Birthdays

Last week was a very birthday-ish week.

First it was Shalini's - my cousin, who is buried eyeballs deep in impeding A level exams that she didn't even realise she legally became a person on the 20th.


Then there was Prashanth - my brother, who reached a major milestone in his life on the 24th, but still looks like the annoying 14 year-old who made my life so interesting in so many ways. Happy 30th, bro!

It was also Angie's birthday on the 24th. And Rachel's on the 25th. We went to this place called oomphatico's for birthday dessert, which was superlatively fun. The desserts were really really good and the conversation, even better. Happy birthday, girls!


And of course, the 27th was Hanan's. Who is still celebrating, what with the one week holidays in full force. Unleash the boy!

Happy Birthday Hanan

My baby is nine.

Has it really been almost 10 years since I was in the first flush of motherhood, throwing my guts up after drinking even water?

Has it been 8 years since he took his halting steps, and made us jump up and rush to his side everytime he fell?

Has it been five whole years since his first day of school, where his teacher had to pry his little hands of mine, and I walked away crying more than he was?

Was it only 3 years ago that that I decided I wouldn't do the kiasu parent thing and not put my boy in 400 enrichment classes, but let him find his passion and follow in on his own?

Wow.

Happy birthday son! I hope you become the man God intends for you to be.

This darned cold

There is nothing worse than being forced to work when your throat hurts, your eyes are streaming and every cough makes you regret not doing Kegel exercises when you were younger.

Argh!

And the swollen saliva gland under my chin either makes me look like a man with a misplaced Adam's apple or a bullfrog. Just what I need - another chin.

The antibiotics I am on look like pills for horses, I honestly don't understand how the doctor thinks I can fit them down my sore and delicate throat.

Oh that this season is ended!!!

Ok, I am done griping. Back to your regular programme.

Thank You Taxi Uncle

We in Singapore we like to complain about, well, just about everything, I think I want to take time out to thank an intergral part of our transport system. The ubiquitous "taxi uncle", as we call cabbies on this island.

Of course it takes an encounter with a really bad one to help me realise how good our cabbies actually are, and I had one such cause for comparision recently.

I hailed him in Yishun, and told him to take me to Woodlands - what under normal cicumstances is a 7 minute ride. This one took 20. He never went more than 40km/h at third gear, made sure all the cars at an intersection moved off before he started moving and finally asked me at least 12 times during that ride if he was to "go straight" which I already him to at the beginning.

I asked, "Are you a new cabbie?"
He said, "Yes, I have only been driving for two days."
And then volunteered, "I haven't driven a car since I got my driver's license more than 10 years ago."

!!!

So you can see why I am grateful for the majority of cabbies in Singapore who are polite, know the roads well, drive like pros and get me to my location in the prescribed amount of time.

I am extra grateful for those who engage in conversation rather than fall asleep at the wheel, share their life stories and ask for mine and considerately wait till I get into the lift before driving off to make sure my safety isn't compromised.

Taxi Uncles, you rock! Most of ya!

exams and birthdays

It's that season again, where teachers start to panic, pile on the homework, and try and make sure that the kids know the subject matter, either by understanding or mere repetition.

Yes, its the awful CA2, which always hits my son badly because it happens either during or just after his birthday, ths diminishing his enjoyment.

One of the things that really affects him is that he has to balance being nice to his parents who are bringers of parties and presents with the endless frustration of being nagged, scolded and given a earful about schoolwork.

To add to that we have tution teachers who give the parents homework, along the lines of
- "Make sure he does.."
- "Make sure you go through.. with him"
- "Make sure you check his...."

And here I was, thinking I left school behind me.

I need my memory chip enhanced

Ken Mamlin shared a really cool idea at yesterday's class that Man would have no knowledge of anything if God didn't put it there.

And then, he illustrated it with a story of how God took the "Sanity" chip out of Nebuchannezzar's brain for 7 years for being proud and egotistical. And had him crawling around like an animal. And then when he came back, they gave him back his kingdom. Them crazy Babylonians. Anyhoo....

So, I am asking now - can I please have an extra "memory" chip, so I can memorise the 5 page script that I received this morning, for tomorrow's performance?

IN the words of Cathy Guisewhite - "AACK!"

Dedicated to our 43rd National Day

Before you were formed
I knew you.
A tiny red dot on a pale blue dot.

I prepared the hearts of men and women,
Valiant and adventurous,
who were passionate about me and my people.
And you.

They came in big steamships,with the EIC.
And started to build My house.
For you.

I saw you in your infancy.
Your halting steps as you struggled to
Make a difference in your corner of the world.
As trade and commerce flourished, I saw you stretch your hands
To meet the needs of the old, the infirmed, the defenceless.

I watched as your face changed,
from white and foreign,
to brown and yellow and local.

I prospered your people across the nation
Blessed them to be a blessing.

On a tiny red dot on a pale blue dot.

When you plunged into turmoil,
And war tore through your veins.
How I longed to gather you up.

But I stayed my hand, and let your raise yourself,
And I preserved you, as my people prayed.
I healed your land and made it strong,
Strong enough to stand on its own.

AndI watched you standing there, through the strife
Shining glorious and bright.
Full of fire and energy for this new nation.
The tiny red dot on a pale blue dot.

Like a true daughter of Sarah,
I saw you get younger & more radiant
as the years went by.

Pooling together when needed.
Finding an itch and scratching it.
Making Me known.

You call yourself by many names
You put on many garments.
But you will always be My cherished bride.
I prepared you for My glory.

You are the church,
in the tiny red dot on a pale blue dot.
You are beloved.
You are Mine.

Says. Said. Saying

Now he wants to talk.
When I have nothing else to say.
When I think the time for talking is past,
and I want it to be clean, quick and simple.

Now he wants to discuss.
The "various aspects" of us.
I don't remember any of them,
they all seem so long long ago.

Now he wants to heal,
when the scabs are well-adhered,
and nothing is bleeding anymore.
Not my heart. Definitely not my heart.

Now my God, He speaks.
Turn around and listen.
You may not have the words,
but your heart is still Mine to hold.

Swim Team Mania

Olympic Fever was rampant at my work place this morning as the US Swim Team had a meet and greet session with the members and the press. 100s of people turned up armed with posters, autograph books, swim boards, caps, T shirts.. basically anything that a marker can be applied to.

While I wasn't really into swimming etc, I was really inspired by Dara Torres, who at 41 is the oldest swimmer on the team AND who is swimming faster now than she did when she was in her 20s.

But being the shy and retiring person that I am, I never told anyone that of the 40 over swimmers, she is the one I really wanted to meet.

Read this next bit carefully, cos this is proof that my God is good and loves me.

We met the Media Director for the Swim Team yesterday and she said she had a last minute media request for a one to one interview and can one of us organise it. My boss volunteered me (as bosses do). I expected it would be Phelps or Coughlin, cos that was all the media here was interested in covering.

Then the Media Director says, "Ok Nalinee, I will see you by the pool at 8.30 and you can bring Dara to the interview."

And I am like "Dara??! Dara Torres?"

So, I got to spend 20 exclusive minutes with Dara, and see a side of her no one here got to see.
Oh, and I got this.



How good is my God!!!

Anyhoo, here are some other random shots of the team for the rest of you.

Friends and Canele

I love Tuesday night. Not in general, but the last one was really good. I love nothing more than spending time in the company of people who know me and love me despite myself, and in the midst of more delicious dessert than even I can possible eat.

Look at that. What can you say in the presence of such sumptuousness? And this is one I didn't eat.




R and KH are friends from before. And if you have to ask before when, clearly you weren't there. Heh heh.

As we sat and talked and tried to ignore the sound of the funky fountain, which made some of us need to pee more than once, it struck me - wow, these are people I can be quiet and spaced out with, and they won't think I am a total ditz. Oh they might, but it would be ok.

We shared so much that night - memories of the past, hopes for our futures, we talked of the meaningful and the mundane, "of shoes, ships and sealing wax and of cabbages and kings" as Lewis Carroll wrote.

Though we didn't solve world hunger or even each other's problems, I think we all felt a little bit richer for having the others in our lives. I know I did.

