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.
Monday, August 27, 2007
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.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Friday, 17 August 2007
Every time I start the blog, a rush of things come to my head and I hardly know where to start. It's as if someone opened the door and dumped a load of unsorted papers on my desk and I have to sort them out before filing them in an orderly manner. So I'm going to go for a chronological filing system today.
Woke up this morning at about 8.30am and thought hurrah I think I'm getting over the crazy jet lag symptoms. The next thing I noticed was the sky, which was a yellowish grey which meant that today was going to be a rainy day and sure enough it hasn't stopped raining, and I mean properly pouring for the past hour or so. Doesn't look like it's going to let up either. The funny thing about grey days in London and grey days in Singapore is that they have a different hue. Grey in London is bluish whereas grey in Singapore often has a yellowish tinge to it. I am not sure why but maybe the soot in London is of a different variety. Or perhaps the trees are reflecting colours into the air in some peculiar scientific manner and so it turns everything somewhat yellowish. Like a daylight bulb versus a warm white bulb.
Anyway. The peace is broken by the sound of my father walking around preparing to leave the house to do God knows what he does and one had better not ask these things, as experience taught me. The peace is also broken by my grandma who has a scratchy throat this morning, probably after eating too much sweet sauce and she does the very China Chinese thing of spitting, albeit in the bathroom but when it goes on for the next hour, while I'm having breakfast and all, it does get on my nerves. One of the things about living with extended family is tolerance I guess. We had moral education lessons in primary school and I remember that was one of the virtues that was taught. My grandmother used to have a firy temper as well and gosh it was like all hell broke loose when she started but thankfully, she has mellowed with age and also become more forgetful so she doesn't ever really get agitated as she forgets it quite promptly, whatever it was that was displeasing.
After breakfast I start off my morning of tasks (which include clearing out my wardrobe and ironing). Swimming was out of the question - that was the next thought that came to mind after noticing the grey skies this morning. Oh well. I'll have to try again next week. So I should be productive and finish clearing out my wardrobe and finish the ironing as it's already Friday and tomorrow I shall be busy being a tour guide for James Arnold on his weekend break. Plus this afternoon I shall be visiting my aunt and might even get some part-time work which would be quite interesting if I can actually do the work but it would also mean one of two things. One, I would have limited free time though I guess it's good to earn some dosh. Two, I would risk having to listen to her tell me that I must always remember to look after my mother because she has suffered, if that's the only thing I do. This always brings a lump to my throat as I know that I will look after my mother come what may, she is very often the sole reason why I pray to God to keep me alive because if anything happened to me she'd be the most affected and she's already been through so much oh God please have mercy on her. However, I also know that she wants me to be happy, that's the ultimate desire of a mother after all - for their children to be happy - and yes I'm trying to find happiness in doing something that I'd like to do, that I have interest in doing i.e. being a designer or working within the industry, amongst things I enjoy. However I know she hopes that my sister and I will find someone to look after us (i.e. boyfriends, husbands) so she won't have to worry about us too much. I remember her telling Jon to look after me when he was in Singapore - I guess that's one of the reasons that I felt the need to protect her from the knowledge that he'd basically dumped me a few weeks after she went back to Singapore after her visit to London. She knows we are strong yet at the same time she wants us to have someone to look after us, not just each other. She wants us to have back-up I guess. I wonder if it's a cultural thing or if all mothers want their daughters to get married ultimately. I'm not really sure. I think it's probably more prevalent in Asian cultures as there is a saying that men are to marry and women are to be married. It doesn't have such a ring to it when translated though.
There was an article about self pity and feeling sorry for oneself. It highlights how the very language that we use when we think about self-pity shows how we abhor it. "A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty," Philippe Aries wrote to the point of the aversion in Western Attitudes Towards Death. "But one no longer has the right to say so aloud." We remind ourselves repeatedly that our own loss is nothing compared to the loss experienced by the deceased (or I guess, other people who are suffering in the world). But the article suggests that in fact, "the grieving have urgent reasons, even an urgent need, to feel sorry for themselves. [Partners and spouses] walk out of our lives but they leave behind webs of intact associations" in which those who remain continue to live in and live with. "Only the survivors of a deth are truly left alone. The connections that made up their life - both the deep connections and the apparently (until they are broken) insignificant connections - have all vanished."
It reminded me of how I'd said that it was like Jon had died when he left. The difference with a metaphorical death is that the love that existed does not become enshrined in a mythical forever more where it is untouchable and unchanged. Instead you see your loved one no longer look at you, no longer love you and the memories you hold so dear become ragged with time, nothing more than the superannuated grime that mars your countenance. Yet however ugly and thorny they have become, they were once beautiful and you know that. To others you might be clutching the carcass of the past, but to you who carries the hole in your heart, the dusty memories sustain you when nothing else could.
Their lives are played out in full colour
Mine in the splendour of black and white
Woke up this morning at about 8.30am and thought hurrah I think I'm getting over the crazy jet lag symptoms. The next thing I noticed was the sky, which was a yellowish grey which meant that today was going to be a rainy day and sure enough it hasn't stopped raining, and I mean properly pouring for the past hour or so. Doesn't look like it's going to let up either. The funny thing about grey days in London and grey days in Singapore is that they have a different hue. Grey in London is bluish whereas grey in Singapore often has a yellowish tinge to it. I am not sure why but maybe the soot in London is of a different variety. Or perhaps the trees are reflecting colours into the air in some peculiar scientific manner and so it turns everything somewhat yellowish. Like a daylight bulb versus a warm white bulb.
Anyway. The peace is broken by the sound of my father walking around preparing to leave the house to do God knows what he does and one had better not ask these things, as experience taught me. The peace is also broken by my grandma who has a scratchy throat this morning, probably after eating too much sweet sauce and she does the very China Chinese thing of spitting, albeit in the bathroom but when it goes on for the next hour, while I'm having breakfast and all, it does get on my nerves. One of the things about living with extended family is tolerance I guess. We had moral education lessons in primary school and I remember that was one of the virtues that was taught. My grandmother used to have a firy temper as well and gosh it was like all hell broke loose when she started but thankfully, she has mellowed with age and also become more forgetful so she doesn't ever really get agitated as she forgets it quite promptly, whatever it was that was displeasing.
After breakfast I start off my morning of tasks (which include clearing out my wardrobe and ironing). Swimming was out of the question - that was the next thought that came to mind after noticing the grey skies this morning. Oh well. I'll have to try again next week. So I should be productive and finish clearing out my wardrobe and finish the ironing as it's already Friday and tomorrow I shall be busy being a tour guide for James Arnold on his weekend break. Plus this afternoon I shall be visiting my aunt and might even get some part-time work which would be quite interesting if I can actually do the work but it would also mean one of two things. One, I would have limited free time though I guess it's good to earn some dosh. Two, I would risk having to listen to her tell me that I must always remember to look after my mother because she has suffered, if that's the only thing I do. This always brings a lump to my throat as I know that I will look after my mother come what may, she is very often the sole reason why I pray to God to keep me alive because if anything happened to me she'd be the most affected and she's already been through so much oh God please have mercy on her. However, I also know that she wants me to be happy, that's the ultimate desire of a mother after all - for their children to be happy - and yes I'm trying to find happiness in doing something that I'd like to do, that I have interest in doing i.e. being a designer or working within the industry, amongst things I enjoy. However I know she hopes that my sister and I will find someone to look after us (i.e. boyfriends, husbands) so she won't have to worry about us too much. I remember her telling Jon to look after me when he was in Singapore - I guess that's one of the reasons that I felt the need to protect her from the knowledge that he'd basically dumped me a few weeks after she went back to Singapore after her visit to London. She knows we are strong yet at the same time she wants us to have someone to look after us, not just each other. She wants us to have back-up I guess. I wonder if it's a cultural thing or if all mothers want their daughters to get married ultimately. I'm not really sure. I think it's probably more prevalent in Asian cultures as there is a saying that men are to marry and women are to be married. It doesn't have such a ring to it when translated though.
