I'm possibly my mother's least favourite child. That is something I've known a long time ago, and have accepted. Oh well, you can't be the apple of everybody's eye. We never got along too well together, and it's not deliberate on anyone's part.
I brought last night's dinner leftovers to work today for lunch in my brand new lunch box. :) As I remove the kiasu layers of plastic bag, the paper, and then the tissue paper wrapped by my mother, one thought struck me: who's going to take such pains for me again? Probably no one.
I'm possibly my mother's least favourite child, but still, her child.
4 Aug 2009
26 Jul 2009
A place to love
There is this travelogue with Belinda Lee as the host calle Xi1 You2 Ji4 which I really liked. She went all over the world to document the lives of Sin8aporeans who have ventured far out of our little island. There were 2 seasons if I remember correctly...and I'm rather keen to know if they have produced a DVD set out of them because I would definitely buy it.
It's the best piece of storytelling on TV that I've I watched in a while. The concept is not especially new or original but yet, the stories that come out of it are so real and close to the heart. And although I've never been impressed by hosts who cry, Belinda Lee does seem genuinely engaged with those people she encountered.
I still remember some episodes which left a deep impression on me, such as the Singaporean in Brazil whom Belinda visited during the Chinese New Year period. She cradled the tub of pineapple tarts her mother made for her in her arms, while tears rollled down her face and she kept repeating: "I'm not sad, I'm very happy".
The TV station is repeating the 2nd season on Saturday afternoons so I had the pleasure of catching some of the episodes that I missed out, such as the one of the Singaporean woman living by herself in Mongolia. She seems to be in her late 30's but resembles a big baby, because she looks so happy and glowing. The move to Mongolia was sparked by her love of the country and culture, which is very weird because she belongs the ang-moh pai. Still, one can tell she is really enjoying every moment there. She showed off her frozen hair after washing it in the open during the freezing Mongolian winter. She danced and jiggled, tried skiing on the ice in her Mongolian robe and shoes while making all sorts of weird poses, and generally acted goofy for the camera. It was so funny that I laughed out loud while watching her, which surprised myself, since I woke up with puffy eyes and a droopy spirit that morning.
When asked if she will return to Singapore, she chuckled and said no. "But why?", Belinda asked her. It's like falling in love, she replied. She wants to be in Mongolia for her whole life and she wants to be there all the time.
How I wish I can find a place to love too. I don't think I can love Sin8apore the way she loves Mongolia. For one, I don't want to be here all the time. Neither do others, which is why we all love travelling. As much as I don't wish to sound cynical, Sin8apore is like a corporation, and corporations are not something that will inspire what I call the big love. Sure, there're things that I like, such as the convenience and safety, the cleanliness and efficiency, and of course the food. But these are not the stuff that people fall in love with. Its the beauty and the spirit of the country, and a certain hint of possibility in the air. If anything, I find the air here too stale, too little, because there're too many people to share it with. I feel crowded out. It's funny that the government keeps warning us that we are not having enough babies, because this is the one place that makes me feel that we should stop reproducing ourselves because there are too many of us. Every resource is scarce, from water to housing to space to seats on the MRT trains. Whatever you name, we probably don't have enough.
It's the best piece of storytelling on TV that I've I watched in a while. The concept is not especially new or original but yet, the stories that come out of it are so real and close to the heart. And although I've never been impressed by hosts who cry, Belinda Lee does seem genuinely engaged with those people she encountered.
I still remember some episodes which left a deep impression on me, such as the Singaporean in Brazil whom Belinda visited during the Chinese New Year period. She cradled the tub of pineapple tarts her mother made for her in her arms, while tears rollled down her face and she kept repeating: "I'm not sad, I'm very happy".