This is what church is, I thought. A group of people who share life, feed hopes and dreams and are God-with-skin, as Sy Rogers says, to each other.

I am so glad I have this.

Do you even know me?

The more time passes, the more people grow
And things you once knew, or thought you knew
can pass away.

So to take the flaws of my youth,
and cast them up to me with ridicule
is chldish to say the least
and cruel to say the most.

For once I saw with childish eyes,
and was impressed by star quality.
But have since realised that what is outwardly real
doesn't run deep, no, not really.

If not, in the naivete of my young exuberance,
why would I have chosen you?

But I guess I ought to thank you
for this cynical streak,
that makes me question the outward celebrity
and care more about the spirit within.

More than the strife is the pain
of the crushing loneliness
of existing with someone who does not
know you, and hence know how you've grown.


"If" is a tragic word.

Last pic post from Hillsong 08

Elgin and me at Bondi, pretending to have a deep meaningful conversation, but probably just talking about how purple socks go well with orange sneakers. He is me in a man's body. Or I want to be him in a woman's body. Or something. I love you, 'Gin. I know you get what I am saying here.



Suni and me in front of the Acer Arena, where all the good stuff happened at Hillsong. Gosh, I miss the place, and the time. Suni is a bit mad. Another new friend.




Eating at some random Chinese restaurant, of which there are millions in Sydney. I dunno what Australians ate before Asians got there. I walked the entire length of George St looking for something non-Asian to eat, and besides fast food, there was NOTHING.

Yes, I do look a bit psychotic in this photo, but that's because I was set up. We were ALL supposed to look psychotic. I think psychotic is my word of the month. I use it at least once a day.



As a fitting finale to this post, this is me at the Mediterranean Sea overlooking one of the Greek islands. At least, I want to think it is. Isn't it gorgeous?

More pics from Hillsong

I am gonna run out of titles before I post all the pics, I am sure!

But here we go.



This was at Bondi Beach. The guy on the left who looks ostracised is my pastor. Heh heh


The Girls of FGA. And yes, Angie is realy that tall.



Rhordan and Chilu. We were standing outside a gate not alocated to us, hoping there will be room for us. Chilu was the volunteer managing the crowd in that section. "He said "I will only let you in if you are from Singapore." At which we all chorused,"We are ALL from Singapore." He was just a quirky, colourful character, we couldn't help but like him.




Getting our coffees and muffins before the morning session. Have I mentioned how yummy the lattes in Australia are? I miss them. This is most of the people from church.





And this is me, on a ferry with the Sydney skyline behind me. I like the fact that I look "windswept and interesting". Anyone can tell me who that quote is from?

Sydney!

So, in case you, dear reader, start thinking that my so called trip to Sydney was just a well-imagined day dream, here are some photos to make it all real!

Apologies to all the peeps I stole photos from. I was too overwhelmed to take my own.


The peeps

Hot Dog!! At the Roma Coffee Festival. Australian Cafe Latte is probably one of the best in the world.


In case you have never seen this building before, this is the Sydney Opera House. Now say ooooh, ahhhh! Good.

Beam me up Scotty!

Duh, really!

Hillsong 08

What a trip! What a rush! What a simply exhilirating experience! Hillsong 08 was the conference of wonder, amazement and awe, and it was all centred upon the person of Jesus.

How do I sum up the experience?
20,000 screaming Jesus fans. One major Acer Arena. 5 amazing bands and musicians. 8 phenonmenal speakers. And change - the meaning of change, the need for change and the empowerment to change.

It was also rather exhausting. A typical day saw us awaking at 6.00am and leaving the YHA at 7.00am to make it to the Acer Arena by 8.15am. Then it was conference till about 1.30 with the morning sessions. The electives happened from 2 -3pm and the first night rally at 4.30pm. Then it was the amazing 7.30 rally which I think had the best music, best speakers and was seriously anointed. Not to mention all the amazing testimonies.

I am still in the midst of uploading all the photos and vids to facebook and youtube respectively (a task NOT aided by the fact that my company blocks both), but I can't wait to share all the stuff here.

Meanwhile, I am on fire with all the things I want to fix, with God's help!

The Day Before

I leave for Sydney tomorrow and I can't wait! This will be the herald of many firsts.

1) First time at Hillsong Conference. Yaaay!

2) First time in Sydney. Yeah, I know, how did I get an Australian education without going to one of its major cities, right? I didn't know anyone there at the time, and Sydney was so crass and commercialised then. (Still is, but when you are an arts student, it's not cool to do crass and commercialised.)

3) First holiday in a year. Since I started work at this new place, I have not had time to take leave, especially with the revolving door of staff turnover lately. So this will be well-deserved and high time.

4) First time I will be spending more than 24 hours with this bunch of people. I like them well enough under normal circumstances, but I really I don't travel well with people generally, despite how much I like them otherwise. Especially if they are late for rendezvous, can't decide on anything and only want to shop all the time. This will be a good test.

Tonight I wil agonise over what to pack, and indubitably bring too many clothes, not enough underwear and "essentials" that will be totally unnecessary. I also get to wear my new "bling" shoes, which I am really looking forward to. Nice?

Change

It sometimes takes the sound and lucid counsel of a friend to see what's before your very eyes. Not that your eyes were closed, but like in a scary movie, your hands are held in from of them, allowing you to see only some parts of the horror unfolding on screen.

How is it that we resist change and encourage statis in our culture, when in nature, change is the only constant? It's hard for us to acknowledge change, much less embrace it.

Hence, seeing change is courage and accepting it, sheer herosim. Being creatures in motion, we tend to stay in motion, not just at a cellular level, but also our dreams, aspirations and motivations. Tossed about with other similar yet vastly different concatenation of cells, how do you ignore the Brownian theory?

God of course underlines and demonstrates this in His promise to move as a Spirit. Not a rock, not a statue, not a place, but Spirit, always moving, changing, adjusting to our changes to bring about the best results.

Trust the Spirit. Embrace change without fear.

Dancing in the moonlight aka Birthday Post II

It was the perfect ending to a beautiful day. I couldn't have asked for better. A picked me up at 7.30 from Far East Plaza, where I had hurriedly changed out of my birthday clothes (as opposed to a birthday suit) and into comfortable jeans and T shirt.

A. was slightly tardy, but it was fun people watching at Far East. It's like entering a different paradigm, where everyone has an extra W chromosome.

Anyway, she drove us to East Coast Park, near the old Big Splash (what is that place called now anyway?)There, as the gentle breeze blew through my carefully brushed hair, creating what looked like an Amy Winehouse bird's nest, I saw M, R and J in the distance, engaged in what looked like successful "chope-ing" of a stone table.

At A's insistance, we spread some mats on the sand and sat down. The guys tried their darnest to light candles and finally managed to light one. Which is a good thing, because it was kinda dark.

G joined us just as we opened the food - talk about good timing. We laughed and talked more than we ate, but that's good.

There was a stange little outdoor pub nearby that had a guitar and singer duo who started off well, but got progressively worse at the night wore on. But they added so much fun to the night, as we sang along, almost as badly as they did.

My chocolate fudge cake was perfect, especially with the one candle that the boys managed to light, and hold lit by cupping 4 pairs of hands around it, so that I had the fun of blowing out. I have the best friends. Have I mentioned that already?

Here are ten things that I find out I mean to my dearest and nearest. Thank you A, for making them do the "Nalinee Appreciation" speeches.
1) Witty
2) Intelligent
3) Funny
4) Aggressive
5) Task Oriented
6) Purveyor of useless facts and info
7) Drama Mama
8) Dependable
9) Trustworthy
10) Loved

With that much affirmation, how can anyone ask for a better birthday eh?

18 million

That's how many minutes I have already been blessed to receive so far and I hope there will be another 18 million to look forward to. At least.

It a very good thing, a birthday. It makes you take stock of things in a different light. And people are nice to you. Very nice.

I started mine with breakfast with T. It was her wedding anniversary (26 years!!!) and her husband is away, so we decided to celebrate both occasions with a decadent breakfast at Delifrance. Yum yum. Never underestimate the happiness butter and croissants can brng you.

