Last Saturday, I did 2 things I haven't done in a long time.
1) Go shopping with a 16 year old
2) Go shopping for a prom dress.
My cousin Shalini, who is finally free of her "0" level shackles, asked me to go prom dress shopping with her. I, of course, assumed this was because of my impeccable taste in clothes and indubitable "coolness" factor.
I forgot how 16 years shop.
To give you an idea of the ordeal, we started at 10:30 and didn't make a decision till 4 pm.
Naturally, the perfect outfit was not even at the place we decided to shop, but about 5 bus stops away.
Teenage girls are really finicky. They have these naturally stick-thin bodies that looks wonderful in anything. But of course they have to find the tiniest fault and blow it waay out of proportion. Some of the more choice ones I heard in the course of the day were
1) "I look short." Well, she is about 5 feet nothing. No surprises there.
2) "You can see the spots on my arms in this." A few tiny freckles.
3) "The front looks ok but the side makes my hips look big." What hips? I wonder how her jeans stay up.
4) "It's ok if I stand up, but when I sit, my stomach folds in." I totally don't get this one at all.
5) "It's a definite maybe. Put it on the KIV list." There's an oxymoron for you. There were 4 outfits on KIV.
Finally we decided on a dress. She looks like a tawny Greek Nymph in it. Beautiful. I will post pictures if she lets me.
Of course the dress is just the beginning. Now she has to do earrings, necklaces, shoes, bag, make up, nails, hair and 'tude. She has already decided she is going to eat nothing but tofu and salad till this Thursday, and in case that doesn't work, jog 5 km every night.
Do guys go through even half of this for their prom preparations? Do tell guys, I am dying to know.
Monday, November 20
Saturday, November 18
Hate mail
I never thought of it this way, but a good friend of mine says that hate mail is the best indication that you have arrived as a bonafide blogger. (Shanker, yours is imminent too)
I got my first one a few days ago. I was considering publishing it, but it was anonymous and he/she didn't have anything substantial to criticise, so I decided not to.
So if you send me hate mail and want me to publish it, please make sure you include your name, email and URL. Like my first critic Sunil here. That way, at least I know that you can stand behind your criticism.
Meanwhile,
and
I got my first one a few days ago. I was considering publishing it, but it was anonymous and he/she didn't have anything substantial to criticise, so I decided not to.
So if you send me hate mail and want me to publish it, please make sure you include your name, email and URL. Like my first critic Sunil here. That way, at least I know that you can stand behind your criticism.
Meanwhile,
and
Tuesday, November 14
Theatre Review - Kalinga Trilogy - Separation
Never send a clueless non-Keling to do a Keling Kia’s job. That was the first impression I got when I read the reviews of the Kalinga Trilogy –Separation. The review on the Straits Times on Tuesday (14th Nov) for example was obviously written by a non-Indian, non-Tamil who did not understand the nuances of language, the importance of dance and the ubiquitous nature of song in the play that are central to the Keling soul. Instead she spent time being distracted by the science of theatre, rambling on and on about “narrative”, “internal monologue”, “expositional dialogue” and “surrealistic mediation”.
You totally missed the forest for the trees, honey.
For those of you who don’t know the story, here is it in a nutshell – starts from 1946, immediately after the war. It continues the story of Letchumi and the trials and tribulations she experiences right up to the separation of Singapore and Malaysia in 1965. The Separation is the second installment of Trilogy but this production stands alone. Even without knowledge of the first part, audience can still enjoy the performance.
Anyone with a keen interest in Singapore's history and unique culture will not want to miss this journey into the country's past – from the citizenship drive in the 1950s by the Indian community to the emotionally charged 1964 racial riots, from ugly incidents like the Hock Lee Bus riots to the Maria Hertogh controversy.(Synopsis courtesy of Esplanade website )
Kalinga Trilogy, directed by Vadi PVSS, is a play that sings right into the heart of every Singaporean Indian. Besides the careful research into our history, Vadi also made sure to represent the popular culture of the time to its truest. For example, he chose to insert a sing-and-dance item- a typical “aruvadai” song from cinema in the 1950s, which brings back memories of the stars of the time like Sivaji, MGR and S Muthiah.
We are all familiar with the patriotic songs from that era and the Kalinga Trilogy has a few orginal songs, in local context, that added oomph to the patriotism of the play. The strike song, the resistance song, the “every dog has its day” song – they all resounded with what we know of our turbulent history.
The actors were well chosen for the parts, although I was surprised that not more Indian actors were hired. (Read: Why didn't they hire me?) Maybe it was to maintain the multiculturalism of Singapore in the play. And get more multicultural bums on seats, of course. Some of the faces that we are used to seeing on the small screen, like Vickneswary and Sivakumar actually translate well onto the stage.
Vickeswary’s classical dance background came through with her overdramatic sadness and larger than life decision making (Think Saroja Devi). Sivakumar is a natural and gifted actor, who really should explore his stage career a lot further. And the non-keling actors were just as good. Joanne, Sani and Rodney, you all have honorary Keling membership now.
After the play, Mr Vadi decided to have a open dialogue with the audience, hoping to get some intelligent dialogue and feedback. This turned out to backfire in the most embarrassing way. It was like having one of your once-a-year Deepavali guests tell you why everything about your house is wrong and that you should have consulted them before you bought it.
Why, Mr Vadi? Why open yourself up to that kind of heartache? Especially when you saw that the audience contained people who liked the sound of the own voice so much, they wouldn’t let anyone talk? Even when you took their mic away! Especially when what they had to say had nothing to do with the play or with real life. . I mean, does anyone really need to know the 6 Sanskrit words for Lion? You should have just had Mr Samuel Doraisingam share his experiences of the time, and thus add truth to the beauty that was the Kalinga Trilogy.
For those of you who decided to invest the $25 on Black Cat and fags instead of a ticket, please start saving now for Part Three. It will be worth it. It will at least give you an extra bounce in your step the next time you are reminded you are Keling Kia.
Top Ten things that made Kalinga Trilogy - Separation the ultimate Keling Kia event
1) The event started late.
2) The girls were dressed to the nines and the guys looked like they just crawled out of bed. Esplanade? So what?
3) You laugh at grief. Yes, it’s your coping mechanism. Laugh so you won’t have to look like a pansy for crying along.
4) You don’t notice that the actors say “wery”, instead of “very”, or stare-y instead of starry.
5) You clap along to the songs, even though your seat mate stares daggers at you for rocking the whole row.
6) You read the subtitles, even when the characters are speaking Tamil.
7) You don’t flinch at strobe lighting or bright spotlights on the audience, thanks to the lighting designers at Amaran.
8) Half the audience is related, friends with or knows someone who knows someone who is a cast/ crew member.
9) You rue the fact that there was no love song scene daydreamt by the hero or heroine in the play.
10) The programmes were free, because no self-respecting Keling will pay $10 to buy one.
You totally missed the forest for the trees, honey.
For those of you who don’t know the story, here is it in a nutshell – starts from 1946, immediately after the war. It continues the story of Letchumi and the trials and tribulations she experiences right up to the separation of Singapore and Malaysia in 1965. The Separation is the second installment of Trilogy but this production stands alone. Even without knowledge of the first part, audience can still enjoy the performance.
Anyone with a keen interest in Singapore's history and unique culture will not want to miss this journey into the country's past – from the citizenship drive in the 1950s by the Indian community to the emotionally charged 1964 racial riots, from ugly incidents like the Hock Lee Bus riots to the Maria Hertogh controversy.(Synopsis courtesy of Esplanade website )
Kalinga Trilogy, directed by Vadi PVSS, is a play that sings right into the heart of every Singaporean Indian. Besides the careful research into our history, Vadi also made sure to represent the popular culture of the time to its truest. For example, he chose to insert a sing-and-dance item- a typical “aruvadai” song from cinema in the 1950s, which brings back memories of the stars of the time like Sivaji, MGR and S Muthiah.
We are all familiar with the patriotic songs from that era and the Kalinga Trilogy has a few orginal songs, in local context, that added oomph to the patriotism of the play. The strike song, the resistance song, the “every dog has its day” song – they all resounded with what we know of our turbulent history.
The actors were well chosen for the parts, although I was surprised that not more Indian actors were hired. (Read: Why didn't they hire me?) Maybe it was to maintain the multiculturalism of Singapore in the play. And get more multicultural bums on seats, of course. Some of the faces that we are used to seeing on the small screen, like Vickneswary and Sivakumar actually translate well onto the stage.
Vickeswary’s classical dance background came through with her overdramatic sadness and larger than life decision making (Think Saroja Devi). Sivakumar is a natural and gifted actor, who really should explore his stage career a lot further. And the non-keling actors were just as good. Joanne, Sani and Rodney, you all have honorary Keling membership now.
After the play, Mr Vadi decided to have a open dialogue with the audience, hoping to get some intelligent dialogue and feedback. This turned out to backfire in the most embarrassing way. It was like having one of your once-a-year Deepavali guests tell you why everything about your house is wrong and that you should have consulted them before you bought it.
Why, Mr Vadi? Why open yourself up to that kind of heartache? Especially when you saw that the audience contained people who liked the sound of the own voice so much, they wouldn’t let anyone talk? Even when you took their mic away! Especially when what they had to say had nothing to do with the play or with real life. . I mean, does anyone really need to know the 6 Sanskrit words for Lion? You should have just had Mr Samuel Doraisingam share his experiences of the time, and thus add truth to the beauty that was the Kalinga Trilogy.
For those of you who decided to invest the $25 on Black Cat and fags instead of a ticket, please start saving now for Part Three. It will be worth it. It will at least give you an extra bounce in your step the next time you are reminded you are Keling Kia.
Top Ten things that made Kalinga Trilogy - Separation the ultimate Keling Kia event
1) The event started late.
2) The girls were dressed to the nines and the guys looked like they just crawled out of bed. Esplanade? So what?
3) You laugh at grief. Yes, it’s your coping mechanism. Laugh so you won’t have to look like a pansy for crying along.
4) You don’t notice that the actors say “wery”, instead of “very”, or stare-y instead of starry.
5) You clap along to the songs, even though your seat mate stares daggers at you for rocking the whole row.
6) You read the subtitles, even when the characters are speaking Tamil.
7) You don’t flinch at strobe lighting or bright spotlights on the audience, thanks to the lighting designers at Amaran.
8) Half the audience is related, friends with or knows someone who knows someone who is a cast/ crew member.
9) You rue the fact that there was no love song scene daydreamt by the hero or heroine in the play.
10) The programmes were free, because no self-respecting Keling will pay $10 to buy one.
Monday, November 13
Celebrity Spotting
Last week, I seemed to have had my more-than-fair share of run-ins with a few of my heroes. Of course, I totally understand if these names and people mean nothing to you. But I was quite thrilled to bits lah.
Celeb #1: Elim Chew
Who: Entrepreneur and owner of 77th Street
Place: WDA Learning Festival last Tuesday
How: Joyce and I were sitting there, totally enthralled by the speaker, when I heard a loud whisper at the beginning of my row (I was about 4 seats in, with one spare seat next to me). I look up to smile and the newcomer and make them feel welcome when lo and behold, it was Elim Chew! (She also owned a hair salon called Elim Emmanuel back in the late 80s and I used to get my hair cut there). I tried to play it cool and would have succeeded of not for Joyce jabbing and excitedly whispering, very loudly, "That's Elim Chew. (swoon)"!
Miss Chew then proceeded to take notes of the entire seminar. I am not talking a jot here or a point there. I am talking about nearly word for word, speed typing here. She typed down everything that was said (even participant questions), boldly hazarded answers to the speaker's questions and did not flinch when she was wrong.
Note-takers ARE history makers.
I was so inspired by her. Wow!
Click here to read more about Elim Chew
Celeb #2: Ravi Veloo
Who: Caustic and bold journalist from the 80s and early 90s.
Place: Esplanade, while watching the Kalinga Trilogy on Saturday
How: Goke and I got what I thought were really good seats at the Theatre Studio when we were informed that one of the seats we took was being reserved for a friend. Obediently, we scooted up, closer to the aisle. A man with long hair tied in an untidy ponytail enters and tried to get to that seat, practically sitting on Goke's lap on the way. She then recognises him as Ravi Veloo and casually introduces us.
I was glad that neither of them could see that I was beside myself. Totally star struck and a little in awe. Ravi Veloo's column was one that I read without fail and used for all the newspaper clipping projects we did for English and GP. He was my journalism hero. His articles, always spiced with a bit of dissent and disagreement, was the closest thing you could find to true journalism in the Straits Times back then. At least that's how I felt. Everything else was lifted from AP or Reuters anyway.
I listened with stars in my eyes as Goke and he discussed the sorry state of journalism in the world today. He talkd about different attitudes and how journalism across the causeway is so much more amiable, even though the competition is higher. It was truly an honour. It was a great way to spend the 10 mins before the play started.
Again, wow!
To read one of Mr Veloo's articles, click here.
Celeb #1: Elim Chew
Who: Entrepreneur and owner of 77th Street
Place: WDA Learning Festival last Tuesday
How: Joyce and I were sitting there, totally enthralled by the speaker, when I heard a loud whisper at the beginning of my row (I was about 4 seats in, with one spare seat next to me). I look up to smile and the newcomer and make them feel welcome when lo and behold, it was Elim Chew! (She also owned a hair salon called Elim Emmanuel back in the late 80s and I used to get my hair cut there). I tried to play it cool and would have succeeded of not for Joyce jabbing and excitedly whispering, very loudly, "That's Elim Chew. (swoon)"!
Miss Chew then proceeded to take notes of the entire seminar. I am not talking a jot here or a point there. I am talking about nearly word for word, speed typing here. She typed down everything that was said (even participant questions), boldly hazarded answers to the speaker's questions and did not flinch when she was wrong.
Note-takers ARE history makers.
I was so inspired by her. Wow!
Click here to read more about Elim Chew
Celeb #2: Ravi Veloo
Who: Caustic and bold journalist from the 80s and early 90s.
Place: Esplanade, while watching the Kalinga Trilogy on Saturday
How: Goke and I got what I thought were really good seats at the Theatre Studio when we were informed that one of the seats we took was being reserved for a friend. Obediently, we scooted up, closer to the aisle. A man with long hair tied in an untidy ponytail enters and tried to get to that seat, practically sitting on Goke's lap on the way. She then recognises him as Ravi Veloo and casually introduces us.
I was glad that neither of them could see that I was beside myself. Totally star struck and a little in awe. Ravi Veloo's column was one that I read without fail and used for all the newspaper clipping projects we did for English and GP. He was my journalism hero. His articles, always spiced with a bit of dissent and disagreement, was the closest thing you could find to true journalism in the Straits Times back then. At least that's how I felt. Everything else was lifted from AP or Reuters anyway.
I listened with stars in my eyes as Goke and he discussed the sorry state of journalism in the world today. He talkd about different attitudes and how journalism across the causeway is so much more amiable, even though the competition is higher. It was truly an honour. It was a great way to spend the 10 mins before the play started.
Again, wow!
To read one of Mr Veloo's articles, click here.
Thursday, November 9
Self Pity
I need a hug!!!
On a totally unrelated note, check out this site for awesome artwork.
The images are really powerful, this is one talented guy.
On a totally unrelated note, check out this site for awesome artwork.
The images are really powerful, this is one talented guy.
Wednesday, November 8
Mindless nonsense
I have been thinking about the cliches that I mindlessly use when I am stuck for something to say. For that's what cliches are, the verbal shortcuts in language that allow us to automatically phrase a thought and be understood. Without much brain power being employed.
But I was wondering, what happens when you turn a cliche on its head.
E.g I hate to eat and run.
Can we just as effectively say," I am planning to stay and starve?"
Here are a few more that I use often. See if you come up with the ultimate uncliche.
No news is good news
Better late than never
Better safe than sorry
No man is an island
There are plenty more fish in the sea
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade
Have a nice life
Pretty nonsensical, huh?
But I was wondering, what happens when you turn a cliche on its head.
E.g I hate to eat and run.
Can we just as effectively say," I am planning to stay and starve?"
Here are a few more that I use often. See if you come up with the ultimate uncliche.
No news is good news
Better late than never
Better safe than sorry
No man is an island
There are plenty more fish in the sea
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade
Have a nice life
Pretty nonsensical, huh?
Monday, November 6
Learned a new thing
Meaning of Prodigal
1. wastefully or recklessly extravagant: prodigal expenditure.
2. giving or yielding profusely; lavish (usually fol. by of or with): prodigal of smiles; prodigal with money.
3. lavishly abundant; profuse: nature's prodigal resources.
Now, with this new revelation, read the story of the prodigal son again.
The son wasn't the only prodigal one, was he?
***
Luke 15:11-32
11 Jesus continued: "There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger one said to his father, 'Father, give me my share of the estate.' So he divided his property between them. 13 "Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living.
