I nearly thought i would die.

Today, my friends, i went for a 10km jog. The jog was organized by PAssion card and was a practice run for the 100plus PAssion run which i had signed up for. ( Stay tuned for news on this blog if i make it through that one. ) this was my first time attempting such a distance and at some points I nearly thought I wouldn't finish it. Due to inexperience, of course I made some mistakes.

First, I took a rather heavy lunch quite late. I could feel something like indigestion when I was running.

I forgot to warm up. When I jog in the gym, I usually have a short warm up by walking first before starting the run proper. This time, when I saw everybody running past me, I kan cheonged and ran faster than i should have, forgetting to warm up. This made me lose steam faster.

I tried to compete. Especially with this aunty and her husband. I kept telling myself and other people that the main point was for me to finish the race, not come in first or second. Yet when I found myself lagging almost last, I was like I can't be last! I made myself a competitor, in effect.

And that was because of this aunty. She was running with her husband and we were almost at the same pace. Then she ran faster and I thought I'm losing to an aunty! Big mistake. Aunty or not, the only competitor is always myself. Why must I compete with her? Not as if last place will lose 'html'><div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>I took a rather heavy lunch quite late<br/><br/>I forgot to warm up<br/><br/>I tried to compete<br/><br/>Especially with this aunty and her husband<br/><br/>I stopped for drinks and broke momentum<br/><br/>Unused to the distance at one point I thought I was going to have a heart attack<br/><br/>Storm clouds were approaching and I could hear thunder<br/><br/>I kept crossing my fingers<br/><br/>I told God let me finish this race. I have to do it so that no one will ever look down on the useless fat girl, most of all myself. If you let me finish, I promise I will run through the finish line even if it kills me at the end. ( ok, I'll jog past the finish line ) <br/><br/>And whaddya know. The storm held back. The aunty and hubby kept up a walking pace at the end and I summoned up some unknown fat reserve and made myself jog. I jogged past them and I thought why not we come in past together? But they urged me on. And when I saw the finish line I ran towards it and I did it. <br/><br/>The storm didn't burst, I didn't crawl past and I wasn't last. ( well to be truthful i was 2nd last ) I didn't get a heart attack.<span id='BB_SIGN_BEGIN'><img alt='BlogBooster-The most productive way for mobile blogging. BlogBooster is a multi-service blog editor for iPhone, Android, WebOs and your desktop' src='http://theblogbooster.com/pixel.gif' style='border:none;'/></span></div>000000 right? Why do I have to compare myself with other strangers? The only effect was that it put additional pressure on me to reach some imaginary level of success.

That being said, I have to admit it was a bit irritating running behind her. Because she'd be walking with her husband, and I'd think ok! I can catch up! Then as I caught up to her, she would suddenly start jogging and she'd be ahead of me again! Argh! This went on for the whole 10k. -_-!!!

I stopped for drinks and broke momentum. When I jog in the gym or outdoors with my dad, I always ran the distance nonstop without hydration. Good for me or not, it was what my body was used to.

Then after 5km, I stopped at the water station and drank a cup of 100plus. Eargh! I got indigestion and slight churning in my stomach because I wasn't used to the slightly carbonated drink. ( I always drank h2o ) Then the break in momentum made my running lose steam and I suddenly found myself struggling.

Unused to the distance at one point I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I could my heart rate going rapidly crazy and I was like oh no, 30 yr old drops dead suddenly during practice run. Note to self: must train for distance and do not compare or compete.

Then as I was dying, I had another problem: Storm clouds were approaching and I could hear thunder. I was running out in the open. If the run didn't kill me, was I going to have to abandon my goals because of weather??

I kept crossing my fingers throughout the run. I told God let me finish this race. I have to do it so that no one will ever look down on the useless fat girl, most of all myself. If you let me finish, I promise I will hold my head up and run through the finish line even if it kills me at the end. ( ok, I'll jog past the finish line ) At the very least, even if I get a heart attack, I had to finish that damn race! ( notice how exerting physical distances make me overly morbid )

And whaddya know. The storm held back. The clouds swelled and the thunder boomed in the distance but someone up there seems to have heard my prayer (plea) and held the pause on the storm just enough for me to finish. The aunty and hubby kept up a walking pace at the end and I summoned up some unknown fat reserve and made myself jog. I jogged past them and I qas thinking we should jog past the finish line together as a group. I thought, why not come in last together? But they urged me on and told me to go forward.

And when I saw the finish line I ran towards it. My legs pulled forth some hidden reserve of energy and I ran through that finish line. I had done it.

and I did it. The storm didn't burst, I didn't crawl past and I wasn't last. ( well to be truthful i was 2nd last -_-!!! ) I didn't get a heart attack.

In fact, it didn't even rain till I had collected my souvenirs, my free drinks, and carried myself to the taxi stand where I grabbed a cab and then the storm burst and the heavy rainfall fell on the cab. I sat back in the seat and thanked God for waiting so long.

I understand now something more of the mindset of the ultramarathoner i mentioned in an earlier post. When you put yourself to the single-minded doggedness to complete a goal, you put all your resources to the completion of that goal and it is the greatest feeling in the world, even if you don't come in faster than someone else, to actually finish your goal on your own two feet. In fact, you don't even need to compare your progress with others, because everyone is also single-mindedly pursuing their own individual goals. How can you compare two totally different life paths, strengths and weaknesses, and conclude one is better? It is biased and unfair and you should not be doing that to yourself.

And when you do finish something on your own merits, congratulations. You have proven that regardless of what others may think of you, you have that strength in you to do what you have to, what you want to. You do not need to measure yourself by other people's standards any longer. And that feeling of self worth may be the most precious thing you can ever win in any marathon.

How to deal with a Peishan

Most of you know by now who 'the other woman' or 'Peishan' in my marriage is. While it is a milder vice than most what other women go through, it can still get rather irritating to see the two go at it for 1 or 2 hours. Instead of, say, quality time with his spouse.

Hence the plotting brainstorming. What can a wife really do when this situation arises? Tantrums and tears will most likely irritate the guy and drive him further from you. Hence my maybe-helpful guide to all women who've found themselves widowed by the latest game.

Words in brackets are husband's likely responses, btw.

Explain how less time with the other is more beneficial to him
( "Are you sure switching her off is going to save us 'html'><div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>Most of you know by now who 'the other woman' or 'Peishan' in my marriage is. While it is a milder vice than most what other women go through, it can still get rather irritating to see the two go at it for 1 or 2 hours. Instead of, say, quality time with his spouse. <br/><br/>Hence the <s>plotting</s> brainstorming. What can a wife really do when this situation arises? Tantrums and tears will most likely irritate the guy and drive him further from you. Hence my maybe-helpful guide to all women who've found themselves widowed by the latest game. <br/><br/>Words in brackets are husband's likely responses, btw. <br/><br/>Explain how less time with the other is more beneficial to him<br/>( "Are you sure switching her off is going to save us $100 a month on electricity?" ) <br/><br/>Make the other seem as unappealing as possible<br/>( "Aaaargh!!! Who's covered peishan in credit card bills and painted them camouflage green??" ) <br/><br/>If you can't beat them, thrash them<br/>( "You finished that level 27 Dragon quest that I've been stuck at for weeks?? How???" ) <br/><br/>Thanks to Theresa Yeoh for her suggestion of this blog entry! ( Yes, I did take your suggestions seriously! )<span id='BB_SIGN_BEGIN'><img alt='BlogBooster-The most productive way for mobile blogging. BlogBooster is a multi-service blog editor for iPhone, Android, WebOs and your desktop' src='http://theblogbooster.com/pixel.gif' style='border:none;'/></span></div>00 a month on electricity?" )

Make the other seem as unappealing as possible
( "Aaaargh!!! Who's covered peishan in credit card bills and painted them camouflage green??" )

If you can't beat them, thrash them
( "You finished that level 27 Dragon quest that I've been stuck at for weeks?? How???" )

Thanks to Theresa Yeoh for her suggestion of this blog entry! ( Yes, I did take your suggestions seriously! )

Some friends may remember the story of the over-achieving guy I told them about. See, this guy took up running, and went for a few marathons. But he wasn't satisfied at that level. One day, he finds out about ultra-marathons and starts training for those and participating in them.

Ultra marathons, btw, can be something like 100miles long. -_-!!!!! That's..... way longer than 2.4km.

