in a split second

I hate to make split-second decisions, but most times, without realizing it, we all do.

Minor decisions - what to eat for lunch, should I buy that nice earring that I fell in love with just 10 seconds ago or walk around the mall one more time, should I walk home or take the bus.

Some less minor decisions may have short-term, or long-er term implications - responding to someone calling to meet you, applying moisturiser religiously on my long legs, booking a flight ticket this or next week and missing out on opportunities or otherwise gaining things I might have missed... ...going to a music event despite being tired, vulnerable and sad... and meeting someone who fell in love with your beautiful eyes in 5 minutes...enjoying things that come your way, and taking any occurrences in stride... making friends who love you enough to tell you schtuff you don't want to hear in your naivete, despite them only knowing you vaguely; and that inspires and humbles you quite a bit... and also forces you to think, think, think... what should I do/feel/act towards another human being in full respect and understanding yet protecting my self-interests, of course!

As always, looking on the bright side of things, I can hardly say that my life is boring. In fact, it seems to have a life of its own... and I am just wanting to sleep for the next 48 hours or so.

==

find what you love - steve jobs

'Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.'

read that today and it was thought-provoking, a good read for us who are 'lost' in the everyday struggle of split seconds.

Read more: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424053111903596904576520690515394766.html#ixzz1W6FVKho6

silent protest

Keep calm and curry on... new mantra!

I am happy that we citizens show our solidarity for the seemingly small situations that befuddle our minority neighbors. I think I can be proud of what/who we are! It gladdens my heart to see my Dad cooking curry just because I asked him to, though, he does not fully comprehend the issue, he understands the crux of the matter. Even those Americans (whom I've met a few last night) can see the funny side of it, and roared with support at the sneaky Singaporeans who in silent protest ate some curry for lunch or dinner yesterday.

Being idealistic does me in, at times.

It's really a pity, because I thought, I really thought that, this one's a keeper. These episodes of 'how I met your father' is turning out to be some sort of too dramatic. While I'm not unpleased about how easily I can attract the tall ones, not much good endings happen usually, and sadly.

Well, the intensity of feelings and emotional thought only proves one thing, that all I have said and done, it was sincere and felt from the heart. Better luck next time I hope.

sometimes, along the way

I hadn't really realized it, until I tried to explain to a traveler with the same name, 'Jeroen' about this cartoonist from Belgium, that I've been following this monthly cartoons for years!

It's quite fascinating to me how he can put some of my similar thoughts into these 4 boxes... And he's been single for years so I think all of us who follow his cartoons have been secretly rooting for him. And now he is finally attached and having the time of his life.

You can view it at:

www.kartoen.be

There's a million possibilities of what could go wrong. I always associate men whom I meet, according to the vague personas of my vast stable of male friends.' Oh this guy is exactly like Mr.Architect', I start to think, after he does or says something so similar to the category of friends of this 'pattern'. This guy is so much like Mr.Woodblock...blah blah.

And I know that I have immediately placed them in the 'friendzone', a word I've learnt from my affection for the cartoons by Jeroen.




'He's such a good man, good 'catch',' is what I've often heard single women say. And I have had the pleasure of having strong friendships with men of that caliber. A few good men. But now I realize that who's good may not be good for you or me. Yes, a good man, a good catch, but ultimately, I need someone who's good for me. And vice versa. We should make each other feel better about ourselves than when we were alone, with just the right dosage of encouragement and a natural need to reinforce the good things in each other. I've met 'good' people who are so wrong for each other in so many ways.

associated content: appearances and exposes

The days are getting darker in The Office. I'm literally sick to my stomach to see the colleagues being hired and fired one after another. Yes, I knew about the high attrition rate all over this industry. Still, I never expected such dark days to befall us. Especially when I'm now the last one in, if they practice the 'last in first out' policy then I have to start packing my bags and weighing my options. Already the walls seem to be closing in. I still get headhunted calls quite often, but I just dread to leave to a similar place. I don't want to go on and on about how miserable it is, but I'm starting to realize I've made the wrong decision.

As the Aussie from Sydney (M.) told me, 'the really brilliant ones don't stay for long', those words spoken at the right time gave me the conviction to be proactive about the opportunities that present themselves. Living daily under the fear of termination should you not have any closures, one month, is just not a way to live nor a good career. I consider myself blessed to have 2 candidates in the running for senior positions; and brought in some top-notch deals as well, but should they not materialize, the sinking feeling of chasing after a moving target would leave me filled with dread.

We have embarked on an unusual friendship of sorts, M. and me.