There was an article about self pity and feeling sorry for oneself. It highlights how the very language that we use when we think about self-pity shows how we abhor it. "A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty," Philippe Aries wrote to the point of the aversion in Western Attitudes Towards Death. "But one no longer has the right to say so aloud." We remind ourselves repeatedly that our own loss is nothing compared to the loss experienced by the deceased (or I guess, other people who are suffering in the world). But the article suggests that in fact, "the grieving have urgent reasons, even an urgent need, to feel sorry for themselves. [Partners and spouses] walk out of our lives but they leave behind webs of intact associations" in which those who remain continue to live in and live with. "Only the survivors of a deth are truly left alone. The connections that made up their life - both the deep connections and the apparently (until they are broken) insignificant connections - have all vanished."
It reminded me of how I'd said that it was like Jon had died when he left. The difference with a metaphorical death is that the love that existed does not become enshrined in a mythical forever more where it is untouchable and unchanged. Instead you see your loved one no longer look at you, no longer love you and the memories you hold so dear become ragged with time, nothing more than the superannuated grime that mars your countenance. Yet however ugly and thorny they have become, they were once beautiful and you know that. To others you might be clutching the carcass of the past, but to you who carries the hole in your heart, the dusty memories sustain you when nothing else could.
Their lives are played out in full colour
Mine in the splendour of black and white
Later on Thursday, 16 August 2007
I didn't go swimming today evidently, since I had to go to the visa application centre. I prefer to swim in the morning rather than the afternoon for some bizarre reason and anyway it was threatening to rain this morning, then it alternated between being cloudy and sunny and right now, it's 6.50pm and it still hasn't made its mind up yet. I think I'll try to go for a swim tomorrow morning if it's sunny.
A week tomorrow and I shall know the outcome of my application. It's going to take between 5 - 7 working days so the average is 6 which is next Friday. A couple of days ago, I was going through some papers and found some photocopies I'd made for my first visa, the working holiday-maker visa that I'd applied for in 2004. That visa cost S$154. Two years later, the student visa cost S$280 and today, I paid S$317 for my student visa. The visa application centre has changed somewhat too. You are now screened with a metal detector or some kind of detecting device where you have to lift your arms. It's quite comic since I'm wearing a sleeveless tee so unless I'm some hybrid alien form of a terrorist with bombs under my skin it's pretty unlikely that I am carrying any sort of weapon, apart from of course, all 7 stone worth of my brute strength.
Anyway, it was a half hour wait this time, which was better than the hour long wait yesterday. I was earlier by about half an hour this morning too so it pays to be early. While I was sitting there, twiddling my thumbs, I thought about the visas that I'd applied for in the past 3 years and how the circumstances change every time. In the first instance, I was full of anxiety and trepidation that I would not get the visa and would not be able to see Jon again. Being terribly organised or terribly optimistic, (probably the former) we'd not arranged or spoken about what would happen to us if I couldn't return. The only thing we'd organised, which was last minute anyway, was that I would take his t-shirt that I always slept in with me. It was his grey raleigh t-shirt. Well, it wasn't really organised. I was packing and he said I could take his t-shirt with me ...
The Sandman:
Oh heavens, she's reminiscing again.
... and that he'd try to call me from GS now and again though he couldn't promise as work was busy. I was scrolling through the messages on my mum's mobile last night and I saw a couple of messages that he'd sent to her saying that he'd been waiting an hour and a half at the airport and I was nowhere to be found. (I had been hauled to quarantine to get a chest x-ray with the rest of the poor tired students from SE Asia in case we were SARS carriers) I remember telling him that he didn't pick me up at the airport when I arrived at 6am even though he would have returned from sailing at about 3am that very morning he wouldn't ever have to pick me up again. Haha ... I was stressed obviously. Anyway he showed up yay! and that was the last time I'd feel so welcome to London. The next time we'd return together but he'd get into a taxi straight to Cambridge after we left the storage place and I remember he didn't look back. I guess he was tired.
The next time I returned on my student visa, I remember telling Dr Hadley that I felt like I had cheated death. This time, I wonder what the outcome on my visa will be. I am fairly optimistic as I have the right documents and so I hope it will go smoothly. Afterall, I've already paid the fee and if it doesn't materialise I don't get a refund. Ouch. Somehow I think that I'd be unable to evade the chariot ... Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me ... it's only good manners to oblige. Afterall, even though I like it in the UK, I can hardly say that there's much reason for me to stay, or even possibility and one's got to face the reality of it. I miss him so much. I could live anywhere pretty much (apart from say, sub-Saharan Africa or war-torn Iraq) if he was with me. I used to think these lyrics from Snow Patrol's Run meant something else but after all this time, after the surface layers of messy emotion have been peeled away, I can see more clearly now ...
I'll sing it one last time for you
Then we really have to go
You've been the only thing that's right
In all I've done
And I can barely look at you
But every single time I do
I know we'll make it anywhere
Away from here
Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear
...
The Sandman:
The silliest thing is that he'll never hear a word she says. She is like a player acting alone on a stage. Everyone's left and even the lights have gone out but there she stays, somehow unable to leave, unable ... I'm not sure listening to these old songs are doing any good.
Poppy:
She's got to find some way to hang on somehow. She's always found solace in music. You know that. She used to play the radio to sing her to sleep, remember?
She's walking there alone,
No one by her side
She manages to fight the tears, but
The pain inside
She can't hide
And all the tears she's cried
The moment she closes her eyes, she starts
Thinking of you
The dreams that she had one time
Have gone away
Will they ever come true?
All she needs is… all she needs is you
And she wishes today
Was one year ago
When you cared so much for her
And loved her so
Not a doubt in her mind that it would still be you
Cause the love that you shared… it was true
You never thought about it,
What you made her feel
You promised you'd stay together,
But the hope she once had… so unreal
All she needs is… all she needs is you
And she wishes today
Was one year ago
When you cared so much for her
And loved her so
Not a doubt in her mind that it would still be you
Cause the love that you shared… it was true
The Sandman:
More like three years ago now. Or more! I mean, Lene Marlin? Shouldn't she be listening to new tunes now?
Poppy:
Well, not with all that rubbish that's out there. If you've found something good why not stick with it? If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
The Sandman:
He's left. It's not even broken. It completely does not exist.
Poppy:
Without the memories, without the songs to sustain her, she has nothing else, don't you understand? He gave her hope of something better, hope that it was possible, hope of having something whole that she'd never really known. Something apart from all the broken past and the pain. If she's not allowed to remember the hope she had what else has she left to keep her alive? She's barely there.
The Sandman:
You indulge her too much. It won't change things ... but perhaps some things cannot be changed and some destinies have to be accepted.
A week tomorrow and I shall know the outcome of my application. It's going to take between 5 - 7 working days so the average is 6 which is next Friday. A couple of days ago, I was going through some papers and found some photocopies I'd made for my first visa, the working holiday-maker visa that I'd applied for in 2004. That visa cost S$154. Two years later, the student visa cost S$280 and today, I paid S$317 for my student visa. The visa application centre has changed somewhat too. You are now screened with a metal detector or some kind of detecting device where you have to lift your arms. It's quite comic since I'm wearing a sleeveless tee so unless I'm some hybrid alien form of a terrorist with bombs under my skin it's pretty unlikely that I am carrying any sort of weapon, apart from of course, all 7 stone worth of my brute strength.
Anyway, it was a half hour wait this time, which was better than the hour long wait yesterday. I was earlier by about half an hour this morning too so it pays to be early. While I was sitting there, twiddling my thumbs, I thought about the visas that I'd applied for in the past 3 years and how the circumstances change every time. In the first instance, I was full of anxiety and trepidation that I would not get the visa and would not be able to see Jon again. Being terribly organised or terribly optimistic, (probably the former) we'd not arranged or spoken about what would happen to us if I couldn't return. The only thing we'd organised, which was last minute anyway, was that I would take his t-shirt that I always slept in with me. It was his grey raleigh t-shirt. Well, it wasn't really organised. I was packing and he said I could take his t-shirt with me ...
The Sandman:
Oh heavens, she's reminiscing again.