Then I got on a slow boat to Little India to meet my dad for lunch. It is the first time in a long while that I saw my dad on my birthday, but it felt right. He is one of my biggest cheerleaders and a huge celebrant of my life, so it was fitting that he was there.

We shared a plate of "kothu parata", which I didn't really like, and regaled me with tales of his work and life, which I loved. The thing about my dad is, he can take the most mundane, boring, everyday event, and dramatise it to the point where you are on the edge of your seat and biting your fingernails frantically, waiting to see how it all ends. I wish I had that gift.

After dad went back to work, I wended my way to Shaw Centre (House? I can never remember), hoping to see a movie I missed. Turns out both Prince Caspian and Sex and the City were showing. I finally decided on Prince Caspian, because I was in a deep, reflective kinda mood as opposed to frivolity. (don't get me wrong, I love frivolity in the right mood.)

Prince Caspian was a good movie in many ways, but maybe i am dumbing down or something, but I didn't really get all that theology that some people I know were raving about. It was a good story about a king taking his rightful place with a little help from his friends. Hmm, I wonder which other epic fantasy story adapted into a screenplay had this storyline.

But the cream and chocolate shavings topping on the perfect day was yet to come.......

American Gangster - Movie Review

My colleague bought me a DVD of "American Gangster" for my birthday, which makes me really quite delighted. I guess with all the moaning I did about missing it when it was in the cinemas, he got the hint.

Anyway, I made good use of my evening yesterday and watched it. And it was worth all 175 minutes (this was the uncut edition and well deserving of its M18 rating).

Denzel is the comsummate gangster, with his look of barely controlled rage and "I am so pissed off you are even alive" look. Of course that man is so yummy, I could just eat him with a spoon, but he is also an amazing actor. I studied it carefully and I realised what it is - it's the way he walks. Denzel's walk, part swagger, part strut and all testosterone, is what makes him so perfect for this role. It is confidence, laced with gangsta. How to lose?

Ok, before this turns into a Denzel droolfest, let's get into the movie, shall we?
American gangster is a true story about Frank Lucas, the first black man to monopolise and dominate the drug scene in America. On his trail is Richie Roberts (Russell Crowe, a reluctant loser cop whose unpopularity to the rest of the NJPD has him heading a narcotics task force which operates outside the system to get all the baddies.

Ok, sypnopsis aside, this movie has many other themes which you will remember from other gangster movies - family, loyalty, love and of course chicks and cold blooded killings.

But what really got me about this movie was the motivation behind Lucas' actions.
Having come from a violent childhood, the oldest of 6 children, being poor, being a urban refugee, he embodies the American Dream. Finding capitalism a better option to patriotism, he milks the system, collects on his favours and doesn't take crap.

In any other industry, he would be the Times Man of the Year.

But crime doesn't pay, kiddos, and this point is stressed even though only 2 people in the movie actually beleive this. And that includes all the boys in blue who serve and protect.

If gangster movies are not your thing, give this one a wide berth. But if you can handle a little blood, violence and crime, and think Denzel is da bomb, then you have to see this.

I saw Indiana Jones 4 twice

Yes. It is true. It was every bit as disappointing as everyone made it out to be, but I spent hard earned money and saw it twice.

Why? Because I forgot I promised my mum I would take her to it. And if I told her I already saw it, I would never hear the end of it.

So I lied, and pretended I didn't see it yet, and oohed and aahed and ewwed in all the right places.

Don't ever tell me I am not a consumate actress.

Ok, IJ4 wasn't that bad. It's just that if you were a fan of the series, then it was a bit disappointing. I was trying to put my finger on it, until I read this review by my favourite writer and then I realised he was absolutely right. What made Indy cool in 1 and 3 were the realistic, based-on-fact storylines. Which is also what made Temple of Doom so sucky.

IJ4's ending was more ridiculous than Temple of Doom, which at least had the saving grace of that cute little kid whose name escapes me at the moment. Till the last 15 minutes, it was a very good action-adventure flick, but then it was like they just couldn't decide whether to make it metaphysical or science fiction, and went hey, let's do both!! Geez Louise, pick a plot already.

However, how about that Shia LeBeouf eh? I thought he was quite brilliant in this movie, not quite stealing Harrison Ford's thunder, but coming pretty darn close sometimes. I think they probably wrote his part down a bit, so he wouldn't overshadow the big man himself. But I am gonna watch this kid, I think he will go far.

IJ4 is not a bad movie the way Aeonflux was bad, but it's not what one would expect from the Spielberg-Lucas powerhouse. This one won't be winning any awards, boys. Unless there is a category for "Cheesiest Ending with cliched punchline"

Waiting for Lontong

Everyday, the place I work has a designated menu for staff lunch, which comprises 2 usually rather delicious dishes, which are available to staff for just over $3. The offering are usually quite respectable, comprising mainly of local dishes like fish curry, fried HK noodles and the odd continental dish like fish and chips.

Today's menu was pineapple fried rice or chicken lontong. I decided on the chicken lontong, because of my problem with pineapple (gives me ulcers)

I placed my order at 12.20pm. And waited. My tardy colleagues from marcom arrived 10 minutes later.

And waited. My tardy colleagues received their food. (pineapple rice was probably pre-made, I tell myself)

And waited. Tardy colleagues finished lunch and were talking about dessert and coffee (maybe they ran out of lontong and were making fresh ones, I reasoned).

And waited. Tardy colleagues finish coffee and head back to work, leaving me to the company of coleagues who came after me. And who were happily eating their pineapple rice.

And waited. I am reminded that my lunch hour is not in fact an hour, but 45 minutes. Something to do with working 44 hours and still getting alternate Saturdays off. Anyway...

Finally a platter containing what does NOT look like pineapple rice arrives and is placed in front of me. Time check: 1.15pm.

Just for the record, I am not a patient person. On the contrary, I hate waiting and have a 10 minute waiting threshold for appointments and meetings.

So why did I do all that waiting? I think I just wanted to see how far they would go. And now I know. one near bloody hour. And did anyone apologise or explain the situation? No.

I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that we pay a subsidised price. However, as my friend Chin would say, "But still!!"

Weddings and such

This has been a very wedding-y season. In the last 2 months, I have attended 3 weddings, with one more in two weeks. It has been a tremendous strain on the emotions, not to mention the pocket.

Yesterday's wedding was another Indian extravaganza where 4 million people are crammed into a hall meant for 1000 at most, waiting for the pivotal moment where the groom ties the nuptial string around the bride's neck with 3 reef knots (as opposed to a noose knot), and everyone breathes a sigh of relief that the buffet is now open.

Ok, I admit that was a bit cynical, but honestly, you should have seen the mass exodus into the dining area the minute that ceremony was over. It was like noone was actually there for the bride and groom.

Then there is the whole "line up to present gifts" thing. Of course in Singapore, where cash is king, noone gives presents anymore. Show me the money, baby!

I noticed only one very "foreign talent" looking couple grasping their gift wrapped in purple paper (no less), looking slightly worried that their present may be flung back on their faces and hard cash demanded.

But as all weddings, baby blessings and funerals are, this was a good chance to catch up with old friends who you thought fell off the face of the earth. Upon talking for a while you realise YOU are the one that fell off.

This wedding was a Ngee Ann ICS circa 1995 gathering, which was strange to say the least. I had to crack my brain to remember who was talking to who, who stole whose girfriend, and which of the stately (and portly) men who are now husbands and fathers were the biggest skirt chasers back then. Back then...(cue wavy lines)

Ah, nostalgia.

Anyway, after the wedding, I was sufficiently depressed to seek some liquid solace. So upon calling a few friends, I decided to join a bunch on my first sojourn to St James Power Station. After blathering around for a bit, we finally decided on the Latin music place called Movido's (Movida's - Thanks, Ah-neh). It has a good band from Paraguay, with the DJ spinning World music in between for a bit of a kick.

But oh my, the crowd. It was so packed, that there wasn't even space to flatulate. Dancing comprised of shuffling your feet and moving your shoulders. Everything else had to be on the inside. However the band impressed enough for me to want to go back and check them out on a quieter night. Anyone wanna go with me?