As he works in one of the buildings along my one-way street that touches tanjong pagar to raffles place, I've spotted him along this road, once each week in the last 2 weeks. I hope he doesn't think I'm stalking him. He always asks after me and wants to know what I'm doing over the weekend. And he would share his, too. We would be ironing or feeding our pets or inebriated (not me) or doing laundry or going to the gym. I'm such a girl to treasure the little silly things like these. Appearances can be deceiving and honestly I had never thought he'd have this sort of side to him, him looking every bit the man about town, grinning broadly in every photo that could be found of him, and so sporty that he has broken all his toes before (as he shared) and even plays for singapore in one of the leagues! He shared that to me shyly, almost in a whisper, as we were making our way back to our respective offices, 'I play for the Singapore Rugby League'. I smiled to myself all the way back. Most chaps would just huffily state their sporting achievements and expect women to swoon all over them, but the way he said it was almost as if he was afraid I would disapprove.

I think he was rather disappointed when I said with a deadpan expression that until then I did not know Singapore had a rugby team ... really! I had no idea!

I hope to support the game as he mentioned it would be his last as he felt that he was getting too old for it. And as long as we're on the same street, busy as we are, I hope there will always be a place to share the little things that often goes unnoticed. I never imagined to see this side of such a guy, and it gives me hope that there are people like this who exist out there. I'm not being overly-romantic, but it's hard to find in this day and age, someone who slowly wants to get to know you, as a friend, and you'll be assured of his help, in any way he can.

associated content: the decisions your heart makes

I've never really thought about why I think the way I do.
It just...works for me. It may not work for everyone.

I miss melbourne and I had met a bloke who came from a different part of Australia. Knowing as I do that most people from that part of the country 'hate' Melbourne ("eurgh I don't know why Singaporeans love that place") I asked gingerly, tentatively, if he liked Melbourne, expecting him to say no. To my surprise, he said he loved it, in a manner that echoed in my heart - full of conviction and ... knowing the place enough to know what you like about it.

As usual, he is one of the many people whom I meet in my life and only meet once or twice. I do like meeting people but sometimes it is rather unsettling especially when you do want some of them to stay a little longer.

We, rightly or wrongly, make snap judgements of people.
For me, those who buy me a large cup of starbucks hazelnut latte scores highly in my book...
It's quite amazing about the little things we notice. I met a GM who opened up his 'typical black folder' and... hey! Inside there was a red moleskin and I felt this instant connection - I use a red moleskin too! I kept smiling at him from my heart after that, I guess he wondered why because I never did tell him. Subconsciously, I want to help people who reminds me of ... well, me. There are some people who we just remember on the phone because their voice reminds us of a good friend we love. And we tend to talk a wee bit longer to them and smile internally. On the other hand, people with weak eye contact and nervous behavior coupled with a bad handshake just does not help them go far and I really feel bad for them because it's all learned behavior.

It's a pleasant surprise to me to meet someone who really understands what I'm going through right now, and uses the right words to hit the right spots in my heart. Honestly, there are opportunities I should consider really soon. And there are no strong reasons why I should not consider them. As I remain half-hearted, someone told me with no mincing of words that the 'really brilliant ones' would do the same. And gave me some words of conviction for the issue. This person will be someone with a high level of influence in my life because he bothered to have a high level of understanding. For so many times we have been trying to meet, but we have had respective spontaneous pressing work demands that made it difficult. And we both understood the special requirements of our work that sometimes meant we couldn't keep to our promises. But if I had not bothered to understand, I would have just wrote him off and be very disappointed and maybe think badly of his character. Knowing him I just thought that this essence or what you call it, a curious mind that seeks to understand mine, is very appealing indeed. We all are so busy, so engaged with others yet we still seek to observe and understand others, well, at least the ones that has captured our minds as well.

This week I just needed that, that someone who wants to know what's going on in my mind.
It would be nice if he's the one in my mind too. The next time round this trait will feature highly. Someone who will see beyond the physical and find the spirited force of life within.

associated content part one

One of those 'social night outs' I had (distinguished from the usual 'hermit' nights) , I was in a taxi with a male friend whom I had just met. We had, with our puppy eyes, influenced the driver to make a last trip for the day and bring us to Dempsey to end the evening.

Friend: 'Where do you live?'

Me 'Serangoon, you?'

Friend 'Bukit Batok.'

Me 'Oh, that's rather far...'

Taxi Uncle 'Eh I live in Jurong, if you all don't mind, I drop both of you at Bukit Batok.'

Both 'Umm... buttttt, we want to go Dempsey...'

Taxi Uncle 'Go Bukit Batok lah! Already so late still go Dempsey. I drive you all to Bukit Batok then I go home'

Me 'Eh Uncle you very open minded...'

