the day. That was rather silly but it was rainy anyway so it wasn't that bad. Oh well eh!
Finally got home at 5 minutes to 1am so it wasn't too bad but my was I tired!
Then this morning we met up at 11am at his hotel again (with camera and the correct battery plus a spare one!) and I took him to Kampong Glam and Arab Street to finish off his little whirlwind stop of Singapore. We'd agreed that Chinatown could be given a miss since he lived in China (the uber Chinatown) so we'd go see the Malay area and the mosques. There were some quirky buildings in that area that JA liked and he took some photos of those and some silly ones of me. Thinking about that now makes me remember how Jon used to take silly photos of me and he loved the ones where I looked a wee bit silly. When he got his first camera phone he took lots of silly photos but then that got stolen at Goldman Sachs on his internship. He was a bit silly too - a bumbling BFG. I think I quite like my photo being taken though I like it to be done with minimal fuss (so as not to draw attention to myself!) but I like it when people take pictures of me as I guess I like the attention. I like to feel noticed and not abandoned or left alone which I guess I feel most of the time or even when I'm with people, I still feel a gaping hole. So it was nice to travel with someone. Even if they make you pose in slightly ludicrous poses (as long as there aren't people around it's fine) and even if they're silly at least you can both be silly together. You can moan about stuff, chat about nothing at all and you can laugh with someone. Travelling alone is a very silent affair.
Anyway, more about Arab Street. There are two mosques in the area - Hajah Fatimah Mosque and Sultan Mosque. I used to go to Arab Street with my mum and sister for nice fabrics to make evening dresses. The last time I'd been to Arab Street was with Finci - I was also carrying the bag that I'd bought there 2 years ago. It's a little sand coloured bag that has an interesting shape - the base is pointy but when you put stuff in it it spreads out. It also has an embroidered and sequinned elephant on the front pocket (the colour runs, as I discovered in the rain yesterday, but then it's only about a pound!) and it has a little elephant fastening with bells on it that give a nice little jingle when you move.
With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes ...
JA left at about 4pm, after lunch at an Indonesian restaurant called Sanur - I'd picked that place for its unique food - and a walk round the shopping centres. He bought some English magazines from Kinokuniya at Takashimaya and then I got him some the sweet meat he loves (I'd bought some for Dave 3 years ago as a thank you for letting me stay at your flat gift but JA ended up eating most of it!). The silly boy had packed his Singapore dollars away and taken Malaysian Ringgit with him so I gave him some dosh for the taxi to the airport and got him his bottle of water and pack of sweetmeat. It's kinda nice though. I liked knowing what he would like and getting him some of that. I guess it makes me feel connected to people. Being rather isolated in London, one becomes somewhat estranged from the wider world and little things like this remind one of the warmth of human contact when you least expect it. It's like chancing on photographs you'd forgotten you had and in looking at them, you remember the you you once were.
But they are nothing but stills from the past.
He arrived on Friday evening and I met up with him at the Goodwood Park Hotel. I hadn't been there since I was 13 or so and it was a little odd as I always passed by but never went in. It's a lovely old-fashioned hotel and James' room had a good view of the pool, all very tranquil. Anyway it was lovely to see him again after all this time. I was a little hesitant at first as we'd not really kept in touch very much at all since he'd gone to China and over the past year the group dynamics had altered beyond recognition - none of us hang out anymore, everyone has separate lives, new lives, girlfriends and new living spaces ... and I guess I just didn't feel part of it anymore. Anyhow, we met up and it was quite jolly - we had a drink at the Crossroads Bar at Marriot Hotel then wandered down Orchard Rd to The Mandarin Hotel's Chatterbox for Hainanese Chicken Rice for JA while I had nasi lemak. He had his fix of a nice glass of wine or 2 - apparently one cannot find decent wine at decent prices or extortionate ones in Guangzhou yet. After that we walked back to his hotel and I got the bus back home.
