Going to be Stuffed

I'm not looking forward to the coming holiday season. I've wedding dinners to attend on 30 Nov, 5 Dec and 7 Dec. Three in eight days. I'm going to be so stuffed. Now I only hope that the food will be decent.

Maybe I can be slaughtered in place of the turkey by the time Christmas rolls around.

Why?

I received a gift - some seeds - from the ex. Saying "the ex" is probably wrong. After all, he wasn't the only ex. But I guess, the length of the relationship meant that it was a rather defining period of my life. The only reason I'm still in touch is that we have mutual friends. Once in a blue moon, we do see each other at gatherings and make some small talk. But that was it. So it was a surprise when he said he had something for me from his trip.

I don't know if I ought to feel touched that he still remembers my favourite flower all these years. I don't feel anything. It's just "Why?".

I want some flats

I have been eyeing 3-inch high ankle boot and (even higher) platform stilettos lately. Must be all that reading of fashion blogs. It makes me craves for new shoes, and this craving is absolutely ridiculous because I cannot deal with walking in heels for long. My knees will start to hurt, my hip joints start to ache and I need to sit. It doesn't stop my craving though. I seriously contemplated getting a pair of patent ankle boots just now. The man thinks they look great too, though he never failed to remind me of the height of the heels (And no, not for the reason you're thinking!).

After seeing this video (via fashionation), I'm rethinking though. Seeing these fashion industry people trying to covertly take of their sky-high shoes and putting on flip-flops, it makes you wonder if they wear these shoes in real life or only twice a year during Fashion Week in a conspiracy to lure consumers into thinking these are the must-haves of the season.

Now if only I can find non-granny like flat shoes that won't break my piggy bank. Talk about simplifying the wardrobe.

What do you want to leave behind?

Reading suzie wong's post today about her fellow entertainer reminded me about my ex-colleague. A couple of months back, I was prompted by one of the social networking sites that his birthday was nearing. But of course, he's gone. Took his own life too. Except that the website owners couldn't have known that and his account would probably continue in perpetuity? And it made me question, what do you do with your cyber life when you are gone?  

In the past, it was sufficient to leave a will to distribute your belongings, if there's anything of value.  Now, do we need to leave a will to "dispose" of your virtual assets, identities, or other threads of evidence that you once passed through this world? The idea of owning a virtual property after I'm gone is frankly weird. If I'm gone, I'm gone. I don't need to leave a stake in cyberspace. Now I just got to figure how I'm going to do this. 

If I May Hazard a Guess,

why Singaporeans aren't having more babies. I think it's the lack of space.

My sister has moved in with my two nephews temporarily as my brother-in-law is overseas right now. It's been only one week and I feel like I'm going mad. Kids seem to have a need to scream when they play (or is it only the ones in my family). And where I live is not small by average standards.

I think I was lucky that when I was young, we lived in a block where there was a playground right behind the block. My mom could watched us from the kitchen window on the fifth floor so we were free to play downstairs away from the ears of the adults. Similarly, when we moved to a private apartment, since non-residents couldn't enter the grounds, we could play downstairs even though she couldn't see us. Maybe it's the kampung upbringing. My mom just wasn't too uptight about not being able to watch us all the time.

We sometimes ran out of the grounds to the lallang field next to our condo. My elder brother had sneaked over to the condo next door for their bigger pool. Heck, my lil brother and I even tried to explore the abandoned Chequers Hotel to see if anyone lived there, except that we were stopped by a pack of snarling wild dogs at the top of the stairs (I'm still sad that my lil brother eventually did explore the Chequers Hotel with a neighbour, but without me).

Where do you find that space now? Where's the lallang fields and abandoned hotels? The playgrounds are sand-less. You can't play soccer at the void decks. Every bit of space is being "developed". Where's the space for the kids to play?

Uncertainty

I found this video on The Intelligent Singaporean. And I agree with Richard Feynman's point of view.

You don't always need to have an answer.

In fact, I think the process of finding an answer, even if you find none in the end, is more important. The need to have an answer - to find the answer - is tiring. Even more so, the proclamations that one has the answers, or the vicious glee in knocking down hypotheses of others. They serve no purpose, except to swell the egos.

Stories from Dating an Older Man

Last weekend, I was playing one of my all-time favourite CD for B to listen - Thievery Corporation's The Mirror Conspiracy. The moment the music started, he said, "This is the kind of music I like."

