Dirty laundry

Any Way The Wind Blows

2006-10-15T12:08:00.000+08:00

Any way the wind blows,
the kite floats free.
Any where the kite lands,
the string follows thee.

Any way the story goes,
the love grows sweet.
Any how the love ends,
the heart breaks quick.

Any way the life proposes,
the days never sleep.
Any more of staying alive,
the mind becomes weak.

Any way the wind blows,
the kite drifts and drifts.
Any thing does not matter
the direction has been missed.

2C Class Gathering

2006-08-13T19:38:00.000+08:00

Imagine that time has somehow been self-frozen since year 1998 and unfreezes itself at around 8.16pm last evening. The location has changed from the RV cemented flooring and stuffy classroom to the smouldering barbeque pits outside the condominiums along Telok Blangah. In year 1996, one particular classmate had puked, literally, during one of those nauseating tests and last evening, we were making fun of his perpetual sickness symtoms during major exams. (Thank goodness, he is rather gracious about it and apparently he has done so well in his subsequent tests that he has earned a scholarship to UK...)

How nostalgic.. Intially I thought that my lower secondary school gathering would turn out to be a purely :" So what are you doing now?" kind of social exchange but it is actually more of a recap of past memories. Nevertheless, I had to repeat at least 7 times the place where I am currently working at, fortunately, to 7 different interested parties. Everyone looks the same more or less, (noone has aged at all over the past 10 years!) except maybe prettier with the help of a little cosmetics here and there.

Pretty faces aside, the German party beside our BBQ pit was also fun to watch. Apparently they were celebrating the 30th birthday of one of their vivacious and gracious friends.(I have to add more compliments to her as she has offered us 2 GERMAN meatballs, countless GERMAN sausages and GERMAN mustard.... she was so proud of her GERMAN food..the German ambassador of food should really consider hiring her..) But she was telling us that according to her culture, if a woman remains unmarried by the age of 30, it's actually a very bad thing so in an effort to console her, her friends held this party.

Well, as I was happily munching her GERMAN sausage dipped in the GERMAN mustard, I wonder, if in another 7 years time, we were to gather together again, what will be the reason of celebration. I hope that it will not be me or my (un) marital status..

It's such a loong journey..

2006-06-24T15:51:00.000+08:00

I am experiencing the process of really growing up right now.

Lesson 1: How to keep your temper when ridiculous people from a higher position than you are, called and started barking without even first introducing themselves.

Lesson learned: Try to maintain a submissive manner and be as cooperative as possible during the conversation but to scream, "She's such a fu*king assh*le b*tch"after immediately putting down the phone.

Lesson 2: How to explain to your boss after you have found out that you have issued a cheque with the incorrect amount.

Lesson learned: To quicly act on the damage control while incessantly putting the blame on the invoices that had misled you and admitting that you are short-sighted.

Lesson 3: How to take the lead in a project when you have no clue what is the problem.

Lesson learned: To create the problem itself and hopefully solve it.

Lesson 4: How to survive in a MNC with aggressive leaders who demand too much on you.

Lesson learned: Smile and life goes on..

Very bad shape

2006-04-03T21:39:00.000+08:00

I am so stressed to the spilt ends of my frizzy hair that my face starts having pimples in pairs all over my cheeks. The unevenness of my skin surface makes me self conscious and I keep my head bowed whenever there are bright lights or pretty people. This posture is preventing me from breathing in fresher air and my shoulders feel aching and old. The continuity of having a prematurely aging body is burdening my feet that have to support this much pressure. At the end of the day, when I look in the mirror and see a hag with eyebags the size and color of a dark soy sauce saucer gazing back at me, you can imagine the multiplication of stress going at the speed of a rocket. My life has sadly turned into a stress vicious cycle....

Nae Ireumeun Kim Sam-Soon

2006-03-13T10:47:00.000+08:00

My name is Kim Sam Soon.
This is a very entertaining korean drama first recommended by Grace the starlet. It has the full package like the perfect wedding cake. For example, it has an inspiring story plot, beautiful cast and humour element. Just like the perfect wedding cake with its delicious spong cake, decorated delicately with fresh cream and frills and the cartoonish bride and groom figurines on top. Though I have only watched 1/3 of the show so far, I am sure that it will not disppoint me. I expect to see some happy endings just like the best wishes, often written last on the wedding cake using chocolate that say " Congratulations!" Do watch the show, it is definitely a feast for the eye.

What's her name?

2006-03-10T11:21:00.000+08:00

Is it all the doing of Mr Fate that I had to act the role of a preoccupied shopper at the counter of Paul and Joe in Isetan Scott after I had caught a glimpse of my primary school mate, whom I had long lost contact with as soon as the PSLE results were announced, 20 cm away from me? I believe so. I honestly couldn't recognise her at first but her mannerism and voice are so distinctively familiar. This is because I owe her credit for being the first person to introduce me into the fashionable realms of this world when all I could think about at age 10 was how to carry more textbooks into my bag without the risk of falling backwards. I remembered I had, my first girly shopping and swooning over boybands experiences with her and she is the only one whom I dared to confess that Aaron Kwok is hot. (Well, that was then but obviously after that, my insatiable passion in hunks never stops.)
I do not think that I dress very well right now but at least I cannot imagine what I will be like without her. Maybe I will turn out looking like Lori, one of the famous geek couple from The Amazing Race season 9. Who knows? But I guess, the bigger question of all is: what's her name?