Ok, I have digressed enough. Back to weddings.
Here is what I wrote on the card/ moneyholder yesterday.

They say a man who finds a wife, finds for himself a precious thing.
To be protected under his arm, held close to his heart and cherished with his words and deeds.
You have found such a woman; exalt her and let her embrace you with the fragrance of her femininity.

Commitment

I made a commitment this weekend.

People who know me know what a big deal this is. I am not the kind of person who likes to commit to something for long, preferring the excitment of change and variety to the steadfastness (steadfastity?) of a long term relationship.

But this was different.

For one thing, it did not require me to give up anything that I love already anyway.
If anything, based on what was presented on saturday, it will enhance my experience in this respect.

So, upon signing on the dotted line, I just I am now a figurative card-carrying member.

Based on past expeience, I haven't done this well. I hope I don't screw this one up too.

The week after

Now that things are back to normal for a while at work, its time to catch up on all the things/ people I love to do/see that I haven't even thought of doing in a while.

Started off on Sunday with a night out on the town with S. Haven't see him since St Paddy's day and that was not the most fun night. 3 guys sitting around talking about the SAF is not really my idea of a good time. Although the pints of Kilkenny kinda made up for it.

So on Sunday, we went to 3 very different clubs - one with a great view outside but not inside, the second where i was probably the only one over 30 and finally to this joint that was probably fun if you could see through all the smoke. Smoke machine smoke. Cos smoking is banned in clubs, in case you didn't know.

Monday, after sleeping of the initial stages of inebriation, I met A and T for coffee at TCC. TCC is probably my fave cafe now. Its got great service, love the drinks and to top it off, they have the best dessert in the world.

ladies and gents, feast your eyes on "Dark Devotion"


It is a warm chocolate cake with a molten centre, topped with vanilla ice cream and a raspberry croulis. Heaven.

And on Tuesday, I came home to watch "The Last Mimzy" with my son. Sucky theology, great sci fi.

Today is Thursday, and I may go get a facial. God knows its time. My skin looks like Tommy Lee Jones on a good day.

It's over

The really big event that I had been stressing over the last 2 months is finally over, and I feel like a huge stone has been lifted off my chest.
Its been a really exciting, stressful, rewarding and frustrating time. And if that sounds confusing, then you know exactly how I feel.

So in the midst of the post-production blues, I will recount some key points, lest I forget.

1) The number of people who appreciate your efforts far outweigh those that don't, even if they don't always say it. And the naysayers are totally inconsequential.

2) People who do say how much they appreciate your efforts are worth their weight in gold.

3)Things don't go according to plan always, but that's ok.

4) When things do go wrong, it is not cool to squat down in a foetal position and put your head in your hands. Not glamourous. This is exactly what I did when my slide show didn't come on with the music as planned and then hung for an eternal 7 seconds. Not glamourous at all.

5) It's also not cool to yell at your colleagues when they are just as frazzled as you are about aforementioned slide show boo boo. And be thankful when they understand you are stressed and don't hold it against you. Thanks ZW and TX, for being decent human beings.

6) When people come and harangue you about stuff you can't control, it's good when your CEO walks by and provides the answers and shuts the person up. At this point, its also ok to smile smugly. That told you, little Miss Control Freak.

7) It really feels good to see the President and his wife laughing, clapping and having a good time. Makes all the crap worthwhile.

8) It's nice being hugged by your boss :)

Moving

Whoever scheduled us to move office in the same week as the most important club event of the year ought to be strung up and made to listen to 12 hours of the Umbrella song.

It was a nightmare. No email, no phone, no fax, boxes everywhere. It took its toll on us in the way of strained backs, general stinkiness and the wonderful feeling of having 3000 things to do and not getting any of it done. Sigh.

The new temp office is not as bad as I thought though. Its sorta like a cabana in the middle of the forest, a little hideaway where noone can find us.

Which is not a bad thing.

But, oh, the timing. It really riles me.

Life according to my Ipod

The Rules.
1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question even if it doesn’t make sense.
4. With the answers down, or even comment on it.
5. Tag 5 people.

1) How are you feeling today?
Dil To Pagal Hai
(My Heart is Mad. Yep Yep, sounds about right)

2) Will you get far in life?
Let Your Love Go by Bread
(Hmm, cryptic, but a message there, maybe?)

3) What’s your best friend’s theme song?
Something more than this from Baghdad Cafe, the Musical
(Oh absolutely)

4) What is the story of your life?
Came to the Rescue by Hillsong United
(Woah, thats just so true isnt it? If I wasn't rescued from my cesspit of a life, and found the Lord, goodness now what I will be now)

5) What was school like?
London Bridge by Bread
(Yes, it was indeed falling down all around me, all the time)

6) How can you get ahead with life?
Khabi Khabi Mere Dil Mein from Movie Khabi Khabi
(Sometimes,sometimes, this heart of mine... Quite true this. I tend to follow my heart more than my heart more times than I care to count)

7) Whats the best thing about your friends?
Dismal Day by Bread
(As in they brighten up my...)

8) Describe your grandparents.
Nee Kattum Selai
(Translation: The Sari you wear. Strange. I do remember seeing my grandmother in a sari alot)

9) How’s your life going?
How Much More from You Gave album
(I do feel overly and abundantly blesses at times. Not lately, but at times.)

10) What will be played at my funeral?
Shout to the Lord
(Yes Yes!!! Couldn't have said it better)

11) Will you have a happy life?
If by Bread
(Woah... like..woah )

12) What do your friends really think of you?
Shout your fame by Hillsong
(Please do. I lap up affirmation of this sort)

13) Do people secretly lust after you?
Look what you have done by Bread
(Is that a yes?)

14) How can you make yourself happy?
God is good by Various Artists
(Amen to that)

15) Will you ever have children?
Baghdad Cafe from Musical Baghdad cafe
(Apparently I will eat instead)

16) What song would you strip to?
Psalm 91 from You Gave album
(Ok, that's just wrong)

17) What does your mom think of you?
Yes and Amen Sermon by Pastor Joseph Prince
(She always did say I was her favourite daughter)

18) What is your deep, dark secret?
Fancy Dancer by Bread
(No secret man. Everyone knows I am fabulous on the dance floor)

19) What is your enemy’s theme song?
Above All by Michael W Smith
(Not even. You are going down, buddy)

20) Whats your personality like?
From the Inside Out by Hillsong
(Apt)

21) What will be played at your wedding?
Light by Hillsong United
(It will be a total rocker wedding dude.)


Heh heh, that was fun. Now if you read all the the way through this, consider yourself tagged.

The Many Uses of Bath Foam

Ok, straight off, I want to put down a disclaimer that if there are any readers who are squeamish about female issues, stop reading now.

Now that that's done with, here is a trip down memory lane.

Remember those laundry detergent ads from our childhood with people in white lab coats? The well groomed dudes who always are conducting some kind of product test to a group of easily impressed women?

Anyway, one line from that ad always caught my attention as a child.
" Washes away dirt, grease and blood. Just rub a little on the stain, and the rest in the wash..."

I remember thinking, who is this person who keeps getting blood on their clothes. In my innocent little mind I am thinking kids who fall down a lot, etc.

Then I attained womanhood. And the reference to blood made sense. That's who deals with bloody clothes on a regular, frequent basis - fecund women who realise early that bloodstains are darn near impossible to get out of those lovely lacey undies.

I used to belong to that sad group, where no amount of soaking, scrubbing and "rubbing a little on the stain" helped. In most cases, the shadow of a stain remained. If I had a dollar for every stained but otherwise still serviceable panty i threw away, I will be able to buy stock in the lingerie company.

But one day, quite by accident, I found the perfect solution. Having run out of laundry detergent, I grabbed the nearest soap-type product, which happened to be my bath foam and quickly rubbed it onto the stain before it got a chance to set. I expected to just use it as a stop gap, but lo and behold, on the first rinse, the stain totally disappeared! No shadow, no soaking, nothing!

That's my secret to clean underwear now. Bath foam. Preferably the kind with some kind of skin lightening or whitening ingredient. Apparently those create a higher oxygen reaction which is the best thing getting rid of blood stains.