14 After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
17 When he came to his senses, he said, 'How many of my father's hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.'
20 So he got up and went to his father. "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. 21 "The son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.'
22 "But the father said to his servants, 'Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate.
25 "Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 27 'Your brother has come,' he replied, 'and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.'
28 "The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 29 But he answered his father, 'Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!'
31 "'My son,' the father said, 'you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.'"
1. wastefully or recklessly extravagant: prodigal expenditure.
2. giving or yielding profusely; lavish (usually fol. by of or with): prodigal of smiles; prodigal with money.
3. lavishly abundant; profuse: nature's prodigal resources.
Now, with this new revelation, read the story of the prodigal son again.
The son wasn't the only prodigal one, was he?
***
Luke 15:11-32
11 Jesus continued: "There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger one said to his father, 'Father, give me my share of the estate.' So he divided his property between them. 13 "Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living.
14 After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
17 When he came to his senses, he said, 'How many of my father's hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.'
20 So he got up and went to his father. "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. 21 "The son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.'
22 "But the father said to his servants, 'Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate.
25 "Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 27 'Your brother has come,' he replied, 'and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.'
28 "The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 29 But he answered his father, 'Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!'
31 "'My son,' the father said, 'you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.'"
Thursday, November 2
I am already beautiful
I pulled my fare card out of my bag as I walked towards the train station. I was tempted to quicken my pace to match that of the other scurrying commuters, but in time reminded myself that I was not in a hurry, and had no train to catch, as it were.
The usual touts were hanging around outside the station. The donation seekers with their apologetic faces and pleading stance. The insurance agents with their little carpeted and furnished turf, looking slightly cocky and trying desperately to catch someone's eye.
And then there was this new group. Lithe and lanky, in tiny white dresses cinched with red belts, these women, who looked like they were cloned off each other, were selling beauty! With a larger-than-life poster of their spoke model in the corner to cheer them on, they approached the plump, the fluffy and the just plain fat with vigour, oblivious to the public humiliation they were causing.
"Excuse me, Miss? Do you need help to lose weight? Our new treatment is all natural and very effective! Now got promotion!"
I turned around to come face to face with this barely pubescent, slightly malnourished girl, who looked at me as expectantly as her heavily lacquered face would let me.
I threw her my usual line over my shoulder, dismissively, "No thanks. I don't need it."
"What do you mean? You don't need it? But you are quite fat, you know!", she exclaimed in disbelief and horror, her perfectly painted mouth falling open quite unflatteringly.
Wow, this one actually heard me, I thought.
Usually, when I say I don't need it, I get one of three responses.
1) Abject horror and dismay, but no further action, having being paralysed by intense emotions
2) Smirking superiority. You can almost see the thought bubble that says "Denial!" hovering over their heads.
3) Pure indifference as they scan and lock on to their next potential sales. This group seldom hears what you say and depends on non verbal signals to communicate.
But this girl actually responded. I decided to be a little mean and have a little fun.
"Yeah, I don't need it. I am already beautiful."
"But don't you want to be more beautiful?" she asked, a consummate salesperson.
"But what is more beautiful? A smaller waist? Long ruler-straight hair? Fairer skin? Larger breasts? Do you mean, to be thought beautiful, I have to look JUST LIKE YOU?"
Sister girl was dumbfounded. She just stared at me like the concept never occurred to her. I gave her a disarming smile, turned and walked away, my head held high.
I wonder how long it took before she decided to approach someone else. I hope I made her think just a little.
The usual touts were hanging around outside the station. The donation seekers with their apologetic faces and pleading stance. The insurance agents with their little carpeted and furnished turf, looking slightly cocky and trying desperately to catch someone's eye.
And then there was this new group. Lithe and lanky, in tiny white dresses cinched with red belts, these women, who looked like they were cloned off each other, were selling beauty! With a larger-than-life poster of their spoke model in the corner to cheer them on, they approached the plump, the fluffy and the just plain fat with vigour, oblivious to the public humiliation they were causing.
"Excuse me, Miss? Do you need help to lose weight? Our new treatment is all natural and very effective! Now got promotion!"
I turned around to come face to face with this barely pubescent, slightly malnourished girl, who looked at me as expectantly as her heavily lacquered face would let me.
I threw her my usual line over my shoulder, dismissively, "No thanks. I don't need it."
"What do you mean? You don't need it? But you are quite fat, you know!", she exclaimed in disbelief and horror, her perfectly painted mouth falling open quite unflatteringly.
Wow, this one actually heard me, I thought.
Usually, when I say I don't need it, I get one of three responses.
1) Abject horror and dismay, but no further action, having being paralysed by intense emotions
2) Smirking superiority. You can almost see the thought bubble that says "Denial!" hovering over their heads.
3) Pure indifference as they scan and lock on to their next potential sales. This group seldom hears what you say and depends on non verbal signals to communicate.
But this girl actually responded. I decided to be a little mean and have a little fun.
"Yeah, I don't need it. I am already beautiful."
"But don't you want to be more beautiful?" she asked, a consummate salesperson.
"But what is more beautiful? A smaller waist? Long ruler-straight hair? Fairer skin? Larger breasts? Do you mean, to be thought beautiful, I have to look JUST LIKE YOU?"
Sister girl was dumbfounded. She just stared at me like the concept never occurred to her. I gave her a disarming smile, turned and walked away, my head held high.
I wonder how long it took before she decided to approach someone else. I hope I made her think just a little.
Wednesday, November 1
Stranger things have happened
I was home with Prashanth and Hanan, watching the news of the war. Hanan was shrieking at his uncle's attempts to tickle him, almost drowning out the TV. I was about to yell at both of them, when suddenly Hanan stoppped and stared at the open doorway. I followed his gaze and saw a man in Number 1 military uniform standing there.
"Mummy, there's someone at the door!", Hanan informs me.
"No Shit, Sherlock," snaps Prashanth, who has always been gentle and sensitive, even when we were kids growing up. He continued to torment my son.
I did not recognise the man at the door, although he smiled like he recognised me. As I moved towards the door, I saw that he was accompanied by a lady, a beautiful woman also in military garb, also a stranger to me.
For some reason, I started to panic. I could see their mouths moving like they were saying something to me, but all I could hear were my sharp indrawn breaths as my panic started to mount. Blood was rushing to my knotted stomach, making a hell of a racket as it coursed through my veins. I turned to look at my brother and at Hanan, wondering why they both seemed totally unaffected by these strangers at the door.
Finally, another head appeared at the other side of the gate. I recognised the man as Uncle Pragasam, an old army cronie of my dad's. In fact, I was surprised I recognised him at all, since the last time we met, I was 6. He looked unchanged from my memory of him. Smiling, he gestured towards the lock, and I quickly unlocked the gate and let him in.
As soon as they entered, the lady officer positioned herself right next to me. Uncle Pragasam held my hand and said softly," I am sorry, girl. But your father is lost."
"Lost?", I repeated, idiotically.
"Yes, lost." Drawing a long breath, he continued," Your father was sent with his platoon to the war, but we lost contact with them after 3 days. We don't know where he is."
"You mean he is MIA?", asked Prashanth, looking smug for knowing the proper military term for our lost father's state.
Uncle Pragasam turned to him. "Yes, boy. Your father is officially MIA."
Suddenly, Hanan cries out, pointing to the TV, "Look, there's thaatha!"
And sure enough there he was, my dad, handsome and dashing in his No 3 uniform, sitting aroung a campfire with his platoonmates, a mess tin in his hand, being the life of the party that he always is. I looked closer. He looked about as old as I was as he threw his free arm around a friend, and suddenly my heart was filled with a resolute certainty.
"That's impossible!" I yelled out. "He is not in the army anymore, hasn't been for 15+ years! And he sure as hell is not this 33 year old on TV, although I admit, he did look like that. So," I draw myself up, preparing for the final blow, "how can he be MIA, when he is not 33, not in the army, and definitely not in this war!"
I look around triumphantly. Uncle Pragasam looked nonplussed. The other two officers exchanged looks that I could not really read. Could be pity, could be disbelief.
"Hmmm, maybe it wasn't your dad," he said, with great solemnity and gentleness. "But why don't you call him to find out?"
***
So was this dream just my subconscious mind telling me to call my father?
"Mummy, there's someone at the door!", Hanan informs me.
"No Shit, Sherlock," snaps Prashanth, who has always been gentle and sensitive, even when we were kids growing up. He continued to torment my son.
I did not recognise the man at the door, although he smiled like he recognised me. As I moved towards the door, I saw that he was accompanied by a lady, a beautiful woman also in military garb, also a stranger to me.
For some reason, I started to panic. I could see their mouths moving like they were saying something to me, but all I could hear were my sharp indrawn breaths as my panic started to mount. Blood was rushing to my knotted stomach, making a hell of a racket as it coursed through my veins. I turned to look at my brother and at Hanan, wondering why they both seemed totally unaffected by these strangers at the door.
Finally, another head appeared at the other side of the gate. I recognised the man as Uncle Pragasam, an old army cronie of my dad's. In fact, I was surprised I recognised him at all, since the last time we met, I was 6. He looked unchanged from my memory of him. Smiling, he gestured towards the lock, and I quickly unlocked the gate and let him in.
As soon as they entered, the lady officer positioned herself right next to me. Uncle Pragasam held my hand and said softly," I am sorry, girl. But your father is lost."
"Lost?", I repeated, idiotically.
"Yes, lost." Drawing a long breath, he continued," Your father was sent with his platoon to the war, but we lost contact with them after 3 days. We don't know where he is."
"You mean he is MIA?", asked Prashanth, looking smug for knowing the proper military term for our lost father's state.
Uncle Pragasam turned to him. "Yes, boy. Your father is officially MIA."
Suddenly, Hanan cries out, pointing to the TV, "Look, there's thaatha!"
And sure enough there he was, my dad, handsome and dashing in his No 3 uniform, sitting aroung a campfire with his platoonmates, a mess tin in his hand, being the life of the party that he always is. I looked closer. He looked about as old as I was as he threw his free arm around a friend, and suddenly my heart was filled with a resolute certainty.
"That's impossible!" I yelled out. "He is not in the army anymore, hasn't been for 15+ years! And he sure as hell is not this 33 year old on TV, although I admit, he did look like that. So," I draw myself up, preparing for the final blow, "how can he be MIA, when he is not 33, not in the army, and definitely not in this war!"
I look around triumphantly. Uncle Pragasam looked nonplussed. The other two officers exchanged looks that I could not really read. Could be pity, could be disbelief.
"Hmmm, maybe it wasn't your dad," he said, with great solemnity and gentleness. "But why don't you call him to find out?"
***
So was this dream just my subconscious mind telling me to call my father?
Monday, October 30
You got to face the fats
I had a good conversation with a dear friend today who told me that we had to face the fats.
That's right. He was alluding to the fact that I was slightly fluffy and could stand to lose some fluff.
Now, to fully appreciate this, you have to understand a few things.
1) When we were in our 20s, I was the person who inspired him to lose weight.
2) I only started getting ridiculously large in the last 4 or 5 years.
3) I am a little tired of hauling all this extra baggage around, and its making me crabby inside.
And yes, it may come as a surprise to most of you, but I wasn't always the plump and cheerful person you know today. There was a time when I was a lean, mean, hard ass machine.
One good thing that came out of us "facing the fats" - I remembered that I had a gym membership. True, I havent used it in about 3 months, but I still have it.
So I can start anytime I want. Really.
That's right. He was alluding to the fact that I was slightly fluffy and could stand to lose some fluff.
Now, to fully appreciate this, you have to understand a few things.
1) When we were in our 20s, I was the person who inspired him to lose weight.
2) I only started getting ridiculously large in the last 4 or 5 years.
3) I am a little tired of hauling all this extra baggage around, and its making me crabby inside.
And yes, it may come as a surprise to most of you, but I wasn't always the plump and cheerful person you know today. There was a time when I was a lean, mean, hard ass machine.
One good thing that came out of us "facing the fats" - I remembered that I had a gym membership. True, I havent used it in about 3 months, but I still have it.
So I can start anytime I want. Really.
Thursday, October 26
Exam fever
Yes.
For the first time, since 1998, I actually have exam fever. You know the symptoms.
- hands sweaty and slippery
- nightmares that you forgot to answer questions, had no pencils or didn't wear pants to school
- waking up at 7:30am to catch up on undone work
- stomachaches that are not caused by indigestion
- a sudden urge to procrastinate, followed by panic at said procrastination.
The only difference is this time,I am experiencing all these vicariously - through my 7 year old son. He sits for the first exams of his life next week, and we are all sitting for them with him.
The interesting thing is this - no one taught him these behaviours/ traits. We have not made a big deal of this exam thing, certainly not to the fever pitch of alot of my fellow parents who are falling over themselves trying to get their kid to panic or feel guilty. Anyone who knows me and Otrie knows we are rather laid back parents -too laid back for some.
So Hanan's behaviour comes from one place only - school. His teachers must be telling them horror stories of how their little lives will be over if they don't pass this exam. The have certainly been piling on the homework like there is no tomorrow.
So my role in this situation is this - to be a constant reminder of where his help comes from. That it doesn't all depend on him. That he will never walk alone. That this is NOT the valley of the shadow of death, but more like crossing the Jordan - easy, effortless, and full of milk and honey on the other side. The giants are like bread - for feeding on. And God is B.I.G.
We have been saying Psalm 91 - David's song of protection and safety. I hope it helps Hanan feel secure.
Psalm 91 (Amplified Version)
1 HE WHO [a]dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall remain stable and fixed under the shadow of the Almighty [Whose power no foe can withstand].
2 I will say of the Lord, He is my Refuge and my Fortress, my God; on Him I lean and rely, and in Him I [confidently] trust!
3 For [then] He will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence.
4 [Then] He will cover you with His pinions, and under His wings shall you trust and find refuge; His truth and His faithfulness are a shield and a buckler.
5 You shall not be afraid of the terror of the night, nor of the arrow (the evil plots and slanders of the wicked) that flies by day,
6 Nor of the pestilence that stalks in darkness, nor of the destruction and sudden death that surprise and lay waste at noonday.
7 A thousand may fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand, but it shall not come near you.
8 Only a spectator shall you be [yourself inaccessible in the secret place of the Most High] as you witness the reward of the wicked.
9 Because you have made the Lord your refuge, and the Most High your dwelling place,(A)
10 There shall no evil befall you, nor any plague or calamity come near your tent.
11 For He will give His angels [especial] charge over you to accompany and defend and preserve you in all your ways [of obedience and service].
12 They shall bear you up on their hands, lest you dash your foot against a stone.(B)
13 You shall tread upon the lion and adder; the young lion and the serpent shall you trample underfoot.(C)
14 Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore will I deliver him; I will set him on high, because he knows and understands My name [has a personal knowledge of My mercy, love, and kindness--trusts and relies on Me, knowing I will never forsake him, no, never].
15 He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him.
16 With long life will I satisfy him and show him My salvation.
For the first time, since 1998, I actually have exam fever. You know the symptoms.
- hands sweaty and slippery
- nightmares that you forgot to answer questions, had no pencils or didn't wear pants to school
- waking up at 7:30am to catch up on undone work
- stomachaches that are not caused by indigestion
- a sudden urge to procrastinate, followed by panic at said procrastination.
The only difference is this time,I am experiencing all these vicariously - through my 7 year old son. He sits for the first exams of his life next week, and we are all sitting for them with him.
The interesting thing is this - no one taught him these behaviours/ traits. We have not made a big deal of this exam thing, certainly not to the fever pitch of alot of my fellow parents who are falling over themselves trying to get their kid to panic or feel guilty. Anyone who knows me and Otrie knows we are rather laid back parents -too laid back for some.
So Hanan's behaviour comes from one place only - school. His teachers must be telling them horror stories of how their little lives will be over if they don't pass this exam. The have certainly been piling on the homework like there is no tomorrow.
So my role in this situation is this - to be a constant reminder of where his help comes from. That it doesn't all depend on him. That he will never walk alone. That this is NOT the valley of the shadow of death, but more like crossing the Jordan - easy, effortless, and full of milk and honey on the other side. The giants are like bread - for feeding on. And God is B.I.G.
We have been saying Psalm 91 - David's song of protection and safety. I hope it helps Hanan feel secure.
Psalm 91 (Amplified Version)
1 HE WHO [a]dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall remain stable and fixed under the shadow of the Almighty [Whose power no foe can withstand].
2 I will say of the Lord, He is my Refuge and my Fortress, my God; on Him I lean and rely, and in Him I [confidently] trust!
3 For [then] He will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence.
4 [Then] He will cover you with His pinions, and under His wings shall you trust and find refuge; His truth and His faithfulness are a shield and a buckler.