... and that he'd try to call me from GS now and again though he couldn't promise as work was busy. I was scrolling through the messages on my mum's mobile last night and I saw a couple of messages that he'd sent to her saying that he'd been waiting an hour and a half at the airport and I was nowhere to be found. (I had been hauled to quarantine to get a chest x-ray with the rest of the poor tired students from SE Asia in case we were SARS carriers) I remember telling him that he didn't pick me up at the airport when I arrived at 6am even though he would have returned from sailing at about 3am that very morning he wouldn't ever have to pick me up again. Haha ... I was stressed obviously. Anyway he showed up yay! and that was the last time I'd feel so welcome to London. The next time we'd return together but he'd get into a taxi straight to Cambridge after we left the storage place and I remember he didn't look back. I guess he was tired.
The next time I returned on my student visa, I remember telling Dr Hadley that I felt like I had cheated death. This time, I wonder what the outcome on my visa will be. I am fairly optimistic as I have the right documents and so I hope it will go smoothly. Afterall, I've already paid the fee and if it doesn't materialise I don't get a refund. Ouch. Somehow I think that I'd be unable to evade the chariot ... Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me ... it's only good manners to oblige. Afterall, even though I like it in the UK, I can hardly say that there's much reason for me to stay, or even possibility and one's got to face the reality of it. I miss him so much. I could live anywhere pretty much (apart from say, sub-Saharan Africa or war-torn Iraq) if he was with me. I used to think these lyrics from Snow Patrol's Run meant something else but after all this time, after the surface layers of messy emotion have been peeled away, I can see more clearly now ...
I'll sing it one last time for you
Then we really have to go
You've been the only thing that's right
In all I've done
And I can barely look at you
But every single time I do
I know we'll make it anywhere
Away from here
Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear
...
The Sandman:
The silliest thing is that he'll never hear a word she says. She is like a player acting alone on a stage. Everyone's left and even the lights have gone out but there she stays, somehow unable to leave, unable ... I'm not sure listening to these old songs are doing any good.
Poppy:
She's got to find some way to hang on somehow. She's always found solace in music. You know that. She used to play the radio to sing her to sleep, remember?
She's walking there alone,
No one by her side
She manages to fight the tears, but
The pain inside
She can't hide
And all the tears she's cried
The moment she closes her eyes, she starts
Thinking of you
The dreams that she had one time
Have gone away
Will they ever come true?
All she needs is… all she needs is you
And she wishes today
Was one year ago
When you cared so much for her
And loved her so
Not a doubt in her mind that it would still be you
Cause the love that you shared… it was true
You never thought about it,
What you made her feel
You promised you'd stay together,
But the hope she once had… so unreal
All she needs is… all she needs is you
And she wishes today
Was one year ago
When you cared so much for her
And loved her so
Not a doubt in her mind that it would still be you
Cause the love that you shared… it was true
The Sandman:
More like three years ago now. Or more! I mean, Lene Marlin? Shouldn't she be listening to new tunes now?
Poppy:
Well, not with all that rubbish that's out there. If you've found something good why not stick with it? If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
The Sandman:
He's left. It's not even broken. It completely does not exist.
Poppy:
Without the memories, without the songs to sustain her, she has nothing else, don't you understand? He gave her hope of something better, hope that it was possible, hope of having something whole that she'd never really known. Something apart from all the broken past and the pain. If she's not allowed to remember the hope she had what else has she left to keep her alive? She's barely there.
The Sandman:
You indulge her too much. It won't change things ... but perhaps some things cannot be changed and some destinies have to be accepted.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Thursday, 16 August 2007
I made a new observation last night, as I was trying to sleep. The problem with crying while sleeping on one's back was that not only did one get a wet pillow plus a blocked nose, one also finds that one's ears become little depositories of salt water which makes it rather uncomfortable to sleep. Hence it's better to lie on one's side in such situations so as to prevent wet ears.
My father came home earlier than usual last night. I had just gone off to bed and then I heard his voice. It's more effective than an alarm clock as it actually sets alarm bells ringing and adrenaline pumping and the body braces itself for a fight or flight situation. Obviously the flight option is out of the question as I can't physically leave and the fight situation, well there wasn't really any fight situation since I was supposed to be asleep so one has to fight off the fight response which makes for poor mental health I'm sure. Anyhow, there had been a credit card company letter received in the post today and I suppose the exchange between my parents was due to that. I could not hear what my mother said, she had a calm even voice and she probably didn't want to wake me but well, my father couldn't care less and I could hear him saying he wasn't that stupid, etc which was proof enough that it was about that letter, and whatever the contents may be. He told my mother she could open it if she wanted to and well I thought to myself, she'd see it sooner or later anyway if it's a bill to be paid. If not now then he'd ring her up at the office and threaten her that if she doesn't pay his bills then the flat would go. It's not like that hasn't happened before.
Anyway these situations are very stressful as his mere presence is stressful enough - there's an automatic danger response in me built up over the past decade and my gosh it's quite exhausting. However, as is mostly the case, a stressful situation does not bode well for peaceful sleep so stress had to be released somehow and the tears came hot and fast. Silently obviously since my mother had gone to bed by then and since she's just a metre away in my sister's bed, there was a risk of waking her with any noise.
Now when one sees people crying on telly or in the movies, they're usually quite noisy sobby affairs. Taking a closer example in real life, my neighbour next door in London cries. No she positively howls after having some dramatic argument loaded with swear words with her husband/partner/boyfriend/some bloke. The walls are really thin so I can hear her howling like a wailing ghost in the silence of my own flat. Usually I turn the volume up on the telly and pretend that it's background noise but when I'm upstairs in my bedroom, it's really quite loud and unavoidable. Unless of course you choose to believe that there is a wailing ghost haunting your flat. Anyway the point is, crying necessitates noise once it gets past the stage where tears are rolling down your cheeks in little rivulets and have instead become full-on torrents where your eyes can't take the load and your nose starts to block up with the excess load such that your nose is also starting to get runny ... and your heart feels like it's being pressurised and squeezed between two muscular fists and your hands clench. Generally at this stage, people start to gasp and sob, I presume in some muscular relaxation response to all that pressure but in my precarious situation where I was pretending to be asleep and not wanting to wake my mother up or have to speak with my father, I had to swallow it all done and breathe with my mouth so I didn't suffocate. That is rather painful I must say. At least I can have a mental breakdown for half an hour when I'm alone in London. At this rate, I am so going to have a heart attack one day.
The first thing I thought about this morning when I awoke at about 8.30am was that I needed to complete my visa application today and also that I wished Jon was here. I know it's pathetic but these little sign boards keep popping up in my semi-conscious and unconscious states that it's hardly possible to stop them, not when I've just awakened with yet another heavy head albeit I didn't wake up at 3am or 5am like before and I didn't lie in bed unable to sleep for 3 hours. I read his message on facebook last night. "I am currently dating someone." I remember looking in the mirror a few days ago and gosh I looked awful. Now why would he even look this way again? There is a Chinese saying, "an ugly toad wanting to eat a swan's flesh = wishful thinking". Maybe it was the light huh? Or maybe I just haven't looked closely at the mirror to see what I look like, and on a deeper level, maybe I simply haven't looked at what I am, who I am. I am nothing. I am not a successful anything. I have nothing to offer him. I guess it was just convenient. He only went to Warwick because he didn't get into Cambridge the first time. Now he's in his spiritual home or whatever you want to call it and the unnecessary has been eliminated. He probably doesn't remember saying that going to Warwick was a good thing because if he'd gone to Cambridge he wouldn't have met me. Well he's gone and dumped me anyway.
Whilst having lunch with grandma a thought crossed my mind. I thought, I could go up to the 20th floor and there the end it all could be within reach. Maybe God is telling me that I can leave this all quite easily but then again, God is against taking one's own life. I mean, it's not hard to get rid of me if that was the case. A tree could fall on me or some road accident could happen or something. So by the end of lunch, I decided that it wasn't God telling me to go get rid of myself and rid Jon of this unnecessary nuisance, rid myself of my pathetic self, rid society of this useless dreamer and good for nothing.
Do I even like myself? Do I know who I am?