Drifting Cloud

2006-03-08T12:37:00.000+08:00

These would be the 2 words to describe myself if I were only given 1.5 s for self introduction. But how apt? Sometimes, I see the rainbow and smell the sunshine but other times, drenched in the rain and deafened by the thunderstorm. And most of all, I am unpredictabe.

My DIY blog

2006-03-05T22:00:00.000+08:00

This is a blog that I've set up to display all the things that I've designed/made/sewed/glued/put together. www.ahnasews.blogspot.com

Haruki Murakami

2006-03-03T12:42:00.000+08:00

I have finally found my match. Unfortunately he is a 57 years old married Japanese man. Don't get me wrong, what I mean is that I have finally discovered someone with an imagination so far fetched and fertile that my own imagination seems almost like a pea to his universe. The good thing is that he is a famous writer so at least he has a proper avenue to channel his creativity and surreal ideas than being mistaken as a lunatic.
So far, I have read 3 of his books, one a novel called Dance dance dance and the other 2 are compilations of short stories called The Elephant vanishes and After the Quake. The first 2 books are recommendations from Jasmine and all thanks to her, I have now become an official fan of Haruki's. Though his stories are all translations from different people, they carry his original writing style and ideas. There is definitely no mistaking it because who else is capable of making a sheep man appeared in a dingy hotel, believable or creating a scene in which an elephant vanished with his caretaker, touching and not out of the world.
Currently I am reading another of his bizarre novel titled Kafka on the shore. Absurd things are happening all the time and while I am trying to make sense of these events, the suspense of yearning to know what is next is pushing me to just read on and on. Ironically, Haruki himself said that "If I choose to write about sheep, it's just because I happened to write about sheep. There is no deep significance." However, for readers who are just as imaginative like myself, I cannot help but wonder and attempt to decipher the deeper meanings of what he wrote.
In the end, I may end up either in a wild goose chase or dizzy standing transfixed looking at the wild goose chasing one another. Whatever the outcome, Haruki's novels are surely worth a read. They enable one to be transported into a fantasy temporarily but be permanently influenced by his daring exploration of the human mind.

2006-02-14T17:04:00.000+08:00

Cake is the love of my life.

Dedicated to my tenants, Mr and Mrs P.

2006-02-13T11:35:00.000+08:00

Happy Valentine's Day....till I get rid of you.

The Spirit of Martial Arts

2006-02-03T11:28:00.000+08:00

I watched 3 movies yesterday that invlove some forms of martial arts. The first one, Ong Bak engages Thai boxing and agility, 七剑 displays graceful Chinese sword dancing and 霍元甲 uses Jet Li styled Wushu movements. Among the three, I love the last one best. Not only do I personally think that Jet Li looks so charming in his 马褂 but also the plot has evoked strong patriotic sentiments and human relationship emotions.
From the solitary Ting in Ong Bak who wanted to single-handedly retrieve the missing Buddha head to the gang of seven swordsmen united in rescuing the innocents, the heros always seem so motivated, purposeful and righteous. On top of that, they can really fight using their fists and wits. I would gladly enrol in a martial arts school as well if I were still at a tender young age when I could be flexible enough to twist my limps about or foolish enough to endure pains all over my body without any complain. Watch out, my future son, if mummy's enthusiasm could sustain till you are born then you would be groomed as Jet Li no. 2. Unfortunately, mummy would be too old by then to be friendly with your hunky martial arts comrades..
In essence, martial arts is about, as quoted by 霍元甲, strengthening the mind, soul and body.
After a whole day of martial arts movies, my mind was definitely excited by the gungho spirit. My soul was also touched by the heroism. However, my body remained weak as the only physical task that I had managed to accomplish yesterday was to sharpen my primary school cousin's color pencils.

The Ugly Orange

2006-01-30T23:42:00.000+08:00

I ate an ugly orange today. It looked sad, grumpy and old. It's skin was all crumbled and rough and had black spots and big open pores. I stared at it, earnestly hoping that my skin won't look like this in 80 years' time. However, at the same moment, I thought of not judging a book by its cover. Who knows, this could be the most succulent orange that I've ever tasted!
So, I went on to peel it. The skin was thick and it was further wrapped with a stubborn layer of pith. But after undressing the orange, I placed one flesh into my mouth in full anticipation. The ugly orange tasted very average. It was neither particularly sweet and juicy nor extremely sour and dry. It just tasted normal. Like if it were to be ranged on a scale of 0 to 5, then it would be an exact of 2.5.
After I've mechanically eaten the orange flesh by flesh with sticky fingers and slow chewing mouth, I realised that there was not a single seed in the ugly orange. This was not a surprising discovery but two interesting thoughts came to my mind.
1) Because of its appearance and the fact that it had no redeeming factor (it was not delicious), God had decided to reduce such oranges by making it infertile. This was a very misunderstood ugly orange.
2) Because of God's decision, it had saved me the trouble of spitting out the seeds while eating the orange. Therefore, at the ugly orange's death, it had at least earned my understanding. Too bad, I was its murderer.
R.I.P.

