| Grazing |
[16 Jul 11.27am] |
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mood |
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 calm |
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What did the cow who found a greener pasture say to the other cow?
I've mooooooved.
That's right, I'VE moved.
Shimmy over to hanamissb.wordpress.com if that's your fancy.
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| Right Here Waiting |
[01 Jun 11.14am] |
Lately my life has been all about the waiting.
First, everyone left, right and centre, is either getting engaged or married and here Haikal and I are still figuring our shit out. You know what it is and I'm not going to get into it again because it's not an appropriate time and I'm not in the right place to get emotional now. So anyway, this situation, this messy one, requires some waiting. But it's fine because I'm not even ready for it; I'm more about my work at this point.
Then Sunday morning my grandpa got admitted to the hospital because he suffered a stroke. It was a long wait for them to check on him, do the paper work and finally take him up to a ward. It was 5 am before I got home and I still went to work. This lunch hour I'm going to drop by to pay him a visit. If I sound at all blase about the whole thing it's also because I don't want to talk about how I really feel about this because once again, it's not a good time to FEEL or THINK because I'll need to run to the toilet to cry but then someone has been hogging the loo for the past ten minutes and if I can't even go pee, what more bawl?
Then yesterday, after work all I wanted was a iced latte after a long day at work but the barista at Starbucks was taking forever and a day to attend to me. When he finally did I wanted to say, "Yeah, I'd like a Dark Cherry Mocha Frapp because it's Christmas now."
Today, I made my monthly pilgrimage to the ez-link card top-up machine to add value to it and this guy in front takes a long time. A long time. A loooooong time. The cash slot kept spitting his note out again and again like an uncooperative drunk.
The waiting game: I'm a pro at it.
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| If at first you don't succeed, pick yourself up and KRY again |
[07 May 1.07am] |
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mood |
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 happy |
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I was sent to a special yoga class called Kryoga today for a review I'm supposed to write. I run twice a week and used to do yoga but Kryoga takes workout to a whole different level. I'm not going to say too much here or I'll steal my article's thunder but man, it was intense! We had to do all these squats and ab exercises that make you tremble in embarrassing ways or worse, undo the pose, which makes you look weak so you have to grit your teeth and hold it there because you can't possibly not do something the middle aged women are doing with so much ease. I'm thinking of doing it for good but I know my bank account's looking at me now like, "Oh no you don't" with pursed lips, forefinger up and hip tilted to the far right. SUCH a diva.
I don't know why my posts lately are so skewed towards discussing beauty and aesthetics but here we go again. Today I went and got my eyebrows and upper lip threaded. Eyebrows were a breeze; you know I'm Chinese so I don't have much to begin with. I'll bet the Indian lady is always smirking and thinking, psssh, silly Chinese girl spending money on removing three hairs. Upper lip was an out-of-body experience; i.e., it made my soul leave my body for a while. And I don't even have that much upper lip hair either but it was so painful I don't know how I ever let myself forget how painful it was. I'll never take more than a month to go back ever again! Maybe hairs are just resentful of human desire to get rid of them. It's like if they weren't meant to be there they wouldn't be and so if they are we should leave them alone, and if we simply insist on yanking them out then we just have to deal with the pain they orchestrate all over the various hairy parts of our bodies as they are forcefully evicted from their rightful homes. Sorta like villains in shows who, with their dying breath, muster every ounce of life force left in them to shoot the protagonist with the very last bullet. There's too much evil in this world.
In other news, the National Arts Council is cutting funds to Wild Rice theatre company because they stage plays that disparage the government. I tweeted "What next, send Hossan Leong into exile?" and guess what, DUDE REPLIED! He wrote "No need to send, I will go GLADLY!" The wonders of Twitterville amaze me, perhaps this is the first step to having Jake Gyllenhaal or John Krasinski replying my tweet saying, "Hey, I'll be in SG this week, wanna meet?" If I continue Kryoga I guess I have a shot at a hot body, but my hopes, they will always be fat ass.
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| The Mother, Father & Holy Boast |
[04 May 10.20am] |
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mood |
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 amused |
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Me: Mum, what are you doing this Sunday?