And honestly, I rather have bath foam on my underwear than bleach.

5 love languages

The Five Love Languages

My primary love language is probably
Physical Touch
with a secondary love language being
Quality Time.

Complete set of results

Physical Touch:		11
Quality Time:		7
Words of Affirmation:		6
Receiving Gifts:		5
Acts of Service:		1

Information

Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.

Take the quiz

The Poor Ankle

My ankles have taken quite a beating in their 30 odd years of life.

First there was all that energetic foot stamping from my Indian Classical Dance classes, which took place at least one a week for a period of 12 years.

Then there was the exuberant marching around in shiny boots while serving the Girl Guides need for military discipline. Which was a laugh, because none of us had the coordination or the stamina for it.

Finally, there was the excitment of racing around a basketball court for 4 odd years, dribbling, laying up and rebounding and defending, which so its fair share of ankle twists and skinned knees.

So is it any wonder, that while talking on the phone, and trying to avoid a drain grating, and thus inadvertently sinking my foot into a harmless pothole, my ankle would get fractured to the point where a bone fragment is now swimming loosely in all that swollen tissue.

Or that something is bleeding inside, which makes my right ankle look like a dark purple alien from the plant Zoorg?

Or that I have been asked to stay for my feet for 5 -7 days, thus missing the most important event at work that I worked my ass off coordinating and doing all the grunt work for?

The upside of course, is getting to have breakfast with the family for the first time in about 4 months, and the chance to generally lay in bed without feeling guilty.

But the timing couldn't be worse. This is a busy season. It's all hands on deck, pedal to the mettle, ain't over till the fat lady sings.

Except the fat lady has a fractured ankle.

Gah.

Pete Who?

For Pete's Sake

What in the name of Pete?

For the love of Pete

What did Pete ever do to deserve people taking his name in vain like this?
Except deny the Lord three times.

Three times.

Oh.

About Planetshakers, Tim Hughes and Life Group

On Thursday night, I went to a rock concert, despite having a pounding headache just that morning. But this was one concert I didn't want to miss. Planetshakers were in town, along with the the delicious Tim Hughes and I really wanted to go. So I slept as much as I could, took a couple of ponstan and took the long bus-ride to the Expo.

(Bus rides - I have forgotten how fun they can be when the final destination is a pleasant one. Lately I have only taken the bus to and from work, which is dull at best and dismal at worst.)

But back to planetshakers. I went with some people from church, the oldest of whom, I realised, was 10 years younger than I was. Gack!

But it was cool, because they music was really awesome. There is nothing like the combination of awesome rock music and Christian lyrics to rock the soul. The singers had amazing synchronicity, but to me the star of the show was the drummer. He was superlatively creative with his hits, breaking away from four-beats just enough to add the umph without the distraction. No prima donnas here, that's for sure.

And Tim, with all his sweetness did not disappoint. Albeit a not so exciting drummer, he managed to pour out his heartfelt worship into all his songs and had us all singing aloing with gusto.

(By the way my guiding principle to singing is, "If you can't sing well, sing loud!")

After the concert, I was still in dreamscape mode and managed to lose every one of the 20 people I went with. Turns out, they thought I was in the ladies' while I blissfully walked to the mrt station, beleiving they were behind me. Oh well.

The next night was life group (aka cell group, bible study group among other Christian circles). It was my very first one in a long time, so I was a bit nervous. You see, I don't do deep well. While I am perfectly ok with shooting the breeze, making stupid jokes and once in a while, maybe sharing an intimate detail or two, I don't really do the whole soul-baring thing that being in a life group calls for.

Hence, I usually don't get much out of it. Straight Up bible study is fine, head knowledge. But matters of the heart, I tend to be a bit more zipped about.

But I am determined this time will be different. For one thing, its a smaller group of people, some of whom I already know rather well. And another, I really need to get better at this intimacy thing. It seems to be quite an important part of building a relationship.

Who knew?

Cricket

On my way to work this morning, I passed the large open field that momentarily exists at the fringes of my typical Singaporean town. On the field were a group of foreign workers playing a full scale game of cricket, a sport vary rarely seen outside of the Padang, much less in the neighbourhood towns like where I live.

I thought a while about these guys. Some of them looked like they were South Indian, some Bangladeshi, and they were having a blast, putting aside their language barriers and any problems they may have with social, racial or national issues.

I thought about how far these men were from home, working hard doing manual labour that noone born in this country wants to or needs to do. Clearing trash, laying roads, dugging tunnels, maintaining sewers. The joy they experienced playing a game that brought them the comfort of familiarity was unmatched by us and our affluence.

I am glad they are here. Sure, I am one of those who holds my breath when they sit next to me on the bus after a hard day of sweaty toil. Or disdain their longing stares as I walk down Little India. Or complain a little when they crowd up my air-conditioned shopping malls and cinemas. But I am glad they are here. If not for them, we would live in a cesspit of filth. And miss out on the joys of watching cricket in the morning.

Say What?

Hanan and I were playing a fun game: Think of words that have more than one meaning when used in different contexts. (Ok, this may not seem like fun to most people, but we are strange that way.)

Anyway, we were happily playing along.

Park (as in trees). Park (as in park your car).
Light (illumination). Light (not heavy).
Mouse (rodent). Mouse (computer device)

And suddenly Hanan, my sweet innocent 8 year old goes, "Ice!!!"

"Ice?", I quiz.

"Yeah, ice. As in frozen water or the slang name for the drug, " he announces triumphantly.

I freeze (no pun intended). My baby just alluded to knowledge of crystal methamphetamine,something that, in my perfect utopian world, no kid should know about. Or adults for that matter.
Who has been trying to push ice to my kid?
Where is this monster? Should I call the police?
Should I move?
Should I turn myself in for being a negligent parent, who has inadvertently exposed her kid to drugs?

My voice shaking, my heart pounding, I collect my nerves, steady my voice and ask, "That's good, darling. Now where did you hear about ice?"

"Oh, these guys from CBS, or CNN or something, came to our school during assembly and told us about it. And how drugs can destroy your life."

My mind raced. CBS, CNN.... "CNB? Was it CNB, son?" I ask.

"Yeah, CNB. Came with policemen and all", he informs me nonchalantly.

Ah. The penny drops. Looks like the Central Narcotics Bureau is still doing its rounds at schools, telling kids more about drug abuse and drug varities than any kid has any business knowing.

Good on them. I think.

Pillowman

I am going to watch The Pillowman.

I am excited much for several reasons.

1) The first time I tried to watch it (in December), I waited too late to buy tickets and they were all sold out. (My nice friends got me tickets to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang instead, which is not a bad thing at all, but I digress)

2) It will be my first adult movie/play/entertainment in ages! I haven't seen a movie since Mr Magorium's Wonder Emporium (yeah, I know)and this is going to be so different - deep, analytical, full of dark symbolism and wonderful allegory (one hopes). I am also looking forward to the time after the play, when I can sit around with my friends and de-construct the whole thing. Rather they will deconstruct and I will sit and nod wisely.

3) It will be first visit to the DBS Arts Centre. I have been by it, but never in it, so this will be different.

4) It will give me yet another reason to set reality aside and live in this fanstasy world where I am this successful young woman who has everthing going for her, who is enjoying a care-free evening with her cultured and educated friends, in her perfect little world on a balmy tropical evening.

Hey, who needs a reality check? Not me, baby.

The more things change, the more they stay the same

I know I have not blogged in a while. Its not because nothing exciting has been happening. Or because I don't have the time. Or because I am lazy.

Ok, maybe a little because I am lazy. I am too lazy to work things out in my head and put them in clear uncluttered sentences on this page. Which is probably a different kind of laziness than you were thinking.

But ya, my life is a big old Gordian knot right now, and I am not a big fan of distangling thoughts and making decisions. So far, my whole attitude to life is "leave it alone, it will sort itself out."

But it seems there are some decisions I have to make, and the time to make them was 3 years ago (typically). But I need to stop procrastinating NOW and do something.

As they say in Tamil "One cut, two pieces." Which sounds a lot more ummph in Tamil.