5 You shall not be afraid of the terror of the night, nor of the arrow (the evil plots and slanders of the wicked) that flies by day,
6 Nor of the pestilence that stalks in darkness, nor of the destruction and sudden death that surprise and lay waste at noonday.
7 A thousand may fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand, but it shall not come near you.
8 Only a spectator shall you be [yourself inaccessible in the secret place of the Most High] as you witness the reward of the wicked.
9 Because you have made the Lord your refuge, and the Most High your dwelling place,(A)
10 There shall no evil befall you, nor any plague or calamity come near your tent.
11 For He will give His angels [especial] charge over you to accompany and defend and preserve you in all your ways [of obedience and service].
12 They shall bear you up on their hands, lest you dash your foot against a stone.(B)
13 You shall tread upon the lion and adder; the young lion and the serpent shall you trample underfoot.(C)
14 Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore will I deliver him; I will set him on high, because he knows and understands My name [has a personal knowledge of My mercy, love, and kindness--trusts and relies on Me, knowing I will never forsake him, no, never].
15 He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him.
16 With long life will I satisfy him and show him My salvation.
Wednesday, October 25
Public Holiday Malaise
It could have been a well spent public holiday. I could have been at an awesome worship conference that I really wanted to go to; that I was supposed to go to by divine appointment I think.
Instead, I let my flesh get in the way, allowed myself to develop feelings of guilt over not being home on a public holiday and therefore had the crappiest day.
Sigh.
Sometimes, its better to do the things that you know are right, rather than things that you feel are right.
On a related but random note, watched The Inside Man, with Denzel Washington and Clive Owen. Good stuff. Extremely good writing. And Spike Lee is a brilliant director who really hasn't got his due credit.
Instead, I let my flesh get in the way, allowed myself to develop feelings of guilt over not being home on a public holiday and therefore had the crappiest day.
Sigh.
Sometimes, its better to do the things that you know are right, rather than things that you feel are right.
On a related but random note, watched The Inside Man, with Denzel Washington and Clive Owen. Good stuff. Extremely good writing. And Spike Lee is a brilliant director who really hasn't got his due credit.
Monday, October 23
Meeting potential family members
" Boy! Come visit auntie for Deepavali ok? And bring your new girlfriend, we would like to meet her."
Dreaded words indeed. The subtext being, bring your girlfriend, so we can stare at her rudely, say a curt hello, gossip about her mercilessly in the kitchen in Tamil and then proceed to ignore her for the rest of the evening.
I remember the first time my husband (then boyfriend) went through this trial by fire. He was perplexed and slightly angry. But as time went by, he learned how to deal with it. And being Otrie, he decided to do the extreme and take it to another level.
He announced his presence in a loud booming voice the minute he entered the house.
He went around and shook hands with everyone and tried to pick up and hug anyone who was smaller than him (including some adults).
He ate with gusto, complimented the host on her cooking and flattered her to the point of embarassment.
He loudly called out when anyone stared at him, making them tell everyone what they were scrutinising, thus showing up the kaypohs and the truly malicious for what they were.
Basically his message was, "You can judge me, but you can't ignore me".
So Vivian, if you felt uncomfortable at our Deepavali gatherings this weekend, or like a fish in an aquarium, I understand. Put up with us for a while, we will get used to you and learn how to include you.
Or you can force yourself on us. I know at least one other person who has, and it seems to work for him.
Dreaded words indeed. The subtext being, bring your girlfriend, so we can stare at her rudely, say a curt hello, gossip about her mercilessly in the kitchen in Tamil and then proceed to ignore her for the rest of the evening.
I remember the first time my husband (then boyfriend) went through this trial by fire. He was perplexed and slightly angry. But as time went by, he learned how to deal with it. And being Otrie, he decided to do the extreme and take it to another level.
He announced his presence in a loud booming voice the minute he entered the house.
He went around and shook hands with everyone and tried to pick up and hug anyone who was smaller than him (including some adults).
He ate with gusto, complimented the host on her cooking and flattered her to the point of embarassment.
He loudly called out when anyone stared at him, making them tell everyone what they were scrutinising, thus showing up the kaypohs and the truly malicious for what they were.
Basically his message was, "You can judge me, but you can't ignore me".
So Vivian, if you felt uncomfortable at our Deepavali gatherings this weekend, or like a fish in an aquarium, I understand. Put up with us for a while, we will get used to you and learn how to include you.
Or you can force yourself on us. I know at least one other person who has, and it seems to work for him.
Wednesday, October 18
Tuesday, October 17
Chaim Potok
I spent the nice long Deepavali break reading 3 books by Chaim Potok. The best thing about reading authors like Mr Potok, is how he totally transports you into his world. Even if the books are not part of a series, the writing, imagery and situational literariness is so consistent, that I feel a little uncomfortable in my own skin after a marathon session like this one. Very few authors can acheive this for me - OSC of course, Anita Shreve does too, and now Chaim Potok.
The Chosen
15 year old Reuven Malter makes a difficult decision to be friends with Danny Saunders, the boy who hit his eye with a baseball and almost blinded him for life. His decision goes beyond forgiveness into true acceptance for his new friend who is a Hasidic Jew. Danny Saunders also has had a rough childhood, raised in silence by a father who was afraid his son's brilliance will make him hard hearted, and hopes his silent treatment will cause enough pain to teach Danny compassion. He expects Danny to take his place as Tzaddik (spiritual leader) of his synagogue, but Danny wants to walk a different path - a path frowned upon by Godly Jews.
This book is about the most basic, and most important of relationships - that between a father and his child. It is also a sort of allegory for man's relationship with God. As long as we see him as G.O.D all in capital letters, He remains unreachable and constantly watching for you to slip. But when you can embrace Him and call Him Father, then you don't have to worry about pleasing Him. You already are.
The Promise
This book taught me a very important lesson. You can agree with the questions that are asked, without agreeing with the answers. I know what probably sounds too simple, but I am a simple person.
There are alot of times when you are taught not to question. In school, at home and even in church, sometimes asking questions is anathema, because noone wants to admit that they don't know the answer.
Reuven Malter faces this situation when his whole Yeshiva is up in arms against a new scientific method of studying Talmud. He is especially persecuted by his teacher, Rav Kalman, who threatens not to let him pass his Rabbinical exams unless he denounces the method altogether.
Reuven realises that sometimes, you have to walk a different way to find answers for yourself, even when the world, as you know it, is against you. And that being pleasing to God is often far removed from being pleasing to men.
The Life of Asher Lev
Of the three books, this one is my favourite. Asher Lev is a Hasidic boy who grows up with an absentee father, a pining mother and an unusual, genius talent for art. He starts drawing startlingly poignant pictures of his life in New York in the early 30s to make up for his father's absence. His father, who spends his life travelling to East Europe to emancipate Jews for his Rebbe, or spiritual leader, does not seek to understand his son's talents, which he calls "nonsense".
Again, Mr Potok has masterfully drawn out the intricacies between a father and his son to tell a touching and painful story of the importance of being accesptable to your father.
By the way, Chaim in Hebrew means "life" or "alive".
To read his own commentary on these books, click here.
The Chosen
15 year old Reuven Malter makes a difficult decision to be friends with Danny Saunders, the boy who hit his eye with a baseball and almost blinded him for life. His decision goes beyond forgiveness into true acceptance for his new friend who is a Hasidic Jew. Danny Saunders also has had a rough childhood, raised in silence by a father who was afraid his son's brilliance will make him hard hearted, and hopes his silent treatment will cause enough pain to teach Danny compassion. He expects Danny to take his place as Tzaddik (spiritual leader) of his synagogue, but Danny wants to walk a different path - a path frowned upon by Godly Jews.
This book is about the most basic, and most important of relationships - that between a father and his child. It is also a sort of allegory for man's relationship with God. As long as we see him as G.O.D all in capital letters, He remains unreachable and constantly watching for you to slip. But when you can embrace Him and call Him Father, then you don't have to worry about pleasing Him. You already are.
The Promise
This book taught me a very important lesson. You can agree with the questions that are asked, without agreeing with the answers. I know what probably sounds too simple, but I am a simple person
There are alot of times when you are taught not to question. In school, at home and even in church, sometimes asking questions is anathema, because noone wants to admit that they don't know the answer.
Reuven Malter faces this situation when his whole Yeshiva is up in arms against a new scientific method of studying Talmud. He is especially persecuted by his teacher, Rav Kalman, who threatens not to let him pass his Rabbinical exams unless he denounces the method altogether.
Reuven realises that sometimes, you have to walk a different way to find answers for yourself, even when the world, as you know it, is against you. And that being pleasing to God is often far removed from being pleasing to men.
The Life of Asher Lev
Of the three books, this one is my favourite. Asher Lev is a Hasidic boy who grows up with an absentee father, a pining mother and an unusual, genius talent for art. He starts drawing startlingly poignant pictures of his life in New York in the early 30s to make up for his father's absence. His father, who spends his life travelling to East Europe to emancipate Jews for his Rebbe, or spiritual leader, does not seek to understand his son's talents, which he calls "nonsense".
Again, Mr Potok has masterfully drawn out the intricacies between a father and his son to tell a touching and painful story of the importance of being accesptable to your father.
By the way, Chaim in Hebrew means "life" or "alive".
To read his own commentary on these books, click here.
Monday, October 16
Give me this mountain!
Give me this mountain! And though I may be
not very sure of how I will defeat
all of my enemies; I will take Your hand
and I know with You, I will conquer the land.
Give me this mountain! I can see it from afar
I know that its immovable and fortified with iron.
But to me its bread, that falls from heaven like dew
Cos I know that this mountain was given me by You.
Give me this mountain! For Your rest is mine.
I need not seek, strive or contrive to find
All of the blessings that You promised to me
And the mountain you have bought for me, at the Cross of Calvary.
Inspired by the story of Caleb, who at the age of 85, said that his strength was as unabated as it was when he was 40. He then proceed to ask for and conquer the mountain of Hebron.
Sunday, October 15
Murukku
It was a lazy weekend. I stayed in bed till 5:30 and then mosied my way over to my mum's to make murukku for Deepavali. This is usually a family affair - ladies only. And not everyone is involved in the making of the murukku. For instance, only Aunty Tami knows how to use the medieval contraption that squeezes the dough out into the oil. Aunty Agnes is in charge of monitoring the doneness of each piece, lifting them out and laying them out on the kitchen towels. I am the stacker - arrange carefully in a spiral in the tin when cooled. Mum just made sure everyone's throats were well moistened with fresh cups of your preferred beverage. Absent this year were Shalini, who is swotting for "O" levels and Aunty Ruba, who .. err, what happened to you, Athai?
But more than our hands, it's our mouths that got the real workout. Who gave birth, who died, who married who (Surya and Jo), who divorced who, whose marriage is on the rocks, who is patching up - no subject was too sacred.
For 4 hours, the 4 of us stood around a greasy electric wok, smelling like oil and murukku and caught up on every human relationship we knew. That's the beauty of talking to women in your family versus your friends. There is no competition - for men, for beauty or for intelligence. Its just true mutual admiration and love, the melding of hearts over the most menial of tasks.
I love this annual activity.
Thursday, October 12
A few crunchy bits
I don't know if other bloggers have this problem, but my biggest issue with starting a new post is always "What do I put in the title?"
I could go the route of the numbered posts, but then noone can tell when I have updated, so I decided to use random phrases that may have something to do with the content, or not.
Anyway, just a few things I wanted to mention.
***
I was talking to a friend in the train yesterday, we were discussing, among other mindless topics, the need to er.. flatulate. Did you ever realise that the person who lets one rip is always the one who either 1) pretends never to notice or 2) is the first one to notice and mention it while holding his nose?
Yes, test it, by all means.
***
Pizza is almost staple food in my family now, since we have many "noone wants to cook, but we are all hungry" days. There are several that we like.
New York Pizza - This is a little joint that only has 3 locations. Harbourfront, Tampnes and Khatib. They served those razor thin and crispy pizzas with a biscuit like crust, and 1 foot long slices. The toppings are your usual stuff, but the sauces they use are awesome. Stay away from the Brooklyn if you can't handle spicy. This was lethal.
Canadian Pizza is good value for money - $22 for 2 largish pizzas. They have a good amount of ingredients, and good balance, which we like. The other thing we like is, the pizzas always arrive piping hot. I am not sure if that's just good service, or Otrie has made enough of a fuss about it often enough, but either way, we enjoy the warmth.
Pasta Mania - This home grown company, I am glad to say, understands tha concept of pizza. Its doesn't try to stuff 4 kinds of cheese in the crust, or make you pay stupid amount of money for a good meal. Try their Calzones. They are freshly made and chockful of goodness.
I hate Pizza Hut. They are overpriced, their crusts are so thick, they absorb all the flavour and more than half the pizza ends up just being a ball of dough in your belly. The cheese overload is ridiculous, and we have never gotten a pizza from them that was more than lukewarm. Pizza Hut ought to rethink their food quality and pricing strategy.
Postscript: Geet has very helpfully recommended Sarpino's, which while looks very respectable, is not available via delivery or accessibity in my part of the country. But the rest of you guys, enjoy. Or open a franchise in the north or something.
I could go the route of the numbered posts, but then noone can tell when I have updated, so I decided to use random phrases that may have something to do with the content, or not.
Anyway, just a few things I wanted to mention.
***
I was talking to a friend in the train yesterday, we were discussing, among other mindless topics, the need to er.. flatulate. Did you ever realise that the person who lets one rip is always the one who either 1) pretends never to notice or 2) is the first one to notice and mention it while holding his nose?
Yes, test it, by all means.
***
Pizza is almost staple food in my family now, since we have many "noone wants to cook, but we are all hungry" days. There are several that we like.
New York Pizza - This is a little joint that only has 3 locations. Harbourfront, Tampnes and Khatib. They served those razor thin and crispy pizzas with a biscuit like crust, and 1 foot long slices. The toppings are your usual stuff, but the sauces they use are awesome. Stay away from the Brooklyn if you can't handle spicy. This was lethal.
Canadian Pizza is good value for money - $22 for 2 largish pizzas. They have a good amount of ingredients, and good balance, which we like. The other thing we like is, the pizzas always arrive piping hot. I am not sure if that's just good service, or Otrie has made enough of a fuss about it often enough, but either way, we enjoy the warmth.
Pasta Mania - This home grown company, I am glad to say, understands tha concept of pizza. Its doesn't try to stuff 4 kinds of cheese in the crust, or make you pay stupid amount of money for a good meal. Try their Calzones. They are freshly made and chockful of goodness.
I hate Pizza Hut. They are overpriced, their crusts are so thick, they absorb all the flavour and more than half the pizza ends up just being a ball of dough in your belly. The cheese overload is ridiculous, and we have never gotten a pizza from them that was more than lukewarm. Pizza Hut ought to rethink their food quality and pricing strategy.
Postscript: Geet has very helpfully recommended Sarpino's, which while looks very respectable, is not available via delivery or accessibity in my part of the country. But the rest of you guys, enjoy. Or open a franchise in the north or something.
Wednesday, October 11
Judging Amy
I don't watch a lot of TV, but Judging Amy is something I cancel appointments to watch. And while I watch it, I expect total silence, no interruptions and preferably noone in the room.
It's my time to completely switch of from reality and live someone else's life for a while. I beleive it's the similar experience to watching daytime soaps.
For those of you who have never seen it, here is a brief synopsis. Amy Gray (Amy Brenneman) is a juvenile court judge who lives with her tweenie daughter and widowed mother (Tyne Daly). She has issues which she tries to battle through like wanting control, inablity to commit, and being secretly in love with her court clerk, Bruce (Richard T Jones). In fact, it's such a secret, she doesn't know it herself.
Add to this amazingly simple plot several layers of dysfunctional family members, gender confused friends and of course the bizarre court cases she hears, and you what you have a is a wonderful meander through the daily life of what it means to be human.
The thing I find most amusing about Amy is that she is a self-professed atheist and she tries to get through all her issues on her own strength. Her control freak persona will not allow her to look to God, but you can see the times where her resolve weakens and she hopes, or even prays, for Divine assistance.
Her mother, Maxine Gray, is a social worker, who works for the Department of Family and Children (DCF). Her job provides me with a large dose of social commentary and ideas on how to get around bureaucracy.
I love this show for many reasons. For one, Ricahrd T Jones is serious eye candy. Second, nothing in the series expects you to suspend your disbelief too high. I can see the things Amy goes through happen to me, if I was a single parent, living with my mom and deadbeat brother. And finally, the writing for this show is so good, it's actually tragic, funny, witty and clever, all at once.
And the actors are so good, they actually make you care about the characters - every last one of them. Heck, I almost wish they would do "Where are they now?" episodes, so I can find out what happened to some of the kids that came through that courtroom.
The sixth season of Judging Amy is showing at 9 pm every weeknight on StarWorld. It may be the last season. So catch a few episodes while you can.