The TV station is repeating the 2nd season on Saturday afternoons so I had the pleasure of catching some of the episodes that I missed out, such as the one of the Singaporean woman living by herself in Mongolia. She seems to be in her late 30's but resembles a big baby, because she looks so happy and glowing. The move to Mongolia was sparked by her love of the country and culture, which is very weird because she belongs the ang-moh pai. Still, one can tell she is really enjoying every moment there. She showed off her frozen hair after washing it in the open during the freezing Mongolian winter. She danced and jiggled, tried skiing on the ice in her Mongolian robe and shoes while making all sorts of weird poses, and generally acted goofy for the camera. It was so funny that I laughed out loud while watching her, which surprised myself, since I woke up with puffy eyes and a droopy spirit that morning.
When asked if she will return to Singapore, she chuckled and said no. "But why?", Belinda asked her. It's like falling in love, she replied. She wants to be in Mongolia for her whole life and she wants to be there all the time.
How I wish I can find a place to love too. I don't think I can love Sin8apore the way she loves Mongolia. For one, I don't want to be here all the time. Neither do others, which is why we all love travelling. As much as I don't wish to sound cynical, Sin8apore is like a corporation, and corporations are not something that will inspire what I call the big love. Sure, there're things that I like, such as the convenience and safety, the cleanliness and efficiency, and of course the food. But these are not the stuff that people fall in love with. Its the beauty and the spirit of the country, and a certain hint of possibility in the air. If anything, I find the air here too stale, too little, because there're too many people to share it with. I feel crowded out. It's funny that the government keeps warning us that we are not having enough babies, because this is the one place that makes me feel that we should stop reproducing ourselves because there are too many of us. Every resource is scarce, from water to housing to space to seats on the MRT trains. Whatever you name, we probably don't have enough.
9 May 2009
Of pink dresses and old photos
We have been talking about Hong's wedding for so long and now it's come and gone. In the past, to me weddings = banquets which are something you have to sit through and hope that the ee-fu mien at the end of it was worth the wait.
But this is the first time I'm seeing a good friend getting married and so my feelings were different. As F mentioned, it was a mixed bag of emotions: sharing in the excitement and joy of the occasion and yet, feeling some trepidation at seeing an old friend officially leave girl-hood behind and nostalgia for our common past.
It was while viewing the photo montage that I realised how time flies, especially when I saw photos of the Perth trip that we took 3 years ago. Nothing fantastic happened, but it was just so relaxing and pleasant that it was the first time I actually felt a twinge of regret at having to return home. It was also then that I had an inkling of what was to come for H and AB. :) So whenever I think of them both, I think of that trip.
It was cool to see so many happy people around. At the ROM ceremony, I happened to sit beside Ah Ma and as we both looked on at the solemnization, I wanted to blurt out: "Awww, Hong mama, look, your daughter is all grown up and married now!" but I decided to shaddup and not spoil the important moment for Ah Ma.
So weddings can actually be fun. I hope you both enjoyed yourselves fa-la-la-ing on your big day too and all the very best and muacks from your "daughter"!
But this is the first time I'm seeing a good friend getting married and so my feelings were different. As F mentioned, it was a mixed bag of emotions: sharing in the excitement and joy of the occasion and yet, feeling some trepidation at seeing an old friend officially leave girl-hood behind and nostalgia for our common past.
It was while viewing the photo montage that I realised how time flies, especially when I saw photos of the Perth trip that we took 3 years ago. Nothing fantastic happened, but it was just so relaxing and pleasant that it was the first time I actually felt a twinge of regret at having to return home. It was also then that I had an inkling of what was to come for H and AB. :) So whenever I think of them both, I think of that trip.
It was cool to see so many happy people around. At the ROM ceremony, I happened to sit beside Ah Ma and as we both looked on at the solemnization, I wanted to blurt out: "Awww, Hong mama, look, your daughter is all grown up and married now!" but I decided to shaddup and not spoil the important moment for Ah Ma.
So weddings can actually be fun. I hope you both enjoyed yourselves fa-la-la-ing on your big day too and all the very best and muacks from your "daughter"!
26 Apr 2009
Discontentment loves company
Time is running out.
That seems to be the undercurrent coursing through the various conversations I've been having with friends. Everyone seems to be talking about how we're nearing 30 and time is not on our side anymore. I can feel the anxiety as well but yet also exasperation.