I'm not sure of who I am and so how do you like a stranger? How did it become this way? I guess when we were 18, we thought, well it's hard and it seems really difficult to find things we were passionate about. It was fine if you were passionate about law and finance and useful tangible money-making things like that. You had the whole world behind you, recognising that you were worthy and valuable because you had results in cold hard cash, stocks, shares, property, investments, you name it. We told ourselves we'd be fine when we were 25. Things will find a way and we'd be ok but here I stand at 25 years of age and now what? It feels like I've taken the road less travelled and it has made all the difference. I have found myself standing at the edge of a cliff face, staring at nothing but fresh air and dreams and carrying a burden of guilt. I am the person I am because of where I've come from and it is easy to say, forget what other people do or say, it doesn't matter, but I can't when all around me are these huge signs reminding me of my failures. I have gone overseas to study but haven't returned to a job with a fat pay packet, I am not supporting my family financially as one is meant to do in Asian culture and I have no prospects for getting a fat pay packet in the future, I am not this and I am not that, etc and I haven't even got my caucasian boyfriend now ... the world's wife is a soul-killer. The worse thing is you can't run and you can't hide. Not on this tiny red dot anyway. When society and my own family situation make me feel like I'm a burden I find it very difficult to value myself. I am my worst enemy I guess.
I find no peace here.
At Warwick, with Jon, I thought I'd found something about myself, I could laugh, I could find respite in his different culture. He was not bound to the shackles that I was and he had a different way of thinking that helped me feel free. I found it enjoyable even when I didn't enjoy my job all that much at Warwick's London Office, I had Jon to look forward to seeing, to make things better, to help me see that work wasn't the be all and end all, that here was someone not from my family who loved me for no reason at all and whom I loved too. We had the shared experience of being in Warwick, we had shared friends from Warwick and while this is sounding rather Warwick-centric, I think it's a natural thing that if you come from a community you love, your life revolves around that community. And if that community was so much like a utopian family unit, gosh isn't that what I crave for? Why do people have groups of friends? Why do people choose to hang out with friends instead of going on a lifelong quest to know only new people? Deep down we crave community, connection and that comes down to the very smallest group - the pair.
A pair of shoes will last a year but a couple of pairs will last you three. - Random statistic. Probably some marketing tool but has some logic too.
Anyway sod that. He's never coming back. I can only keep praying that God will help me hang on and stay alive and stay focused on getting my course done and then I can start job hunting and working. With the work hours in Asia, I'll never have the time or energy to worry. I'll just work to my death and I'll never have a spare moment to think about him. I just pray I'll find a decent job. Oh God please help me get a decent job. Faith the size of a mustard seed.
Come then, my dear black dog. You I know will follow me wherever I go, always and forever.
My father came home earlier than usual last night. I had just gone off to bed and then I heard his voice. It's more effective than an alarm clock as it actually sets alarm bells ringing and adrenaline pumping and the body braces itself for a fight or flight situation. Obviously the flight option is out of the question as I can't physically leave and the fight situation, well there wasn't really any fight situation since I was supposed to be asleep so one has to fight off the fight response which makes for poor mental health I'm sure. Anyhow, there had been a credit card company letter received in the post today and I suppose the exchange between my parents was due to that. I could not hear what my mother said, she had a calm even voice and she probably didn't want to wake me but well, my father couldn't care less and I could hear him saying he wasn't that stupid, etc which was proof enough that it was about that letter, and whatever the contents may be. He told my mother she could open it if she wanted to and well I thought to myself, she'd see it sooner or later anyway if it's a bill to be paid. If not now then he'd ring her up at the office and threaten her that if she doesn't pay his bills then the flat would go. It's not like that hasn't happened before.
Anyway these situations are very stressful as his mere presence is stressful enough - there's an automatic danger response in me built up over the past decade and my gosh it's quite exhausting. However, as is mostly the case, a stressful situation does not bode well for peaceful sleep so stress had to be released somehow and the tears came hot and fast. Silently obviously since my mother had gone to bed by then and since she's just a metre away in my sister's bed, there was a risk of waking her with any noise.
Now when one sees people crying on telly or in the movies, they're usually quite noisy sobby affairs. Taking a closer example in real life, my neighbour next door in London cries. No she positively howls after having some dramatic argument loaded with swear words with her husband/partner/boyfriend/some bloke. The walls are really thin so I can hear her howling like a wailing ghost in the silence of my own flat. Usually I turn the volume up on the telly and pretend that it's background noise but when I'm upstairs in my bedroom, it's really quite loud and unavoidable. Unless of course you choose to believe that there is a wailing ghost haunting your flat. Anyway the point is, crying necessitates noise once it gets past the stage where tears are rolling down your cheeks in little rivulets and have instead become full-on torrents where your eyes can't take the load and your nose starts to block up with the excess load such that your nose is also starting to get runny ... and your heart feels like it's being pressurised and squeezed between two muscular fists and your hands clench. Generally at this stage, people start to gasp and sob, I presume in some muscular relaxation response to all that pressure but in my precarious situation where I was pretending to be asleep and not wanting to wake my mother up or have to speak with my father, I had to swallow it all done and breathe with my mouth so I didn't suffocate. That is rather painful I must say. At least I can have a mental breakdown for half an hour when I'm alone in London. At this rate, I am so going to have a heart attack one day.
The first thing I thought about this morning when I awoke at about 8.30am was that I needed to complete my visa application today and also that I wished Jon was here. I know it's pathetic but these little sign boards keep popping up in my semi-conscious and unconscious states that it's hardly possible to stop them, not when I've just awakened with yet another heavy head albeit I didn't wake up at 3am or 5am like before and I didn't lie in bed unable to sleep for 3 hours. I read his message on facebook last night. "I am currently dating someone." I remember looking in the mirror a few days ago and gosh I looked awful. Now why would he even look this way again? There is a Chinese saying, "an ugly toad wanting to eat a swan's flesh = wishful thinking". Maybe it was the light huh? Or maybe I just haven't looked closely at the mirror to see what I look like, and on a deeper level, maybe I simply haven't looked at what I am, who I am. I am nothing. I am not a successful anything. I have nothing to offer him. I guess it was just convenient. He only went to Warwick because he didn't get into Cambridge the first time. Now he's in his spiritual home or whatever you want to call it and the unnecessary has been eliminated. He probably doesn't remember saying that going to Warwick was a good thing because if he'd gone to Cambridge he wouldn't have met me. Well he's gone and dumped me anyway.
Whilst having lunch with grandma a thought crossed my mind. I thought, I could go up to the 20th floor and there the end it all could be within reach. Maybe God is telling me that I can leave this all quite easily but then again, God is against taking one's own life. I mean, it's not hard to get rid of me if that was the case. A tree could fall on me or some road accident could happen or something. So by the end of lunch, I decided that it wasn't God telling me to go get rid of myself and rid Jon of this unnecessary nuisance, rid myself of my pathetic self, rid society of this useless dreamer and good for nothing.
Do I even like myself? Do I know who I am?
I'm not sure of who I am and so how do you like a stranger? How did it become this way? I guess when we were 18, we thought, well it's hard and it seems really difficult to find things we were passionate about. It was fine if you were passionate about law and finance and useful tangible money-making things like that. You had the whole world behind you, recognising that you were worthy and valuable because you had results in cold hard cash, stocks, shares, property, investments, you name it. We told ourselves we'd be fine when we were 25. Things will find a way and we'd be ok but here I stand at 25 years of age and now what? It feels like I've taken the road less travelled and it has made all the difference. I have found myself standing at the edge of a cliff face, staring at nothing but fresh air and dreams and carrying a burden of guilt. I am the person I am because of where I've come from and it is easy to say, forget what other people do or say, it doesn't matter, but I can't when all around me are these huge signs reminding me of my failures. I have gone overseas to study but haven't returned to a job with a fat pay packet, I am not supporting my family financially as one is meant to do in Asian culture and I have no prospects for getting a fat pay packet in the future, I am not this and I am not that, etc and I haven't even got my caucasian boyfriend now ... the world's wife is a soul-killer. The worse thing is you can't run and you can't hide. Not on this tiny red dot anyway. When society and my own family situation make me feel like I'm a burden I find it very difficult to value myself. I am my worst enemy I guess.
I find no peace here.