It's my time to completely switch of from reality and live someone else's life for a while. I beleive it's the similar experience to watching daytime soaps.
For those of you who have never seen it, here is a brief synopsis. Amy Gray (Amy Brenneman) is a juvenile court judge who lives with her tweenie daughter and widowed mother (Tyne Daly). She has issues which she tries to battle through like wanting control, inablity to commit, and being secretly in love with her court clerk, Bruce (Richard T Jones). In fact, it's such a secret, she doesn't know it herself.
Add to this amazingly simple plot several layers of dysfunctional family members, gender confused friends and of course the bizarre court cases she hears, and you what you have a is a wonderful meander through the daily life of what it means to be human.
The thing I find most amusing about Amy is that she is a self-professed atheist and she tries to get through all her issues on her own strength. Her control freak persona will not allow her to look to God, but you can see the times where her resolve weakens and she hopes, or even prays, for Divine assistance.
Her mother, Maxine Gray, is a social worker, who works for the Department of Family and Children (DCF). Her job provides me with a large dose of social commentary and ideas on how to get around bureaucracy.
I love this show for many reasons. For one, Ricahrd T Jones is serious eye candy. Second, nothing in the series expects you to suspend your disbelief too high. I can see the things Amy goes through happen to me, if I was a single parent, living with my mom and deadbeat brother. And finally, the writing for this show is so good, it's actually tragic, funny, witty and clever, all at once.
And the actors are so good, they actually make you care about the characters - every last one of them. Heck, I almost wish they would do "Where are they now?" episodes, so I can find out what happened to some of the kids that came through that courtroom.
The sixth season of Judging Amy is showing at 9 pm every weeknight on StarWorld. It may be the last season. So catch a few episodes while you can.
Tuesday, October 10
The Woman with the Golden Voice
OK, not really, but I am going to be the voice of 01 Computer.
My boss has selected me over 1000s of candidates (ok, 25 candidates. I am Indian, we exaggerate) to be the voice of 01 for our new telephone system.
Yes, I will be the annoying voice that says, "Hello, you have reached 01. For marketing, please dial 2745386532947087540356476539184708, followed by the arsed-to-risk key".
The reason I am minorly proud of this accomplishment is that, as the only minority race female in the organisation, I feel that my boss realises the benefit of a company that doesn't sound so completely er... homogenous.
And, of course, that it means my voice is lovely.
I will let you all know when it happens. Then, please feel free to call my company and listen to my sultry sounds.
:-)
My boss has selected me over 1000s of candidates (ok, 25 candidates. I am Indian, we exaggerate) to be the voice of 01 for our new telephone system.
Yes, I will be the annoying voice that says, "Hello, you have reached 01. For marketing, please dial 2745386532947087540356476539184708, followed by the arsed-to-risk key".
The reason I am minorly proud of this accomplishment is that, as the only minority race female in the organisation, I feel that my boss realises the benefit of a company that doesn't sound so completely er... homogenous.
And, of course, that it means my voice is lovely.
I will let you all know when it happens. Then, please feel free to call my company and listen to my sultry sounds.
:-)
Friday, October 6
Less homework, more learning
My son had 42 pages of homework this weekend. 42.
He had 20 pages of math, 10 pages of Tamil and 12 pages of English (handwriting practise)
The 2 10-page Math exercise were on addition and subtraction, the Tamil was a mock exam and the English paper was an exercise on how to write neatly.
Surely Miss Algorithm, or whatever your name is, you should know by page 5 whether your students have mastered addition and subtraction. Especially when there is no variation to the sums at all.
Surely Miss Chalkdust, 5 reptitions of each word would have sufficed to train the kids. Do they need 12 repetitions? Given the limited fine motor skill abilities of most 7 year old, can you have a little sympathy for cramping fingers as they struggle to write "surprised" 12 times in perfect script?
The only homework that I thought was fair was the Tamil, because while it was 10 pages, it covered 60% of the methods and vocabulary that will be tested in the exam.
I do not want my son to be a drone, doing repetitions of boring, mundane work that means nothing. Repetition works for kids with IQs under 80, but surely those kids will be in schools that cater to that deficit.
If it takes 10 pages x 5 sums a page for you to determine if the student understands addition, then maybe you are not teaching him enough. Maybe you are expecting the parents to teach him, while you just grade the papers and do the boring mundane things that your employer expects you to do. Like classroom decoration to the Hari Raya theme.
But I don't want to spend 6 hours a weekend teaching my son. I want to enjoy him, do the things that we like, chill out and relax and worship God. In fact, and this may come as news, that's what most parents want to do on weekends. We send them to school to get the learning. At home, we want to do the loving. And the teaching that they don't get at school. Like social interaction, responsibility with chores, respect and love for parents, and why Aslan is a type of Christ etc etc.
Can we make no homework the default state? (Read this article to learn about this concept)
And can we prioritize learning? I know that's a tall order in the midst of compulsory testing and project work, but school used to be about that. Let's revisit it.
He had 20 pages of math, 10 pages of Tamil and 12 pages of English (handwriting practise)
The 2 10-page Math exercise were on addition and subtraction, the Tamil was a mock exam and the English paper was an exercise on how to write neatly.
Surely Miss Algorithm, or whatever your name is, you should know by page 5 whether your students have mastered addition and subtraction. Especially when there is no variation to the sums at all.
Surely Miss Chalkdust, 5 reptitions of each word would have sufficed to train the kids. Do they need 12 repetitions? Given the limited fine motor skill abilities of most 7 year old, can you have a little sympathy for cramping fingers as they struggle to write "surprised" 12 times in perfect script?
The only homework that I thought was fair was the Tamil, because while it was 10 pages, it covered 60% of the methods and vocabulary that will be tested in the exam.
I do not want my son to be a drone, doing repetitions of boring, mundane work that means nothing. Repetition works for kids with IQs under 80, but surely those kids will be in schools that cater to that deficit.
If it takes 10 pages x 5 sums a page for you to determine if the student understands addition, then maybe you are not teaching him enough. Maybe you are expecting the parents to teach him, while you just grade the papers and do the boring mundane things that your employer expects you to do. Like classroom decoration to the Hari Raya theme.
But I don't want to spend 6 hours a weekend teaching my son. I want to enjoy him, do the things that we like, chill out and relax and worship God. In fact, and this may come as news, that's what most parents want to do on weekends. We send them to school to get the learning. At home, we want to do the loving. And the teaching that they don't get at school. Like social interaction, responsibility with chores, respect and love for parents, and why Aslan is a type of Christ etc etc.
Can we make no homework the default state? (Read this article to learn about this concept)
And can we prioritize learning? I know that's a tall order in the midst of compulsory testing and project work, but school used to be about that. Let's revisit it.
Should I write?
I have decided to write a book.
Ok, it may end up being a novella, or even a short story, but the point being, I think I have a story to tell and that people may think it's worth reading.
One of my favourite authors,Orson Scott Card, has a really cool writer's guide, which is material that he uses for his writing lessons in UNC. And I have been so inspired by his "lessons". (click here to link to his site)
The first lesson is, I beleive, to write about something where you know the subject matter intimately. Therefore this will not be a sci fi book,(although I love the genre). It will probably be a family drama, since I am Indian, and in my family, got plenty drama.
I also hope I can keep the chick lit element out of it, because more times than not, lighthearted books by women, about women,turn out being insipid, ridiculous and not very readable.
So if I do post passages or chapters of the book here, please do gimme your comments, won't ya?
Thanks. I knew I could count on you.
Ok, it may end up being a novella, or even a short story, but the point being, I think I have a story to tell and that people may think it's worth reading.
One of my favourite authors,Orson Scott Card, has a really cool writer's guide, which is material that he uses for his writing lessons in UNC. And I have been so inspired by his "lessons". (click here to link to his site)
The first lesson is, I beleive, to write about something where you know the subject matter intimately. Therefore this will not be a sci fi book,(although I love the genre). It will probably be a family drama, since I am Indian, and in my family, got plenty drama.
I also hope I can keep the chick lit element out of it, because more times than not, lighthearted books by women, about women,turn out being insipid, ridiculous and not very readable.
So if I do post passages or chapters of the book here, please do gimme your comments, won't ya?
Thanks. I knew I could count on you.
Wednesday, October 4
A Message to Indian Expats
Recent events have gotten me so riled against this particular group of people that I have to give vent to my feelings here before I explode and say something I might regret to their faces.
Dear Indian Expat,
1) you are not smarter than me. Sure, you may have a whole string of alphabets behind your name that your father bought from whichever corrupt univerisity you call your Alma Mater, but that doesn't make you smarter. The only reason you were hired for the job is because no self respecting Singaporean will do that kind of work for that little. In case you didn't know, even peanuts in SIngapore is 6 figures per annum.
2) Keep your food morality to yourself. I am really not interested in hearing how meat is bad for you, and how the rancid curd rice your wife packs for you in the morning is so much healthier than food at the hawker centre. In fact we are actually happy you prefer your puke-inducing yesterday's sambar, so that we don't have to jostle with you for space during lunch.
3) Teach your children some manners. Granted, children only ape the way their parents behave, and we all know how petulant some of you are. But it is NOT acceptable for your kids to be running into people while playing on the train while their mothers sit there and compare the designs on one another's jewellery.
4)Singaporean women are not dying to meet Indian expat men. So stop looking at us like we are. We like our men strong, physically fit, independant and manly, the way Singaporean men who have been through NS are. Not interested in soft in the middle, pansy walking, limp wristed men who lived with their mother and a retinue of servants till they got married.
5) Singaporean Indians have risen above petty differentiators like religion, sect, caste and clan. It is no longer an acceptable conversation starter. So don't think we should fall down and worship you just because you know which caste you belong to. People who cling to age old clan and caste traditions are people who have such low self esteem that they have to hold on to whatever history they can find to validate their existence. Singaporeans are alot more secure than that.
Of course, I acknowledge that there are Indian expats who do not deserve this rant and are actually decent human beings. You are hence tasked to teach your countrymen the dos and don'ts of living in someone else's country. Please. Do us all a favour.
Dear Indian Expat,
1) you are not smarter than me. Sure, you may have a whole string of alphabets behind your name that your father bought from whichever corrupt univerisity you call your Alma Mater, but that doesn't make you smarter. The only reason you were hired for the job is because no self respecting Singaporean will do that kind of work for that little. In case you didn't know, even peanuts in SIngapore is 6 figures per annum.
2) Keep your food morality to yourself. I am really not interested in hearing how meat is bad for you, and how the rancid curd rice your wife packs for you in the morning is so much healthier than food at the hawker centre. In fact we are actually happy you prefer your puke-inducing yesterday's sambar, so that we don't have to jostle with you for space during lunch.
3) Teach your children some manners. Granted, children only ape the way their parents behave, and we all know how petulant some of you are. But it is NOT acceptable for your kids to be running into people while playing on the train while their mothers sit there and compare the designs on one another's jewellery.
4)Singaporean women are not dying to meet Indian expat men. So stop looking at us like we are. We like our men strong, physically fit, independant and manly, the way Singaporean men who have been through NS are. Not interested in soft in the middle, pansy walking, limp wristed men who lived with their mother and a retinue of servants till they got married.
5) Singaporean Indians have risen above petty differentiators like religion, sect, caste and clan. It is no longer an acceptable conversation starter. So don't think we should fall down and worship you just because you know which caste you belong to. People who cling to age old clan and caste traditions are people who have such low self esteem that they have to hold on to whatever history they can find to validate their existence. Singaporeans are alot more secure than that.
Of course, I acknowledge that there are Indian expats who do not deserve this rant and are actually decent human beings. You are hence tasked to teach your countrymen the dos and don'ts of living in someone else's country. Please. Do us all a favour.
Tuesday, October 3
A Song for the Love of my Life
From the time I rise in the morning,
The Son shines His favour on me.
In all my comings and goings,
I know His presence is near me.
The people that I meet
don't know what they see in me.
Yet all through the working day,
the Son shines His favour on me.
If I wander off and go my way,
I know He will come and find me.
And when I am found, He won't
have a harsh word to condemn me.
Instead He makes a feast of good things,
and says, "Eat! Till you are filled.
And if this is not enough, ask!
I have so much more to give."
And when the day is done,
He makes me to lie down.
Whispering in my heart that,
all the sweet things in Him will be found.
He is more than just a Saviour,
He is the Lover of my being.
He shines on me, everyday.
The Son shines His favour on me.
The Son shines His favour on me.
In all my comings and goings,
I know His presence is near me.
The people that I meet
don't know what they see in me.
Yet all through the working day,
the Son shines His favour on me.
If I wander off and go my way,
I know He will come and find me.
And when I am found, He won't
have a harsh word to condemn me.
Instead He makes a feast of good things,
and says, "Eat! Till you are filled.
And if this is not enough, ask!
I have so much more to give."
And when the day is done,
He makes me to lie down.
Whispering in my heart that,
all the sweet things in Him will be found.
He is more than just a Saviour,
He is the Lover of my being.
He shines on me, everyday.
The Son shines His favour on me.
Monday, October 2
Product Launch - Terrorist Attack
I attended a product launch by one of my company's main partners on Friday. The brand name will go unmentioned for reasons that will be obvious soon.
The launch had a military theme. The invites came in manila envelopes with Top Secret printed in bold across them. The contents boldly demanded that we attend the "mobilisation".
So far so good. We were all milling around in the reception area, under camouflage nets and green tents. All the staff were dressed in green army supple Tshirts and camouflage pants or skirts. With the exception on the vodka shot girls of course. What is a product launch without women in tiny shorts and midriff baring, barely breathing tight Tees dropping vodka shots in the mouths of open-mouthed guests?
And then, the lights went off. Someone started a strobe light, and we saw a man in a ski mask with what looks like a Soviet machine gun from WWI. He then opens fire at the audience, and tells us to go to the event room for "interrogation".
I don't know about the rest, but for a minute, I was quite alarmed. Strobe lights are scary in them selves, but seeing a ski masked gunman clinb onto a platform, take aim at me and fire away literally made me almost soil myself.
We live in paranoid times, with the danger of terrorism everywhere. Gunned soldiers are patrolling our train stations, for Pete's sake. Don't you think its highly inappropriate to have a product launch to a terrorist theme?
Or is it just me?
The launch had a military theme. The invites came in manila envelopes with Top Secret printed in bold across them. The contents boldly demanded that we attend the "mobilisation".
So far so good. We were all milling around in the reception area, under camouflage nets and green tents. All the staff were dressed in green army supple Tshirts and camouflage pants or skirts. With the exception on the vodka shot girls of course. What is a product launch without women in tiny shorts and midriff baring, barely breathing tight Tees dropping vodka shots in the mouths of open-mouthed guests?
And then, the lights went off. Someone started a strobe light, and we saw a man in a ski mask with what looks like a Soviet machine gun from WWI. He then opens fire at the audience, and tells us to go to the event room for "interrogation".
I don't know about the rest, but for a minute, I was quite alarmed. Strobe lights are scary in them selves, but seeing a ski masked gunman clinb onto a platform, take aim at me and fire away literally made me almost soil myself.
We live in paranoid times, with the danger of terrorism everywhere. Gunned soldiers are patrolling our train stations, for Pete's sake. Don't you think its highly inappropriate to have a product launch to a terrorist theme?
Or is it just me?
Thursday, September 28
It's my blog and I'll cry/ laugh/ criticise/ scream if I want to
Recently some of my friends and fellow bloggers have been getting all kinds of abuse for putting up content that offends the sensibilities of their readers. They have not been particularly abusive - no one is in danger of being exposed to the law or beaten up by screaming women or anything like that. They are just angry that the blog does not represent their point of view.
Unfortunately blogging has allowed us to make our private thoughts public. Things that used to be writtens in diaries, whispered among friends, or at most discussed loudly over teh tarik in coffee shops, is now online for the whole world to see.
I remember Otrie getting very upset because I had made a less-than-congratulatory remark about a lady in my salsa class who annoyed me to death. He felt that I shouldn't say that about her in a public blog. Till, now I wonder, why not? It's my opinion and my blog.
If I was writing in a salsa community blog, I may not have been so open in my criticism though. I may have changed her name, called it a hypothethical situation, or written in the most general terms about the incident. But my blog is about my life, and if you are in my life, I will surely write about you.
I will however, not do the following:-
1) Lift content of someone else's blog, website or book, and pass it of as my own.
2) Say anything that may destroy a person's reputation e.g. call someone a playa when I know he is not :-)
Not every blogger has the same scruples I have. They may have more. They may have less. The point is, they are free to manage their blogs however they want. ANd if you don't like it, stop reading. Its just like changing the channel when Kylie Kwong comes on. I don't have to watch it, I can turn it off.
Blog: Blog is the contraction universally used for weblog, a type of website where entries are made (such as in a journal or diary), displayed in a reverse chronological order.