Sometimes, when alone, I actually admit to myself that I feel grateful. I may not be successful, married, or rich. But I feel grateful because there were junctions in my life where I might have made the wrong turns and ended up worse.
Maybe others, too feel grateful to be alive. But when we come together to talk, all the discontentment and insecurities start to crowd out everything else. Discontentment about our career, lack of money, single status, aging....why can't we ever talk about things that make us feel happy?
I have very little but I know I can get by. But the grumbles and complaints sometimes make me shame-faced, like how others are worried about their future but I'm still being indifferent, insensible, maybe unmotivated.
How strange that our daily defeats can be shared so readily and easily, that discontentment should be our common conversational currency. But after writing this out, I've come to realise something...you only let your guard down with people you trust. That they fretted at me may actually be that they trust me with their insecurities. That I wouldn't think any less of them despite their fears, their cynicism, the same way I wish they wouldn't judge me in my moments of discontentment.
That seems to be the undercurrent coursing through the various conversations I've been having with friends. Everyone seems to be talking about how we're nearing 30 and time is not on our side anymore. I can feel the anxiety as well but yet also exasperation.
Sometimes, when alone, I actually admit to myself that I feel grateful. I may not be successful, married, or rich. But I feel grateful because there were junctions in my life where I might have made the wrong turns and ended up worse.
Maybe others, too feel grateful to be alive. But when we come together to talk, all the discontentment and insecurities start to crowd out everything else. Discontentment about our career, lack of money, single status, aging....why can't we ever talk about things that make us feel happy?
I have very little but I know I can get by. But the grumbles and complaints sometimes make me shame-faced, like how others are worried about their future but I'm still being indifferent, insensible, maybe unmotivated.
How strange that our daily defeats can be shared so readily and easily, that discontentment should be our common conversational currency. But after writing this out, I've come to realise something...you only let your guard down with people you trust. That they fretted at me may actually be that they trust me with their insecurities. That I wouldn't think any less of them despite their fears, their cynicism, the same way I wish they wouldn't judge me in my moments of discontentment.
5 Apr 2009
Bumming to music
I was curious to see how my first violin lesson after the disasterous exam would turn out. I had imagined myself having to describe with resignation to the whole lot of my classmates (6 of them) what happened on that lousy day. As it turned out, only one turned up for class.
Of course A**a asked me how it was, and I told her. I sighed, flipped to the first piece which gave me the most grief, and started playing it. I hated that piece; it was difficult and fast and it grated on my ears. But M*s*y* who took the exam as well, had said that the pieces become that much easier once the exam is over. I wanted to see if it's true.
I had expected A**a to fiddle with her own violin as well, but instead she stood there and watched me. My hands did not tremble at all, but yet, the double stop, where you press on 2 strings at the same time, still tripped me up. I stopped and complained that I could never execute them well, but A**a urged "Go on, go on." And so I did.
I hated treating music like an exam subject; hated having to play a piece I dislike over and over again until my back aches; and I definitely hated scales. Because of all these, I gave myself more stress than I realised. It was just overkill. I just want to relak and enjoy my lessons now. Yeah, even when it comes to music, I can't help my bummer tendencies.
Of course A**a asked me how it was, and I told her. I sighed, flipped to the first piece which gave me the most grief, and started playing it. I hated that piece; it was difficult and fast and it grated on my ears. But M*s*y* who took the exam as well, had said that the pieces become that much easier once the exam is over. I wanted to see if it's true.
I had expected A**a to fiddle with her own violin as well, but instead she stood there and watched me. My hands did not tremble at all, but yet, the double stop, where you press on 2 strings at the same time, still tripped me up. I stopped and complained that I could never execute them well, but A**a urged "Go on, go on." And so I did.
I hated treating music like an exam subject; hated having to play a piece I dislike over and over again until my back aches; and I definitely hated scales. Because of all these, I gave myself more stress than I realised. It was just overkill. I just want to relak and enjoy my lessons now. Yeah, even when it comes to music, I can't help my bummer tendencies.
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