At Warwick, with Jon, I thought I'd found something about myself, I could laugh, I could find respite in his different culture. He was not bound to the shackles that I was and he had a different way of thinking that helped me feel free. I found it enjoyable even when I didn't enjoy my job all that much at Warwick's London Office, I had Jon to look forward to seeing, to make things better, to help me see that work wasn't the be all and end all, that here was someone not from my family who loved me for no reason at all and whom I loved too. We had the shared experience of being in Warwick, we had shared friends from Warwick and while this is sounding rather Warwick-centric, I think it's a natural thing that if you come from a community you love, your life revolves around that community. And if that community was so much like a utopian family unit, gosh isn't that what I crave for? Why do people have groups of friends? Why do people choose to hang out with friends instead of going on a lifelong quest to know only new people? Deep down we crave community, connection and that comes down to the very smallest group - the pair.
A pair of shoes will last a year but a couple of pairs will last you three. - Random statistic. Probably some marketing tool but has some logic too.
Anyway sod that. He's never coming back. I can only keep praying that God will help me hang on and stay alive and stay focused on getting my course done and then I can start job hunting and working. With the work hours in Asia, I'll never have the time or energy to worry. I'll just work to my death and I'll never have a spare moment to think about him. I just pray I'll find a decent job. Oh God please help me get a decent job. Faith the size of a mustard seed.
Come then, my dear black dog. You I know will follow me wherever I go, always and forever.
Wednesday, 15 August 2007
Today was one of those active days which I like though I didn't actually manage to complete my errands fully ...
I woke up at 3am (again!) and didn't get back to sleep at 6am. The same old panic about work and gloom about feeling unnecessary cropped up again over the 3 hours that I lay there, tossing and turning and listening to the trucks, cars, buses and motorbikes going past. I live on the 9th floor but you'd be amazed at the clarity of the vehicle noises at that time of night. Or morning even. I watched the shadows and street lights reflected onto the ceiling and thought, gosh there is a lot of light pollution here.
Anyway, I heard mum's alarm go off at 5.30am and then made a fervent prayer to say oh God please let me fall asleep before it gets light and I think that worked. The next thing I knew, it was 9.30am and I had an achy head again. I jumped out of bed and got washed, had breakfast and got dressed and was out of the house at 9.55am pronto, ready to start my day with Task Numero Uno. Or Tasko Numero Uno.
The visa application. I get to the visa office by memory. I didn't really note the address but I remembered vaguely where I should get off the bus and vaguely what the building looked like. Only it was slightly tricky as there were renovation works and everything had been stripped bare save the building name and address. Hrm. Luckily my hunch was proven correct when I checked the directory - I didn't know the floor number either, yes I am efficient and organised! - and thank goodness for the directory. Unfortunately, after waiting an hour for my queue number to be called, I found that I was short of a couple of documents so Tasko Numero Uno was left incomplete. I'll be going tomorrow morning now that I've sorted the odd bits of documentation. I can't wait to finish that off.
The afternoon was much better. I met up with Shiying for lunch and she was late as she had loads of blisters on her feet from ill-fitting footwear and so she was trying to find a pair of flipflops that would not aggravate the condition of her feet. She finally found another pair of ill-fitting slippers but that had to suffice. It was quite funny in a way. She's a really bright girl, just got married too but as she pointed out, contrary to what her American husband's friends were conjecturing - the stereotypical demure and gentle Asian girl = perfect wife material - she's a gung ho outdoors kind of girl. A true leader. I guess us RGS girls weren't ever going to compare with SCGS girls in the gold and jade ladylike competition. We had a lovely lovely time. Shiying is one of my best friends and her energy is boundless. We went back to our old school Raffles Girls and walked around and it all looked so familiar. It was odd in a way as I dreamt about the spiral staircase last night or the night before and there it was, still as it was 9 years ago when we left our alma mater, 16 year old girls looking to take on the world with our best shot. We may not be the delicate Asian beauties like the SCGS girls but there's a bit of fight in every RGS girl. It's not that the teachers didn't try to make us ladies - we talked about the funny grooming classes too where we had to learn how to eat and how to walk haha! Past the canteen, the amphitheatre, the field which now has a proper running track, the area where the softball girls did batting practice, the tennis courts, D&T room with the smily teacher and deadly equipment, the mini-amphitheatre where we used to have house practice, the once pink but now icky brown stained rock wall that we scaled, the time capsule that was sealed about 10 years ago during Founders Day and the odd bronze statue of the front porch with the doves that are supposed to symbolise something that neither of us could remember haha ... the biology classrooms overlooking the carpark ... the stained glass window with our school crest and badge. Filiae Melioris Aevi. Daughters of a Better Age.
Those were my best days at school. We worked hard and played hard. It's uplifting to know that so many have passed through these gates and made a future for themselves. In some ways it gives me some strength to know that if nothing else, the RGS girl knew what she wanted and would work to get it, if nothing else, she had some fight left in her. And I am one of them.
Talking to Shiying also has some downsides as she works in finance and we were chatting about financial capitals of the world and all that finance talk made me quite sad as it reminds me of that nagging feeling that I don't feel necessary, I don't feel I belong to this Global City that encroaches on every part of our lives here in Singapore, or any other city ... though I guess in retrospect, it's partly because I feel so insecure at the moment, being a student and afraid that I'll always be a worry for my mum and my sister will always have to help me out financially ... and also the loneliness I guess. People tend to turn to retail therapy to buy things that will fill the gaps in their lives but I can't do that. I guess it's back to the whole feeling incomplete issue, about how when you come from a family that doesn't function you always want to fix it and make your own functional family ... it's a sort of instinctive wish-fulfillment of sorts. Shiying and I spoke of depression too, how she had a bout of depression when she was stuck in an unfulfilling job and she felt so free when she finally quit her bond and paid it all back but when depression was due to a more deep-rooted kind of dysfuntionality, like something that cannot be altered, like family issues, then it's something that stays with you and shapes you for life. I think that's why I feel rather mournful. I can't fix my family but there's the need to fix it yet the closest I got to having a stable relationship has now come to nought as well and after all that trust coming to nothing I sort of feel unable to relate. It's just numb with a dull chronic ache.
Apart from chatting and sharing confidances, we also went shopping as Shiying had such a huge blister she simply had to get some new footwear and I helped her pick one pair of sandals which I might get too :) and she chose another pair plus a belt for her trenchcoat. The drycleaner lost the belt so she hadn't worn it for 2 years but now that she was heading back to the US, she needed the coat again so it was quite a stroke of luck that we got her new shoes and a new belt all in the same shop! I quite enjoy shopping for people - Shiying hates shopping as it's too stressful. I used to shop with Jon to pick going out shirts and we even picked a jacket and shoes from Paris! He lost the jacket in one of his drunken intern nights out but we bought the same one the following year in Paris again. That was in 2003. Fran posted a photo of us all at my birthday meal, with Emily and Marc plus the usual crew, on Facebook.
At times like these no words but just a leaden weight falls upon my heart. If I hurt long enough it will hurt no longer.
One person, one half, then the relationship will never fade ... hokkien song lyric from 881, a new movie by Royston Tan that I went to watch with Zhiying yesterday. Intensely funny and immensely emotional. It's films like these that are uniquely Singaporean, with Singaporean nuances and requiring cultural capital that cannot be learnt but that is accumulated by a local-born growing up in the strange mish-mash of cultures that makes Singapore.
I woke up at 3am (again!) and didn't get back to sleep at 6am. The same old panic about work and gloom about feeling unnecessary cropped up again over the 3 hours that I lay there, tossing and turning and listening to the trucks, cars, buses and motorbikes going past. I live on the 9th floor but you'd be amazed at the clarity of the vehicle noises at that time of night. Or morning even. I watched the shadows and street lights reflected onto the ceiling and thought, gosh there is a lot of light pollution here.
Anyway, I heard mum's alarm go off at 5.30am and then made a fervent prayer to say oh God please let me fall asleep before it gets light and I think that worked. The next thing I knew, it was 9.30am and I had an achy head again. I jumped out of bed and got washed, had breakfast and got dressed and was out of the house at 9.55am pronto, ready to start my day with Task Numero Uno. Or Tasko Numero Uno.