2005-12-27T15:35:00.000+08:00

Random photo that I took outside some shop. Think It's trying to say "Yokoso Japan".

2005-12-27T15:33:00.000+08:00

Disneysea carousel. Age doesn't make a difference here.

2005-12-27T15:30:00.000+08:00

Typical elaborate Japanese food presentation. Food tasted great too as seen by the empty plates. Was rather hungry that day.

2005-12-27T15:27:00.000+08:00

The exact place where the A-bomb was dropped 60 years ago. What's left now is an almost empty field with some stone statues and barely surviving dry grass.

2005-12-27T15:20:00.000+08:00

Canal City. A shopping mall in Fukuoka. Interesting place with shops like Gap and Zara.

2005-12-27T15:15:00.000+08:00

Foot Onsen. Can't show you anything more exposed than this.

2005-12-27T15:11:00.000+08:00

Beautiful scenery. Mt Sakurajima at Kagoshima.

2005-12-27T15:08:00.000+08:00

Japanese prove to be equally 'good' at direct translations.

2005-12-27T15:05:00.000+08:00

Eki Bento. Unlike in Singapore, Japanese can eat on trains.

It's 10 times hotter here.

2005-12-19T23:14:00.000+08:00

The first thing that shook me up from an eye-shutter on the plane from Tokyo was the announcement that Singapore is 30 Degree Celsius. That's about 10 times the temperature in Tokyo. The weather in Japan is really so chilly, and so unlike the way my uncle pronounced it, chilli. Talking about mispronunciation, my uncle has to be the forefounder. Throughout the trip, I was sometimes confused about the places we were supposed to go. For instance, he said we were to transit at krome when he actually meant kurume. And he kept mentioning that he liked the Onsan which could easily be mistaken as a person's name as Japaneses address their names ending with 'san'. What he intended was he liked the Onsen, the Japanese bath.
Most amusing was he told his Japanese friends that he is impressed with the way the Japanese girls bow. A very respectful comment to his friends but the problem is that his 'bow' sounded like 'bounce'. Fortunately, his friends didn't seem to catch the extra 'ce' sound but we, as listeners just couldn't stop giggling.
However, because we had spent about 2 weeks together, I suppose due to the influence, my pronunciation is not as accurate as before. It's time to speak proper English now. Seriesly (seriously).

22 year-old VS 75 year-old

2005-11-29T14:49:00.000+08:00

A typical jogging session with my grandfather.

French Fest

2005-11-02T13:46:00.000+08:00

After I watched Amelie I was convinced that french films rock. Not only is the style of directing contemporary but also, the actors are very charismatic. Plus, the movie is about a 23 year old shy girl in pursuit of love. But what impressed me the most is how a simple plot like this can develop into a fast-paced, fun and inspiring show. Hence, this single love affair with french movies led me and my cousin to L'esquive that is shown during this year french film festival. It's about a muslim boy in the suburbs of Paris and how he deals with the problems that adolescents normally face. Maybe the director focused too much on the protagonist's daily problems or the reality of life, this social drama looked more like a documentary to me. Boring and flat. There's neither the typical french fanfare nor charming foreign accents. For instance, bulk of the show is made up of teenagers shouting at one another in crude vulgaries.
However, as my infatuation seldom ends early, I bought a couple of french movies that seem quite acclaimed. And fortunately it turned out that Les Choristes is a really good one. It is also about a group of young troubled boys and how music has helped to tame their souls and lift up their spirits. The songs they sang were extremely superb. The next movie, emporte-moi also started off with a confused 15 year old girl who likes to live in a movie. The show is not as touching but it brought alive the consequences of neglecting the people you love and of being forced under desperate situations.
It seems that the themes that I have highlighted in these movies are not unusual and country specific at all. Therefore, an exposure to french films makes me learn that even though we speak different languages and have different working lifestyles, we will all be able to feel the same as long as we are breathing in the same air.

Mistaken again..

2005-10-05T18:42:00.000+08:00

Maybe it is due to my rather dark feautures or complexion, people sometimes mistake me for a Malay. Some of them simply say that I look like one while other comments turn out pretty interesting. Hence, I decided to share these top 3 most intriguing instances:

1) 2 Chinese girls approached me at work and they looked at me uncertainly. When I urged them forward, they confessed that they thought I was a Malay and didn't know what to say to me. Later on the same day itself, a Malay man came to me with some queries and he thanked me saying the Chinese words "xie xie".

2) A Chinese auntie who knows little English came over to the counter I am working at and started to speak to me in Malay. I was flabbergasted and I motioned her to the correct counter. Afterwards, I went to ask the half Malay staff at the assigned counter and the exact auntie told him in Hokien that I didn't understand her.

3)And just today at lunch I went to order my food and the Malay server actually asked me why am I not fasting.

Bagus.

My dustbin tummy

2005-09-27T18:31:00.000+08:00

In case you're wondering, this is what my stomach looks like undigested today.