( If you are interested in reading more about him, or to find out whether I'm really bullshitting you all, you can click on this article to learn more: The Tough Track by Psychology magazine. )

I'm not that crazy to do that, but I did take part in the Earth Day Night Walk recently. This was supposed to be a leisurely 3.5km walk from the Marina Promontory, to MBS, Esplanade, the Esplanade bridge, past Fullerton hotel, and back to Marina Promontory.

Siao siao that I am, I decided to jog the whole distance.

Well, I don't think my average timing could have helped me pass my 2.4km. But I felt a great sense of achievement when I was the only joker to run through the gantry as I finished the distance. Since everyone was walking anyway, it wasn't such a tough deal to run ahead of everyone, even the guest of honours. -_-!!!

But it's in the completion of the race that I understood what was so rewarding, and even addictive about the whole thing about running. To finish the damn thing, to know that you are capable of such a thing, blows your mind away. When I finished and I looked around at the distance I covered, I could only think "dang." And how shiok is it to know that here is something I achieved with my bare two legs.

This kind of achievements are hard to come by. So many of the things we want to achieve today are dependent on so many factors outside of our control. Our fortune is dependent on our boss, or our customers. Our happiness dependent on our family, friends, work and money. Even our weight is dependent on the food we eat, cooked by other people!

When I run, my achievements become dependent on myself. It is not immediately dependent on factors like my boss, my husband, my friends or my family. It is dependent on whether I want to do it. It is dependent on whether I want to finish the distance, no matter how slow I run, or even walk. Because the only way that I am finishing that distance is by pumping my two legs and pushing myself past the finish line.

The high from exercising is unlike any other. I only improve based on what I want to, and not on how much I fawn the boss. Not on how much I beg the husband. Not on how much I talk to my friends. When I finish the exercise, I know that I did it all by myself, and that I need not share the glory with anyone.

Now when I look at the whole MBS, Fullerton view, at least I can think to myself: "I ran that. Dang."

The story of the Beetle

Imagine you found this old photo in your mother's old box.

Imagine she tells you a story how your father used to date your mother by driving her in his Beetle to a favorite cafe. And how the date was interrupted because he had to run over when the traffic warden came.

What an interesting photo it would be.

We were talking last night about North Korea, and we came up with an unlikely character of a superhero. ( Ok, I admit, I did, so I take all responsibility for this crap story. )

Take our friend, Big J, well known for his cold crap. Now, one day, on tour in North Korea, he tells a joke involving the Dear Leader and a phallus which fails to amuse the North Korean soldiers accompanying the tour group.

They promptly throw him in a North Korean gulag, and they decide that the most fitting punishment for this capitalist pig ( pig. hehe. ) would be to throw him into one of their nuclear reactors.

After he is thrown in, they throw on the switch. He feels all the protons in his body bursting apart, and in one last thought, he manages to make one more cold joke about his imminent death.

*BANG!* The nuclear reactor bursts apart and Big J is standing there, thrice the size he was and with 4 times the strength! Apparently, his cold joke mixed with the nuclear reaction and gave him superhuman strength!

While brushing aside the massive battalions of North Korean soldiers that come his way, he realises something: The more cold jokes he tells, the stronger he becomes! He is the crap-joke version of the Incredible Hulk, now known as the Incredible Joke!

"You know what happened to the pigeon who ate raisins?" Crash! A pair of war planes go plummeting to the ground!

"How about the playboy with 2 birds?" Aargh! Whole battalions of soldiers are swept aside with one handstroke!

"The priest and the bird!" Total annihilation! The Incredible Joke effortlessly crushes a pair of nuclear missiles heading his way and contains the blast in his humongous grip!

He uses his new-found powers to depose Kim and becomes the next dictator of North Korea, asking only that they feed him endless amounts of chocolate, which all the surviving North Korean generals do so, lest he unleash his joke about the priest and the bird again...... He lives in North Korea in a pile of chocolate for the rest of his life.

I'm sure most of you on my FB will know who I'm referring to... hehehehehehe... Any comments or ideas for the sequel? :p

Newspapers? Why?

We had a discussion the other day about whether we should subscribe to the newspapers in our apartment.

His view was that it would be a good way to keep in touch with the news happenings and to keep on top of current affairs. This I do agree with, but I also felt that it was only on the weekends that either of us had the time and leisure to sit over a cup of coffee and read the papers. ( this is something I miss doing on Sunday mornings ) If that was the case, why pay a monthly subscription, only to end up with a pile of fire hazardous material that the karang guni man would only pay a pittance to clear!

While this may be seen as part of the bimbotic side of me, ( News? How serious! Pass me the Urban supplement please! ) I also feel, just how badly do we need the newspaper?

Yes, we need the newspaper to keep in touch with local happenings that affect us. These I have gotten from various sources around me. The HDB rulings I learnt from a friend working in property. The Budget news I got from the man. Any other weird local happenings, or 'human interest stories', I learnt from either Twitter or the friends around me.

This is advantageous of the social network. For one, my friends know my inability to understand anything presented to me in terrific detail and numbers. They know how to retell the information in a way that I get it better. Also, they know which news are more likely to affect my life ( HDB for example ) and they inform me when it arises.

As a result, I haven't lost too much track of anything that would affect me from the political circles.

Then you may argue: How about keeping abreast of world affairs? How about educating oneself on the world at large? I currently buy Time and Newsweek and various other magazines on a regular basis. I have Time on iPhone and Facebook and RSS. Reading through these are enough to let me know that Egypt is in riots and when Mubarak fell and which other countries are in protest. And you do really think that the comment and analysis section in our local papers can be consistently better than that in the foreign press?

The way I see it, the world of social and electronic communication is enough for any normal person in a normal walk of life to keep abreast of all the information that he could need in his daily life. If one is conscientious and interested enough to keep up with it, one could easily educate himself. If one didn't want to, well that person wouldn't be reading the newspapers anyway.

And I wonder whether this is going to be the face of news and information transfer in the future. Already newspapers are falling like flies in the US, where many smaller newspaper have had to quit publication because of increasing costs. Larger titles are not spared either, and have had to fire tons of reporters to reduce expenses. In the end such purges may one day lead to only a few major titles being sold in the US and the world, much like in Singapore.

People may still read, but they would increasingly turn to other channels for their reading material, like online channels. Witness the increasingly popularity of the iPad, and contrast that with the closing of Borders in Singapore ( RIP ) As part of the generation that grew up with the Net, I feel my reading patterns changing with the technology. I have a greater amount of reading material stored on my iPhone than in the little bookshelf in my apartment room.

I don't think we would ever grow out of the need for information. But certainly we will find new ways of doing so. The challenge for us would be to learn the ability to judge the sources of our information and learn which to accept and which to reject.

For the time being, though, maybe I'd just buy the Saturday and Sunday editions of the newspapers to satisfy the man. It would save us some amount in subscriptions at least.

Bad salad

In the interest of being healthy, I eschewed all the fried stuff at the takeaway counters and tried a takeaway salad stop that my friend was eating at.

They had a mix of salads and you could combine a few varieties into a tub. I chose 1 with mustard mayo, one with tuna and a hot one with tomatoes. And in order to know why I'm so unimpressed, you have to keep in mind the descriptions of the salads I ordered.

First the girl got my order wrong and scooped a rocket salad into my tub. Small mistake and anyway they were willing to give me a new tub.

Then I ordered a bottle of juice. Which they put into the bag of the customer behind me, who'd also ordered the same juice. Small mistake, and they were told off by that customer who told them to give it to me first because I was in front.

Then I realized the mustard mayo was so light as to have no mustard flavor at all. ( I've never eaten mustard mayo but I assumed the flavor of mustard, otherwise why the name? Correct me please if I'm wrong.)

Then the 'hot' pasta I ordered was cold. Not cool, as in formerly hot then cooled, but cold. As in never hot at all. -_-!!!

I sat in the basement looking at my miserable cold pasta, wondering why I was doing this to myself in the name of health. And then a smell wafted by and I saw people eating takeaways from Best Fries Forever, tubs of thick fries all smothered with savory sauces.

Next time I'm here, diet be damned.

Irritated at being late, stupid cab drivers

I find it incredible that I can wake up 2 hours early, leave house 1 hour early and still be late.

Heres the background story: I'm supposed to go for a course today near boon lay at 9. Thinking of saving money I took mrt for half the distance and tried to flag a cab in choa chu kang.

Big mistake. First, hardly any cabs at 830. I waited at the taxi stand, nothing. So I started to book a cab. At 835 they sent me confirmation of cab no. So far so good.

Then I waited and checked my phone. With the iphone app i checked the location of the cab and saw that it was stationary in another place. I started to realise Something was wrong so I called the hotline again.