The visa application. I get to the visa office by memory. I didn't really note the address but I remembered vaguely where I should get off the bus and vaguely what the building looked like. Only it was slightly tricky as there were renovation works and everything had been stripped bare save the building name and address. Hrm. Luckily my hunch was proven correct when I checked the directory - I didn't know the floor number either, yes I am efficient and organised! - and thank goodness for the directory. Unfortunately, after waiting an hour for my queue number to be called, I found that I was short of a couple of documents so Tasko Numero Uno was left incomplete. I'll be going tomorrow morning now that I've sorted the odd bits of documentation. I can't wait to finish that off.
The afternoon was much better. I met up with Shiying for lunch and she was late as she had loads of blisters on her feet from ill-fitting footwear and so she was trying to find a pair of flipflops that would not aggravate the condition of her feet. She finally found another pair of ill-fitting slippers but that had to suffice. It was quite funny in a way. She's a really bright girl, just got married too but as she pointed out, contrary to what her American husband's friends were conjecturing - the stereotypical demure and gentle Asian girl = perfect wife material - she's a gung ho outdoors kind of girl. A true leader. I guess us RGS girls weren't ever going to compare with SCGS girls in the gold and jade ladylike competition. We had a lovely lovely time. Shiying is one of my best friends and her energy is boundless. We went back to our old school Raffles Girls and walked around and it all looked so familiar. It was odd in a way as I dreamt about the spiral staircase last night or the night before and there it was, still as it was 9 years ago when we left our alma mater, 16 year old girls looking to take on the world with our best shot. We may not be the delicate Asian beauties like the SCGS girls but there's a bit of fight in every RGS girl. It's not that the teachers didn't try to make us ladies - we talked about the funny grooming classes too where we had to learn how to eat and how to walk haha! Past the canteen, the amphitheatre, the field which now has a proper running track, the area where the softball girls did batting practice, the tennis courts, D&T room with the smily teacher and deadly equipment, the mini-amphitheatre where we used to have house practice, the once pink but now icky brown stained rock wall that we scaled, the time capsule that was sealed about 10 years ago during Founders Day and the odd bronze statue of the front porch with the doves that are supposed to symbolise something that neither of us could remember haha ... the biology classrooms overlooking the carpark ... the stained glass window with our school crest and badge. Filiae Melioris Aevi. Daughters of a Better Age.
Those were my best days at school. We worked hard and played hard. It's uplifting to know that so many have passed through these gates and made a future for themselves. In some ways it gives me some strength to know that if nothing else, the RGS girl knew what she wanted and would work to get it, if nothing else, she had some fight left in her. And I am one of them.
Talking to Shiying also has some downsides as she works in finance and we were chatting about financial capitals of the world and all that finance talk made me quite sad as it reminds me of that nagging feeling that I don't feel necessary, I don't feel I belong to this Global City that encroaches on every part of our lives here in Singapore, or any other city ... though I guess in retrospect, it's partly because I feel so insecure at the moment, being a student and afraid that I'll always be a worry for my mum and my sister will always have to help me out financially ... and also the loneliness I guess. People tend to turn to retail therapy to buy things that will fill the gaps in their lives but I can't do that. I guess it's back to the whole feeling incomplete issue, about how when you come from a family that doesn't function you always want to fix it and make your own functional family ... it's a sort of instinctive wish-fulfillment of sorts. Shiying and I spoke of depression too, how she had a bout of depression when she was stuck in an unfulfilling job and she felt so free when she finally quit her bond and paid it all back but when depression was due to a more deep-rooted kind of dysfuntionality, like something that cannot be altered, like family issues, then it's something that stays with you and shapes you for life. I think that's why I feel rather mournful. I can't fix my family but there's the need to fix it yet the closest I got to having a stable relationship has now come to nought as well and after all that trust coming to nothing I sort of feel unable to relate. It's just numb with a dull chronic ache.
Apart from chatting and sharing confidances, we also went shopping as Shiying had such a huge blister she simply had to get some new footwear and I helped her pick one pair of sandals which I might get too :) and she chose another pair plus a belt for her trenchcoat. The drycleaner lost the belt so she hadn't worn it for 2 years but now that she was heading back to the US, she needed the coat again so it was quite a stroke of luck that we got her new shoes and a new belt all in the same shop! I quite enjoy shopping for people - Shiying hates shopping as it's too stressful. I used to shop with Jon to pick going out shirts and we even picked a jacket and shoes from Paris! He lost the jacket in one of his drunken intern nights out but we bought the same one the following year in Paris again. That was in 2003. Fran posted a photo of us all at my birthday meal, with Emily and Marc plus the usual crew, on Facebook.
At times like these no words but just a leaden weight falls upon my heart. If I hurt long enough it will hurt no longer.
One person, one half, then the relationship will never fade ... hokkien song lyric from 881, a new movie by Royston Tan that I went to watch with Zhiying yesterday. Intensely funny and immensely emotional. It's films like these that are uniquely Singaporean, with Singaporean nuances and requiring cultural capital that cannot be learnt but that is accumulated by a local-born growing up in the strange mish-mash of cultures that makes Singapore.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Tuesday, 14 August 2007
Finally got the internet working again after fishing the old battered cable out of the bin, wiping it down and replacing the new cable which refused to work. What's that they say? If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Though the thing is, the old cable connector has actually broken so it simply sits in the jack instead of clicking on securely so we thought we'd get a new cable but well, actually it's the other cable and not the connecting one that we'd changed that really needs replacing but that's not possible since it's fixed to the wall. Nevermind.
The weather is looking rather ominous. Convectional rain beckons this afternoon I think though you never know. I went swimming this morning. A measly 10 lengths of the wee pool downstairs. Still, it's a start and on Thursday, if there's good weather, I'll swim 15. Swimming was good and calming after grappling with the silly internet connection for an hour this morning. I returned refreshed and more relaxed, had a shower, put clothes in the basin to soak before handwashing them later and then prepared lunch for grandma and myself. Now I've finished doing the dishes and should be heading out shortly to get passport photographs taken so I can apply for my visa tomorrow morning. I'm going to give Zhiying a ring in case she's not up yet - she's got my offer letter which I need for tomorrow.
Jetlag is still making my sleeping hours wonky though less so than yesterday. I woke up at about 5am and couldn't get back to sleep until it got light. It is quite anxiety-inducing to try to sleep as the sun rises and it gets light. Alarm bells start ringing in your head and obviously when that happens it's pretty hard to get to sleep with all that racket inside. Still, I think I fell asleep at about 7ish as the next thing I knew was that it was 9am and my head ached again. I lay there for a while and finally got up at quarter to 10, a bit late for my liking but well, it was all right in the end. I managed to go for a swim and sort the computer out before my father tries to use it and finds it doesn't work and flies into a rage and then my poor mother has to try to solve the problem.
Another thing about waking up due to jetlag, and not just because you needed the loo, is that you actually wake up and remain quite awake for a while. Yesterday it took me 3 hours to get back to bed and I lay there from 3am to 6am. This morning it was slightly less, just over 2 hours probably, from 5am to 7ish. Yet during that period of wakefulness your mind seems to be in a rush to make up for lost time thinking about things and it goes on a sort of roller coaster ride roving through memories and you are lying there somewhat unable to move and unwilling - you are after all, trying to get back to sleep - and there are all these thoughts flying across your mind. And no points for guessing what kinds of thoughts those were. More of the same.
In the spirit of taking action to allay my fears, I decided to browse the classified job ads in the papers to get an idea of what kinds of jobs were available. I thought it was good to know what's out there, or at least what's advertised so I have an inkling of the job market. It's not promising at all unless you want to be a cleaner and sometimes I'm not sure if denial is a better course of action or if knowing that there are no jobs advertised is better. I guess I'll have to make speculative applications and hope that Singapore Press Holdings starts recruiting again. Apparently they are still cutting costs and cutting jobs and still on the employment freeze. So pop goes the magazine bubble. All this from the horse's mouth too - a journalist friend from the inside. Sigh. This is when the damsel in me starts waving her white handkerchief in distress and prays for her gallant knight to come and rescue her. And then I laugh at myself because evidently he's buggered off and ain't never coming back so save your prayers and think.