Looking for the Right things in Life

2005-09-23T18:59:00.000+08:00

Bareheartedly, I told my closed ones that my goal for this year is to find myself a boyfriend. Most of their reactions marked encouragement especially Lynette, who clapped her hands so zealously that she reminded me of a circus seal which had just been rewarded a fish. But my cousin highlighted that this goal seemed to be the same for every year. I don't know exactly what brought about the determination or rather the courage to loudly announce my intentions in man-hunting for the coming few months. Perhaps it was due to the fact that most of my colleagues got married at the age of 23 and seemed to be living quite happily ever after, as yet.
But I really don't mean to settle down so soon. In fact, I don't know what I want most of the time in life. As discussed with Gas on one of those self-reflective evenings, I concluded that life is like an on-going treasure hunt. This analogy may not sound very apt but at least I feel that we are forever looking for the right things in life, be it a careeer, a buddy or a boyfriend. I think that sometimes, even though you have put in your heart in finding, the right things may still never come to you. On the other hand, everything right happens when you are not even searching at all.
Does fate control it all? Or is fate a convenient excuse for sloth or the unwillingness to try searching? One thing for sure though, is that whoever I may end up with in future can be certain that even though I may not be the right one for him, he has someone who is getting prepared to love him wholeheartedly.

Short Story no.1(hope it'll help kill your boredom, huilin)

2005-08-17T19:14:00.000+08:00

Don't Cry for me, Papa

I had no idea when and where I was born. I guessed that it happened in summer and someplace very hot and dry. Maybe I was a premature baby and was put inside an incubator. However, one thing for sure was that I was born very hairy. So hairy that I had to toss my hair aside just to catch a glimpse of the world.

Because I was very sweet-natured, I thought the world to be a beautiful place. But I was abandoned when I was born and I could still remember those tearful eyes of my father when he left me alone in a dusty room. The room scared me as everyone else there looked exactly like me. We were all the same. We all had dark bare skins and tangled hair with knots. I was terrified of the world. The world in which more and more of my duplicates came out and occupied our increasingly cramped cabin.

However, there always seemed to be space for everyone. Every day, strangers would come and take some of us away with them. They simply had to go to the lady in white and exchanged some cash for us. After that, she would dress us up in an uniform manner. The lady had never looked at us twice, never stopped to consider if it was a fair deal, never failed to dress us all the same and never cared.

Just like the lady, the strangers were less kind than civil. I remembered once, there came a lavishly-attired woman who seemed to be vying for the best Christmas tree award. She was furiously poking me before making a face and sneered, "there's something black at the side". I was so upset and humiliated because I never knew that it was such a shameful thing to have a mole on the face.

As I was deep in the nightmarish thoughts, a thin man appeared and pointed at me. I asked myself in anticipation,"where would I be going next?" as he went to approach the lady in white. After the transaction, I soon realised that I now belonged to this man. This man that perhaps I was to call 'father'. This made me think of my own father. The one who had once cried for me before he left me to fend for myself in this horrible world.

Just as I was about to leave the place that I had known to be home since I was born, I saw my own father hard at work behind the glass. I could not believe my eyes but there he was, kneading the dough and dusting the flour on the table in which he carried out his work. I felt like screaming for him to rescue me from the thin man when I noticed the perspiration from his forehead. Then, I looked at what he was making and I finally got the answers that I yearned for all my life.

The world was indeed a horrible place. My father had never cried for me. I had foolishly mistaken those beads of sweat to be tears. Although I felt no pain, I realised that my legs were already gone. All I could see now were the rows of teeth of the thin man and a black cave. I understood how insignificant I really was and I resigned to my fate in the quest to answer my last question.

2005-08-13T21:50:00.000+08:00

Had a very heavy dinner..not good..

Rotten Core

2005-08-09T14:53:00.000+08:00

The conscience sits at my core,
a guilt I've felt it before.
Time fails to be my mentor,
as I sink deeper into the fall.

The rope is thin and insecure,
I need to find a way to crawl.
But my nails are begging me to stop,
for they can't bear the shame of rot.

As I glance at the river below,
a fair face stared back cold.
It reminds me of Snow White at first,
but later of the apple that's cursed.

A foul heart that has been condemned,
the fate is soon coming to an end.
No prince can help to save the soul,
unless it is a heart made of gold.

I want to be thin,real thin..

2005-08-06T13:30:00.000+08:00

..so that he will be happier holding me.. And when the wind blows, I will feel light and pretty..I know that I am dark, but if I am thin, real thin, everyone will start looking at me.. And praise my owner for having such lovely hair that is so thin, real thin.

Being a Child

2005-07-29T11:38:00.000+08:00

I believe when someone says, 'you have a heart like a child', it is a compliment. However, I think it is an insult to refer your behaviour to that of one. Maybe not equally bad but just as unflattering is when people think that you look like one too. This happened on me recently and the comments can range from 'you just came from school?' from an auntie requesting for donations to 'did you just graduate from poly?' asked by my colleague from work. They thought that I am 20 years old at the max. Even more intriguing is that my project mate thought that I can pass off as an 16 year-old when I was already in university then.
Frankly, I do not think that I look that young, considering all those crow-feets around my eyes, smile wrinkles joining the edges of my nose to those of my mouth and not to mention those permanent make-believe gothic looking dark eye rings. The truth is, I believe I am ageing faster than my grandmother. Nothing in me exudes youth, except perhaps for the facts that I still have lots of hair and that I always use my mother as a shield from taking up responsibilities. For example, an insurance agent will be cajoling me to take up their plans and I would simply say, " I can't make decisions on that because my mother is in charge of my finances." or when this diligent lady from the rainbow association asking me to fill in a form to make donations from my personal account on a regular basis, I only need to explain, " I'm sorry but I don't have my own account, it's a joint one with my mother. I need permission from her."
My mother this.. and my mother that...
Though I agree that I should be more independent and stop relying so much on my poor mother on decision-making, this particular tactic of fending off unwanted attention has so far proven to be very effective. That is, if you were to couple it with a child-like face like mine..