Here's a few things about the whole thing that got me so irritated. First, granted that I'm not at the same spot as the taxi. Usually the taxi driver at this point either tries to confirm the customer location with the company or they call the customer. I've experienced this before with other taxis so I thought either company or taxi would call. What I got instead was an automated phone call telling me to go to my stipulated pick up location as cabby was waiting there.
Notwithstanding the fact that I'm already there!

Next irritating thing, when I tries to walk to the location where the taxi was as shown on my iPhone, stupid taxi actually drove past me with the On Call sign! I tried to wave he didn't see me. I called the hotline, they said he picked up another passenger!!

Now Eff it all if I wasn't already totally pissed off by this point. I'm late already, I called a cab that not only didn't find me but actually drove past where I was empty and stupid phone operator can tell me he's already picked up another passenger when I just saw him drive past empty!!

Come to think of it considering how I totally yelled at the operator over the phone, maybe they figured that for his own personal safety the cab driver shouldn't pick me at all in case I really railed at him in the cab...

Finally they got me another cab which found me, and I managed to reach the place, although late by 30mins. Luckily smooth road all the way and even though the other taxi didn't know the way I directed him with iPhone GPS. ( thank you Apple )

Really was damned pissed off at that taxi. Do NOT ever let me see that licence plate number ever!

Something Old, Something New

Today I knew that my master bedroom was made for sleep.

In comparison, my old bedroom has windows along one length of wall, about 2m. There is lots of space for sunlight to stream in, and the old room conveniently faced a northeast direction. Even at night, headlights from the MRT depot nearby would shine in my general direction, so there was lots of 'moonlight' at night to see by. I had blinds, and later curtains, but because of the amount of furniture, I never really used them.

My new bedroom has windows half the length of the old ones. Already, during the day, I find it too dark to read comfortably, so I either read in the living room (not much better) or I switch on the lights. The window faces the opposite direction from my old room, and plus his computer table blocks most of it. ( Although I had furniture near the window in the old room, it never blocked the window itself. )

And the new bedroom has thick curtains. So when I drew them last night, I woke up this morning at 9am, in the darkness of 5am.

Hmm, quite the advantage for a weekend morning. :)

(except for my body clock, ticking off my hunger, which still woke up me up at 9 anyway -_-!!!)

Regrets i have a few

Dear friends, I regret to inform you that I may be spending much less time in your esteemed company. Be not affronted, as this is not a slight on you. Rather this is due to my reckless sentimentality.

You see, I happened to make the acquaintance of another. He is one that my husband and I met while at a sale. I was captivated by him upon meeting and I could not take my eyes off him for the rest of the time I spent there.

Finally when nearing time to leave, I could not bear to leave him to the greedy hands of the harlots around. I took him in my arms and we rode off into the sunset forever.

And hence because of this, I will be spending many nights at home, gazing adoringly at him. One day, I will introduce to all of you when the time is right. Till then, adieu to all.

one's own nest

Today is Saturday morning. I woke up slightly hung over from a baby shower ( ask me in person ) and after breakfast, one of the things I did was to sweep and wipe my bedroom floor.

This would not be such a big thing, except to people like my mother, ( who has a highly strong opinion on my therefore lack of housekeeping skills ) and people who've seen the state of my old bedroom at its best.

It would be a fair opinion. The number of times I voluntarily swept and mopped the floor of my old bedroom can be counted on both hands. Also with the number of bric-brac I had there, wiping everything free of dust would have been a task equal to the Aegean stables.

Why then am I actually getting up early on a weekend morning to engage in this housekeeping task?

One reason I think is the new sense of independence from living on my own. When you live with your parents, you don't have to worry much about the room getting dirty. First, you might have a maid that would take care of that for you. Second, the frequent nagging, sorry, reminders, from your parents would have made sure your room was cleaned on a somewhat regular basis.

When those two factors are not there anymore, who is responsible? Your parents aren't here, your maid isn't here. The only ones here are you and the extremely lucky soul who is sharing the room with you. In a way, I have to make sure I keep the room clean myself, because no one will do it for me anymore. ( Also, you have to keep the opinion of your MIL in a slightly more than average regard )

This was somewhat the case while I was living in the hostel. In the case of our laundry, taking loads of laundry back home to wash was a highly inconvenient option. You had to do your laundry yourself, or you went around naked and smelly in your room.

I think that's what one particular group of male hostelites did. Their room was near the kitchenette, so every time you went to boil water, you could smell the stench in the open corridor. Through the closed door. To this day, Yenn and I will always remember that room, despite never having ( and never wanting ) to see the guys who actually dared to stay inside.

Living oneself is like growing up in a way. It forces you to take responsibility for yourself, and to remember all those lessons in cleaning up and fixing up that your parents drove into your childhood. I do know of people who become changed characters when they start living on their own. You can tell that they have a different air of maturity about them sometimes, and they seem more confident of how to navigate in this world.

Well, that's life for you, isn't it? I can only hope that the longer I live on my own, that I can have that air of confidence already.

Highly Intelligent Ways of Insulting People

As an exercise in creativity, I decided to come up with a blog post that would be highly beneficial to most of humanity. Here then are some tips on how to insult people intelligently, enough that they may even think they are being complimented.

Use scientific terms where you can

- Dig up your old biology textbook and look for the scientific terms for flora and fauna commonly used in insults. My favourite for this example is the word 'bovine'. To the unknowing, it sounds similar enough to the word 'divine'. To those in the know, it really is an adjective for 'cow'.

- Examples you can use:

"You bovine specimen." = "You cow."

"How bovine." = "Wah cow"

Other words include 'porcine' (pig), 'rectal' (anal). Choose your favourite body part or deficiency and find out the intelligent term for it.

Enlist the help of a thesaurus

- You'll be surprised that the various words that can replace a simple 'stupid'. A simple check through http://thesaurus.com will give you:

dense

dim

half-baked

moronic

nonsensical

But why stop there? Use more intelligent adjectives like:

deficient

ill-advised

inane

insensate

ludicrous

obtuse

puerile

Don't you love the sound of some of these words? Imagine:

"You are a deficient, insensate and puerile person." Wow! How poetic~!

Channel Shakespeare

If you paid any attention during your literature lessons, ( and probably you didn't, or you won't have to consult this blog entry ) you would know that the Bard was highly capable of some very sharp retorts, hidden beneath his loquacity. ( Remember, thesaurus.com is your friend! ) The key is to make it sound like a flowery compliment. If you do this correctly enough, your target won't even know what hit him, and may even thank you for the line! To do this, first start out with a sentence that is a compliment:

"You're so pretty."

Now change it into an insult:

"You're so ugly."

Now change the adjective using a thesaurus:

"You're so uninviting." ( Use the most uncommon and most positive-sounding one you can find. If you use 'grotesque', for example, you give the game away. )

If it still sounds negative, confuse further with a positive adverb:

"You're so blindingly uninviting."

This method requires some skill in fine talking. So to carry this off, you have to use a smooth tongue, your brightest smile and your most charming manners. If you do this way, your target may even thank you! Use more practise and come up with better examples, for example:

"I am astounded at the depth of reprehensibility that you show."

"My dear, you are the most bovine example of womanhood that I can think of." ( Remember point 1: Your biology textbook! )

"I can think of at least a dozen men who can testify to the depth of your prowess." = "I think you're a slut."

Exercise your creativity indeed! To end off, here are some last tips:

Check carefully the meaning of any insult you craft before use. You do not want to accidentally compliment the target instead, or come up with something too obtuse, like "You are a window."

Check grammar also. Use of wrong grammar means you're the one looking stupid, not your target. This is especially so in the 3rd method.

Practise your insults before use. When you are using these, you want a perfectly straight expression or a loving one, to send your target in the wrong direction. Remember that you are trying to make your target accept an insult as a compliment. This is better achieved when you can use the appropriate body language and tone of voice. Think Casanova.

( *End note: The Author of this blog post takes no responsibility for any lives or reputation lost as a result of the methods listed here. )

Again, another time to dust off the dusty blog... :p

It’s now fresh into 2011. What can I say was the main achievement of 2010? Oh right, I got married......

And since I’m trying to start my blogging afresh, why not I talk about married life for a while.

Ever since I got married, everyone’s one question has been “How has married life been?” ( Variations include “How’s married life?” )

Maybe I can use this chance to answer that question in more depth.

My 1st impression is that Married Life is like Living In A Hostel. ( Of course, I got other benefits that I didn’t get from my pig roommate, but that’s another thing altogether... )

I now stay in a room in a shared apartment. The room is shared between me and another party. We keep both our laptops, our clothes and our books in the room and we share a bathroom. Also we ( or rather I! ) keep the room clean by sweeping it every few days. And my iPod is playing music.