Its time for things to change around here. And man, do I hate it.

Frenching

It's been a landmine of a week and am I glad that it's almost over. Murphy had a field day with his law, and yet, I can't help but feel that God's law has triumphed.

"Give me understanding, and I will keep your law and obey it with all my heart."
Ps 119:34

I understand a little bit better God's heart and the concept of being constantly refined and renewed. Next week, there will be a better me, as a result of the me last week. Yes!!

On a lighter note, I want to talk about dinner last night.

After work, I headed happily towards Adam Road Hawker Centre, looking forward to a fiery mee-beehoon goreng, washed down with icy cold, sickeningly-sweet bandung. But alas, it was not to be.

My first clue was the the dearth of cars in the parking lot. As I neared the famed establishment, i saw a plain white banner stetched across the entrance, informing me that Adam Road Hawker Centre was closed for renovation till 30 March 2008!

As loose ends for a place to have my desired repast, I head aimlessly towards Serene Centre. I surveyed the options available - Macdonalds, Some Fusion Japanese place, Island Creamery, and La Petite Cuisine - and my heart sank further. MacD's was a good last option. The people at the pseudo Jap place didn't even pause in the busy standing-at-the-counter they were doing, although I loitered outside a good 10 mins perusing the menu. Island Creamery only served ice cream, and had a 20-person queue.
That left La Petite Cuisine.

As I walked into the establisment, I was greeted by a good looking Filipina waitress and a rough-looking Filipino with a tattoo of a snake on his neck! Her warm smile and his strangeness drew me in to take a closer look. Then a huge Frenchman with a white handlebar moustache came out of nowhere and greeted me with a hearty "Bon Soir" and I knew I had to try this joint out. If not for anything but because the chef looked like Einstein's deranged brother.

To say the place was small is an understatement. The kitchen was the size of two bathroom stalls and the chef and his two assistants stood in it. A five foot counter served as the waiters' station, order counter and cash register. The rest of the place was seating, spilling over to the terrace outside. We could hear every word they said, although the chef seemed to be the only one talking. "Where is the steak?! I am waiting for the steak and I don't like to wait!"

When asked for recommedations, the waitress without hesitation said "Duck Confit with potato gratin" and I didn't argue. I am glad I didn't. The duck was flavourful although some bits were not as tender as I would have liked. The potato gratin was swimming in heavy cream and butter. In all, not the meal for a weight watcher, but since I am not one, it was great. In a posh restaurant, it may have cost $30 easily; here is was $15.

As I was putting the last deletable morsel in my mouth, a lady came in and asked if they were open in the morning, for coffee and chocolate croissants. The chef, who was idling by the counter, said, in a loud booming voice, "No. In the morning, I sleep. With my girlfriend." The lady beat a hasty retreat.

La Petite Cuisine totally lives up to its name. It's the size of a postage stamp and the food is truly cuisine. Please try it if you can. Like the French Stall in Tekka, it's unpretentious French food at its best.

Too much going on

There are too many things happening right now, and I need to pull back and take stock. Thoughts, feelings and emotions are all jostling for space in the short time-space continuum that I inhabit and I feel woefully inadequately equipped sometimes.

It's at times like this that I wish I had someone else's job. Major pay cut notwithstanding, it will perhaps be nice to, for a while, be the aunty to hands out towels at the hotel pool. Or the lady who restacks books on library shelves. Or mans the visitor's centre desk in the middle of Orchard Road, where I will be a welcome beacon of information and light to the lost millions (of tourists).

I probably couldn't do it for more than a week. But for a change, it might be nice.

Do I sound ungrateful and discontent? Yeah, I think I do, when I really have nothing to complain about.

Weekend

It was the best of times, it was the worse of times.

Ok, nothing quite as dramatic as the French Revolution happened, but the whole weekend was such an amazing emotional roller coaster, then I feel slightly off balance today. Might have something to do with the fact that I am trying to make it through the day on 5 hours of sleep.

Saturday totally rocked. I did this little skit in church, which well, wasn't booed off stage. It has inspired me to find rhymes in everything. And I got to hang with really cool people, two of whom are drummers. How hip am I? Ha ha.

And on Sunday everything just sorta crashed.
It was my fault really, because I don't read minds - a skill that would have come in really handy in diverting the situation. The one thing I learned is - a loaf of bread is not a good projectile when you are trying to do serious damage.

But anyway, I am drained. I need torrential, gentle, healing rain.

Ooh, that rhymed.

Anyway, I will come back when I am more coherant. and rant.

My, this is easy.

Hungry...

I need a new bible.

*Deep breath*
Every since my beautiful leatherbound Nelson bible - NKJV version - got left behind in a taxi by some careless goondu who shall remain nameless, I have been at loose ends for a good one.

I have a few at home that I have used at one time or another, but I want one that speaks to me where I am now, you know. But, with the exception of that one, I have every bible I ever got and they all are indicative of who I was at the time.

Let me try and recall them.

Good News Bible - my very first one when I was 11. My mum used to send my brother and I to vacation bible school to get us out of her hair, and one of the older "akkas" gave it to me. I remember the first passage I ever read was Daniel in the lion's den, because we were supposed to act it out the next day. I was Daniel.

Hardcover NIV Bible - 14 years old. This was a gift from my aunt, before I left for India. It was a great source of comfort to me during those 6 long, lonely months, and I think that's when my relationship with God really grew. He was the only one I had. I remember I used to sleep with the bible under my pillow, just for the security and comfort it brought. Of course I cracked it open every once in a way also.


The tiniest KJV in the world. 16 years old. My first true love gave it to me. He had underlined the entire chapter of Corinthians 13, and written above it, "I love you so." Its ironic how the word of God has outlasted him. But isn't that the way it is? Anyway, the whole bible is printed in point size 4 or something, so its really more a keepsake than anything else.


Nelson NKJV - 19 years old. That which got lost in my taxi. My uncle Henry gave it to me when I got baptised. It was perfect. The right font size. Wonderful cross references and study guides. Wide margins for copious notes. Fit in the palm of my hand exactly. I wonder whose palm it fits now. I hope he/ she loves it as much as me. I hope I don't see one of its pages the next time I buy Kachang puteh at the cinema.

Nelson NKJV Mini version. This was not as small as the tiny KJV mentioned before, but it is pretty darn small. Fits in my handbag, along with a notebook for sermon notes. Good for carrying around, but I want something a bit bigger for my private study and reading time. This one was given to me by Changi Prison Chapel - Young People Chapter. Wow, that feels like a whole lifetime ago. But I am pleased to say some of them are still my dearest friends. Rhordan, Chin, Mok, Ray, Kok Hong, Thiru -I love you all, and I still love my little bible.

I think I will get myself to one of them shops this weekend and buy one. It's time, I feel myself entering another stage. I want to document it in parallel with the greatest story ever told.

PostscriptI really do have the best friends. The day after this post, I met one of the aforementioned people for dinner and he presents me with a brand new NKJV Nelson's bible.

How not to love him, you tell me?

If only

I think there are no words sadder than this. If only.

If only I knew then what I know now.
If only someone told me. (Chances are, someone did)
If only I hung in there longer.
If only I left when I had a chance.
If only I told him how I felt.

If only he loved me back.

But, I didn't, they tried, I refused to hang, I am still not leaving, I can't tell him and he doesn't.

Someone once told me, to get out of bad situtation, the key is to give it everything you've got to make it work. And if it still doesn't, get out and never look back.

People are always going on about how strong I am, and I am sick of it. The strong one, the rational one, the one that doesn't give up. I think I am ready to be weak, to be impetuous and to throw my hands up and say, "I am done!"

The question is, will I still be me?

Hanging with Hanan

There is nothing like eating large ice cream sundaes, looking at the one you love, and giggling over smears of fudge on each other's noses.

That's what I got to do yesterday. We went to Swensen's at Park Hotel and had a wonderful afternoon eating, talking and laughing over the strange things that happened to us during the week.

His classmate who had an "accident" in his pants.
My colleague's unfortunate heel caught in grate story.
His extremely pregnant teacher's propensity to drop her load at any time.