Lend a Helping hand

2005-07-19T16:03:00.000+08:00

I was working at the Clementi Sing post yesterday when a skinny up-to-age lady approached me in Cantonese. She looked like a very outdated disco mama with badly-dyed red hair combed back with high blown-up fringe. She wanted to know if we could help her pay some fines using the SAM machine and I volunteered to help even though 1) we are not in charge of this business, 2) I have no idea how to use the SAM machine and 3) she looked so weird.
When we came to the machine, I tried to follow the instructions and scan the barcode found on the letter that she handed me. Nothing happened. Panic started to rise but my self-pride that I am capable in doing this seemingly easy task doused the heat of nerves. As I began to attempt again, a friendly Malay uncle who, I think, had been lurking around the area for the past 5 minutes and witnessed our juvenile comprehension of the machine, stepped in to assist us. He was really a pro and quickly brought us through the many steps that ended with the payment using nets. Unfortunately, the pin numbers written on a piece of tissue that the lady had were quite wrong. Impatience kicked in and I told the lady to check if the pin numbers were correct. She then shrieked out something and I soon realised that it was only her primal way of calling out for her husband. At least he looked more of his age, what a normal 60tish man should look like. They investigated the mystery of the pin numbers for a couple more minutes while I mentally rolled my eyes, folding and unfolding my arms and doing all those actions that screamed of my relunctance to help anymore.
Finally, the old man miraculously remembered the correct pin numbers. As I was about to escape fast in case they had more fines to pay, the lady took my right hand in both of hers in the form of a congratulation and acted as though I had just saved her life literally. Well, I guess lending a helping hand may be quite fulfilling after all though that act of repayment itself feels just as elaborate as making payments using the SAM machine.

Where have all the Wife Biscuits gone?

2005-07-08T20:28:00.000+08:00

This is a very belated entry but fault goes entirely to my imbecile internet system. After I came back from a 4-days vacation in Hong Kong, I realised just how popular the Wife Biscuits there are, among my relatives. But unfortunately I only managed to buy back 3 boxes and 1 of them actually contains the smaller versions affectionately called the cutie wives. When my aunt came to my house one day, expecting me to treat her with the biscuits, I had to dig into my luggage and pretend that the wasabi beans, intended as my after-meals snacks, are more 'likeable' and better than the Wife Biscuits. A little unconvinced, my aunt took 2 of the biscuits (there are 6 in each box, and 9 in the cutie one) and so I was left with 19.
I was also supposed to give some to my another aunt but she knew that I didn't buy enough to give to my other relatives. So she kindly said it's alright but I didn't know if I was sincerely wishing her to take some home or that my mouth moved faster than my brain, I asked her "Are you sure? No regrets?" She looked at me and from her eyes, I could see that she thought it would have been rude to reject me, so she took not 2, but 4 of the cutie wives. Left with 15.
Before I left for Hong Kong, my cousin had asked me to help her buy the biscuits so I had to reserve 1 box for her. My uncle had also generously given me $200 for the trip so in return, my grandmother told me to give him some of the biscuits. All in all, I guessed I was left with about 5 by the end of the first week since I was back. I think my brother must have eaten at least 1 of them and my grandfather would have like to find out the difference from those in Singapore. And I admit, 2 were downed by me because I wanted to see if the wasabi beans are indeed better.

Self Evaluation

2005-06-10T00:33:00.000+08:00

Yesterday I went out with my cousin for the smoothiest bean curd along Rocher road. On my way to meet her, I was consciously eyeing the people around me as the local train provides little entertainment except role-play as a human statue or a clown juggling invisible balls depending on the driver's temperament. The first target got on at Buona Vista. From afar, he was kinda cute: tall, lean and with a clean cut look. However, the closer he came towards my vicinity, the more impression marks he lost from me. Really too tall, not compatible.
The second victim of my critical screening was a working executive in a purple shirt. I gave him credit for being able to pull off the risk of looking like an eggplant so high marks on that. But he immediately changed my impression of him when he lifted his foot and rubbed his socks. I didn't care to see what he was doing next as Number 2 had failed as well.
When I finally met up with my cousin, she gave me a queer look that spoke of unfathomness. "Why are you wearing a sweater?"
I answered, "Because it was drizzling." (Though beneath my sweater, beads of sweat were dripping down my back.) Then I admitted, seeing her unbelieving eyes, that I meant to wear the sweater to match my recently bought green bag. She nodded and walked on, leaving me suddenly quite self conscious and pondering. The thing is, my sweater is also green in colour and I felt like a spinach. It was then that I realise that perhaps I should spend more time on self evaluation than mentally checking on others.