Blogs often provide commentary or news on a particular subject, such as food, politics, or local news; some function as more personal online diaries. A typical blog combines text, images, and links to other blogs, web pages, and other media related to its topic. Most blogs are primarily textual although some focus on photographs (photoblog), videos (vlog), or audio (podcasting), and are part of a wider network of social media.
(Definition by Wikipedia, bold and italics my own)
Unfortunately blogging has allowed us to make our private thoughts public. Things that used to be writtens in diaries, whispered among friends, or at most discussed loudly over teh tarik in coffee shops, is now online for the whole world to see.
I remember Otrie getting very upset because I had made a less-than-congratulatory remark about a lady in my salsa class who annoyed me to death. He felt that I shouldn't say that about her in a public blog. Till, now I wonder, why not? It's my opinion and my blog.
If I was writing in a salsa community blog, I may not have been so open in my criticism though. I may have changed her name, called it a hypothethical situation, or written in the most general terms about the incident. But my blog is about my life, and if you are in my life, I will surely write about you.
I will however, not do the following:-
1) Lift content of someone else's blog, website or book, and pass it of as my own.
2) Say anything that may destroy a person's reputation e.g. call someone a playa when I know he is not :-)
Not every blogger has the same scruples I have. They may have more. They may have less. The point is, they are free to manage their blogs however they want. ANd if you don't like it, stop reading. Its just like changing the channel when Kylie Kwong comes on. I don't have to watch it, I can turn it off.
Blog: Blog is the contraction universally used for weblog, a type of website where entries are made (such as in a journal or diary), displayed in a reverse chronological order.
Blogs often provide commentary or news on a particular subject, such as food, politics, or local news; some function as more personal online diaries. A typical blog combines text, images, and links to other blogs, web pages, and other media related to its topic. Most blogs are primarily textual although some focus on photographs (photoblog), videos (vlog), or audio (podcasting), and are part of a wider network of social media.
(Definition by Wikipedia, bold and italics my own)
Wednesday, September 27
It's pure trash and I love it
Desperate Housewives is the most removed from reality show there is. Which makes for a welcome break from all the reality shows of course. But honestly,the amount of suspension of disbeleif required to sit through an episode is mindboggling.
1) There is no way there is such a large concentration of single, thin, rich white housewives in one neighbourhood. Especially when statistics show 1 in 4 American women is a lard ass.
2) Edie is however a reality. Every neighbourhood has one - the shameless hussy that throws herself at every man from 7 to 70. Mine lives on the 3rd floor and runs a door to door yakult selling business.
3) That level of family dysfunctionality is not based on any reality. Most families are way more dysfunctional than that. A household where a woman comes home and kisses her stay home husband? Please. Its all she can do to not look at him like the lazy good for nothing worm that he is. And a woman who sends her boyfriend's son to his death in UTAH, so she can keep the man at home? I know this is desperate housewives, but really, no woman is as heartless as that. We are more likely to lie and connive and turn the man against his own son, so he will send him to UTAH to his death.
4)Children are nuts. Its a fact. Deal with it. Don't trust in time outs, bribes, negotiation or cajoling. You are bigger. Use brute force. The end. One day they will thank you for not allowing them to kill themselves when they were 5. The no-hitting-chldren rule is the biggest, most crippling lie the devil ever told us.
NB: I am not talking about abuse here. I am saying there is a place for capital discipline.
5) If ever a neighbour moves in next door, and you hear weird sounds coming from their basement, don't ignore them. Call the police.
I love desperate housewives. All that eye candy is a definite plus (men included) but the best thing about it is how you can totally remove yourself from reality for one hour. And really appreciate your comparitively normal life once the hour is up.
1) There is no way there is such a large concentration of single, thin, rich white housewives in one neighbourhood. Especially when statistics show 1 in 4 American women is a lard ass.
2) Edie is however a reality. Every neighbourhood has one - the shameless hussy that throws herself at every man from 7 to 70. Mine lives on the 3rd floor and runs a door to door yakult selling business.
3) That level of family dysfunctionality is not based on any reality. Most families are way more dysfunctional than that. A household where a woman comes home and kisses her stay home husband? Please. Its all she can do to not look at him like the lazy good for nothing worm that he is. And a woman who sends her boyfriend's son to his death in UTAH, so she can keep the man at home? I know this is desperate housewives, but really, no woman is as heartless as that. We are more likely to lie and connive and turn the man against his own son, so he will send him to UTAH to his death.
4)Children are nuts. Its a fact. Deal with it. Don't trust in time outs, bribes, negotiation or cajoling. You are bigger. Use brute force. The end. One day they will thank you for not allowing them to kill themselves when they were 5. The no-hitting-chldren rule is the biggest, most crippling lie the devil ever told us.
NB: I am not talking about abuse here. I am saying there is a place for capital discipline.
5) If ever a neighbour moves in next door, and you hear weird sounds coming from their basement, don't ignore them. Call the police.
I love desperate housewives. All that eye candy is a definite plus (men included) but the best thing about it is how you can totally remove yourself from reality for one hour. And really appreciate your comparitively normal life once the hour is up.
Monday, September 25
Things I want to do to revamp my house
Shanker, thanks to your inspiring blogs about your house (which you can't do a damn thing about), here is my wish list of revamp ideas for mine (because I can)
1) Get rid of the fish tank that we are currently using only for breeding mosquitoes and the soothing sound of rushing water
2) Throw away or slipcover the atrociously dinghy and dirty sofa set and reinforce the bottom so that it will no longer sag.
3) Buy a proper CD storage device, so that we won't have CDs in 5 different locations like we do now. Ikea, here I come.
4) Organise a day to sit down with Hanan and get rid of all the junk in his toyroom, so that we can move them all into his bedroom. Then I can reclaim the space and...and... do stuff with it. (to be advised)
5) Replace dining room chairs. They are in such a sad state, covers all torn with the sponge leaking out from all directions.
Finish the whole thing with a good paint job, and voila, as good as new!!!
1) Get rid of the fish tank that we are currently using only for breeding mosquitoes and the soothing sound of rushing water
2) Throw away or slipcover the atrociously dinghy and dirty sofa set and reinforce the bottom so that it will no longer sag.
3) Buy a proper CD storage device, so that we won't have CDs in 5 different locations like we do now. Ikea, here I come.
4) Organise a day to sit down with Hanan and get rid of all the junk in his toyroom, so that we can move them all into his bedroom. Then I can reclaim the space and...and... do stuff with it. (to be advised)
5) Replace dining room chairs. They are in such a sad state, covers all torn with the sponge leaking out from all directions.
Finish the whole thing with a good paint job, and voila, as good as new!!!
Sunday, September 24
The end of the innocence
The day has finally come when I can no longer protect my offspring from the evil in the world. He now has to learn to discern and fend for himself, and I only hope that I have provided enough of a fundamental foundation to help him with his decisions.
Flashback 1....
... we were on the bus, going for his weekly swimming lesson when Hanan turns to me and says, "Mummy, what does 'butoh' mean?" I blanch and play it down by giving a half hearted giggle and saying, "Where did you hear that, son?"
"The boys I play with always call me that. They told me it means, I am very smart". My heart bled. Not only was my son called a nasty word for the first time in his life, but he also fell for the evil childhood trick of let's-teach-the-dummy-the-wrong-word-and-watch-the-ensuing-hilarity.
I told him. With no embellishments, or sugar coating, I told my 7 year old what butoh meant, and what his friends were doing when they lied about the meaning.
Hanan went quiet. His fists clenched. The skin around his mouth tightened as he gritted his teeth. He turned to me and said in an icy, determined voice, "I am going to kill them."
After convincing him that homicide wasn't the answer and promising to have words with the kids in question, I wondered what to say to my son.My options were:-
1) Teach him the "sticks and stones" response.
2) Teach him how to give as good as he gets.
3) Introduce him to some new friends
In the end I settled for a combination of all three (after covering the spiritual aspect of the situation rather thouroughly, of course). I hope it helps him.
I do realise this means the end of one stage of Hanan's childhood. After this will come his own experimentation with rude words, and I hope he will be equipped to deal with it in a mature way.
Flashback 2...
... a 5 year old girl with long ponytails watches as 2 slightly older boys horse around in a playground, near the sandpit she is playing in. In the struggle, the elastic on one boy's shorts snaps and he watches in horror as his pants fall to his ankles, revealing no underpants and a rather small willy.
The other boy seizes the moment, to lock his hapless friend's arms behind his head while he starts up the chant of "kuku chiao, kuku chiao" taken up by the rest of the innocents. The victim fights back angrily at first, his face and ears red with embarrassment and anger. But at some point, resignation crosses his face and his body becomes limp,as the exhaustion of defeat takes over.
At that moment, his tormentor decides that this is no longer fun and let's the boy fall in a crumpled heap. Without a ringleader, the other kids also wander off.
I watch this and learnt an important lesson that day. I don't think I need to spell out what it was.
Flashback 1....
... we were on the bus, going for his weekly swimming lesson when Hanan turns to me and says, "Mummy, what does 'butoh' mean?" I blanch and play it down by giving a half hearted giggle and saying, "Where did you hear that, son?"
"The boys I play with always call me that. They told me it means, I am very smart". My heart bled. Not only was my son called a nasty word for the first time in his life, but he also fell for the evil childhood trick of let's-teach-the-dummy-the-wrong-word-and-watch-the-ensuing-hilarity.
I told him. With no embellishments, or sugar coating, I told my 7 year old what butoh meant, and what his friends were doing when they lied about the meaning.
Hanan went quiet. His fists clenched. The skin around his mouth tightened as he gritted his teeth. He turned to me and said in an icy, determined voice, "I am going to kill them."
After convincing him that homicide wasn't the answer and promising to have words with the kids in question, I wondered what to say to my son.My options were:-
1) Teach him the "sticks and stones" response.
2) Teach him how to give as good as he gets.
3) Introduce him to some new friends
In the end I settled for a combination of all three (after covering the spiritual aspect of the situation rather thouroughly, of course). I hope it helps him.
I do realise this means the end of one stage of Hanan's childhood. After this will come his own experimentation with rude words, and I hope he will be equipped to deal with it in a mature way.
Flashback 2...
... a 5 year old girl with long ponytails watches as 2 slightly older boys horse around in a playground, near the sandpit she is playing in. In the struggle, the elastic on one boy's shorts snaps and he watches in horror as his pants fall to his ankles, revealing no underpants and a rather small willy.
The other boy seizes the moment, to lock his hapless friend's arms behind his head while he starts up the chant of "kuku chiao, kuku chiao" taken up by the rest of the innocents. The victim fights back angrily at first, his face and ears red with embarrassment and anger. But at some point, resignation crosses his face and his body becomes limp,as the exhaustion of defeat takes over.
At that moment, his tormentor decides that this is no longer fun and let's the boy fall in a crumpled heap. Without a ringleader, the other kids also wander off.
I watch this and learnt an important lesson that day. I don't think I need to spell out what it was.
Thursday, September 21
It finally happened
I don't know if it's my body's unconscious need for a break, or all the stress that I am been facing lately, or really just bad weather and viruses everywhere, but I have finally fallen ill for the first time this year.
It feels weird, to be in bed, incapacitated and utterly miserable. I feel like I should be able to stand up, shake it off, and get on with life. Tried that, to abject failure yesterday. I realise that if you don't rest, your body will just shut down on its own. Otherwise known as passing out. A wise part of me said, "Nalinee, just shut up and go to the doctor!" So I did.
I realise that its hard for me to explain to a doctor what's wrong. I think that has something to do with the fear of being caught malingering (I have mum to thank for that, Ms 5 years with no MC!), so I am always nervous going to see a doctor. Sometimes also nervous that he will find out I am dying of something, which I would rather not know about.
Feared Scenario No 1
"You Liar! There is nothing wrong with you! You are just a lazy arse that doesn't want to work, right? No MC, go back to work now!"
Feared Scenario No 2
" Oh my God! Why didnt you come see me about this earlier? Its too late, we can't help you anymore! Have you made out your will?"
Paranoid? Maybe. But here is a confession. I have nothing but contempt for people who take MCs at least once a month. I am sure they are lying. I always think they probably had a late night and are hungover and couldn't be arsed to come to work.
Therefore when I am sick and on MC (like now), that's what I think they are saying about me.
OK, enough, I think. Time to get back to the pills, antibiotics and fluids cocktail. I will catch up on the flip side of this bug, or whatever. And if it is a horrible undetectable disease I am dying of, I bequeath all my worldy possessions to Hanan. All $250 worth of them.
It feels weird, to be in bed, incapacitated and utterly miserable. I feel like I should be able to stand up, shake it off, and get on with life. Tried that, to abject failure yesterday. I realise that if you don't rest, your body will just shut down on its own. Otherwise known as passing out. A wise part of me said, "Nalinee, just shut up and go to the doctor!" So I did.
I realise that its hard for me to explain to a doctor what's wrong. I think that has something to do with the fear of being caught malingering (I have mum to thank for that, Ms 5 years with no MC!), so I am always nervous going to see a doctor. Sometimes also nervous that he will find out I am dying of something, which I would rather not know about.
Feared Scenario No 1
"You Liar! There is nothing wrong with you! You are just a lazy arse that doesn't want to work, right? No MC, go back to work now!"
Feared Scenario No 2
" Oh my God! Why didnt you come see me about this earlier? Its too late, we can't help you anymore! Have you made out your will?"
Paranoid? Maybe. But here is a confession. I have nothing but contempt for people who take MCs at least once a month. I am sure they are lying. I always think they probably had a late night and are hungover and couldn't be arsed to come to work.
Therefore when I am sick and on MC (like now), that's what I think they are saying about me.
OK, enough, I think. Time to get back to the pills, antibiotics and fluids cocktail. I will catch up on the flip side of this bug, or whatever. And if it is a horrible undetectable disease I am dying of, I bequeath all my worldy possessions to Hanan. All $250 worth of them.
Tuesday, September 19
Not everything is about heartbreak
Some of us have
great stories... pretty stories
that take place at lakes with
boats and friends and noodle
salad. Just not anybody in this
car. But lots of people -- that's
their story -- good times and
noodle salad... and that's what
makes it hard. Not that you had
it bad but being that pissed that
so many had it good.
- Melvin Udall (As Good As It Gets)
In an extremely well written and beautiful movie, that is the line that reaches me the most. Happy people with happy stories and the jealous onlookers.
"As good at it gets" is on HBO. Again. Probably for the 400th time. But I will watch it everytime I can, because it tells the truth about love. Love is hard. And you don't have to be obsessive compulsive, a broke waitress or a gay artist to know that.
If you are script obsessed as I am, you can read the full script to this wonderful film here.
great stories... pretty stories
that take place at lakes with
boats and friends and noodle
salad. Just not anybody in this
car. But lots of people -- that's
their story -- good times and
noodle salad... and that's what
makes it hard. Not that you had
it bad but being that pissed that
so many had it good.
- Melvin Udall (As Good As It Gets)
In an extremely well written and beautiful movie, that is the line that reaches me the most. Happy people with happy stories and the jealous onlookers.
"As good at it gets" is on HBO. Again. Probably for the 400th time. But I will watch it everytime I can, because it tells the truth about love. Love is hard. And you don't have to be obsessive compulsive, a broke waitress or a gay artist to know that.
If you are script obsessed as I am, you can read the full script to this wonderful film here.
Thursday, September 14
Hand in my pocket - Alanis Morrisette.
Sing along everyone. It's cathartic
I'm broke but I'm happy
I'm poor but I'm kind
I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah
I'm high but I'm grounded
I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed
I'm lost but I'm hopeful baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving a high five
I feel drunk but I'm sober
I'm young and I'm underpaid
I'm tired but I'm working, yeah
I care but I'm worthless
I'm here but I'm really gone
I'm wrong and I'm sorry baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be quite alright
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is flicking a cigarette
What it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign
I'm free but I'm focused
I'm green but I'm wise
I'm shy but I'm friendly baby
I'm sad but I'm laughing
I'm brave but I'm chicken shit
I'm sick but I'm pretty baby
And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is playing the piano
What it all comes down to my friends
Is that everything's just fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is hailing a taxicab.
I'm broke but I'm happy
I'm poor but I'm kind
I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah
I'm high but I'm grounded
I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed
I'm lost but I'm hopeful baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving a high five
I feel drunk but I'm sober
I'm young and I'm underpaid
I'm tired but I'm working, yeah
I care but I'm worthless
I'm here but I'm really gone
I'm wrong and I'm sorry baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be quite alright
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is flicking a cigarette
What it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign
I'm free but I'm focused
I'm green but I'm wise
I'm shy but I'm friendly baby
I'm sad but I'm laughing
I'm brave but I'm chicken shit
I'm sick but I'm pretty baby
And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is playing the piano
What it all comes down to my friends
Is that everything's just fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is hailing a taxicab.