It was a surprise. Seeing my smile, he said, "I don't only listen to 'lao lang gua' (songs for old folks) ok!" He must have been waiting for this moment to retort me for a long time, for all the times I teased him for his love for sappy 80s pop ballads. And he goes on to say, "It's about the music, and not when the music is from."

I guess the eight-year age gap does make for a little laugh sometimes - but he may have the last laugh yet.

He was talking to two chaps at a wedding dinner last Saturday and got them to guess his age. They both guessed 27. That's younger than me! Not fair. It's just in his genes. His mom looks a good 10 years younger than her age, and she only uses soap and water on her face. And his elder sister looks at least five years younger than her age and still got her six-pack.

Thank goodness I look young for my age (at least, according to the last time someone guessed my age), but at this rate, I will be aging "faster" than him.

Generous Artist

I took this on a whim after seeing it on Imp's blog (I was attracted by the colours of the results. Totally frivolous, I know). It took me so long to post the results because I was waiting for B to take his assessment before posting mine.

My personalDNA Report

While I agree I can be generous, but me as an artist? hmm.... But then again, the definition of artist in the analysis seems pretty broad. Maybe I need to retake the test. :P

Why the fear?

I was flipping through a magazine at the clinic when I chanced upon the topic of the Advance Medical Directive (AMD) again. Signing the AMD informs the doctor treating you (in the event you become terminally ill and unconscious) that you do not want any extraordinary life-sustaining treatment to be used to prolong your life. I had told B a few months ago about my wish to sign the AMD and he protested.

"What if there is a cure in another country, even if there isn't one here?"

I told him a panel of three doctors have to agree that the patient is terminally ill - i.e. any life support provided is only postponing death - before the doctors would proceed to switch off life support. He is not convinced.

I told him that if the family disagrees with the panel, another panel of three doctors will be convened and again, all three doctors must agree unanimously that the patient is terminally ill, before they will carry out the patient's wish to terminate life support. Surely six doctors can't be all wrong?

He is still not convinced. "Maybe the doctors here are not aware of cures from alternative medicine in other countries.

I understand that when you love someone, it can be hard to let someone go. I understand that life is precious, and should be treasured. My question is, what kind of a life would the patient have, even if she is brought back from the brink of death? If it is going to be severely compromised, I'm not sure I want that. Especially if it could mean severely taxing my family's finances just to keep me alive; and a long-term emotional burden. I've seen enough documentaries where long-time caregivers said they almost wished that the person they are caring for would die, so that it's a relief for both parties. I don't want to be that person.

B said that, if he ever comes to that situation, he would leave me to make the decision. He trusts me to make the right decision. I hope I can be rational enough if it comes to that.

But I don't expect the person who has to make the decision for me to be rational enough at that point. If it comes to that, it's emotionally wrought as it is, without having to make the painful decision of whether to terminate life support. More likely than not, the family is likely to think that they're terminating a life, rather than the life support that is artificially prolonging life which is not there.

I don't know if I will ever be in that state, when that would be or who would be there when I do. But I would rather take matters into my own hands, than to leave a potentially very troubling decision to a large number of likely candidates.

The Saddest Thing

The saddest thing in life is to see no possibilities. To think that you have run out of chances, that you have no where to go. The homeless sleeps somewhere; the hopeless has no place to rest. Condemned to run forever, to face a corner, a dead end. How do you tell someone, who sees nothing but bleakness, that there are possibilities? How do you tell someone, whose self-regard is so low that he rejects all attempts to reach out to him, that he is worth helping, simply for who he is? How do you talk to someone, whose esteem is so low, that he sees any difference in opinion or a criticism of his way of life, as a rejection of his person?

Happy Valentine's Day

I don't agree with paying for over-priced roses on a day that had been hyped up by merchants so they can fleece you. But there is a great alternative now: CafePress.com's Anti-Valentine's Day greeting cards.
or

There are many more designs and the cards come in packs of 6. Very handy if the first on the list doesn't bite.

But if you really really have to get a tangible gift, how about a Romance table by Contraforma? Now that's a romantic gift I wouldn't mind for Valentine's Day.