Yes, from that description alone, it is very much like Uni days all over again. :p

My general lifestyle has not changed very much. I still ( most unfortunately ) go to work, I go out to all the same places I used to, with the same people I used to, and mostly at the same times I used to as when I was single. Being married has not stopped me from socializing with any friends, or stopped me from going any places.

Well, it does mean that I do ‘report’ my whereabouts to another party, but this is not forced onto me. Rather I tell him where I go just to let him know, or to try to cadge a free ride. Heh.

If there is a disadvantage, it is that staying in such close quarters with a person also highlights each other’s flaws in glaring detail. When he leaves things in the wrong place, I notice. Or he doesn’t do something that he is supposed to. Or when I bring home new shopping. Or when I eat too much fried garlic for dinner.

I try to adopt a zen approach to all these. Let not the pebbles make you fall flat into some rocks. So if it’s a small thing, like hair on the floor, I just sudah it lah. No point I get pissed off over him over a hair. Or a pebble. I just sweep it up myself and make myself happier. Hopefully the big rocks will not come yet. Or that all this zen will prepare me for the boulders.

But as a balanced perspective, it does also highlight more good points in him. Like how he told me to stay home from school when I was sick, because he never does that himself! Or how he has just offered to send me to work. (!!) How come dating that time never so nice??

Point being, somehow being married just... made him do more good stuff for me. Gawds, should I have done this earlier??

As for me? I feel more Peace when I am in the room. It’s nice to have a room with some library books, a laptop and an iPod dock. It feels comfortable here though a bit hard to read on the bed during the day, because of the sunlight. But it’s much more quiet than in my house, without brother walking in and out, Mother yelling for you to do something... Maybe that’s why I feel more like blogging ever since, because there’s more quiet around to think and reflect. No background noise from the TV downstairs, no nagging and grumbling about how I never fulfill my daughterly duties... Just the space to be... me.

Of course, this Peace could be temporary. Who knows if we will argue till one of us breaks the cupboard door with some hard object. Or if I produce two severe ADHD offspring. Or if the Peace will start to bore me.

For now, I am content to simply enjoy the moment for what it is, and make myself happier that way.

Getting married!

Considering what a milestone this is, it seems only fitting to log it in my blog.

Finally I am getting married to the first guy I dated. After all the trials and heartache and of course plenty of good times, and all the other headaches with the preparation, it's finally going to be done.

And make no mistake about the trying times. I can't imagine how I managed to get through all the expectations and all the demands in my mind, because certainly at that time itself I was certainly upset enough over it.

Then again, I think it's something in a book I read that helped. I began to see that any unhappiness of mine, though maybe caused by other people, was also in part there because I let it be there. I was letting myself dwell in the unhappiness and so partly responsible.

Maybe in the end the lesson to derive from all this is: Look at the big picture. After all our planning, the important thing is not the church or dinner or the house or his mother's opinions. The most important thing is that we're married in the eyes of God.

Who cares if I clash with his mother? Who cares if the speech is not right? Who cares if things are not done? None of these will contribute to our future happiness. It's the way we get through all these disagreements that counts. And doing a Bridezilla will not.

So if I ever read this again, I say Let it Go. Learn to forget the unhappiness of the past, Learn from it certainly but not dwell in it. And even with all the grief from others, they have still done plenty to bless u too. And never forget that.

Ok time for this post to end, last post of my single life. Like the psalm says, put thy childish ways behind and become an adult. May God bless me (mightily) on where I am about to tread.

'Too sweet'?

I do not understand a particular combination of 2 words in the English language: 'Too' and 'sweet'. They make no sense to me.

Rubbish

This is a post about rubbish, special request by my friend Yenn:

O ye stinking heap
I gaze upon thy rotted leaves
And thy half decomposed fruit
How nature has treated thee
Once so abundantly alive
Now nothing but... Rubbish.

Dedicated to my faithful fan of poetry, Yenn.

(bows)

Resort World Sentosa

A day at Resort World Sentosa


Since someone say I never blog anymore... Here are a few iPhone shots from today's trip:


Now we know what he thinks... Or maybe that's us after being told to wait an hour for a table...



The view as we entered the hotel from the restaurant area. Such a welcoming sight......



Even Breadtalk gets in on the act...


And can you believe it, the carpark is so big we had to take a tram there...

Ok I know this is very duh from the usual diary entry but just had to do something different... Hehehe... Interesting afternoon though, felt like tourists, in Sentosa of all places...

Ps this blog entry was written on iPhone, hooray to free apps... Lemme know if something goes horribly wrong here....

Funny how social we all are as human beings. No matter how much people drive us nuts, we can't live without many of them.

We are all born to be social creatures. It is biologically hardwired into us to rely on parents when young, socialize in our teens, get a mate, reproduce, and spend the rest of your waking life taking care of that young offspring.

This biological need has been used to explain all kinds of human behaviour. For example, gossip fulfils a need to keep oneself in touch with the rest of the pack. People like to follow and keep in touch with celebrities so that they feel they are in touch with the Top Dog of the pack. [People who are more known to more people have this aura of seeming important, otherwise why would so many people know you.]

I read once that humans help each other out of an altruistic neuron in the brain. Apparently, when you do something to help other people, you get a shot of the feel-good endorphins. This is nature's way of encouraging to continue doing good stuff to help the tribesmen. So nature encourages us not just to keep in touch, but also continue to contribute to the well-being of the pack.

And this comes up time and time, under the Courtesy campaigns, and various Pay It Forward schemes. All kinds of people from Jesus to Oprah encourage you to give to your fellow man for the good feelings that you will get.

Maybe part of the reason I'm coming up with this post is that I'm starting to get bored silly while on MC. Yes, it sucks to have to go to work with laryngitis, but it also sucks a bit to be stuck at home while the only thing close to human companionship is Facebook. -_-!!! Facebook is nice, but when all the human interaction from a friend is a status update, it leaves you a little lacking. If I had to be sick, it would have been nice to be sick with people looking out for you, cooking for you and talking to you.

Perhaps that is why Facebook is so popular. It gives you that little bit of human interaction, and then leaves you hungering for more. So you do more stuff on Facebook to get closer to your friends, maybe plant a few carrots or something. Despite its shallow nature, it does help us to fulfil that much of a social need.

Then again, this could just be me lonely at home with MC. Wait till I get socially overloaded at work tomorrow and see how things turn out. -_-!!!

I've been thinking lately about women, and our obsession with our looks.

Maybe it's partly due to the influx of weight-loss advice -_-!!! I've been receiving because of the wedding. This ranges from the practical ( "eat less and exercise more" ) to downright absurd ( "5 apples a day" )

And of course, comes all the advice on clothing. This colour/style will make your butt/arms/breasts/waist look fat. This makes you look old. This is better. That is better. Wear a corset. ( Back to the Victorian pre-lib days we go! )

The advice irritated me to no end. First, slimness is not a prerequisite to happiness. Yes, being slimmer may be good for me healthwise, and would make me look better in photos, but will it make me happy? Do you mean that if I was fat on my wedding day, I would be unhappy in my marriage? That my husband would leave me at the altar?

Of course not, all these people would tell me. But it would be better for you. And healthier of course.

( The irony being that most of these people telling me this would be the ones who either eat loads of fried/grilled foods, or can't even jog 500m to save their own house burning. Me, who eats sashimi and subway sandwiches after 1.5 hours at the gym -_-!!! )

But if I scrape away the unintended advice, and my own reactionary irritation, I find something a bit more fascinating underneath all these. Namely, that women, from prehistoric to modern times, have not gotten rid of the unhealthy obsession with their bodies. We are still as preoccupied with our bodily image as ever.

Because if you listen carefully to all the advice ever dished out, you would realise that the main message being given is to slim down. All the other health risks of obesity: clogged arteries, weakened joints, etc are merely afterthoughts. ( "...and you will also get health attacks!" ) The driving point of all the advice is that I have to lose weight so that I will look slimmer and better, and also so that I will reduce my chances of heart attack etc. And definitely all the bad dietary advice I've ever received never even takes these health risks into account at all. Hardly anyone ever says, "Eat more veggies to reduce the clogging in your arteries so that you can have a healthier lifestyle." Rather it's more "Eat more veggies to reduce your weight, and your arteries will not be clogged as well."

Notice the slight difference in emphasis?