Wednesday, September 13
Mama is ok! - modern communication device
It was a tense coupla days. We had word on Sunday through Yahoo messenger that my mother in law expereinced some chest pains and had to go into the hospital in Chicago for some test. The results came out ok, but they wanted to this one additional test where they put a scope in through her leg, up to her heart to see if they missed anything.
After a few days of anxious waiting, bickering (otrie and me) and other related stress busters, we finally heard back from the folks in chicago via sms that her heart is in very good shape.
While we are busy being thankful to God for prolonging her life (she's 82), I am also thankful for the modern tools of communication we have that allow us to convey important information like this for virtually nothing.
In the old days, it would have meant an expensive phone call, truncated telegram or the impersonal fax. If you go even further back, it would have been the post, which will take at least a week to get here.
So thank God for sms, msn, yahoo, email and skype. We don't say it enough.
P.S Oh yeah, and thank God for the go-through-leg-to-look-at-heart scope as well. :) We are so glad you are ok, mama!
After a few days of anxious waiting, bickering (otrie and me) and other related stress busters, we finally heard back from the folks in chicago via sms that her heart is in very good shape.
While we are busy being thankful to God for prolonging her life (she's 82), I am also thankful for the modern tools of communication we have that allow us to convey important information like this for virtually nothing.
In the old days, it would have meant an expensive phone call, truncated telegram or the impersonal fax. If you go even further back, it would have been the post, which will take at least a week to get here.
So thank God for sms, msn, yahoo, email and skype. We don't say it enough.
P.S Oh yeah, and thank God for the go-through-leg-to-look-at-heart scope as well. :) We are so glad you are ok, mama!
Monday, September 11
Saturday Blitz
After ignoring the huge mountain of laundry sitting on the bed,I decided there was only one way to spend this Saturday - doing kiddie stuff.
Firstly, because there was this slight twinge of guilt of having so many nights out when it was the one week school holiday. But more importantly because sometimes adulthood and its "responsibilities" suck, so a little regression is good for the soul.
First stop - junk food brunch. Hanan and I we for what had the best kiddie toy, instead of any nutrition hangups. BK won, hands down. Then we went to Timezone for $20 worth of pure un"adult"erated motorcross and fast car driving. Hanan has zero control over his cars, poor fellow. Better with bikes. We also played a few of those other, more easy to win games, like pinball (LOTR no less) and bowling. I was pleased to note that he did not insist on playing any shooting related games, although I said he could play anything he wanted. My young padwan, taught well, he has been.
We had a whopping 276 points when we were done, so we decided to go to the gift redemption counter to see what kinda loot we could get. I was looking at all the munchies and the games and toys when Hanan turns to me and reveals he has his eye on the Faber Castell mechanical pencil and lead set. !!!
Having finished with Timezone, we decided to go down to the atrium sale at CWP and see what they have. Turns out the megablocks pirate series that I have had my eye on for a while as been marked down to $3 (u.P $7.95!) Score! We bought all three sets and went home for a fun afternoon for pirate island building. Savvy?
I hope one day Hanan looks back on this day with fond memories and tells his kids how cool their Paati was when she was younger.
Unfortunately we had to shorten our deep sea adventure for Hanan's swimming lessons. Poor kid missed 2 lessons and his stamina is at an all time low. At some points he was really struggling. I guess I should bring him swimming more often in between also to help him out. and God knows I need the exercise too.
Firstly, because there was this slight twinge of guilt of having so many nights out when it was the one week school holiday. But more importantly because sometimes adulthood and its "responsibilities" suck, so a little regression is good for the soul.
First stop - junk food brunch. Hanan and I we for what had the best kiddie toy, instead of any nutrition hangups. BK won, hands down. Then we went to Timezone for $20 worth of pure un"adult"erated motorcross and fast car driving. Hanan has zero control over his cars, poor fellow. Better with bikes. We also played a few of those other, more easy to win games, like pinball (LOTR no less) and bowling. I was pleased to note that he did not insist on playing any shooting related games, although I said he could play anything he wanted. My young padwan, taught well, he has been.
We had a whopping 276 points when we were done, so we decided to go to the gift redemption counter to see what kinda loot we could get. I was looking at all the munchies and the games and toys when Hanan turns to me and reveals he has his eye on the Faber Castell mechanical pencil and lead set. !!!
Having finished with Timezone, we decided to go down to the atrium sale at CWP and see what they have. Turns out the megablocks pirate series that I have had my eye on for a while as been marked down to $3 (u.P $7.95!) Score! We bought all three sets and went home for a fun afternoon for pirate island building. Savvy?
I hope one day Hanan looks back on this day with fond memories and tells his kids how cool their Paati was when she was younger.
Unfortunately we had to shorten our deep sea adventure for Hanan's swimming lessons. Poor kid missed 2 lessons and his stamina is at an all time low. At some points he was really struggling. I guess I should bring him swimming more often in between also to help him out. and God knows I need the exercise too.
Friday, September 8
Why I don't work in customer service - a rant
I hate customers.
I know they are the lifeblood of every business yadda yadda yadda.. but really, they suck. Here are a few case studies from today (just one day!) that may help you understand why customers suck.
Case #1
Guy puts down delivery address as Tampines. We despatch the driver there post haste because he says its urgent. 10 Minutes before driver gets there, customer calls and says, err.. can you deliver to Boon Lay instead? To non-Singaporeans, thats like changing the delivery address to Washington State after first specifying Florida.
Case #2
She-imp calls up and complains that we are late with delivery, even though no promise of delivery date was made. Says with maximum sarcasm "Wah, you all, collect money so fast, but delivery take so long ah?"
Maybe this is the first time she is buying stuff after rejoining society, leaving behind the wolves that raised her.
Case #3
Old geezer calls up.
OG: "I want to return the printer."
Me: "Why sir? what's wrong with it?"
OG: " My computer has no UPS connector!"
Me: "Sir, do you mean USB?"
OG: "Yeah, you all never tell me I need this UPS port!"
Me: "Yes, but Sir, we specified that it comes with a USB cable. Surely that would have indicated the need for USB connection."
OG: "How I know? I am an old man. I dunno this new gadgets all. Anyway I still cannot use it. The brochure says Win 98 and upwards, my computer is running on Windows 95"
Me: *Faint*
Case #4
Customer calls, sounds irritated.
Cus: "When are you going to deliver my goods? I wait since Wednesday you know."
Me: " Well, ma'am, I am pleased to tell you that your goods will be delivered today!"
Cus: "Oh, today cannot! I not in."
Me: *Bang head against receiver*
I know they are the lifeblood of every business yadda yadda yadda.. but really, they suck. Here are a few case studies from today (just one day!) that may help you understand why customers suck.
Case #1
Guy puts down delivery address as Tampines. We despatch the driver there post haste because he says its urgent. 10 Minutes before driver gets there, customer calls and says, err.. can you deliver to Boon Lay instead? To non-Singaporeans, thats like changing the delivery address to Washington State after first specifying Florida.
Case #2
She-imp calls up and complains that we are late with delivery, even though no promise of delivery date was made. Says with maximum sarcasm "Wah, you all, collect money so fast, but delivery take so long ah?"
Maybe this is the first time she is buying stuff after rejoining society, leaving behind the wolves that raised her.
Case #3
Old geezer calls up.
OG: "I want to return the printer."
Me: "Why sir? what's wrong with it?"
OG: " My computer has no UPS connector!"
Me: "Sir, do you mean USB?"
OG: "Yeah, you all never tell me I need this UPS port!"
Me: "Yes, but Sir, we specified that it comes with a USB cable. Surely that would have indicated the need for USB connection."
OG: "How I know? I am an old man. I dunno this new gadgets all. Anyway I still cannot use it. The brochure says Win 98 and upwards, my computer is running on Windows 95"
Me: *Faint*
Case #4
Customer calls, sounds irritated.
Cus: "When are you going to deliver my goods? I wait since Wednesday you know."
Me: " Well, ma'am, I am pleased to tell you that your goods will be delivered today!"
Cus: "Oh, today cannot! I not in."
Me: *Bang head against receiver*
Thursday, September 7
Y'allbonics
Speaking of new and intersting languages, here's one that one of my friends in West Virginia (who is a self confessed Reformed Hick sent me.
For practical lessons, please watch reruns of the Beverly Hillbillies.
Y'ALLBONICS: ANY GOOD SOUTH'NER WORTH THEIR WEIGHT IN PEACHES WILL
UNDERSTAND EVERY SINGLE WORD BELOW!
The Association of Southern Schools has decided to pursue some of the
seemingly endless taxpayer dollar pipeline through Washington designating
Southern slang, or Y'allbonics, as a language to be taught in all Southern
schools. The following are excerpts from the Y'allbonics/English dictionary.
1.) HEIDI - (noun) -Greeting.
2.) HIRE YEW - Complete sentence. Remainder of greeting.
Usage: "Heidi, Hire yew?"
3.) BARD - (verb) - Past tense of the infinitive "to borrow."
Usage: "My brother bard my pickup truck."
4.) JAWJUH - (noun) - The state north of Florida. Capitol is Lanner.
Usage: "My brother from Jawjuh bard my pickup truck and took it to
Lanner."
5.) BAMMER - (noun) - The state west of Jawjuh. Capitol is Berminhayam.
Usage: "A tornader jes went through Bammer an' left $20,000,000 in improvements."
6.) MUNTS - (noun) - A calendar division.
Usage: "My brother from Jawjuh bard my pickup truck,and I ain't herd from him in munts."
7.) THANK - (verb) - Cognitive process.
Usage: "Ah thank ah'll have a bare."
8.) BARE - (noun) - An alcoholic beverage made of barley, hops, and yeast.
Usage: "Ah thank ah'll have a bare."
9.) IGNERT - (adjective) - Not smart. See "Arkansas native."
Usage: "Them bammer boys sure are ignert!"
10.) RANCH - (noun)- tool used for tight'nin' bolts.
Usage: "I thank I left my ranch in the back of that pickup truck my brother from Jawjuh bard a few munts ago."
11.) ALL - (noun) - A petroleum-based lubricant.
Usage: "I sure hope my brother from Jawjuh puts all in my pickup truck."
12.) FAR - (noun) - A conflagration.
Usage: "If my brother from Jawjuh don't change the all in my pickup truck, that thing's gonna catch far."
13.) TAR - (noun) - A rubber wheel.
Usage: "Gee, I hope that brother of mine from Jawjuh don't git a flat tar in my pickup truck."
14.) TIRE - (noun) - A tall monument.
Usage: "Lord willin' and the creek don't rise,I sure do hope to see that Eiffel Tire in Paris sometime."
15.) RETARD - (verb) - To stop working.
Usage: "My grampaw retard at age 65."
16.) FAT - (noun), (verb) - a battle or combat; to engage in battle or combat.
Usage: "You younguns keep fat'n, n' ah'm gonna whup y'uh."
17.) RATS - (noun) - Entitled power or privilege.
Usage: "We Southerners are willin' to fat for are rats."
18.) CHEER - (adverb) In this place.
Usage: "Just set that bare rat cheer".
19.) FARN - (adjective) - Not domestic.
Usage: "I cuddint unnerstand a wurd he sed ...must be from some farn country."
20.) DID - (adjective) - Not alive.
Usage: "He's did, Jim."
21.) ARE - (noun) - A colorless, odorless gas containing oxygen.
Usage: "He cain't breathe ... give 'im some ARE!"
22.) BOB WAR - (noun) - A sharp, twisted cable.
Usage: "Boy, stay away from that bob war fence."
23.) JEW HERE - (noun) and (verb) contraction.
Usage: "Jew here that my brother from Jawjuh got a job with that bob war fence cump'ny?"
24.) HAZE - a contraction.
Usage: "Is Bubba smart?" "Nah .... haze ignert.
He ain't thanked but a minnit'n 'is laf."
25.) SEED -(verb) - past tense of "to see".
Usage: "I ain't never seed New York City".
26.) VIEW - contraction (verb) and pronoun.
Usage: "I ain't never seed New York City ... view?"
27.) GUBMINT - (noun) - A bureaucratic institution.
Usage: "Them gubmint boys shore is ignert."
For practical lessons, please watch reruns of the Beverly Hillbillies.
Y'ALLBONICS: ANY GOOD SOUTH'NER WORTH THEIR WEIGHT IN PEACHES WILL
UNDERSTAND EVERY SINGLE WORD BELOW!
The Association of Southern Schools has decided to pursue some of the
seemingly endless taxpayer dollar pipeline through Washington designating
Southern slang, or Y'allbonics, as a language to be taught in all Southern
schools. The following are excerpts from the Y'allbonics/English dictionary.
1.) HEIDI - (noun) -Greeting.
2.) HIRE YEW - Complete sentence. Remainder of greeting.
Usage: "Heidi, Hire yew?"
3.) BARD - (verb) - Past tense of the infinitive "to borrow."
Usage: "My brother bard my pickup truck."
4.) JAWJUH - (noun) - The state north of Florida. Capitol is Lanner.
Usage: "My brother from Jawjuh bard my pickup truck and took it to
Lanner."
5.) BAMMER - (noun) - The state west of Jawjuh. Capitol is Berminhayam.
Usage: "A tornader jes went through Bammer an' left $20,000,000 in improvements."
6.) MUNTS - (noun) - A calendar division.
Usage: "My brother from Jawjuh bard my pickup truck,and I ain't herd from him in munts."
7.) THANK - (verb) - Cognitive process.
Usage: "Ah thank ah'll have a bare."
8.) BARE - (noun) - An alcoholic beverage made of barley, hops, and yeast.
Usage: "Ah thank ah'll have a bare."
9.) IGNERT - (adjective) - Not smart. See "Arkansas native."
Usage: "Them bammer boys sure are ignert!"
10.) RANCH - (noun)- tool used for tight'nin' bolts.
Usage: "I thank I left my ranch in the back of that pickup truck my brother from Jawjuh bard a few munts ago."
11.) ALL - (noun) - A petroleum-based lubricant.
Usage: "I sure hope my brother from Jawjuh puts all in my pickup truck."
12.) FAR - (noun) - A conflagration.
Usage: "If my brother from Jawjuh don't change the all in my pickup truck, that thing's gonna catch far."
13.) TAR - (noun) - A rubber wheel.
Usage: "Gee, I hope that brother of mine from Jawjuh don't git a flat tar in my pickup truck."
14.) TIRE - (noun) - A tall monument.
Usage: "Lord willin' and the creek don't rise,I sure do hope to see that Eiffel Tire in Paris sometime."
15.) RETARD - (verb) - To stop working.
Usage: "My grampaw retard at age 65."
16.) FAT - (noun), (verb) - a battle or combat; to engage in battle or combat.
Usage: "You younguns keep fat'n, n' ah'm gonna whup y'uh."
17.) RATS - (noun) - Entitled power or privilege.
Usage: "We Southerners are willin' to fat for are rats."
18.) CHEER - (adverb) In this place.
Usage: "Just set that bare rat cheer".
19.) FARN - (adjective) - Not domestic.
Usage: "I cuddint unnerstand a wurd he sed ...must be from some farn country."
20.) DID - (adjective) - Not alive.
Usage: "He's did, Jim."
21.) ARE - (noun) - A colorless, odorless gas containing oxygen.
Usage: "He cain't breathe ... give 'im some ARE!"
22.) BOB WAR - (noun) - A sharp, twisted cable.
Usage: "Boy, stay away from that bob war fence."
23.) JEW HERE - (noun) and (verb) contraction.
Usage: "Jew here that my brother from Jawjuh got a job with that bob war fence cump'ny?"
24.) HAZE - a contraction.
Usage: "Is Bubba smart?" "Nah .... haze ignert.
He ain't thanked but a minnit'n 'is laf."
25.) SEED -(verb) - past tense of "to see".
Usage: "I ain't never seed New York City".
26.) VIEW - contraction (verb) and pronoun.
Usage: "I ain't never seed New York City ... view?"
27.) GUBMINT - (noun) - A bureaucratic institution.
Usage: "Them gubmint boys shore is ignert."
Wednesday, September 6
Tuesday, September 5
Easy Klingon Phrases - for everyday use!
qa'pla - success (usually used as a toast, preferable with blood wine)
Gaagh - bloodworm stew
nuq'neh - greeting among peers (literally, what do you want?)
bortaS bir jablu'DI'reh QaQqu'nay - Revenge is a dish best served cold
luq - ok I will
jiH - I, me
Qong - sleep
tera'ngan SoH - I am Terran
Practise is the key to mastering any language. Have fun!
Gaagh - bloodworm stew
nuq'neh - greeting among peers (literally, what do you want?)
bortaS bir jablu'DI'reh QaQqu'nay - Revenge is a dish best served cold
luq - ok I will
jiH - I, me
Qong - sleep
tera'ngan SoH - I am Terran
Practise is the key to mastering any language. Have fun!