Later, as we walked hand in hand towards the train station, bellies full and hearts conjoined, we enjoyed a rousing game of "I spy". I like that I can be as serious, as silly, as young or as matured as I wanted to be with this young man I was walking next to.

It was good.

Knowing how it hurts

"I know how you feel."

"I've been there."

"This happened to me too."

A burden shared is a burden halved, I have heard it said. And my friends who say the above are the best people in the world with the best intentions. I know they are trying to comfort and bring on healing. Which is what makes it hard to say what I am about to.

You don't know how I feel. You may have a similar experience, but you and I are not identical.

You cannot possibly look at things the same way I do. While its easy to put human experiences into neat little boxes and label them "sad","happy" or "angry", there arte actually infinte permutations which may exceed the number of human beings there actually are.

So you don't know how it feels. And I don't know how you feel. But you can sit with me, hold my hand, let me cry a little, cry a little with me, and give me a hug on my last sniffle.

Knowing it hurts can be enough to comfort me. You don't need to know how it hurts.

Taxi Woes

Ok, I am just tired of hearing cabbies gripe about the recent fare hikes have rendered them fare-less, income-less and whatever the hell else-less. I get it. The fare hike means more people don't want to take taxis when buses and trains will do them fine.

But you know, I have hard days at work too. I also work up 12 hours a day, and I also feel like I am underpaid and overworked. At the end of the day, I am so tired that I feel like I can treat myself to a taxiride and the LAST THING I want to hear is how bad YOUR life is.

Forgive me if I sound churlish and you are a taxi driver and are affronted by my tirade. (Or you know a taxi driver or... I digress). But there are only so many ways a passenger can hint that they would rather just be queit and sunk into their own thoughts while still maintaining tact and being diplomatic. Please take our cues and leave us alone if we are doing any of these things:

1) Plugging in our headphones
2) Calling, smsing or generally fiddling with our phone.
3) Not making eye contact
4) Going "mm" , "ah" or "ya" to your impassioned statements of injustice
5) Not answering at all
6) Sitting back wth our eyes closed
7) Snoring
8) Reading a book or magazine or the "surcharges" sticker
9) Trying to open the door while the cab is moving
10) Writing "help me" signs and showing them to passing drivers

Life, Death and Matrimony

Lately I have been having many experiences that cross the 3 main events in a human being's life, so when a friend mentioned today that I haven't blogged in a long time, I thought I would like to talk about this.

This week alone, I attended one funeral, one wedding and 2 of my friends had babies. Quite a few of them are also pregnant, due "anytime now!" as they like to inform me.

The wedding was that of a friend from polytechnic, a happygolucky "take it easy policy" guy. As I watched the ceremony and the shy surreptitious smiles he was exchanging with his bride, I wondered how as a species we adapt to the 180 degree change in lifestyle which comes with marriage and children.

In today's world, change is the only constant. I remember thinking "wa lau, so cliche!" the first time I read that. But it is so true.

The funeral was of this colleague who worked at the Bowling Alley at the Club. He was 61, one year short of his retirement and rest. At his funeral, I found out he had a terminally ill wife, who was in ICU and didn't know he was dead. He was also sole custodian of his 2 grandchildren.

I wonder what his dreams must have been like when he got married, and his kids were born. The dreams he had. The ambition to be the best dad, husband, lover, colleague, friend. The things that I get to be at different times every day and never give a thought to. (well, except dad, cos I am a mum, but you get the picture.)

Then I think about Jesus speaking to his disciples and saying, I will be with you, even unto the ends of the earth. And that comforts me, knowing that in all my failures and planning and triumphs, I have Someone who will be constant. Does not change. Always the same.

Free Night

It's my first free night in a long while and I have no idea what to do. Otrie has a gig, Hanan is away at a chalet, I got nothing pressing at work to do.

Movie?
Dinner for one?
Shopping?
Drinks with a friend?

Or should I just go home and curl up and watch TV?

Gosh, I spend days wishing for a free evening and when it happens, I have no idea what to do.

As Hanan would say, this is so lame.

requiem for a neglected blogspace

Ah poor beloved page, where once I had run my thoughts across, without prejudice or pain. How I have missed you!

I am caught in a blogging dliemma, where if I penned down everything that has taken place, I would not have enough hours in a day to write, and yet, if I gloss over the past few weeks, I might as well not say anything.

It helps to have a blog where one is focused, like food bloggers, book bloggers or movie bloggers. Unfortunately, I am none of these, concentrated souls, who can speak their hearts, in short succint, well constructed posts.

Alas me, who tend to ramble, have little of predominant importance and have no reason to log in on a daily basis.

Maybe I should try to get focused. Write about things that have value, shelf life, substance.
.
.
.
Or I could give you 10 random facts abouy my life.

1) My new colleague gets eyelash extensions every 4 weeks, which make her look unnaturally camel-like. Its worse when they start falling out and she has "bald" patches in between

2) I can now say I am a published writer. The publication is my club magazine and the things I write about are society columns and event reports. But still!!

3) I was recently saddened by a best friend's decision to not have children. I don't know why it pains me so. Maybe it's because I want more and I can't, and she can, but doesn't want more.

4) I went to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang!!! It was fabulous!

5) I think the Dark Devotion dessert at TCC is awesome! It's a perfect chocolate cake with a molten centre, served with natural vanilla ice cream and some kind of fruit croulis. Heaven!

6) I miss church :( I haven't been in weeks and I am thirsty.

7) Going home from work the other day, I met the most interesting cab driver. He used to be a computer engineer, but decided that the stress wasn't worth it, and decided to drive a cab instead. That's so cool. I want to come to that place one day.

8) Happiness is irrelevant. Only joy remains.

9) I hate the fact that I am apparently the only one who knows how to google for information at work. Every body asks me stuff like I am some kind of walking encyclopedia, when all it takes is 15 secs on the computer. You have a computer. use it people! Its not a typewriter!

10) 5 months have passed at this place and I have done enough work for 2 years at my old company. Am still trying to decide if that's a good thing.

Goodbye Geraldine

Geraldine Lee was not the prettiest, nor the smartest, nor the wittiest girl around. She was merely kind, thoughtful, meek and happy. Not exactly award-winning characteristics in anybody's book. With characteristics like that, she would never have been a heroine in a Jane Austen novel, or star beside Johnny Depp in any pirate movie.

But Geraldine was a dreamer, and one of her dreams was to rise up out of her mediocre trade school beginnings and be counted among the foreign educated academics in society. And she was only 2 months away from her goal when her body was found in her room in faraway Brisbane, 3 days after her heart stopped beating its song of love and compassion.

My path crossed with Geraldine's when I auditioned for the Short Film Competition that she was entering 3 years ago. She finally selected me to be the evil witch in the film, and gave me her carefully drafted script like she was handing over the Holy Grail. Geraldine had the confidence to enter a competition with just a script and a dream, and the humility to allow her actors to tell her how to shoot it.
We didn't win. Maybe if we stopped micromanging, we might have.

Geraldine is a heroine alright. She had courage, determination, tenacity and an incredible force of will. All the traits that take us beyond existence to living.

Goodbye, Geradline. You spent your last days doing what you wanted most, and that makes your death a happy one. For you, at least. I hope at some point, we realise it as well.

The Confirmation Appraisal

It has been three months since I started this new job, and the time has come for the all important confirmation appraisal. That basically means that my boss and I have a chat about what I can and cannot do within my job scope, and whether its worthwhile for both of us to have me hang around to learn how to do the things i can't.

At least, that's how I always saw it. But this place does things a little differently. For one, I have to write things down, to go on record, in my file for all my time here.

Things like, what have I done that I am happy about, what keeps me from doing my best and how my boss can help me "accomplish those goals". (Aside: HR people should be banned from using words like goal, accomplish, target and develop. They throw it around like it was so much confetti.)

So I have to fill this thing in by the 9th. And apparently my boss has one to do too. Sigh

A couple of updates for you who have read other posts.
Remember Mr So-early? The one who gave me a hard time about leaving past 7? He resigned. Within 2 months, couldn't take the pressure. I should ask him, "Why you leave so early?" Ha ha.