So you take all the comments people ever give you about dieting, and it comes down to this: That as a woman, you must look slimmer.

Funnily enough, despite all our advances and our supposedly modern thinking, this has not changed since caveman eras. That our outward bodily appearance is the sole deciding factor in whether we women score a date, a husband and subsequently get to reproduce our genes. You would think that given all the bras burnt, the pants worn, and the higher salaries, we would have had time to reconsider our criteria for a mate, but no, it remains woefully prehistoric.

And even this. Given our higher education, salaries, and increased women's rights, do we even need to score a husband at all??? Yes, laughable, coming from me, but surely there are tons of other stuff we could be doing, reading Shakespeare, curing cancer, saving dying dogs, other than spending the time on looking pretty for the men. Also, don't most of the dating advice out there start like this: "Love yourself first. Spend time on the things you like doing."? If he's not coming to you, and the waiting is making you miserable, then why not, instead of waiting, do tons of the other stuff that you like instead?

Our own bodily obsessions are our own undoing. We get together and gripe about the various men who have rejected us because we were the wrong size and look. But yet we also spend tons of time and money trying to get the 'right' size and look. In all this, we neglect one simple thing: If only perfect-looking women got married, then how about all the other 'imperfect' women that have gotten married over the centuries? And how about the 'perfect' women that have gotten divorced?

Ladies, it's time we stopped thinking in terms of waist size and kilogrammes. These are not prerequisites to a happy life. They are not going to open the door to Magical Happy Land, no matter how much we want them to. It's time we acknowledged that the key to our own happiness lies not in our stomachs, but in our own hearts.

What I learned from Indo:

1. I am incapable of posing for the camera. Unless it's a corny one.

2. Aunties everywhere are the same all over, they just speak different languages.

3. Always pay good money for professional work.

4. Singapore has a world class traffic system. Yes, we do.

5. People will do anything to eke out a living if they have to.

6. Humming Lady Gaga will get your mind off anything.

For more details, meet up with me over a cup of coffee... :)

It's been almost a month, so here's the Great Hamster Escape that happened just 2 days ago...

We keep 1 other hamster in the office other than Anthony, let's call her Spidey. Spidey is a hamster with the mind of a gymnast, because for entertainment, she would start climbing up the bars of her cage, and even climb upside down on the ceiling bars.

We always thought that was cute. And even on the day of the Great Escape, I was giving them breakfast at 9am, and watching her climb upside down.

Then at 11am, I went to check on them again, and I realised her cage was empty.

And the gate to the cage, on the ceiling was open.

*MAD PANIC!!!!*******

I shook the bedding in the cage in case she was hiding there. I searched the cubicles around her cage, kicking boxes hoping to frighten her out. I shook Anthony's tank and asked him "Where's she??? Did you see her???"

Obviously all did not work.

My colleague was also frantic. We tried looking around the office, kicking at boxes but damn she hid from us. My worst fear was that we'd only find her when we heard an "EEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!" from across the office and rush to see her dead under a stiletto. -_-!!!!!

Thankfully she was spotted at the end of the day. Cyn spotted her along the corridor of the cubicles and we rushed in and cornered her at (ironically) the messiest cubicle. Those in the office surrounded the cubicle SWAT-style and finally she came out and one of us scooped her up in a box and closed the cover.

*PHEW*

Here is a testament to the intelligence of hamsters. While we thought she was so cute for imitating Spidey, she was actually training her muscles to bring her to the only point of exit on her cage. Then she managed to fiddle with the latch enough for the cage door to open and for her to climb out, thereby sending all of us into a panic. -_-!!!

She has now been placed under house arrest. We tied the door and the cage down with raffia string, and I'm hoping she'll not learn how to untie knots. Now she sits forlornly in her cage in my house, perhaps dreaming of the brief foray into freedom.

Or plotting her next one.

Haven't been blogging for a while... I know... Somewhere between all the work, the friends, the man, the gym... Blogging life took a serious hit... Thank god for Twitter...

And after that hiatus now I have too much stuff that went on that I dunno what to blog about... -_-!!!

Ok I talk about weight first...

Because for the first time in a long, long while, pple have started to comment that I have lost weight.

Thus is a plus sized achievement for me. The last time anyone said that to me was at the onset of puberty. And it's been all downhill since then.

But not easy. For example, in front of me right now is a packet of freshly fried French fries from a BK meal. I finished the burger, ate some of the fries and left the rest of the packet aside.

Those of you who know me will understand what a miracle that is for me.

But came to a point where I felt things had to change. One day I looked at the weighing scale, and saw a number that I never knew I could reach. And that was after I had checked for zero error.

Sometimes , you reach that point in your life that you know it can't go on this way. And I knew I had to change.

Eating habits was one thing. I cut snacks out, and for the first time ever, made decisions to eat more greens.

Again, another miracle.

Exercise was another thing. I started going to the gym again and I changed my routine to include more strngth training. Ladies, don't worry about looking like Schwarzeneger. It helps, ok?

I'm not saying that I'm perfect. I still have to shop for sizes 14 and up, but the most important thing for me is the feeling of control.

At least I know that I am able to take the steps to (try to) bring my weight down. And that I am capable of saying no to (lovely long luscious) fries if I have to.

I also know there's lots of things more important than food. Fries and ice cream don't taste as good as when they are eaten with friends, for example. It's a double misery to be fat and alone, I think.

(which reminds me, friends must encourage each other to lose weight, ok?)

Books and TV can be enjoyed without chips or soda by the side.

My brain can still function during classes without massive amounts of food
beforehand.

And massages should be totally enjoyed without food.

I'm not perfect. If I was I would never have gotten myself into this state in the first place and I would be 20 kg lighter than I am now.

But now that I am here, the onus is on me and no other to pick me up and send me off on the right path.

I will get there! Not for my wedding, but for my long term health. Certainly I never want to be a potential contestant for The Biggest Loser.

And I definitely want to reduce jeans size.

Ganbarimashou!

I'm still not keen on the wedding.

Don't get me wrong; I want to have a marriage, yes. It is the wedding that I'm not keen about.

I'm still haven't entirely reconciled myself with having to comply with so many outside expectations regarding the wedding. Recently another aspect of the guest list popped up again which brought out all the old insecurities and fears. And I went back to zero again, after making myself ok with the local one.

It's getting easier to identify what about the overseas one is making me so worried. I roughly narrowed it down to loss of control and differences in taste.

Very little about the overseas one is decided by me. The venue was chosen w/o me, and I have an uneasy fear that the dress and makeup and hair will be decided for me, against my better judgement. I have this recurring nightmare that I will look dreadfully obiang on my wedding day and that no matter how much pple say that I look good, I will see in their eyes that they will never be caught dead in what I have on.

Terribly insecure, I know. And you may say that I think too much. But I honestly have not found a way to 'stop thinking so much'

If pple say you should lose weight, is it easy to start a new diet regime and lose 5kg by next month? If pple say that you get irritated too easily, is it so easy to restrain your anger and retain an aura of zen-like calm? Of course not. The same way, just because you tell me not to think so much... Doesn't mean that I can necessarily do it so easily at a snap of the finger.

And sometimes, to compound the problem, I won't even know the cause of the worry till much later, when
I can analyse it further. So pple wonder why I seemed
so ok about it, only to flare up again.

Put onto that the expectations of my family, in-laws, friends... It's getting exasperating. To have to do things not according to your wishes, but to everyone else's. To have to accomodate pple who want me to dress as such. To accomodate pple who want me to do as such. To risk offending friends and family because of my own fears.

Sigh... Tiring. Try to control... Get headaches. Let go of control to other people... Upsetting. How like that?

Somehow I know it inyself that I have to deal with the internal issues myself. If I don't there's no one that can help me. Identifying the fear is the first step. Now I have to repeatedly remind myself that the fear should not overcome me. That I should deal with it on my own terms and not let it take control.

Mantra: a day for a lifetime!

shitmydadsays: "I lost 20 pounds...How? I drank bear piss and took up fencing. How the fuck you think, son? I exercised."
Original Tweet: http://ping.fm/VvbkX

After my post on gym thoughts, thought this was rather funny... :p

Gym thought

Random thoughts while I was at the gym:

1. I feel more energetic after a good workout. I feel like I want to dance the lamboogie, the swing or the exotic... Anything as long as I move my body a lot.

2. I hope weight went down not due to water loss... Nobody loses over 1 kg in water loss, right?

3. Then again, my gym clothes can't be 1 kg lighter from last week's set, can they?

4. Doing weights makes me feel strong.., kinda like Xena. I feel like I can lift a kid in each arm.

5. But it can also make me feel drop dead tired. Like slop down on bed and sleep immediately kind of tired.

6. Lastly, is it time for me to get off this treadmill yet?

"Miss ---? This is Aki."