Mum: Mmmm, your brother's exams are around the corner, and I have something on, just can't remember what.
Me: Oh, okay then. You don't want to go out for Mothers' Day?
Mum: Oh! Where?
Me: Tiffin Room?
Mum: Crowded and expensive!
Me: It's Mothers' Day!
Mum: I can't... I have to be with your brother.
Me: You don't want to celebrate the fact that you gave us life?
Mum: (Laughs) Buy me something! I need a pair of shoes.
Me: Boring. Ok, so no Tiffin Room?
Mum: Save that for Fathers' Day.
Me: But - Appa's not in town!
Mum: I mean for me! I've played the role of mother AND father ever since you were born!
Me: Oh my goodness, humility, please, get some!
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| So Fierce, Even Beyonce Loses Out. |
[26 Apr 11.49am] |
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mood |
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amused |
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Because I have been cursed with a gene that makes my hair grows at an exponential rate outwards instead of downwards, I had to get a haircut yesterday, after a month and a half of letting it just grow and grow and grow. Upon arriving at the salon, the receptionist told me they were shorthanded and that I should probably come back another day but my hairstylist peeks his head out, sees me, smiles and says, how about come back at 7.30? I'm pretty certain the minute I turned my back, he had told the receptionist to schedule "Hermione from the first Harry Potter film" for the 7.30 slot. I had about an hour to kill so I sat at a cafe and ordered myself some tea. Worst damn thing to do since I was hungry by then and tea on an empty stomach doesn't bid well for me. So I ended up sitting there reading "Confections of a Closet Master Baker" by Sandra Bullock's hilarious younger sister, Gesine; a memoir about how whipping up macaroons, fresh bread and related delectable flour-raised things saved her from her miserable life as a Hollywood production executive. Reading about cakes by the page did absolutely nothing for my insides; eating cakes on a plate would have stood a better chance of curing my need to hurl.
I decided a walk might do me some good so I walked to the salon and after about ten minutes, my hairdresser attended to me. We started talking about hair colour because my hair is half brown and half black. It looks rather ridiculous if you look closely but the thing is, if you're a complete stranger and you scrutinise my hair like that, that makes you kinda crazy - at least that's the reason I keep telling myself it's ok to put off colouring my hair again.
He tells me that I should go brown or copper because warm colours will, well, warm me up. Oh, what about black? I was thinking of going dark. No black will make you look - wait for it - fierce.
God, please tell me what it is that doesn't make me look fierece or stern anymore? Should I head straight to a surgeon's and tell him to dislodge my head from my neck and have a whole new head implanted, hmm?
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| Tragedy & Breaking Free |
[21 Apr 11.10am] |
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mood |
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 contemplative |
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Tragedy has an uncanny ability to unite people. The father of a friend of mine from secondary school passed away yesterday morning, I got a message on Facebook informing us about his passing and where the wake was at. This girlfriend of mine and I have lost touched over the years but we were seating partners back when we were 13 and formed some kind of seating partner solidarity. So, I thought it would be best I go, just to show I care and that while time can render us less close but we are definitely not strangers.
When I got to the St Theresa's chapel, I saw some familiar faces. We sat down, ate peanuts and talked and laughed about the good old days. The friend whose dad passed away seemed to cheer up a little. It always helps to have people around you when you lose a loved one I guess. We started talking about ex-classmates, who's doing what. The most exciting story? One girl went on to join the US Army. Of all people, I guess she would've been the one to do it. She wasn't athletic or anything she was just always up for an adventure; that type of girl.
Before we left we hugged, I told her to take care of herself. In such moments, even the most unspiritual, i.e. me, will wax spiritual. I told her to take comfort in the knowledge that her father's with God. When a life comes to an end, what else do you say to those left behind but to hope some greater, grander power will take care of everything?
On my way back home I had a lot to think about and one of the main things was about the girl who joined the US Army. It made me feel a little inadequate. At times I wish I were the kind of person to drop everything and head straight in the direction of a challenge. Or just do something crazy for once; be the loudest person at a party, take up pakour, break free.
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