Beautiful Faces

2005-06-07T10:21:00.000+08:00

Under the bright lights and big labels,
beautiful people hide their flaws.
Different colours mask their faces,
of the thousands lines that speak of war.

Beauty becomes their main attraction
and smile as the tool of communication.
Some are true affection
while others relish in superfiction.

A beautiful job as it seems,
the true pains all lie within.
But vanity is every man's dream
pursued early since we can think.

Contrast with the kids running around,
with tear-scarred faces and naughty grins.
Beauty seems to not lie with the standardized perfect model
but in the genuine happiness innocence brings.

2005-05-20T09:56:00.000+08:00

A picture says 1000 words, or rather 3..

Just remain physical..

2005-05-13T13:53:00.000+08:00

No, I'm not refering to that kind of relationship but to something just as intimate, pain. A few days ago, I felt this excruciating pain in my upper left thigh whenever I walked and I thought that might be the very very early symptom of old age. But to my first delight then surprise, I realised that the pain was caused by a very nasty blue black that I still can't remember where I got it from. Although the pain is now gone, the blue black remains, reminding me of how vulnerable my flesh can be, even at the supposedly more meaty parts of the body.
And just yesterday, I had an infection on my right eyelid and this once again proves that such physical pain can be felt anywhere in you, in this case at the other extreme, the thinnest area of the body. I wonder did I at my most bored sing, "Pain pain go away, Come again another way"? Because otherwise, the rate of one physical pain replacing the other is amazing.
Though I am not in the best of my mood right now, I'm glad that the pain(s) that I'm experiencing are only surfacial. I hope that they will stay this way or better still, disappear once and for all.

Unworthy sacrifice

2005-05-04T18:20:00.000+08:00

I think I must have been too carried away with the idealised notions often glamourised by Japanese dramas. You know, those gambaru spirit, never give up attitude and that hard work pays off. And it happens that I am now watching 'Pride', this particular Kimura drama about a hockey player who always tries to challenge and exceed his own limits and rejects all possibilities of failure with his famous tagline "maybe". (Gas, sounds familiar?) I guess it's normal being touched by the character's passion, especially someone as charming as Kimura that little effort is needed, in fact to influence me into thinking that as long as you believe in yourself and persevere, nothing is unachievable and impossible.
However, it is precisely with all these in mind that ironically, tragedy struck. I thought that given my experience in baking albeit amateurish, I will have no problem bringing the hot tray of baked cookies from the oven to the table. Moreover, my confidence in myself fooled me into thinking that I could do it single-handedly so I only wore oven glove on the assigned hand. You never thought that 14 cookies on a tray can weigh so heavy but it does and so I instinctively used my poor unarmoured hand to balance the weight. What followed are a long wail and 2 short burn marks on my left palm.
Nevermind the fact that I have scalded my hand. I accept that accidents happen but the thing that makes me realise that sacrifice may not be as worthy as romanised in the drama came from the least expected candidate: my grandpa. Do not be mistaken that he is someone who does not believe in sacrifices. It's just that he is the first to try my cookies and think they taste awful.
Hence, I come to the moral of the story. Drama will always be drama. Whatever wonderful outcome that results from hard work and sacrifices can be easily controlled by the director. In reality however, the greasy oven with stains spotted by years of negligence has just proven to determine mine.

The Emancipation of Mimi

2005-04-29T00:46:00.000+08:00

Yes I know but no, I am not a Maria's fan. It's just that I've been feeling so unburdened lately that I truly feel this way. So free and relaxed that I've thought of doing a poem.

Time travels while birds fly by
not knowing whether it is morning or night.
Living like a pop idol without fame
Sleeping like a pig without shame.
Freedom is felt like never before
but you know the danger of wanting more.
Waking up is akin to sleeping again
Seriously, I think I need to get out of this slacking game.

I don't know why but when constructing the 'poem' I am reminded of how I have wasted my youth to decadence in the glorious disguise of freedom. Life is easily segmented into 1/2 sleeping and 1/2 eating. Perhaps some forms of restriction are good for the mind and also the body.

My cousin the Winner

2005-04-25T14:04:00.000+08:00

My 7 year-old cousin can be really quite adorable at times. But irritating most of it. Just now, while I was preparing to cook instant noodles for my lunch, my cousin came back from school and excitedly told me that he had won a game. Never mind the fact that he was also munching cheezels and not offering me some when he delivered the news, he had to choose 'mian' after my grandmother asked him whether he prefered rice or noodles for lunch. Expectantly, I had to add more water to the heated wok and cook for him, conveniently using up the remaining 2 packets of noodles that I had originally planned to keep 1 for my lunch tomorrow.
However, being in a rather accommodating mood, I actually divided the noodles such that he got a larger share than mine. After he had bathed and I had polished my lunch, I watched as he struggled with the bowl of noodles that must have appeared to him like a gigantic pool of hot yellow lava. I sighed and helped him with the food by feeding him. As I was systematically feeding him with first the noodles, the egg and then the soup and back to the noodles, he continued his glorious account of him being the winner. He said he had won the rest because he got 4 points and the rest of them got like 2 or 3. I looked at him and basically tried to focus all my attention on his mouth not to absorb the conversation but to make sure that he was eating as fast as I wanted him to so that he could at least save his winning pride before I insulted it by saying "That's no big deal."
Anyway, he admitted that it was a group effort as I was really doubting his abilities since he usually takes 10 minutes to give me an answer of 16 minus 5. But as I witnessed him finishing his lunch with the capacity of an adult's portion, plus the fact that he had emptied a packet of cheezels all by himself, I am convinced that he is definitely a winner.. if he were to take part in an eating competition.