"Not feeling well today?"

"Yes, I... (voice caught off in a harsh hacking cough)"

"Ok! I get it!"

"Thanks."

I didn't go to work today.

The reason in the morning was quite genuine. A hacking cough that made my voice almost a harsh whisper. So a last minute decision to not go.

Had breakfast in an absurdly far place, then was dropped off at City Hall, supposedly to take the MRT back. Then looked around and decided, the morning was too good to waste at home.

You ever seen how peaceful every place is in the morning? I never quite realized because I was always at work ( duh ) and even during holidays when I did go out, it was in the afternoon when it was already crowded. So I looked at the streets as he drove past and I saw a different set of streets, though I had walked through them many times before.

I came out of the car and everything was peaceful. ( of course they were. Every responsible person was at work ) I walked through the street and I never knew the morning was so cooling.

I know most people in my position would have just slept, but I just had an aching feeling that the morning was too good to use on sleeping.

Maybe I haven't shaken off the holiday mood entirely. Because I felt a kind of peace with the world that I only felt... On holiday. And suddenly, I felt happy.

Yes, maybe the morning IS too good to waste on sleep. :)

The year in retrospect

For the year end blog entry, I usually take a look at the blog entry I wrote a year ago to see what has changed since then.

The funny thing is, that blog entry a year ago says exactly what I could have said about this year too!

Read:

"The party went great, thanks to all who came, saw, and demolished the turkey ;) You guys are the reason why my mom still likes to go crazy and strangle disemboweled birds every year. We had another great party, with another poor bird that got strangled, disemboweled and demolished. -_-!!

Thanks to all who played along the Twister game and for embarrassing yourselves in the name of mass entertainment. Now I know why Twister is still the classic party game. ;)Ok, this we left out, partly due to popular request... heh

Thanks to those who took the effort, and braved the Xmas crowds to buy gifts for the gift exchange. Your gladitorial bravery is commendable.Another gift exchange, but with the Secret Santa twist, more meaningful, I think. :)

And even if he doesn't read this blog, thanks to a DF who flew by and made an attempt to socialize with my friends, something that I've been bugging him since, well, the start of the relationship. :S hey, it's a start.And to my pleasure, he continued! Well done!

Thanks for the gifts, the cards and the reaffirmation of friendship, the greatest gift of all. Says it all. :)

Here's then to next year, and to more of the best, less of the rest!"

That's not to say everything remained the same as it was in 2009....

I passed my JLPT4, went on to take JLPT3. ( Still waiting for results -_-!! ) I finally took French, but only for 2 months, and now the only thing I remember from the class was a children's song. -_-!!!!!

I gained weight, lost it, and subsequently gained it back. (argh!) the good news is that I made a net loss over the year, so, one resolution slightly accomplished. -_-!!!

I spent more money than I ever did. (argh! argh!) But the more important saving, for the two of us, is going on swimmingly. I have more money in that one account than both my other accounts combined. -_-!!!!!

I did slightly more art, but I took tons of pictures. Now considering how to load everything onto photography twitter account.... [http://twitter.com/clicknsnap]

And of course the big stuff. I'm on the way to getting married. As in with the church, the white dress, and everything. Considering how the relationship was in the early stages, it's almost a miracle we got this far. But amazingly he stuck through it, met the friends, met me more, and now I have 3 photos and a ringbox on my desk that shows how much we progressed through the year.

That part... is the crazy fairy tale part... The part where I'm not sure this is even really happening.

Reflecting on the year past means acknowledging that there was a load of crap, and there was a whole bunch of good too. I suppose the luxury for me now is that I can afford to look back on all the crap stuff, and say to myself, "That sucked, but it's done and over. I have other things to look forward to now."

So... 2009... It's done and over. I have other things to look forward to now. :)

And the foetuses danced all night...

Ok obviously I don't mean that literally, but it was a thought that crossed my mind at Zirca on Ladies Night...

One night at Clarke Quay, Krystal and I did some overdue clubbing. We headed to Zirca cos none of us had been there yet since the old MOS there had closed down.

Now, the reason for the foetuses...

Maybe I haven't been in a club for ages, cos the girls and even the guys looked young. It wasn't just the physical age but the way they behaved.

For eg, shaking your body wildly with a rhythm out of sync with the music and shrieking with your group of friends. No matter how, it always sounds bimbotic...

Getting drunk or walking unsteadily with a friend propping you up. I don't care that this is a common sight at clubs but I haven't yet seen a girl that managed to make getting drunk look hot and glam.

Wearing midriff torn shirts and gyrating against the furniture and fittings in the club. Krystal said it best: and they wonder why guys think they're cheap. Hey just because I'm doing my best porn star impersonation doesn't mean I want to take it off for you. Really? Cos with you dancing like that your shirt is almost off anyway...

Of course the guys are no better. Best example is the guy who came with no date and who pretends he's hooking up the girls by dancing behind them when they can't see him. *rolls eyes* and who comes back for a second round!!

Not that im a seasoned hardcore clubber ( I swear I'm not ) but watching the wide eyed faces on the dance floor and listening to the girls giggling and encouraging their friends thrusting the fittings... I just realized how innocent they were. I wondered if they were aware of the hounds, sorry, guys who were eyeing them as sex prospects. I wondered if the girls who were cuffing the cheap vodka flavoured orange juice and subsequently getting drunk *roll eyes again* knew just how awfully unglam they looked. And I wondered if the guys knew what losers and posers they looked like to the girls.

Maybe I am getting old. I'm past the stage ( or maybe never reached it ) where I feel as if I have to act sexy to make myself feel good. And to me these antics just look like people trying too hard in a competition for a prize that's not worth it.

That being said, I think I still like to club. I like to dance, and there is always an allure in the dark smoky club room surrounded by a crowd dancing along with you that makes the dancing that little bit more on the edge.

Just... Leave the foetuses at home.

Malacca is a place with no watches, and too much food.

In just 2 days, I felt as if the point of the whole trip was really about the food. Even before I went, people didn't say, "You must see this place!" but "You must try this! You must try that! You have got to eat this or you never went to Malacca!"

So... the food. :) First signature dish: Peranakan food.

Our lunch stop was a last minute resort. We had driven all the way there, reaching there at 230pm, only to realise that most of the good places closed at 2pm for afternoon siestas. -_-!!!!! So we had no choice but to drive around till we found a place that was open.

Bayonya is a Peranakan restaurant. We ordered a few Peranakan dishes for Yenn and Candle to try. Chicken pongteh was a rich chicken stew in soy gravy [which really caught my eye because on the menu it mentioned potatoes, haha!] and buah keluak, a sort of stewed hard-shelled fruit, Yenn realised, was a taste that really had to be acquired. [I haven't acquired it either]

The food was ok, but the part that brought it down was the fish, which had been frozen, so when it came to us, the meat was hard. Note: Peranakans are picky about food, as observed when my mother complained to the staff about the state of the fish upon payment.

Our dinner place, Aunty Lee, was much better. Aunty Lee was a nondescript little restaurant a bit further from town. The towkay neo of the place was a bossy little woman, who insisted the 5 of us sit at a table for 10, despite us asking for the smaller table. Some dishes we asked for, she said, "dun have." and overall she had the impression of a rather aunty-ish mother. -_-! [Not that unlike my own mother, so I'm wondering if this is another Peranakan trait...]

But when the sambal prawn came..... Shiiioookk....

The prawns, though small, were lathered in a rich sambal sauce that looked like it would sear the tonsils off, but was actually sweet and delicious. The lemongrass chicken was tangy and juicy. The omelette and kangkong came in a huge heap upon their plates. And all this for 77RM.

When leaving, I reminded father: Put this place down on the GPS. :)

Another signature dish: Chendol.

My parents pooh-poohed the many chendol stalls around, including the supposedly famous ones, and, in the afternoon, led us down Jonker St to a little shop selling titbits, and that had a little chendol stall in the front.

I don't know if the chendol was necessarily better or worse than the famous ones, but it was slurpingly good, after walking around in the hot afternoon sun, and had one advantage over the rest.

Free flow of gula melaka!

Yes, if the coconut milk was not flavorful enough, little jars of gula melaka were sitting pretty on the table for you to scoop as much as you wanted!

