These hands were meant to create

Recently, I borrowed a book from the library about the how's of living a "charmed life". Each chapter describes a different way of how you can achieve it. One was about making things with our hands. The author particularly likes to make handicraft because it makes her feel accomplished. Humans were meant to make things with their hands, because we were born with opposable thumbs, she explained.

I have a pair of nervous hands, which perhaps reflect my personality. They perspire on and off for no reason, and they shake. They don't sound like a major problem, but maybe, due to the human tendency to yearn for what we cannot have, the skills and hobbies that I am interested in usually rely heavily on a pair of steady hands. Like Chinese calligraphy, photography, playing the violin, drawing.

I was having lunch in the office pantry when I overhead this Filippino woman telling her lunch kakis that her hands perspire often.

If you were a guy, you won't be allowed to hold guns for National Services, her local friend quipped.

These hands were not meant to kill. That was the first thought that popped up in my mind about my hands.

But the trembling troubles me, very much in fact. I am making chicken soup for dinner tonight and as I was cutting up the potato and the carrot, my sister and mother watched and commented that I was shaking badly. It was quite a helpless feeling: even for something as basic as cooking, I can't do it properly.

I have been visiting a Chinese physician for acupunture and taking medicine. I sure hope it works. Calm and steady hands, something that others probably take for granted is something that I can only wish I could have one day.

Hoping for rain

My umbrella’s tired of the sun wearing me down
Oh, why won’t you come now?
If it’s the long fall back to earth you fear
I promise to wait here
and catch you with my palms wide open
As you fall like teardrops from the heavens

华文课

Whenever people learn that I've enrolled myself into a Chinese class, their reaction is usually "Huh, why?" or "What for? Aren't you a Chinese?!"

The latter makes me feel embarrassed, especially when my work neighbour, a Filippino-Malay, exclaimed that it's like a Malay enrolling into a Malay class. The fact is that my Chinese sucks, and this was further reinforced when the class started.

My classmates are a pleasant surprise: their ability in the Chinese language and commitment to learning 令我佩服。I had expected lots of uncles and aunties with some spare time on their hands in my class, but as it turns out, we were from all walks of life. There's the pair of mother and daughter sitting in front of me. The mum works as a part-time taxi driver and is such as 开心果， even though I realised near the end of the course that she had single-handedly raised her 3 kids. Her daughter SY is a very nice girl who shared with us, for the class presentation, her 6-month work experience in the Yellowstone Park in the US after her graduation. It sounded so wonderful that it made me wonder why I had not thought of doing the same thing when I was younger.

Next to me is HQ, who is in advertising and dreams of opening her own restaurant. She too, seems to warm to people very fast and we were instant friends. During our dinner together after the exam last Saturday, she mentioned that one of the bonuses she got from this class was knowing me. That was so sweet of her.

Sitting behind us is JQ, in his 40's. Smart and friendly, his enthusiasm in learning quite impresses me. Besides this class, he is also attending a Chinese course on banking and finance, and wants to learn Malay next. On a train ride, he even said that he wants to take up "serious" studying (ie a diploma course) next year. How does he juggle a job, 2 kids and so much studying?

Then there are a couple of lawyers, a trainer, an accountant, the SSO general manager who gave us this fantastic presentation about the Western orchestra and instruments, and the ah beng who dyed his hair blond and wears wild boar's teeth as a necklace, but who always does his homework without fail and played "Jingle Bells" on the erhu for us in class. What a motley bunch, but what fun. I feel like I have learned more than Chinese with and from them. Now that the course has ended, I feel truly sorry. I had started the course feeling overwhelmed and grouchy, thinking that I will never be able to catch up. But now that my interest is fired up, it has to end, sigh. I'll be feeling a little lost every time Tuesday evening comes around, for at least a while.

In time, sunshine

Facebook is gradually losing its allure but I have to say that some friends' witticisms via status updates are really quite entertaining. Take this one:

A positive attitude will not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort. --Mr Ang

It made me do an internal giggle because it is very true. Eternally positive people are annoying. I sometimes wonder if I'm guilty of trying to be that, always putting a positive spin to things.

It not only feels tiring--it also feels false. To be human is to experience the whole spectrum of emotions, even those lurking at the dark, unwanted end. There is a time to shed the wearisome armour of positivity and retreat into a corner to lick my wounds. There is a time for sadness and disappointment. There is also a time for self-pity and complaints.

Well sometimes the sun shines on

Other people's houses and not mine.

Some days the clouds paint the sky all gray

And it takes away my summertime.

Somehow the sun keeps shining upon you,

While I struggle to get mine.

-- The Sunshine Song, Jason Mraz

But there will also come a time to pick myself up and dust off the dejection. There will be a time to learn from painful lessons, take courage, and face the sun again. It just takes time, that's all.

Childhood joy!

Yes, it is indeed back! This is Arctic Roll, my absolute favourite frozen food when I was a little kid. We were poor then, and a roll had to last the whole family. It was a special treat that doesn't come by often. We would slice it very carefully so that everyone gets a slice that is of equal thickness. Every slice was treated with reverence, and every crumb, precious. In fact, I loved it so much I would lick the plate after my slice was gone, to make sure that not one iota of it was wasted.

Bird's Eye had stopped its production in 1997 but revived it in December 2008. I saw it at the supermarket yesterday and was like, hmm, oh well, my brother remarked that we don't have a Xmas cake this year, so let's just eat this then.

But then, I had the first slice, and it was damn good! I haven't felt so good eating anything for a long while, and I havent been able to stop eating it. *burp*. Oh, the joy of rediscovering a childhood treat and to find that it still has that oomph!