Monday, September 4
Goodbye Steve
One of my heroes, Steve Irwin, also known as the Crocodile Hunter died today. He was 44.
He died exactly how we all thought he would go - by the venom of one of the wid anumals he loved so much. It was a sting ray that took down the man who for years have shown us what fearless means.
Goodbye Steve. God Bless you. You will be missed.
He died exactly how we all thought he would go - by the venom of one of the wid anumals he loved so much. It was a sting ray that took down the man who for years have shown us what fearless means.
Goodbye Steve. God Bless you. You will be missed.
Sunday, September 3
Comex 06
Computer Expos are mad. And Comex is no exception. On the first day of the show, the carparks were full by 3. The show only opened at 12. And that's on a working day, when you would think most people would have better things to do. Who knew?
After 3 9-hour days at the Canon laser printer booth, there are some things I can say without engaging my brain now.
"We offer a one year onsite warranty, but only during the show!"
"$50 NTUC vouchers, if you buy during the show"
"Canon OEMs for a lot of brands, so who would you rather buy from?"
Now, if I had a $1 for everytime I said one of those lines, It would pay for my dinner at Brazil.
The highlight of the show for me is, I got to meet one of my childhood heroes. Those of you born before 1985 might remember V Sundramoorthy, our own celebrity footballer (besides Fandi lah). Well, he came early on Friday with one of his friends, and I got a chance to talk to him! Of course I didn't go on and on about what a fan I was (that will be so uncool), but I think I did stare and drool a bit.
Comex visitors really do come in all shapes and sizes. My favourites (NOT) are the couples who bring 4 children, 2 strollers and a maid carrying 3 bags. They park all the paraphenalia in front of the printers, while they hold hands and study specs together. This means of course that noone else can come look at the printers and the darn kids are stickyfying everything with their snot and saliva.
Then there are the "better-than-you" Indian expats who are all computer geniuses or some mess, and of course cannot ask an Indian woman for technical specs. What will that do to their self respect? Even if she is trained Canon staff. Damn asses.
The nicest people are of course the polite NUS and NTU hostelites, who need color laser printers to print out assignments and notes. All the tuition fees and no computer labs, poor buggers. So what if the running cost of that machine runs to at least a grand a year? Daddy can pay what.
But the deals at the show are the real thing. Some of the price slashing is just ridiculous and certainly worth braving the crowds.
Next show is Sitex in December. Gear up, its gonna be a short 3 months.
After 3 9-hour days at the Canon laser printer booth, there are some things I can say without engaging my brain now.
"We offer a one year onsite warranty, but only during the show!"
"$50 NTUC vouchers, if you buy during the show"
"Canon OEMs for a lot of brands, so who would you rather buy from?"
Now, if I had a $1 for everytime I said one of those lines, It would pay for my dinner at Brazil.
The highlight of the show for me is, I got to meet one of my childhood heroes. Those of you born before 1985 might remember V Sundramoorthy, our own celebrity footballer (besides Fandi lah). Well, he came early on Friday with one of his friends, and I got a chance to talk to him! Of course I didn't go on and on about what a fan I was (that will be so uncool), but I think I did stare and drool a bit.
Comex visitors really do come in all shapes and sizes. My favourites (NOT) are the couples who bring 4 children, 2 strollers and a maid carrying 3 bags. They park all the paraphenalia in front of the printers, while they hold hands and study specs together. This means of course that noone else can come look at the printers and the darn kids are stickyfying everything with their snot and saliva.
Then there are the "better-than-you" Indian expats who are all computer geniuses or some mess, and of course cannot ask an Indian woman for technical specs. What will that do to their self respect? Even if she is trained Canon staff. Damn asses.
The nicest people are of course the polite NUS and NTU hostelites, who need color laser printers to print out assignments and notes. All the tuition fees and no computer labs, poor buggers. So what if the running cost of that machine runs to at least a grand a year? Daddy can pay what.
But the deals at the show are the real thing. Some of the price slashing is just ridiculous and certainly worth braving the crowds.
Next show is Sitex in December. Gear up, its gonna be a short 3 months.
Tuesday, August 29
Ten things I must do when I get paid
1. Tithe
2. Throw my kid a proper birthday party
3. Buy a digital camcorder
4. Buy birthday presents for all the pple I missed in August
5. Eat at Brazil's
6. Pay off all my petty loans (Mum, your $40 is on its way)
7. Bless David and his new Jenny with supper at G7
8. Watch Forbidden City
9. Cut and colour my hair
10. Buy at least one CD and one book for personal enjoyment
Donations are welcome and not tax exempt.
2. Throw my kid a proper birthday party
3. Buy a digital camcorder
4. Buy birthday presents for all the pple I missed in August
5. Eat at Brazil's
6. Pay off all my petty loans (Mum, your $40 is on its way)
7. Bless David and his new Jenny with supper at G7
8. Watch Forbidden City
9. Cut and colour my hair
10. Buy at least one CD and one book for personal enjoyment
Donations are welcome and not tax exempt.
Friday, August 25
KL #2 - Viva Colombia!
If you do not go to the Westin KL for any other reason (and God knows we can't afford it), then you must go to their Qba to listen to the Salsa band.
They were awesome. 3 percussionists, 1 keyboardist, 4 Singers and 3 dancers were packaged into a 6 piece Colombian Band who played 4 45 min sets of great salsa, bachata and merengue music.
The two babes had the hottest dance moves that they performed in perfect synchronicity, and the men had voices that when they talk like that, will make a woman go mad. (Sorry,Shakira)
Count on being able to nurse a drink for a long long time, because the prices are ridiculous (RM 26 for a G&T - WTH?)But the entertainment in worth it. Between sets the DJ (who I am sure is Indian on account of his caustic tongue)spins R&B, Top 40 and Latin Pop.
Club closes at a decent 3 o'clock, so go check it out if u are in KL. Malaysia Boleh!
KL #1 - Lunch and Tourism
Upon arrival and check in the first thing on the agenda was "Eat at Tarbush"
This restaurant serves the best Lebanese, Muslim Mediterranean food I have ever had. And I know it was the real thing because although it was 3 in the afternoon, every table was full. Most of the diners were also Middle Eastern - fat, bearded men, with black abaya-clad women (who had the most beautiful eyes) and a gaggle of little rascally childen who you wanted to trip when they ran past you, screaming.
We started with freshly made pita bread and a bowl of hummus. The real treat was the lovely green olive oil that they drizzled on it, make every bite an experience!
Then the mains arrived.
The most impressive one of course was Ridwan's lamb sizzler, which was.. well.. sizzling. But the other dishes were great too, chicken briyani, lamb chops and my sambosas. The only one that was not a hit was Ashley's Moussaka, but that'll teach her to come to a Med restaurant and order the only vegetarian dish they have. "slaps head in despair*
Once done with lunch, we headed for the Petronas Towers to do the tourist thing. We took the little monorail system that they have, which is sorta like our LRT, except theirs got driver.
KLCC is alot like City Hall. A lot of big brand shops like Zara and *bleurghs* Charles and Keith, not enough interesting rustic things to see. So while the rest went off to take pics with the Twin Towers, I decided to go to the Petronas Gallery, which gives you a pretty good history lesson, and to have something u can't get in Singapore anymore - A&W rootbeer float and Dunkin Donut.
And then while the rest of them went to Petaling Street to buy pirated (or "local") whatevers, I went back to the nice comfortable room at the Hotel Allson Genesis, strip down to my underwear and... slept.
More later.
If you want to see more pictures, go here.
This restaurant serves the best Lebanese, Muslim Mediterranean food I have ever had. And I know it was the real thing because although it was 3 in the afternoon, every table was full. Most of the diners were also Middle Eastern - fat, bearded men, with black abaya-clad women (who had the most beautiful eyes) and a gaggle of little rascally childen who you wanted to trip when they ran past you, screaming.
We started with freshly made pita bread and a bowl of hummus. The real treat was the lovely green olive oil that they drizzled on it, make every bite an experience!
Then the mains arrived.
The most impressive one of course was Ridwan's lamb sizzler, which was.. well.. sizzling. But the other dishes were great too, chicken briyani, lamb chops and my sambosas. The only one that was not a hit was Ashley's Moussaka, but that'll teach her to come to a Med restaurant and order the only vegetarian dish they have. "slaps head in despair*
Once done with lunch, we headed for the Petronas Towers to do the tourist thing. We took the little monorail system that they have, which is sorta like our LRT, except theirs got driver.
KLCC is alot like City Hall. A lot of big brand shops like Zara and *bleurghs* Charles and Keith, not enough interesting rustic things to see. So while the rest went off to take pics with the Twin Towers, I decided to go to the Petronas Gallery, which gives you a pretty good history lesson, and to have something u can't get in Singapore anymore - A&W rootbeer float and Dunkin Donut.
And then while the rest of them went to Petaling Street to buy pirated (or "local") whatevers, I went back to the nice comfortable room at the Hotel Allson Genesis, strip down to my underwear and... slept.
More later.
If you want to see more pictures, go here.
Friday, August 18
Rants and Reviews
Just a few experiences that I had recently. This should keep you occupied while I am in KL this weekend.
1. Union Square
Touted as the premium salsa club in Singapore, this small-ish NTUC- run club tucked away on the second floor of Amara Shopping Centre is one crowded joint on Fridays. While I was happy to see so many geeky Singaporeans transform into suave hunks on the dance floor, the place really does need more floor space. They should get rid of the sleazy lounge with the even sleazier Filipina duo in the back, and open the place up for more dance space. Salsa isn't much fun when you are constantly conscious of banging into someone or turning around and finding that you have changed partners without meaning to.
Quick Facts.
Staring incidents: None
Throwing up Ah Lians: None
Pool Table: One
Fat balding ang mohs ogling women: one. He looked lonely
Ability to make gin and tonic: Good! Decent shot of gin, acceptable amount of ice.
Decor: internally lit tables and discreet uplights were a nice touch. The horrid National Day bunting looked like they stole it from a govt building in the dark of the night though. But NTUC club lah.. what you expect? Have to be patriotic.
Babes and hunks: plenteous! Definitely a people watcher's paradise. Especially if you like the Latin type.
Ladies Night: Fridays till1:30
Live band: Salsa band on weekends, sleazy duo every night in lounge area.
1. Union Square
Touted as the premium salsa club in Singapore, this small-ish NTUC- run club tucked away on the second floor of Amara Shopping Centre is one crowded joint on Fridays. While I was happy to see so many geeky Singaporeans transform into suave hunks on the dance floor, the place really does need more floor space. They should get rid of the sleazy lounge with the even sleazier Filipina duo in the back, and open the place up for more dance space. Salsa isn't much fun when you are constantly conscious of banging into someone or turning around and finding that you have changed partners without meaning to.
Quick Facts.
Staring incidents: None
Throwing up Ah Lians: None
Pool Table: One
Fat balding ang mohs ogling women: one. He looked lonely
Ability to make gin and tonic: Good! Decent shot of gin, acceptable amount of ice.
Decor: internally lit tables and discreet uplights were a nice touch. The horrid National Day bunting looked like they stole it from a govt building in the dark of the night though. But NTUC club lah.. what you expect? Have to be patriotic.
Babes and hunks: plenteous! Definitely a people watcher's paradise. Especially if you like the Latin type.
Ladies Night: Fridays till1:30
Live band: Salsa band on weekends, sleazy duo every night in lounge area.
***
READ THIS BOOK!
The thing I loved most about this book, is that it is deeply spiritual without being "churchy". Which interestingly enough, is why alot of "churchy" reviewers did not like it at all.
It portrays God as a Person with danger in His being, adventure in His heart and romance inHis soul. And as beings made in his image, we are just like that too. Especially men. This book tells men its ok to not be the "nice guy", the guy who plays safe, does not take risks, and fears criticism.
It also addresses something that I have been thinking about for a long time - that we have all been wounded by the men in our pasts, who have had to deal with their own wounds. The key is to find a way out of that self condemning circle
Eldrege is a deeply committed Christian, and he writes this book from a Christian perspective. But he is also very aware that God speaks to us from other media besides the bible as well. He quotes largely and freely from secular authors, books, movies, songs and poetry. Some examples: BraveHeart, Bruce Springsteen, The Eagles, Galdiator.... all the movies that women today shirk from and try and prevent the men in their life from seeing.
Ladies, men need "man movies". They need their violent video games, their barbecues, their fishing, hunting. They need to be seen by their women as dangerous heroes, knights, warriors and kings. Danger IS their middle name. Whether its your sons, brothers, husbands or fathers, don't hold them back. Let them go be men, and they will love you for it, and come back to you to be let go again
Men, women are not the answer. We don't even understand the question. Don't depend on us for your validation. But as deep as you desire to cherish us, we want to be cherished. To be desired, loved, fought for and won. Fight for us. Fight against the cheap dates, the porn, the distraction called "work". We will make it worth your while. And when we see you in your strength, you can see us in our beauty. Take your strength away and our beauty will fade too.
It also addresses something that I have been thinking about for a long time - that we have all been wounded by the men in our pasts, who have had to deal with their own wounds. The key is to find a way out of that self condemning circle
Eldrege is a deeply committed Christian, and he writes this book from a Christian perspective. But he is also very aware that God speaks to us from other media besides the bible as well. He quotes largely and freely from secular authors, books, movies, songs and poetry. Some examples: BraveHeart, Bruce Springsteen, The Eagles, Galdiator.... all the movies that women today shirk from and try and prevent the men in their life from seeing.
Ladies, men need "man movies". They need their violent video games, their barbecues, their fishing, hunting. They need to be seen by their women as dangerous heroes, knights, warriors and kings. Danger IS their middle name. Whether its your sons, brothers, husbands or fathers, don't hold them back. Let them go be men, and they will love you for it, and come back to you to be let go again
Men, women are not the answer. We don't even understand the question. Don't depend on us for your validation. But as deep as you desire to cherish us, we want to be cherished. To be desired, loved, fought for and won. Fight for us. Fight against the cheap dates, the porn, the distraction called "work". We will make it worth your while. And when we see you in your strength, you can see us in our beauty. Take your strength away and our beauty will fade too.
***
3. Breakfast joints
Breakfast pickings at Jurong East are few and far between, and every morning I am faced with the "what to eat?" dilemma. Here is a short list of some that I have tried.
Long John Silver's Inch Thick Toast
Now this is simply awesome. Inch thick toast, buttered on both sides, crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside. With your choice of bacon, egg, cheese and sausage. It fills u up waaay past lunch time and it incredibly delicious. I usually wash it down with iced lemon tea. Heavenly! On the downside, it is a bit pricey - $5.00 for breakfast breaks the budget quite a bit. But if you have to skip lunch for any reason, then this is the perfect breakfast.
$1.90 Nasi Lemak
Tucked away in a corner of the food court behind the CPF building is the $1.90 Nasi Lemak stall. Fluffy coconut flavoured rice that is not dyed puke green, hot and crispy accompaniments and the right kind of chili makes for a filling albeit fattening breakfast. My personal favourites are the luncheon meat (fried till crispy). sambal long beans and cruncy ikan bilis (anchovies). Downside of this breakfast - the aromatic and pungent flavours tend to stay on your breath for a while, so if you have any important meetings in the morning, give it a miss, or bring enough for everyone. But for the price, its good value for money.
Ah Hock Kaya Toast
A new kid on the block, Ah Hock still has is congratulatory flower arrangements outside its doors. It serves the same classic fare as most kaya toast places - half boiled eggs, paper thin toast with pats of butter and kaya and the ubiquitous gut-corroding cup of coffee. Basic stuff, nothing to write home about. The bread was cold when it arrived at my table, warm would have been nice. And they didn't provide serviettes, so you were obliged to wear crumbs from breakfast till you went outside and shook it all off, like a dog.
Verdict - only if you really REALLY want kaya toast. If not, save the experience for Ya Kun.
Tuesday, August 15
I need a new Hobby
Now that I am done with my salsa lessons, I need another hobby to make my life more exciting. You know, other than work, work and ... oh yeah. Work.
Here are a few options that I am considering. Maybe you, my dear readers, (yes, both of you), can tell which one fits my persona better.
1) Papier Mache
You remember this from Primary school right? All done with newspaper, homemade glue and a lot of mess. At the end of the day, you should have a lopsided bowl, or a vase with no opening or something similarly useless.
I am kinda hoping that age and a longer concentration span will help me to make this effort more promising than it was when I was 8. And it's something I can do with Hanan.
Cheap and good! Right up my alley.
2) Golf
I have always wanted to do this so that I can marry gorgeous blonde women. No, but seriously, it always looked like a good thing to learn, not to mention the obvious networking benefits. Besides my father-in-law is apparently a pro at golf, so it will be nice to play it with him when I go visit. (Score points lah!)