Contrary to the name 'gula', it really isn't that sweet. [And no, it's not just by my standards] Gula melaka really has a particular taste, that tastes like syrup, but it isn't clingingly sweet. So when you mix it into a lot of coconut milk... shiok... :)

And last stop before heading home: Baba Charlie.

[Ya, I know. From Aunty Lee to Baba Charlie, but bear with me...]

Baba Charlie wasn't a restaurant, or a cafe. We went far out from town, drove down a nondescript little side lane, entered someone's house....

To find a kitchen cooking for an entire army barracks. [Or it seemed that way to me]

We walked into another room....

To find a huge kitchen table covered with baskets of nonya kueh. Kueh, kueh and more kueh. Yes, Baba Charlie is a wholesale supplier of nonya kueh, who opened up his kitchen for the hungry greedy hordes to come in.

We bought a number of the stuff to eat for lunch on the way back to Singapore, and then Yenn realised that she couldn't stomach them because of the generous amounts of coconut shavings in each kueh. :)

As I said, a trip characterised by food.

The interesting part about the food, though, was that due to my parents' experience, we managed to avoid most of the tourist traps, and found hidden gems like Aunty Lee or Baba Charlie, both of which we would not have found unless we were in a tour group. (ew) If we had to eat chicken rice balls and western food [?] for 2 days, I don't think that the trip would have been very interesting.

Rather it is the out of the way places that make it fun. Making you feel as if you know something that the rest of the populace doesn't. That makes you feel as if you're sneaking out of a boring party to head to where the real fun is.

And that, was the fun part of the trip. :)

[for future references, please refer to father's GPS...]

Epilogue: But after all that good food, there was still something I sorely missed, and that I just felt I had to eat before going back to Singapore......

I just couldn't resist. ^-^!!

These are the comments Yenn and I have after watching 'New Moon':

"The whole point of it is to see 6 packs."

"I heard a visible gasp through the audience when Jacob took off his shirt."

"Before the movie even started, my head was molested by someone's butt. F**K off!"

"If some guy tried those lines on me, I'd want to slap him silly."
"Stony faces. I've seen better acting by primary school kids."

"My god, did he actually say that? *Guffaws*"

and the best line of all:

"Seeing that how you already have a bunch of guys running around only in their shorts, the director had to satisfy the rest of the fans by having Edward take his off as well."

Don't get us wrong. It was a kind of entertaining movie, just probably not in the way the director or the rest of the Twihard fans would have thought. ;)

Ever since my first camera phone, I've been bit by the shutterbug.

I've always loved photos and the taking of them. I like the idea that you could capture a moment of the past and preserve it for the future, with one press of a button. Video never had the same appeal, because firstly, of technical loading issues, and secondly, because it was the very passing moment of photography that appealed to me. Video captured a few minutes of your life. Photography captured a second, reminding you that the past would never come back, and by doing so made you treasure it even more because it was lost forever.

I have had 2 digital cameras, but the most convenient for me was the camera phone. The digital camera could take some pretty breathtaking pictures on the right settings, but the camera phone won out in portability, making it easy to document every precious [and embarrassing] moment.

Of course, one of the greatest advantages of digital also turned out to be a drawback. Because you could take as many photos as you wanted, you didn't have to think about how to take a proper shot. You just snapped and snapped till you got what you wanted.

Something which I realised today to my chagrin, when I brought Kenny out to my alma mater's open house. I wanted to take good pictures. I ended up taking... a lot of mediocre ones. -_-!!!

Now I realise I may be comparing myself to the many pro photographers whose work I've seen. Lightedpixels and Mario Testino I am not, for sure. But still I can't help but look at the stuff I took, on my good Kenny, and think: This was the best I could take?

Disappointing really. I've better stuff on my camera phone. [well, too much stuff anyway. I spent over an hour backing up over 700 photos.]

Maybe good lah. This is a sort of wakeup flash. Kenny's feeling neglected, and took away my inspiration as a kind of revenge. I need to build back that creative sense again...

After the previous wedding rant... I think I somewhat cooled down. No throwing of rings and yelling "I've had enuff of this!" ( much to the relief of the DF I might add... )

I talked it over with people and in the end... I guess it's somewhat inevitable that the whole extended family tree would get involved in the wedding. In a way also better, since I'd rather not have people keep feelings simmering under the surface.

I also feel lost because advice has been coming in from everywhere. It's all good advice, but hopeless to try to follow every single one. ( example: one telling me to do things my way and another telling me to give in to relatives. !!! )

I also felt out of control because his side seemed to be doing all kinds of stuff, eg telling us which ballroom to take. I have to take back the control for some of the things I want, not for control sake, but also to make it feel like my wedding after all. If others are going to decide everything for me, then aren't I just a common Barbie doll?

So I'm going to plug for certain things. I want to decide church. I want to decide gown and shoes. I want to decide on the photographer. The things important to me, I want to have the final say. This way, I have control over the things that really matter to me. And I won't feel so like a fish out of the sea.

A day for a lifetime, a day for a lifetime...

I want to have a marriage, not a wedding.

I know this puts me squarely out of the comprehension of 99.99% of girls in Singapore. Which girl has not planned her wedding from the start of every relationship? Which girl has not dreamed of walking down the aisle dressed in a pearly white princess gown, all eyes on her and how gorgeous she looks?

Well, guess who?

Helping others in their wedding did not quite prepare me for the complexity of preparing my own. Other than the overseas factor, -_-! there are other dozens of little details that I never even imagined possible

The gown itself being one of those perplexing 'details'. I hate the whole idea of shopping at bridal studios for two reasons:

1. Sales tactics, ranging from the oily wheedling, to the army-style guerilla tactics that some salespeople will employ in order to get you to sign their package. Theirs, of course, being the cheapest, most comprehensive, most bang-for-your-buck package compared to all the other loser boutiques out there. *rolls eyes*

I hate this part of the process. This is ironic, because I love shopping. I love shopping for clothes. But I do particularly hate shopping at places where the salespeople tail you everywhere, and push stuff in your face. They either think you're about to shoplift half their entire merchandise, or that you're about to take out waddles of cash to buy half their merchandise. Irritating.

2. Size issues. Yes, size matters. I have a painful enough time trying to find shirts/pants/underwear and every other form of female apparel in my size. It sucks when they just don't have it in your size. And I don't want to extend that sucky feeling to the wedding dress. It literally fills me with dread to think of stepping into the studio, filled with gorgeous gowns, and being told that they 'don't have it in your size'. F**k to all the stupid skinny women spoiling market for me!

So I decided to custom make the gown. Then I realised I have to extend this shopping process to the designers. Then I realised I have to find an evening gown as well for the dinner.

That's 2 dresses I have to find, me who hasn't worn a skirt since JC days!!!!!

And maybe this is the key issue for me here. [Now I sound all Oprahish] I don't wear dresses PERIOD. I don't even wear a skirt. And now I have to search for one that I'm going to have to pay money for and wear for maybe 2 days in my life. *faint* And possibly pay extra in order to find the one I want in my size. *faint*

Why does everyone keep saying that I should do it because it's my special day? If it's my special day, shouldn't I be doing something I like, instead of something that I dread? I feel like some Barbie doll that's being primped and dressed for some girl's tea party. Why does the bride have to do all these things for the behalf and face of everyone else, even if it's to her own discomfort?

I always believed that the most important part of the wedding was the whole marriage that lay after that, not anything on the day itself. I always wanted a simple wedding that I could have fun in. And now I feel as if the entire affair is about to be turned into one giant circus affair, with me as the main clowning event. SIANZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

OK, I know someone is going to tell me to go into ZEN mode at this point. Everytime I feel like punching out a wedding coordinator, I'm going to think ZEN: A day for a lifetime, a day for a lifetime.

A short cartoon about the perils of love.... Tres cute!

http://ping.fm/zoA6F

Cute video.... garbage bags sing about a song about the impact of garbage on the river.... :)

http://ping.fm/ubauD

Most inappropriate Halloween costumes

You have to wonder at the kind of douches that will wear some of these costumes. 2 weeks to Halloween! 

The Most Inappropriate Halloween Costumes Possible

Sent from my iPod

If I asked you to write ddetailed character profiles about 26 people in your office, could you do it? I just did something like that in half an hour... New record in 3 years... -_-!!!

A combination of office stress and Jap tests and cravings leads to some interesting conversations between Yenn and I:

We start by walking from Orchard mrt through Ion to Borders. On the way, we pass by Bread Society and pop in to take a look:

- man, all this looks good.

- uh huh

- in fact it looks real good. I'm getting cravings for something in pastry!

- ok, out, now!

We walk to Marks and Spencers where we see more buscuits, cakes, chips.........