Cheesy Quote of the Day

2005-04-20T23:52:00.000+08:00

True Friends are people who may not agree with you but will accept the way you are their way. That's why when they have seen you without make up on, they suggest going for facials instead of shopping.

2005-04-15T00:05:00.000+08:00

Today shopping at Bugis and I saw Zoeey!

Dedicated to all Yang Gui Feis without B.O.

2005-04-14T11:14:00.000+08:00

When I was in Shanghai last December, my tourguide amused us with the rumour that Yang Gui Fei had a very seriour case of body odour. It was so pungent that she had to take lots of bath everday with flower petals scattered in the spring pool that Emperor Xuan Zong specially built for her. However, this act of musking her smell was also ironically used to glorify her love for hygiene and her beauty as some described her body to be as smooth as jade after the bath.
Without much introduction, Yang was also popular for being extremely beautiful but plump. It should not be surprising since the average courses of a meal that court concubines took at that time is 58. But when compared to the maximum of 1580 calories that women nowadays allow themselves to eat, it is a major shocker. I guess it is every modern women's fantasy to be real thin so that admittedly we will look better in super small sized clothes and gormandize without looking too ugly. This results in many plump women adopting extreme measures such as taking harmful slimming pills or starvation to lose weight. I feel that even though one may indeed become slimmer after attempting different solutions other than exercising and maintaining a healthy diet, she may suffer severe side effects in the future. For example, I saw this girl who lost a patch of her hair after starving herself to lose weight on a TV programme the other day. Although it is difficult to convince modern women that plump is beautiful as Yang Gui Fei is the role model more than 1000 years ago, it is not worth sacrificing our health for something as subjective as beauty.
However, women are irrational especially in the vanity aspect and just like what some say, "a woman's lifelong career is to lose weight". I will say that this is a job more stressful than being a teacher, less rewarding than being a researcher but definitely better off than being one's concubine.

Inside Out

2005-04-07T12:52:00.000+08:00

Yesterday was quite an atypical day for me as I had to wake up at 6.30am to go school for a last minute project presentation rehearsal. As I was sitting at the busstop, I saw a woman beside me who had her shirt worn inside out. While I was struggling between exposing her of her apparent mistake or hiding my observation, she had left and boarded another bus. Obviously she had failed to notice the internal dilemna going on inside of me as my face concealed that too well, stoned for having to wake up so early in the morning.
Later when I got on the crowded bus, I was once again shocked, more of being repulsed actually, by this particular man in a crumpled shirt, with unkempt hair and foggy spectacles unbalanced at his ears. And I just thought, what can be worse than this? Definitely not the embarrassment from donning fashion wrongly than to look like a fashion freak inside out!

Be a Humour Activist!

2005-04-03T01:33:00.000+08:00

First of all, Happy Belated April's Fool Day! Just realised the importance of humour in an everyday life and how much it can serve to motivate, inspire or even revitalise our tired souls. I was almost dying earlier this week when Juliana showed me a clip of a stand-up comedian called Russell Peters. I laughed like mad and the madness eradicated all distress and fatigue accumulated over the past 3 days before I watched it. Amazing reaction.
Although we may never make it as a stand-up comedian, I believe that humour can be injected in all forms and fashions. For example, notice how funny 40tish placid balding men look when they attempt to comb their hair in such a way that conceal one empty patch but not the other? A close visual recall will be Donald Trump. See how they are deliberately not spreading humour but are actually a joke themselves?
My point is, there are so many creative ways to spread humour. Some spread it by treating it as an occupation, some spread it by not intending it, some spread it by trying too hard to, some spread it using actions and some spread it with words. Whatever methods they use, remember that there will always be people acknowledging or even appreciating these efforts. Therefore, never feel disappointed if someone fails to understand your jokes. (people normally can't comprehend mine too..) Just pretend that they do and laugh your way through as 'laughter is the best medicine' especially for such a funny and awkward situation like this.

2005-03-27T02:43:00.000+08:00

Amazing how closely resembled I am with animals.

Stop missing the 'B'

2005-03-24T13:20:00.000+08:00

Don't get me wrong. I don't like bee. It's just that last week, I happened to see a van with a milk advertisement and the slogan goes:"Supports rain development". Huh? I asked myself. What does milk have to do with rain? Does drinking the milk encourage some form of weird movement that is mistaken as the tribal rain dance?
After pondering over it for a while, I finally understood what the message actually meant. It's supposed to read :"Supports brain development" and the letter 'b' was missing. That sparked me into thinking how the world will be like if all the 'b' s were to disappear:
For one, the pretty insect, butterfly will become a noisy one. (utterfly)
The office politics of responsibility and fault pointing, blame game will sound silly and trival. (lame game)
Of the most concern, the keeping of journals using a high-tech and sophisticated medium, blog, will make all of us a cave man. (log)
Therefore, I feel that it is important to spell well as I do support brain development, with or without milk.