There's Isabel's sister who works in publishing too. She's got quite a cool contract that allows her to write in Canada and email stuff over while working for a Singapore-based magazine. I've signed up for the journalism course so I'll have writing samples when I make my speculative applications. Plus there's Eunice's contact for an internship with that accessories buying company though let's hope the GM doesn't decide to retire or change jobs before I can apply for that next year.
Sometimes it's hard not to think to oneself that Hope, really is a case of deluding oneself from the obvious reality that one is faced with, to enable one to keep going long enough till circumstances change, be it external circumstances wherein actual reality shifts or internal circumstances, wherein one is no longer capable of knowing fantasy from reality. Agh. it's half past one. I need to get a move on. Evidently hope can also be sustained by never drawing conclusions, or being forced to stop one's ruminations due to external factors such as being on time to keep appointments!
The weather is looking rather ominous. Convectional rain beckons this afternoon I think though you never know. I went swimming this morning. A measly 10 lengths of the wee pool downstairs. Still, it's a start and on Thursday, if there's good weather, I'll swim 15. Swimming was good and calming after grappling with the silly internet connection for an hour this morning. I returned refreshed and more relaxed, had a shower, put clothes in the basin to soak before handwashing them later and then prepared lunch for grandma and myself. Now I've finished doing the dishes and should be heading out shortly to get passport photographs taken so I can apply for my visa tomorrow morning. I'm going to give Zhiying a ring in case she's not up yet - she's got my offer letter which I need for tomorrow.
Jetlag is still making my sleeping hours wonky though less so than yesterday. I woke up at about 5am and couldn't get back to sleep until it got light. It is quite anxiety-inducing to try to sleep as the sun rises and it gets light. Alarm bells start ringing in your head and obviously when that happens it's pretty hard to get to sleep with all that racket inside. Still, I think I fell asleep at about 7ish as the next thing I knew was that it was 9am and my head ached again. I lay there for a while and finally got up at quarter to 10, a bit late for my liking but well, it was all right in the end. I managed to go for a swim and sort the computer out before my father tries to use it and finds it doesn't work and flies into a rage and then my poor mother has to try to solve the problem.
Another thing about waking up due to jetlag, and not just because you needed the loo, is that you actually wake up and remain quite awake for a while. Yesterday it took me 3 hours to get back to bed and I lay there from 3am to 6am. This morning it was slightly less, just over 2 hours probably, from 5am to 7ish. Yet during that period of wakefulness your mind seems to be in a rush to make up for lost time thinking about things and it goes on a sort of roller coaster ride roving through memories and you are lying there somewhat unable to move and unwilling - you are after all, trying to get back to sleep - and there are all these thoughts flying across your mind. And no points for guessing what kinds of thoughts those were. More of the same.
In the spirit of taking action to allay my fears, I decided to browse the classified job ads in the papers to get an idea of what kinds of jobs were available. I thought it was good to know what's out there, or at least what's advertised so I have an inkling of the job market. It's not promising at all unless you want to be a cleaner and sometimes I'm not sure if denial is a better course of action or if knowing that there are no jobs advertised is better. I guess I'll have to make speculative applications and hope that Singapore Press Holdings starts recruiting again. Apparently they are still cutting costs and cutting jobs and still on the employment freeze. So pop goes the magazine bubble. All this from the horse's mouth too - a journalist friend from the inside. Sigh. This is when the damsel in me starts waving her white handkerchief in distress and prays for her gallant knight to come and rescue her. And then I laugh at myself because evidently he's buggered off and ain't never coming back so save your prayers and think.
There's Isabel's sister who works in publishing too. She's got quite a cool contract that allows her to write in Canada and email stuff over while working for a Singapore-based magazine. I've signed up for the journalism course so I'll have writing samples when I make my speculative applications. Plus there's Eunice's contact for an internship with that accessories buying company though let's hope the GM doesn't decide to retire or change jobs before I can apply for that next year.
Sometimes it's hard not to think to oneself that Hope, really is a case of deluding oneself from the obvious reality that one is faced with, to enable one to keep going long enough till circumstances change, be it external circumstances wherein actual reality shifts or internal circumstances, wherein one is no longer capable of knowing fantasy from reality. Agh. it's half past one. I need to get a move on. Evidently hope can also be sustained by never drawing conclusions, or being forced to stop one's ruminations due to external factors such as being on time to keep appointments!
Later on ... Monday, 13 August 2007
It's beautiful beach weather today - and I'm back earlier than I thought I would be as Zhiying didn't go for her interview in the end, having overslept and so she'd only just woken up when I rang her at 3pm, just as LT was going to head to Dhoby Ghaut and then to the office for a meeting. So I came home instead of meeting up with Zhiying. LT's supposed to be having a day off but then work's quite hard-going as she's doing broadcast journalism and it's a more complicated and time-consuming than simply writing for the paper.
I had a nice chat over a long-ish lunch with LT at the food court. Big news - she's getting married next December! How wonderful. I'm really happy that she and JY made it through and I think YX and ZT are going to pull through their long distance relationship too though apparently they had some hiccups along the way. It's lovely that college sweethearts get married in the end. That's a great start as they have memories to share and build upon as they mature in their relationship. It will be the first wedding I'll be able to attend since I missed Charisse's wedding to Charlie last year when I was in Singapore while she was getting married in the UK and then I missed Shiying's wedding to Will this June when I was in the UK and the wedding was held in Singapore. It's quite exciting and I am going to make LT her wedding shoes too. How absolutely lovely to be able to get involved - I was quite excited about that over lunch. JY proposed last year and now they've even bought a flat already ... one's very own place.
Amidst the excitement and reminiscing about school days, LT said that school/uni days were much better than working the 12-14 hour days that she does now. It used to be a lot more carefree but now work is her life - such is the asian work ethic! I guess as long as you enjoy what you are doing, it makes it much easier to accept. Also as everyone gets married and gets busier with work, I'll be glad if I have a good job. Work will banish the emptiness and loneliness or at least tire me out so that I wouldn't brood about it so much. LT says that one never knows what can happen in the future with regard to relationships and I held back saying any more than the admission that I'm probably making it a self-fulfilling prophecy by not wishing to get involved. Yes perhaps I am not trying hard enough. Yet again, I don't want to be looking for someone as a means of escape. And thinking about relationships just makes me think about jon, how that came about and how much that meant to me, and still means to me ... but I didn't want to say what I meant because I guess I felt a little stupid to actually say, well I can't get over him and no one compares not only because of him as a person but the times we shared together, the memories we had, the experiences we went through. We feel because we are alive.
I watched "Paris, Je T'aime" on the plane and here is an extract from the final segment by Alexander Payne, "14th Arrondissement" which is probably my favourite ...
"Sometimes I think it would be nice to have someone with whom to share this life. For example, when I was looking down on Paris from atop a skyscraper, I wanted to say to someone, "It's beautiful isn't it?". But there isn't anyone. I thought about my ex-boyfriend, Dave, and whether he'd like this trip. But I felt a little stupid, because it had been 11 years since we last talked. He's now married and has three children.
And I found a very pretty little park. I sat down on a bench and ate the sandwich I had bought. It was very tasty. And then something happened, something that is hard to describe. Sitting there, alone in a foreign country, far from my job, and all the people I knew, a feeling came over me. As if I recalled something, something that I had never known and for which I had been waiting. But I didn't know what it was. Maybe it was something I had forgotten. Or something I had missed my whole life. I can only tell you that at the same time I felt joy and sadness. But not a great sadness. Because I felt alive. Yes. Alive.
That was the moment when I fell in love with Paris. And the moment when I felt that Paris had fallen in love with me. "
I had a nice chat over a long-ish lunch with LT at the food court. Big news - she's getting married next December! How wonderful. I'm really happy that she and JY made it through and I think YX and ZT are going to pull through their long distance relationship too though apparently they had some hiccups along the way. It's lovely that college sweethearts get married in the end. That's a great start as they have memories to share and build upon as they mature in their relationship. It will be the first wedding I'll be able to attend since I missed Charisse's wedding to Charlie last year when I was in Singapore while she was getting married in the UK and then I missed Shiying's wedding to Will this June when I was in the UK and the wedding was held in Singapore. It's quite exciting and I am going to make LT her wedding shoes too. How absolutely lovely to be able to get involved - I was quite excited about that over lunch. JY proposed last year and now they've even bought a flat already ... one's very own place.