- oh man my craving for pastry us getting stronger ( said after looking at packs of all butter cookies with cranberries, blueberries and the dieting nightmare, chocolate )

- out, now!

- let's go to Borders. At least I won't chew on the books there.

And we head there. After I get some magazines, I realize that Yenn has picked up a cookbook titled '500 chocolate treats'

Die.

Now there's a book I may actually feel like chewing.

- out, NOW!

- hmmm, your arm is actually starting to look kind of tasty.....

- ??!!!

No books or arms were hurt in the production of this blog post.

Now where do I find me some molten potassium chlorate?

http://ping.fm/9UIKQ

( note: apparently it can also be used as a disinfectant. Now where's my bottle of chlorox...? )

Wednesday night I'm sitting with Yen on the rooftop of esplanade. We sip beer, eat chips and gaze at the hazy outline of the impending IR.

Which of course makes me want to compose bad poetry.

Now one hobby of mine that irritates the heck out of Yen is my penchant for bad poetry writing in scenic situations. Last time I gave it to her ( a musical rendition of the chuang qian ming yue guang ) I nearly got a bowl of beancurd on me for my efforts.

I suppose that would have been a better fate than the poets who drowned, were persecuted, exiled, but...

Anyway that night, I decided to try haiku.

Three towers stand tall
Blurry in the hazy fog
How foggy it is

Which got one response from her: "Argh."

How misunderstood
The poet's friend listens not
Lonely is her art

"Argh, my ears, my ears."

You see, the thing I realized that night is that my friend is a highly auditory person. So she is incapable of blocking out my voice, whether she likes my poetry or not.

Her ears tuned finely
To the lilting poetry
She takes it all in

After a while, she got into the act, because we did a poetic collaboration.

How misunderstood

"Fuck off"

The poet has no audience

"Stop it"

How lonely is she

"Argh!!!!!!"

I think it shows the poet-audience relationship sublimely, you? ;)

Why I don't work at home

This is my schedule when I do work in the office:

130pm - Leave for lunch

230pm - Finish lunch and go back to work. Start doing work.

230 - 430pm - Do main work and several items off the to-do list. Go home or for dinner without guilt.




This is my schedule when I decide to bring work home:

130pm - Leave work in order to finish work at home.

200pm - Leave coffeeshop after short gossip with colleagues.

230pm - Reach J8 and eat lunch at MOS.

315pm - Finish lunch.

345pm - Finish walking around J8 after lunch. Go to library.

415pm - Reach home after using toilet at library, switching on iPod in library, checking for Twitter and Facebook updates. Then finding out it was low in battery, and take short bus ride home.

430 - 600pm - Frantically do work. Never mind quality, get it done!!! More improvements can be added later. [interrupted by periodic curses when laptop is not working fast enough for my liking]

6pm onwards - Close up file and proceed to Facebook without guilt.

And this is why I leave work in the office. -_-!!!

Have you realized that our average attention span is getting shorter?

Consider: we divide our daily hours between our work, family, friends and four cats. But we only have 24 hours a day. So how?

Solution: multitask, the new skill of our generation. With us, it's become more socially acceptable to receive work calls while eating dinner, or read smses while at the gym.

( hmm, what effect does that have on eroding social mores? File away for another blog entry )

I, too, have noticed this shortening attention span in myself. Once I used to sit for hours and read the same book till I was done. Now, I find myself skimming text to get to the better parts.

( which reminds me, I haven't finished my library book. When is it due? Lemme check online... )

Not surprising after all. We are the generation that first grew up with SMSes and e art of squzin as mny wrds we cld in2 160 char. You could say we invented a totally new form of shorthand.

( SMS beep! Hmm, J says he'll meet me soon, where to go fir drinks...? )

The Internet served to fuel this further. Broadband taught us that information should be fast, fast, fast. Unacceptable that a website should take 5 mins to load! 10 mins for a Youtube video? Out of your mind.

2 guys then brought together the dual sins of shorthand and the want-it-now greed and came up with Twitter. Now you could have it short and sweet. And since the tweets are so short, they load fast. Voilà! The rally flag of the Net generation!

( I should tweet about this post when i'm done )

But with all this, I wonder if, as in the words if the poem, we have started to live a life full of care, but no time to stop and stare. As the vast majority of Tweets show, how is it possible to compose thoughts into a coherent line of thought when you are thinking in 5 minute bursts? There are some things, art, music, literature, heck blogging, that need periods of intense self-concentration if one is to produce anything great. ( or even worth reading ) Take away this ability and yes, you may have many writers. But how many Shakespeares? How many Beethovens? How many people, in other words, who will not settle for mediocrity and will doggedly pursue a standard of excellence?

( oooh good phrase. I should file that away)

Maybe it's time we realized... The world will recognize us more for one great work... Than for a million little tweets.

( should I write more? nah, good ending! Ok, what next? )

Two cars of which I have the longest memories are a Subaru WRX and a Kelisa Perdua. These cars belonged to Juls and Quetz respectively and both cars, for many, many times, brought the girls and I safely [or seemingly safely] home.

Especially in the case of the Kelisa. Imagine the circus act, where the absurdly small car drives into the ring, and regurgitates a seemingly infinite number of clowns from its interior. That was what the Kelisa was like when our entire girl gang, and one or two boyfriends, would crowd into the car for a lift home.

[I especially remember one time when one of the girls in the car literally regurgitated her drinks when the rest of us were inside. Ask me about it when you see me ;) ]

The white Subaru WRX also saw us home, but in a different style. The white Subaru would drive placidly most of the time, but when wilder impulses overtook it, would grind its pedal to the floor and blast to infinity and beyond. Or just to the next red traffic light.

Both cars have been safely retired from their owners. One was passed to another party and the other.... went to the Great Big Scrapyard Somewhere, bless his spoiler and his pig nose of an air vent.

Both owners also changed to European cars, with marked differences. For one, both new cars are safer than the old ones. They also boasted better sound systems, especially in the case of the Renault that replaced the Kelisa.

I started this post because of what the owner of the ex-Subaru was saying. I mentioned to him that his Subaru was so distinctive in appearance that even now, whenever I see a white car with a spoiler drive by, I turn around almost expecting to see him at the wheel.

"I know what you mean," he sighed, "The other day I saw a car that looked just like Jay [name of ex-Subaru] It looked exactly like him, and was even the exact model!"

"What did you do?"

"For a while, I cried out, 'J-a-y...' and then I knew it wasn't him." and he wiped an imaginary tear away.

Men and their cars............

But then again, it wasn't really the car that mattered. It was always the people inside. I suppose no matter what you change the car to, as long as the driver is always willing to have friends inside, as long as everyone is willing to crap together in the car, the good times will remain, whether they be in a Subaru, Kelisa, Benz, or Renault.

That said, I did think of a fitting tribute to the Subaru tonight while in the Benz. As a tribute to the old beng car, why not we girls all dress in our spaghettis and tanks, wear sunglasses, and play Juls' cantopop CD at full blast volume with the windows down? In a way, I can't think of a more fitting tribute. ;)

One bright side of insomnia: your favourite radio station playing while every inch of your skin gets to feel how soft your newly laundered bedsheet is. When I die, this just may be my version of Heaven.

It's almost 12. Stuffed with carbs and sugar I am still unable to sleep, despite an alarm set for 530am the next morning.

How screwed am I?

This is most irritating. When in this kind of situation one would usually lie in bed, toss, turn, plan your next vacation in vain attempts to fall into slumber. ( i got as far as to where to book the bus tour ) And yet science will tell me that such methods will not help. That I should try doing something else other than sleep in order to fool my brain into sleeping.

In order to sleep, therefore, one must try not too sleep. Right.

( there must be some profound philosophy in that last statement, but I'm too insomniac to think about it in depth. )

Yenn and I just had Jap class tonight. We've been taking a prepartory course for the Japanese proficiency test, only to find out the extent of our deficiency. -__-!!! The upside, though, is that ifnwe are ever stranded in Japan, we know enough to take up temp work as waitresses in a tonkatsu store or some other food. Imagine us in French maid outfits running around going, "sumimasen!"

On 2nd thought, skip that thought.

Ok I'm logging off before insomnia makes me type more crap. Till the next time I cannot sleep...

( this post is courtesy of Yenn who commented that my blog was getting dusty. How do you like them potatoes? )

My work day was spent being a dictator over lesser beings, chucking aside work that I could not do properly, and daydreaming about what to buy with my salary during a meeting.

Dang, I'm getting better at this employment-shit.