2005-03-20T00:53:00.000+08:00

Feel like a Flower and smell Heavenly.. with Marks & Spencer 'Freesia' body cream.

The art of giving Names

2005-03-17T21:09:00.000+08:00

Not as in giving people bad names. What I mean is the names that you will give your children next time when you have them. My friends, usually the girls all have at one point or another thought up of many pretty names for their daughters after being awed by the beauty of a particular actress in the movie. (I shall not name names here..) And another friend of mine came up with a name for her son after she is convinced of the uniqueness of the name. Well, the source of inspiration comes from a Korean drama.
I trace back to how my name was given in order to learn more about this art of giving names. Turns out it follows a pattern: My mother is called Serene so, I am called Serena. I am resolved to stop this pattern in my generation because no way I am going to call my daughter Serenade, though I hope she can sing better than her tone-deafed mum.
Perhaps it is too early to start thinking of names for our children at this stage of life. However, it can also be important, especially for the girls. Because if I were to marry a man by the family name of Hop, then I will definitely not consider the following names for my daughter and son: Lindy and Hip.

Life Is Far From Equal

2005-03-15T16:18:00.000+08:00

That's right. Life with the double 'F'. I do not mean it to be a vulgar vulgarity but I guess it serves that purpose just as well. Life Is Far From Equal. For instance on the bus home just now, I was forced to stand beside a woman who was sorta occupying two seats as she was sitting at the outer side of a two-seater. Later on another girl came on the bus. Now note my reaction as I replay it on slow motion: While I was stuggling to stand still beside the woman, my eyeballs being the only part of my body capable of violent random actions without jeopardising my balance, followed her as she shifted in to her right to allow seat to the girl. Are they related? was my first response. When I realised that they are not, the benefit of the doubt soon turned into the blazing of my anger.
Now that the anger has subsided, I am more and more convinced of how the unfairness in the world can ignite wars, quarrels or even the tiny fire in all of us. I am not trying to be a communist sympathiser here but the reality sometimes does hit hard.
Or is it because as we grow older, we are transforming from the strawberry mashmellow to the liquor-filled chocolate? Initially, we were soft outside and sweet inside. Now, we are just bitter outside and more bitter inside. Are we becoming more cynical of the world as we get more exposed to people like Mr Willy Wonker and his chocolate factory? Or is it because we just love to complain about this universally known but physically invisible thing called Life?
Well, I guess it is all a combination of everything. Especially so for someone like me. A Roche who always seems to get on the bad side of Life. Hard yet vulnerable on the inside and ugly on the outside....

Mirror the Royal Self

2005-03-12T23:42:00.000+08:00

Have you wondered how the positon of a mirror on a part of your body reflect your true personality? I don't know the reliabilty of this test but if the people in Palace actually have an answer to it, maybe it will work on ordinary folks like us...

Please note: Scroll down slowly to avoid peeping at the answers before the relevant questions.

Q: On which part of his body would the King place the mirror at, after holding it on his hands first?

A: His heart.

Because any reasonably hard object is a protective shield to the paranoid King.

Q: On which part of her body would the Queen place a mirror at, after holding it on her hands first?

A: Her hands.

The vain Queen will continue holding it in her hands until the mirror miraculously answers her plead"Who's the prettiest of us all?"

Q: On which part of her body would the Princess place a mirror at, after holding it on her hands first?

A: Her Lips.

Because the lovelorn Princess has noone to practice the act of the perfect kiss with other than herself.

Q: On which part of his body would the Prince place the mirror at, after holding it on his hands first?

A: His Foot.

The naughty Prince is waiting to catch some glimpses of immodesty when a lady walks in front of him.

So, on which part of your body would you position the mirror?
For me, I'll just place it on my stomach and do crunches with it.
Hey, you are right. My personality is ridiculous.

Sensitive Senses

2005-03-11T21:01:00.000+08:00

I am surprised by how keen my senses are recently and this is both bad and yet beautiful. Bad because my highly picky sense of smell got me into a giddy state of revulsion when a sweat-smelling man sat beside me on the bus home today. What grossed me next is coming from my tried eyes when I saw him shaking his right crossed over left leg nonchantantly and that leg was threatening to invade my space with his every move.
Bad again when later, my ears unwilling picked up the most piercing wail from my 7 year old cousin. My sense of touch also suffered because of the sudden outbreak of pimples on my face. And that's left with taste. Well, that didn't turn out good also as I realise that pimple has a funny way of catching your attention by growing on the most weird area, this time, on my lips.
So, what is so beautiful about the senses? Not so if I only mention this 5. It's beautiful because of the 1 important sense that has prompted me into pleading with my driving tester to not fail me. And it is the 6th sense that i'm talking about here. The result: I passed my driving. Beautiful.

Because Alzhemier's spread

2005-03-10T10:47:00.000+08:00

My dear friend, Jasmine prompted me to start a blog. I have a feeling that this is going to be the beginning of writing a diary. Just that, this diary is going to be more open than Bill's pants and more exposed than Monica's cleavage.