My tough boss - I think I found her marshmallow centre. She wants what all human beings want, empathy for doing a tough job and doing it well, and friendship. QED.

Have any of you been here?

This post is a cop out, cos i am not really writing, but I thought I may have sympathisers out there.

A alternative headline for this post would be :"Interview with a vampire sympathiser". Nal is me, and Teemo is the VS.

[10:34] + . naL . +: u know X from ABC company?
[10:35] Teemo: of course i know him
[10:35] Teemo: Y?
[10:35] Teemo: he left there already
[10:35] + . naL . +: yeah, he left
[10:35] + . naL . +: then he keep calling me to sell me insurance
[10:35] + . naL . +: i buay tahan liao
[10:35] Teemo: give him a chance to share with u his services
[10:36] Teemo: no harm right?
[10:36] + . naL . +: i am already covered lah
[10:36] + . naL . +: dont want to waste my time or his, because I am not a prospect
[10:36] + . naL . +: u know what i mean
[10:36] + . naL . +: why bother? training ah?
[10:36] Teemo: ok then maybe u would like tell him the truth ,that will be good
[10:37] + . naL . +: i did lor
[10:37] Teemo: but i wanna share with u, the market sentiment is real good
[10:37] + . naL . +: yes, but i dont have any more money
[10:37] Teemo: good time to invest
[10:37] + . naL . +: my funds are tied up
[10:37] Teemo: i think he is referring to CPF
[10:37] + . naL . +: yes, i have 2 policies using CPF already
[10:38] + . naL . +: unless u think I should borrow money to invest
[10:38] Teemo: did u review whether the return is giving back u good rate?
[10:38] Teemo: thats where he comes in to help u
[10:38] + . naL . +: yep
[10:38] + . naL . +: just met my advisor 2 months ago
[10:39] + . naL . +: besides, why would I go to someone new?
[10:39] + . naL . +: makes more sense to go back to the same advisor right, since i already trust her?
[10:39] Teemo: he is sincere and shrewd in investment, monitor prices daily for clients
[10:39] Teemo: i mean thats wat he tells me
[10:39] + . naL . +: i am sure he is, but i really have no desire for the services he provides lah
[10:40] + . naL . +: if he ran a part time maid agency, i will need his help
[10:40] Teemo: btw did he share with u about estate planning?
[10:40] Teemo: haha
[10:40] + . naL . +: nope
[10:40] + . naL . +: i blew his off
[10:40] + . naL . +: him*
[10:40] + . naL . +: told him to stop spammin gme
[10:41] Teemo: ok lah give him some, he is just doing his job
[10:41] + . naL . +: sigh, its just annoying lah
[10:42] + . naL . +: anytime one of my frens goes into insurance or real estate, i stop being their friend, and start being a prospect
[10:42] + . naL . +: and then when i turn them down, they dont want to be frens anymore
[10:42] + . naL . +: i dont know how many more frens i will lose to this 2 industries
[10:43] + . naL . +: if i really bought from everyone, I will have all my salary paying premiums by now
[10:44] Teemo: i fully understand your feelings
[10:44] + . naL . +: thanks, i was hoping u would
[10:44] Teemo: probabaly is the way u reply them
[10:45] Teemo: or maybe they have their own agenda
[10:45] + . naL . +: ha ha, to say "stop spamming me" is too direct huh
[10:45] Teemo: maybe
[10:45] + . naL . +: point taken
[10:46] + . naL . +: i just didnt want to read about death and accidents everyday, first thing in the morning
[10:46] Teemo: u never know 1 day i may come to u too
[10:46] Teemo: haha
[10:46] + . naL . +: dont you dare man

Working for a tough boss

The last month or so has been an adventure into the world of the average Singaporean office worker - late nights, ridiculous deadlines and high stress.

Throw in the other elements that are unique to my situation, i.e. committees, unsatisfied members and a tough boss, and you will know why I haven't blogged in a while.

This may sound like a preamble to a long bitch session on how horrible my work life is, but its not. I actually learned quite a few things over the last month. I will call it:

Lessons on Learning

1) Learners cannot be egotistical. :) Nuff said, i think we all know what that means.

2) Learning from a tough teacher teaches a whole oter bunch of lessons that are not on the curriculum.

3) People feel sorry for you when you are learning, but that's ok!

4) You feel sorry for yourself while you are learning, but you have to keep reminding yourself what your goal is.

5) Learners who quit halfway have nothing to show for it. Sticking with it is hard, but anyone who has dropped ot of anything halfway knows that you lose something at the end.

I am also learning that most people, not matter how tough they are on the outside, have a marshmallow core - something that they will bend to. Find it, and you find the human within the iron lady.

Bourne Ultimatum - Movie Review

In the midst of what was a armrest gripping, teeth clenching, extreme excitement finale to the Bourne trilogy, I had a headache.

It was that darn handheld camera technique, which is what Director Paul Greengrass was selected for anyway. It broke every rule that film students were taught never to break - change in direction in the midst of continuity, extreme close up followed by extreme closeup, short edits, over-the-shoulder shots that were tight to the point of you wanting to physically move the person away so you can see Jason Bourne's tormented face.

And he looked like he had a headache too. All the amnesia, loss of love, injuries and paranoia really got to the man and he didn't crack a smile once in this movie, his forehead permanently crinkled.

And it was brillant, that juxtaposition of character and camera action. It really helped me relate to the character and all his confusion. So maybe all the problems that the movie had with continuity and jump shots were deliberate as well. (I won't get into them, but you can read them here.)

But what a ride, eh? All the globe trotting, car chasing, rooftop chase moments were in true represetation of Ludlum's genius of tension in the midst of action. And I love the fact that the women in this movie, Nikke Parson and Pamela Landy were portrayed as honest,loyal and righteous women who were neither femme fatale nor the weaker sex stereotype that generally women in this genre tend to carry, like so much baggage.

Worth every cent and definitely an apt ending to a wonderful story. I couldn't have cared more about what happens to Jason Bourne if I tried. And when your audience cares of the characters, that, my friends, is good cinematic story telling.

Early? But it's past 7!

It really bothers me that people equate working late to working hard.

Yesterday evening, I decided I had it. My eyes hurt, my brain was drained and not a single thought was running through my head. I didn't see the point in continuing to stare at my computer, so I started packing my things to leave.

"You are leaving? So early?"

I looked the the time. It was 7:40pm. I get off work (technically) at 6.

"It's not early. Its 7:40. What do you mean by early?"

Without waiting for a reply, I walked out of the office.

This morning, I was the first one in. And Mr So-early strolls in at 9:30 and says, "You know the rest of us were here till 9 yesterday."

I was tempted to say, if you spent less time chit chatting at the secretary's desk and taking coffee breaks, maybe you can finish your work quicker and go home "early" too.

But I will bide my time. Does anyone else have this problem with going home "early"?

Yes, its been a while...

Hi everyone, yes I know I have been missing for a while, but since I just started this job and all, I haven't really have had time to get online long enough to write something.

But today is Saturday and it's fairly quiet, so I thought I would take the opportunity to do a quick update.

I have been here 4 weeks now, and considering the amount of work I am doing, it feels like I have been here forever. They work like crazy here, the MarCom department and my boss is a stickler for perfection, so not only is there a lot of work to do, there is a high quality to do.

Just to make things more exciting, I have also joined for the half of the year where there are the most things happening, National Day, AGM, the groundbreaking for a new building, Christmas, New Year's , and the list goes on.

As with any large organisation, half the problems here are based on human error, especially communication errors. So I have to step quite carefully, especially when it comes to handling the members. Not that I am a particularly badly behaved individual, but Club etiquette is a whole other ball game.
People who come here are used to giving orders and treated like VIPS and somehow they feel justified to do it here as well.

I am sure I will have stories on this as time goes by :)

My only grouse with working here right now is the crazy hours. My boss practically lives here, going home only to shower and sleep. Everyone else is around at least till 9pm. I feel a little guilty leaving at 7 (!). But I think they will get used to it, especially if I still deliver. At least I hope so.

I realise this has been more a letter than a post, but hey, you didn't have to read it all.

See you all in a bit.