Amidst the excitement and reminiscing about school days, LT said that school/uni days were much better than working the 12-14 hour days that she does now. It used to be a lot more carefree but now work is her life - such is the asian work ethic! I guess as long as you enjoy what you are doing, it makes it much easier to accept. Also as everyone gets married and gets busier with work, I'll be glad if I have a good job. Work will banish the emptiness and loneliness or at least tire me out so that I wouldn't brood about it so much. LT says that one never knows what can happen in the future with regard to relationships and I held back saying any more than the admission that I'm probably making it a self-fulfilling prophecy by not wishing to get involved. Yes perhaps I am not trying hard enough. Yet again, I don't want to be looking for someone as a means of escape. And thinking about relationships just makes me think about jon, how that came about and how much that meant to me, and still means to me ... but I didn't want to say what I meant because I guess I felt a little stupid to actually say, well I can't get over him and no one compares not only because of him as a person but the times we shared together, the memories we had, the experiences we went through. We feel because we are alive.
I watched "Paris, Je T'aime" on the plane and here is an extract from the final segment by Alexander Payne, "14th Arrondissement" which is probably my favourite ...
"Sometimes I think it would be nice to have someone with whom to share this life. For example, when I was looking down on Paris from atop a skyscraper, I wanted to say to someone, "It's beautiful isn't it?". But there isn't anyone. I thought about my ex-boyfriend, Dave, and whether he'd like this trip. But I felt a little stupid, because it had been 11 years since we last talked. He's now married and has three children.
And I found a very pretty little park. I sat down on a bench and ate the sandwich I had bought. It was very tasty. And then something happened, something that is hard to describe. Sitting there, alone in a foreign country, far from my job, and all the people I knew, a feeling came over me. As if I recalled something, something that I had never known and for which I had been waiting. But I didn't know what it was. Maybe it was something I had forgotten. Or something I had missed my whole life. I can only tell you that at the same time I felt joy and sadness. But not a great sadness. Because I felt alive. Yes. Alive.
That was the moment when I fell in love with Paris. And the moment when I felt that Paris had fallen in love with me. "
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Monday, 13 August 2007
It's just past mid-day and I've just run my first errand of the day - going to Lok Ho Yun vegetarian restaurant to get vegetarian bee hoon for grandma's lunch. It's the first day of the seventh month today, aka Hungry Ghosts' Festival and dotted along many a street pillar corner there are little offerings and bits of burnt offerings, candle wax, etc. It was quite easy to find the restaurant and I got there at about 7 minutes past 11 and got back home at about quarter to 12. So it was quite quick even though I had to change buses.
I was awakened at 3am with a bit of a headache, tossed and turned around till I finally got up and tried to look for painkillers. I managed to find some, and took one tablet, swallowed it (thank goodness ... !) and then went back to bed. I didn't get to sleep till 6am though as I checked my phone for the time pretty much every hour until 5am and as the minutes passed I thought to myself, ok, mum's alarm is going to go off soon and so it did. Off it went at 6 am. I managed to sleep before it got light though but woke up at 9am with a heavy head. Prised myself out of bed at quarter past as I wanted to have breakfast and be in good time to buy lunch for grandma.
Breakfast was Post oat cluster cereal with strawberries which look suspiciously flat. Apparently they are real strawberries but my do they look like they were flattened considerably in the freeze-drying process. They didn't plumpen up in the milk either. Oh well eh. The milk here is from Australia or at least the one I had was and it tastes really odd. I think if nothing else, the British can pride themselves on producing yummier milk. And I am not alone in this opinion.
While on the bus, it was nice to look at the buildings that look so familiar in spite of the changes and modernisation that is going on around them. I grew up around here so it's good and familiar. I guess everyone likes to feel a sense of belonging. While I was lying in bed in the darkness, my thoughts wandered to Jon and memories of before. I panicked about not being able to find a job and being useless, a leech on my poor mother and sister and I felt terrible. I tried to steady my thoughts though as I didn't want to start crying and sobbing in case mum woke up. I guess there may come a time when I may have to concede that everything's failed but I mustn't quit before having started. I thought about Andy in "The Devil Wears Prada" and how she'd been editor in chief at Northwestern's college paper but still she had no replies from anyone apart from one job - to be second assistant to Miranda Priestly - hardly what one would have thought but the point is that she'd tried and I haven't yet and I'm not finished with education yet so it's not my time to give up and break down yet. After all, no one's going to be able to sort my own life out. I just wish that like Andy has Nate, I have Jon. And I wish I didn't have the guilt of feeling so unnecessary, such a burden. He was really rather rude to mum last night, just chucking the paper on the table and not even asking her nicely to help him type it but pretty much almost flying into a tantrum hissyfit. I know it's hard to earn money and it's difficult when one is frustrated to keep a cool head but he is insufferable. I guess the good that comes out of it is that I feel a greater need to make something of myself and not end up like him, and also be able to look after mum. Looking at his behaviour, marriage takes on the visage of an ogre. Yet if I never do then I can never spread my wings. Oh well, I guess I have more to learn about duty. Western individualism has made it difficult but this is Singapore, City of Possibilities.
"But we must never feel sorry for ourselves, must we? No matter how bad things get, they can always get worse." - Ever After
I was awakened at 3am with a bit of a headache, tossed and turned around till I finally got up and tried to look for painkillers. I managed to find some, and took one tablet, swallowed it (thank goodness ... !) and then went back to bed. I didn't get to sleep till 6am though as I checked my phone for the time pretty much every hour until 5am and as the minutes passed I thought to myself, ok, mum's alarm is going to go off soon and so it did. Off it went at 6 am. I managed to sleep before it got light though but woke up at 9am with a heavy head. Prised myself out of bed at quarter past as I wanted to have breakfast and be in good time to buy lunch for grandma.
Breakfast was Post oat cluster cereal with strawberries which look suspiciously flat. Apparently they are real strawberries but my do they look like they were flattened considerably in the freeze-drying process. They didn't plumpen up in the milk either. Oh well eh. The milk here is from Australia or at least the one I had was and it tastes really odd. I think if nothing else, the British can pride themselves on producing yummier milk. And I am not alone in this opinion.
While on the bus, it was nice to look at the buildings that look so familiar in spite of the changes and modernisation that is going on around them. I grew up around here so it's good and familiar. I guess everyone likes to feel a sense of belonging. While I was lying in bed in the darkness, my thoughts wandered to Jon and memories of before. I panicked about not being able to find a job and being useless, a leech on my poor mother and sister and I felt terrible. I tried to steady my thoughts though as I didn't want to start crying and sobbing in case mum woke up. I guess there may come a time when I may have to concede that everything's failed but I mustn't quit before having started. I thought about Andy in "The Devil Wears Prada" and how she'd been editor in chief at Northwestern's college paper but still she had no replies from anyone apart from one job - to be second assistant to Miranda Priestly - hardly what one would have thought but the point is that she'd tried and I haven't yet and I'm not finished with education yet so it's not my time to give up and break down yet. After all, no one's going to be able to sort my own life out. I just wish that like Andy has Nate, I have Jon. And I wish I didn't have the guilt of feeling so unnecessary, such a burden. He was really rather rude to mum last night, just chucking the paper on the table and not even asking her nicely to help him type it but pretty much almost flying into a tantrum hissyfit. I know it's hard to earn money and it's difficult when one is frustrated to keep a cool head but he is insufferable. I guess the good that comes out of it is that I feel a greater need to make something of myself and not end up like him, and also be able to look after mum. Looking at his behaviour, marriage takes on the visage of an ogre. Yet if I never do then I can never spread my wings. Oh well, I guess I have more to learn about duty. Western individualism has made it difficult but this is Singapore, City of Possibilities.
"But we must never feel sorry for ourselves, must we? No matter how bad things get, they can always get worse." - Ever After
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