But since I am such a miser, I will probably go for the golfkaki thing by NTUC first before I spend serious moolah on this. Sekali I suck big time how?
3) Study HR
Human resources has always been a secret interest, mainly because I am quite kaypoh, and like to poke my nose into other people's business and tell them how to improve their lives. I am thinking of doing the basic cert in HR offered by SHRI, and then concentrate on the training aspect. It will combine my two most inert skills - talking and kaypoh-ing. What could be better than that?
Truth be told, I am getting a bit sick of marketing. A lof of fluff and flamboyance, just to peddle some product. What's the point, I say? Noone appreciates what you do, except maybe other marketeers, but who cares what they think anyway. Bunch of fluffers.
So, the polls are open! Option 1, 2 or 3. Your vote counts!
Here are a few options that I am considering. Maybe you, my dear readers, (yes, both of you), can tell which one fits my persona better.
1) Papier MacheYou remember this from Primary school right? All done with newspaper, homemade glue and a lot of mess. At the end of the day, you should have a lopsided bowl, or a vase with no opening or something similarly useless.
I am kinda hoping that age and a longer concentration span will help me to make this effort more promising than it was when I was 8. And it's something I can do with Hanan.
Cheap and good! Right up my alley.
2) Golf
I have always wanted to do this so that I can marry gorgeous blonde women. No, but seriously, it always looked like a good thing to learn, not to mention the obvious networking benefits. Besides my father-in-law is apparently a pro at golf, so it will be nice to play it with him when I go visit. (Score points lah!)
But since I am such a miser, I will probably go for the golfkaki thing by NTUC first before I spend serious moolah on this. Sekali I suck big time how?
3) Study HR
Human resources has always been a secret interest, mainly because I am quite kaypoh, and like to poke my nose into other people's business and tell them how to improve their lives. I am thinking of doing the basic cert in HR offered by SHRI, and then concentrate on the training aspect. It will combine my two most inert skills - talking and kaypoh-ing. What could be better than that?
Truth be told, I am getting a bit sick of marketing. A lof of fluff and flamboyance, just to peddle some product. What's the point, I say? Noone appreciates what you do, except maybe other marketeers, but who cares what they think anyway. Bunch of fluffers.
So, the polls are open! Option 1, 2 or 3. Your vote counts!
Monday, August 14
The Indignity of an Accident Victim
I have seen dead bodies before.
People who have lived long and fuitful lives and at their death bed are surrounded by loved ones and family who bear their departure with sadness and lots of fond memories.
People who have had their bodies ravaged by sickness, and disease, who want to live, but whose bodies betray them and refuse to sustain the life that still burns brightly. Their death beds are surrounded by people who grieve at their early passing, but are slightly relieved that the pain has ended.
People who die suddenly, in their sleep, on their friend's shoulder, in their homes, with no sign of struggle, and a beatific smile on their faces.
And then there are the suicides and accident victims. Their faces twisted in a grimace of pain, their limbs thrown haphazardly around them, barely covered with a plastic white sheet while gawkers stand arouns and stare at them with curiousity and barely disguised disgust.
I saw my first accident victim today. At 7:45 in the morning, at the junction of Ave 7 and Ave 4 - a junction that we use at least 4 times a week, if not more. He looked like a common man, dressed in Tshirt and grey pants, likely a labourer or night shifter, going home after work.
Noone knows what accounted for his lack of judgement in crossing the road at that point. But the car that hit him did not seem to be around. Would it have been different if they stopped and called for help? Did they in fact stop, and I missed them? I don't know. My senses were already overloaded by the man on the road. His life's blood trickling away towards the rain gutter, his status as human being forever defiled by his twisted body and that glaringly white sheet.
Makes you think (well, makes me think).
On and on the rain must fall
Like tears from the stars
Like tears from the stars
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are
How fragile we are
- Sting,
People who have lived long and fuitful lives and at their death bed are surrounded by loved ones and family who bear their departure with sadness and lots of fond memories.
People who have had their bodies ravaged by sickness, and disease, who want to live, but whose bodies betray them and refuse to sustain the life that still burns brightly. Their death beds are surrounded by people who grieve at their early passing, but are slightly relieved that the pain has ended.
People who die suddenly, in their sleep, on their friend's shoulder, in their homes, with no sign of struggle, and a beatific smile on their faces.
And then there are the suicides and accident victims. Their faces twisted in a grimace of pain, their limbs thrown haphazardly around them, barely covered with a plastic white sheet while gawkers stand arouns and stare at them with curiousity and barely disguised disgust.
I saw my first accident victim today. At 7:45 in the morning, at the junction of Ave 7 and Ave 4 - a junction that we use at least 4 times a week, if not more. He looked like a common man, dressed in Tshirt and grey pants, likely a labourer or night shifter, going home after work.
Noone knows what accounted for his lack of judgement in crossing the road at that point. But the car that hit him did not seem to be around. Would it have been different if they stopped and called for help? Did they in fact stop, and I missed them? I don't know. My senses were already overloaded by the man on the road. His life's blood trickling away towards the rain gutter, his status as human being forever defiled by his twisted body and that glaringly white sheet.
Makes you think (well, makes me think).
On and on the rain must fall
Like tears from the stars
Like tears from the stars
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are
How fragile we are
- Sting,
Friday, August 11
Tuesday, August 8
Living it up!
Ah this is the life.
I am writing this after a glorious weekend mini break at the Intercontinental Hotel, Singapore. For those of who have never experienced a hotel getaway weekend within our fair shores, I highly recommend it. It's truly a getaway, but without the hassles of airport transfers, customs, strange food, weird smells etc. And the rude locals you encounter are your own people, so how to get angry with them?
I capitalised on one of my gift certificates that I bought from the hotel in April and got a really good deal on the room. It was one of those spur of the moment buys (like signing up for credit card to get a free coffee maker), but this is one that I have actually gotten more out of than I spent on it.
We checked in on Saturday afternoon at 2, me and my boy. Otrie said he would be right behind us, but in true CPT fashion, arrived at 6. Hanan and I used that time to do other fun things like get ice cream and hit the pool.
Now, I don't want to hear any "You think you ang moh , issit?" comments over the next paragraph. I sat on one of those cool deck chairs in the sun and read my book while Hanan frolicked in the pool. Everytime I got too hot, I jumped into the pool, then back out again for more sun warming. If you have not done this, don't knock it. Its actually very relaxing - a true sense of doing absolutely bugger all.
At about 8 we mosied down to the esplanade to catch the fireworks festival. Unfortunately about 100,000 other pple had the same idea. The only way to get a nice seat was to eat at one of the restaurants there, and the only restaurant with room was 2Hot Halal Cafe. And soon it was evident why. The sandwich was stone cold. The rendang was good, but took an hour to get there. (Maybe they made it fresh for us. Yeah right.) The satay was ok, biasa, but seriously overpriced.
Verdict: Dont eat there unless there is an astounding fireworks deisplay going on.
The fireworks were really good. The crowd pleasers were the big white fire works than ending in colored balls at the end. They were cool. Found out some of my colleagues were just 50m away from me, but we never saw them. The crowds were enormous. In 15 short minutes it was all over. An hour later, it was like nothing happened at all - unless u look the ground and see the massive mess left by the "No Littering Campaign" Singaporeans. Sigh.
So go catch rounds 3 and 4 this Friday and Saturday if u can. Starts at 9. For free entertainment, it quite good lah.
After a good nights sleep on linen sheets and feather pillows, we went to whack the buffet breakfast. Awesome lah. U name it, they had it.
Bacon and eggs? Have.
Cereal and Fruit? Have.
Teochew Porridge with the works? Have.
Dim Sum and Miso Soup? ALLL Have!
Very good. More time at the pool, then we checked out at 2 to go to church (500m away!)
I am so thankful for little sanity trips like these. Mental note: must do more often!
I am writing this after a glorious weekend mini break at the Intercontinental Hotel, Singapore. For those of who have never experienced a hotel getaway weekend within our fair shores, I highly recommend it. It's truly a getaway, but without the hassles of airport transfers, customs, strange food, weird smells etc. And the rude locals you encounter are your own people, so how to get angry with them?
I capitalised on one of my gift certificates that I bought from the hotel in April and got a really good deal on the room. It was one of those spur of the moment buys (like signing up for credit card to get a free coffee maker), but this is one that I have actually gotten more out of than I spent on it.
We checked in on Saturday afternoon at 2, me and my boy. Otrie said he would be right behind us, but in true CPT fashion, arrived at 6. Hanan and I used that time to do other fun things like get ice cream and hit the pool.
Now, I don't want to hear any "You think you ang moh , issit?" comments over the next paragraph. I sat on one of those cool deck chairs in the sun and read my book while Hanan frolicked in the pool. Everytime I got too hot, I jumped into the pool, then back out again for more sun warming. If you have not done this, don't knock it. Its actually very relaxing - a true sense of doing absolutely bugger all.
At about 8 we mosied down to the esplanade to catch the fireworks festival. Unfortunately about 100,000 other pple had the same idea. The only way to get a nice seat was to eat at one of the restaurants there, and the only restaurant with room was 2Hot Halal Cafe. And soon it was evident why. The sandwich was stone cold. The rendang was good, but took an hour to get there. (Maybe they made it fresh for us. Yeah right.) The satay was ok, biasa, but seriously overpriced.
Verdict: Dont eat there unless there is an astounding fireworks deisplay going on.
The fireworks were really good. The crowd pleasers were the big white fire works than ending in colored balls at the end. They were cool. Found out some of my colleagues were just 50m away from me, but we never saw them. The crowds were enormous. In 15 short minutes it was all over. An hour later, it was like nothing happened at all - unless u look the ground and see the massive mess left by the "No Littering Campaign" Singaporeans. Sigh.
So go catch rounds 3 and 4 this Friday and Saturday if u can. Starts at 9. For free entertainment, it quite good lah.
After a good nights sleep on linen sheets and feather pillows, we went to whack the buffet breakfast. Awesome lah. U name it, they had it.
Bacon and eggs? Have.
Cereal and Fruit? Have.
Teochew Porridge with the works? Have.
Dim Sum and Miso Soup? ALLL Have!
Very good. More time at the pool, then we checked out at 2 to go to church (500m away!)
I am so thankful for little sanity trips like these. Mental note: must do more often!
Friday, August 4
Tonight we dance!
Its been a great social experiment, coming home early all week, and seeing how the household reacts to my presence on a daily basis.
Feelings were mixed.
Some were genuinely happy to seeing, running pell mell to the door, with stars in the eyes, and a big four-limb hug (thats when kids take a running start, jump up, and hug you with arms around your neck and legs around your torso. Its like wearing a 45 pound necklace).
Some pretend that they didn't really notice you there because it may betray some deep macho part of their demeanour that is told to feel nothing and react to nothing (thanks, John Wayne, for perpetuating THAT myth.)
The good things that have come out of this come home early experiment are:
1) I have spent less money this week.
2) My son is actually prepared for his English and Tamil spelling tests waaay ahead of schedule.
3) I got to watch "Judging Amy", "Boston Legal", "Trick it Out" and a variety of other good stuff.
4) Am getting to eat my husband's wonderful cooking while I can.
But tonight is different. I get to do my two most favourite things - bible study and dance! Yes, this is the night where all the salseros gather at a humble dance studio in Carpenter St and wow each other with slick moves, passion and a whole lot of sweat.
The best thing about these impromptu salsa gatherings is that you get to practise without anyone looking down their nose at you. The next to best thing is that you get to watch the pros dance. And they make it look sooo good, so easy. I tend to develop this look of pained concentration when I dance, but they are laughing and whooping. One day, I will be like that too- once I find dance shoes that accomodate my flat feet.
And of course there is no cigerette smoke or drunk Romeos to contend with, unlike in clubs. (We do our drinking after the dancing!)
So come join me and let's baile!
Feelings were mixed.
Some were genuinely happy to seeing, running pell mell to the door, with stars in the eyes, and a big four-limb hug (thats when kids take a running start, jump up, and hug you with arms around your neck and legs around your torso. Its like wearing a 45 pound necklace).
Some pretend that they didn't really notice you there because it may betray some deep macho part of their demeanour that is told to feel nothing and react to nothing (thanks, John Wayne, for perpetuating THAT myth.)
The good things that have come out of this come home early experiment are:
1) I have spent less money this week.
2) My son is actually prepared for his English and Tamil spelling tests waaay ahead of schedule.
3) I got to watch "Judging Amy", "Boston Legal", "Trick it Out" and a variety of other good stuff.
4) Am getting to eat my husband's wonderful cooking while I can.
But tonight is different. I get to do my two most favourite things - bible study and dance! Yes, this is the night where all the salseros gather at a humble dance studio in Carpenter St and wow each other with slick moves, passion and a whole lot of sweat.
The best thing about these impromptu salsa gatherings is that you get to practise without anyone looking down their nose at you. The next to best thing is that you get to watch the pros dance. And they make it look sooo good, so easy. I tend to develop this look of pained concentration when I dance, but they are laughing and whooping. One day, I will be like that too- once I find dance shoes that accomodate my flat feet.
And of course there is no cigerette smoke or drunk Romeos to contend with, unlike in clubs. (We do our drinking after the dancing!)
So come join me and let's baile!
Tuesday, August 1
Movie Review - The Lake House (with spoiler)
It's strange how the minute I tell people, "Go watch The Lake House!", the first thing they say to me is - "ghost story right?"
wtf?
Let the record show I don't watch ghost stories. I don't watch the trailers of ghost stories. I don't endorse ghost stories (paying good money to give yourself nights of sleepless insecurity - pppffbbt) and I definitely do not recommend ghost stories.
Now having said that, go watch The Lake House. It is as beautifully cathartic as a love story can get, with the perfect balance of fantasy and reality to make it as close to falling in love as you can possibly get.
If you don't know what I am talking about, then you obviously have never been in love. That sense of "is this really happening?" coupled with "Am I really that blessed?" with a hint of "What if I screw this up? Oh please God, don't let me screw this up!"
I am not going to give you a synopsis of the story because I think we all already know what it's about. And no, nothing about the movie is very un-formulaic, or mind blowing. It's a fairly simple boy meets girl, boy finds out girl is not attainable, boy fights all odds to attain girl story.
Except for the time difference. Of 2 years. And the painfully slow and torturous snail mail communication.
So this movie is actually about the wait. By the end of the movie, he would have waited 4 years for this woman. And 2 years with no contact at all.
Like I said, this movie is cathartic. It purges you of every frustration you ever felt waiting for someone, or even, waiting for someone to change. Sometimes with no communication from that person as to his feelings towards you. But you wait because you cannot imagine losing that part of your life by moving on.
Sandra Bullock moved on in the movie, not because she wanted to, but because she did the stupid thing. She decided to settle. Settle for what she could see, feel and tangibly hold. And she did it, like most of us do - without realising that what she couldn't see what far superior to what she could. She lost faith in faith, and it almost destroys her.
She was lucky she was the heroine of a movie, and the writers could fix her life for her, but most of us aren't that blessed. We muddle along the best we can, regretting the mistakes, but using distractions to forget about the self made mess. And keeping the faith in the other things that matter.
wtf?
Let the record show I don't watch ghost stories. I don't watch the trailers of ghost stories. I don't endorse ghost stories (paying good money to give yourself nights of sleepless insecurity - pppffbbt) and I definitely do not recommend ghost stories.
Now having said that, go watch The Lake House. It is as beautifully cathartic as a love story can get, with the perfect balance of fantasy and reality to make it as close to falling in love as you can possibly get.
If you don't know what I am talking about, then you obviously have never been in love. That sense of "is this really happening?" coupled with "Am I really that blessed?" with a hint of "What if I screw this up? Oh please God, don't let me screw this up!"
I am not going to give you a synopsis of the story because I think we all already know what it's about. And no, nothing about the movie is very un-formulaic, or mind blowing. It's a fairly simple boy meets girl, boy finds out girl is not attainable, boy fights all odds to attain girl story.
Except for the time difference. Of 2 years. And the painfully slow and torturous snail mail communication.
So this movie is actually about the wait. By the end of the movie, he would have waited 4 years for this woman. And 2 years with no contact at all.
Like I said, this movie is cathartic. It purges you of every frustration you ever felt waiting for someone, or even, waiting for someone to change. Sometimes with no communication from that person as to his feelings towards you. But you wait because you cannot imagine losing that part of your life by moving on.
Sandra Bullock moved on in the movie, not because she wanted to, but because she did the stupid thing. She decided to settle. Settle for what she could see, feel and tangibly hold. And she did it, like most of us do - without realising that what she couldn't see what far superior to what she could. She lost faith in faith, and it almost destroys her.
She was lucky she was the heroine of a movie, and the writers could fix her life for her, but most of us aren't that blessed. We muddle along the best we can, regretting the mistakes, but using distractions to forget about the self made mess. And keeping the faith in the other things that matter.
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