Vindicated

It started with "A Guide for the Introverted Blogger". While the article is no great revelation for me on blogging, I can definitely identify with the characteristics of an introvert it mentioned. So when I saw the article "Caring for Your Introvert", it piqued my interest. I had to read it. I know it's talking about me. Well, it kind of made me feel vindicated - that I don't have to live up to an extrovert's view of the world. I'm going to have to read The Introvert Advantage by Marti Olsen Laney from which the first article is based on. I've reserved my copy at the NLB.

Admist the Babel

According to the biblical story, God scattered mankind all over Earth and confounded their languages because they united to create an act of hubris, by attempting to build a tower – the Tower of Babel – that will reach the heavens. This diversity that divides mankind now is the basis of Babel, the movie. We see that the language of politics and the language of law divide and do not seek to understand. The language of compassion requires no words, just a gesture to seek to alleviate the pain of another, despite differences. Yet, to say “despite differences” is to miss the point. The differences didn't matter. And sometimes, the people who speak the same spoken language understands the least.

Sometimes, it feels that way for me too. I feel like a 386 PC in a world of Duo 2 Core computers. The endless chatter of some tires me. I can't focus. I can't think. I need time to mull over ideas. That pretty much summed up why I flopped the interview on Friday. I am a direct person. I can't follow all the meandering ways people take to get to a point. Yet, I don’t like direct confrontation of ideas. Or maybe I'm just afraid of my own voice. Afraid of saying something stupid. The cynical saying that it's better to say nothing and look stupid, than to open your mouth and prove it right, was in play. Maybe it’s the three and a half years in a place that doesn’t accept dissent. I think the secret creed the civil service lives by is conform or die.

I have always subscribed to the adage, live and let live. And don't be judgemental. But now, I'm being accused of not having a viewpoint. What does it mean to have a viewpoint? Is it so important? There are blogs out there that thrive on criticising and lampooning others. Sure, they have a view. But even the best of them sound a little tired sometimes, and the criticism they raised, unjustified. They're continuing in the same vein just to continue to get the same readership – and advertisers. Same old, same old. I don’t believed in criticism for its own sake. It is easier to criticise than to find the positive, to do something constructive about what’s bothering you.

So is being critical the same thing as having a viewpoint? "Criticism" was never meant to be negative though it has taken on a negative connotation. To criticise, you necessarily need a point of view; and everyone necessarily has his own unique point of view, coloured by one’s culture and experiences. To not say your point is really to retract and stop thinking, to coast through life like a zombie. So the question is do you want to claim your view and say what you think with no fear. Whether that view is negative or positive is another matter. But I think the interviewer was really looking for someone with an unconventional viewpoint. He jumped when I said that I think life is not just about getting a job, finding a partner and buying that flat: a voice that can stand out amidst the babel.

Release those Emotions

It's been a week of emotional ups and downs. And I don't even know the reason. Nothing serious, and nothing to worry about, but last night was most restless as I kept having nightmares. And I know I had dreamt one of the dreams before, except that I don't remember it now. It's strange. I never used to remember my dreams until about a year ago. Maybe it's the time I have now. Maybe I'm not tired out mentally by work. Or maybe because it's because I have been practising yoga.

More than one yoga teacher had told me that we carry emotional memory in our bodies, especially in the pelvic area. So when we work out and stretch those ligaments, we release those emotions we have hidden and carried with us all these time, even if we told ourselves we have forgotten them. Maybe releasing them is the key to moving forward, moving away from the past that holds us back. If that is the case, it is worth the slight disturbance now.

A thousand half-loves

Rumi wrote:

A thousand half-loves
must be forsaken to take
one whole heart home.

How do you know if you have met a half-love or a whole heart? How do you know you are not a half love?

I'm beginning to understand why people love God. For it is the only love which does not pain you. You can believe that the love is unconditional, even if you can find no proof of it. It is the only love that accepts you as you are, no matter what. The only one that no one can take away from you.

28

I'm 28 today. Somehow, 28 doesn't have the same ring to it as 27. And no, it's not because it makes me feel like I'm getting old. Rather, it feels like I should be on the cusp of something more; like I should know what I am going to do with my life - but I don't.

Nonetheless, to be alive and well is a blessing already. And to have good friends, family and loved ones around is to be doubly blessed. I am looking forward to the 29th year of my life.

29 sounds more certain, more mature somehow. I can't wait for it already.