10.30am next morning we met up at the hotel again but unfortunately it was raining and the rain got properly monsoon-like as the day progressed and we got absolutely soaked. In spite of the weather, we still managed to walk around City Hall and visit the Raffles Hotel, Cathedral of the Good Shepherd, see the door of Hope at CHIJMES, pop into the Singapore Art Museum, take a peek at St Andrew's Cathedral, walk the length of the Padang, see old Parliament House and various other old colonial buildings before ending up at Fullerton Hotel, which is the Old Post Office. We took some photos along Boat Quay, looked at the Merlion and the Esplanades on the Bay aka the durians and even walked through CityLink Mall. Lunch was at Prego - nice Italian place at Swissotel the Stamford (hotels are a good places to stop for drinks or meals I find - reliable and convenient) and we managed to get a table at Saint Julien (posh french place as JA wanted nice red wine and big meat - basically wanted to be English through and through after being stuck out in a place where it was so different culturally) by Marina Bay which was lucky. We had asked The Fullerton Hotel staff to help us with that and they got us a really good table for the viewing of the fireworks. The fireworks were cool - JA took a picture on his phone with me and the fireworks. I think I look a bit silly in it but it was a lovely meal. We had a nice chat over a long meal - 4 hours! ... he is very tolerant of my directness, which sometimes I think must seem rather rude but I guess my mouth runs away with me at times, with good friends at least. I am perhaps a little too candid. I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing. I guess the answer is it depends, i.e. there is no answer to that. It's a grey area.
We finally left the restaurant at midnight and then I had to get JA home - it was a kind of funny role reversal haha as I was playing the 'gentleman' of making sure that he got back to his hotel ok. The MRT had stopped running and the taxi queues at the Swissotel were really long so I suggested that we walk to Raffles Hotel where there was no queue hurrah and we got a taxi quite quickly. JA took a photo of me walking down the corridor of the Raffles Hotel on his phone - He had to use his phone to take a number of pictures as my camera battery had run out. I'd meant to change it to the new full-charged battery but for some reason when I came to change the battery I'd evidently put the wrong one in the camera so it died during the day. That was rather silly but it was rainy anyway so it wasn't that bad. Oh well eh!
Finally got home at 5 minutes to 1am so it wasn't too bad but my was I tired!
Then this morning we met up at 11am at his hotel again (with camera and the correct battery plus a spare one!) and I took him to Kampong Glam and Arab Street to finish off his little whirlwind stop of Singapore. We'd agreed that Chinatown could be given a miss since he lived in China (the uber Chinatown) so we'd go see the Malay area and the mosques. There were some quirky buildings in that area that JA liked and he took some photos of those and some silly ones of me. Thinking about that now makes me remember how Jon used to take silly photos of me and he loved the ones where I looked a wee bit silly. When he got his first camera phone he took lots of silly photos but then that got stolen at Goldman Sachs on his internship. He was a bit silly too - a bumbling BFG. I think I quite like my photo being taken though I like it to be done with minimal fuss (so as not to draw attention to myself!) but I like it when people take pictures of me as I guess I like the attention. I like to feel noticed and not abandoned or left alone which I guess I feel most of the time or even when I'm with people, I still feel a gaping hole. So it was nice to travel with someone. Even if they make you pose in slightly ludicrous poses (as long as there aren't people around it's fine) and even if they're silly at least you can both be silly together. You can moan about stuff, chat about nothing at all and you can laugh with someone. Travelling alone is a very silent affair.
Anyway, more about Arab Street. There are two mosques in the area - Hajah Fatimah Mosque and Sultan Mosque. I used to go to Arab Street with my mum and sister for nice fabrics to make evening dresses. The last time I'd been to Arab Street was with Finci - I was also carrying the bag that I'd bought there 2 years ago. It's a little sand coloured bag that has an interesting shape - the base is pointy but when you put stuff in it it spreads out. It also has an embroidered and sequinned elephant on the front pocket (the colour runs, as I discovered in the rain yesterday, but then it's only about a pound!) and it has a little elephant fastening with bells on it that give a nice little jingle when you move.
With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes ...
JA left at about 4pm, after lunch at an Indonesian restaurant called Sanur - I'd picked that place for its unique food - and a walk round the shopping centres. He bought some English magazines from Kinokuniya at Takashimaya and then I got him some the sweet meat he loves (I'd bought some for Dave 3 years ago as a thank you for letting me stay at your flat gift but JA ended up eating most of it!). The silly boy had packed his Singapore dollars away and taken Malaysian Ringgit with him so I gave him some dosh for the taxi to the airport and got him his bottle of water and pack of sweetmeat. It's kinda nice though. I liked knowing what he would like and getting him some of that. I guess it makes me feel connected to people. Being rather isolated in London, one becomes somewhat estranged from the wider world and little things like this remind one of the warmth of human contact when you least expect it. It's like chancing on photographs you'd forgotten you had and in looking at them, you remember the you you once were.
But they are nothing but stills from the past.
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