Anyway, we finally ended up at Dempsey, though he was rather insistent.

Lately the people in my life have all been trying to dispense love advice. I think that when your hairdresser does it, it is still okay. But when your doctor stops writing about your cold and swivels facing you, taking out his spectacles, and asking 'how is your love life', it is a bit too much!

I can see (it is so obvious sometimes) how one person likes the other, that sort of hopeful look, the way it is written so clearly, that this person is on her mind. In the snapshots of her heart. I've seen it recently. I tell the hapless dude, she is really yours, no? She really has a thing for you. Then oblivious blind as a bat dude will say, non, non, we are friends, that is all.

So maybe they see the same thing in me. The youthful idealism of a perfect romantic notion.

Hairdresser (while I am lying prone getting the dye washed out, a vulnerable situation) began chirping excitedly and said I had to be proactive. Proactive works! That's how she snagged her local husband (she's a foreign talent, they all are) by hanging out at the cafe where he works. I almost sniggered but thought it dangerous since she was sudding my hair. You have to let him know you are thinking of him, but not so obvious. Just sms - what are your plans this weekend. That you wanted to watch this new movie, or explore this new mall.

Doctor after prescribing me medication, said I had to give them a chance. Don't just meet once or twice. Don't intimidate them. Go out more! Less hermitlike. Hmm, how did he know that...maybe he reads my blog too...?

Even my new boss (I really like this bloke) gets in on the action. As busy as he is, he said that I should show some initiative, in fact, put up signposts. (In my mind I saw myself carrying a wooden sign that said.... "Be mine!".) Boss said I had to do something (and even gave me some examples of which I said vehemently I am not going to do that)...if not, nothing's going to happen, ever. Really? I thought his countrymen were more... initiated.

Well... I'm rather reticent and I think... the sweetness has to last on its own, if not, if it's engineered, how can it be credible?

Of course, I recognize that I do need to show some 'open doors'. I am wary of sharing my woes, or needing help, but when I do, I am always pleasantly surprised by the fortitude of those males in my life who step up to the plate.

I started out wanting to write about 'associations', but I am pleasantly intrigued by the people who can see that 'something' in my eyes, maybe, and I feel they are propelling me along this strange, almost magical journey that I just had to write about them. I will not forget their kindness and I also will be kind to those who might end up like me.

After all these episodes, I am learning, to just be myself, and show my true self to the ones who will love me for a long, long time.

my little squirrel

Fell asleep.

Exploring the world
Sebastian and Samantha...

Their mom was murdered by school authorities, one of which was Dad. The murderer took the orphans home. In a prestigious boys' school, squirrels running into classrooms to steal breadcrumbs would be frowned upon and terminated. That was how their mom came to her end.

And that was how we ended up with 2 baby squirrels, trying our best to take care of them for these crucial months before re-releasing them into the wild. They did nothing but sleep and gingerly explore around. One of them, the smaller, male one, seemed particularly attached to me. I named him Sebastian after the most recent guy I met (also seemed apt as it started with 's'). He somehow recognizes his name when I squeal 'sebastiannnnn!' at him, and would be very excited to come to me. But he doesn't seem to eat well lately and is quite scrawny compared to the other one, now round like a ball. I hope he survives, but like most wild animals they often don't. Sobs.



Today, a guy asked me out on a date. Unexpectedly.

I should move on. It's for the best.

snippets in a social week

I was rather spontaneous and came out of my hermit-mode, lately.

On the previous Saturday, was invited by 2 Americans, two of them working here, to go on a touristy walk with one of their visiting friends who's in the US Peace Corps in S.Korea. We had a nice afternoon walk around and I brought a facebook friend who is a Singaporean working in S.Korea and it was his second last day here before he returned. He told us about the '100 day ring' concept in Korea, where a Korean dates a girl for maybe 3 times, and then she is like... confirmed -want-to-marry-him, and on the 100th day, she wears a ring similar to an engagement ring, on her ring finger as a sign. So if you go to Korea you will see many girls wearing this ring. None of us could understand why would she want to commit so fast and ward off other guys so soon.

Saturday evening, the Americans and I went to board game night at a South African lady's place. I invited the Belgianese and he brought a work-mate lady. We had fun learning how to play bananagram, a scrabble-like game, for the first time and he made these words 'sexy youtuber' and everyone wanted to 'document' it because it was so urbanly geeky. For some moments we stood at the window and looked at the city skyline, those sublime moments in comfortable silence watching the night view, as if we had known each other a long time, though we are only acquainted for a few days. This type of feeling always fascinates me. Why some people we meet, instantly seem so much like kindred spirits, others we have known for so long, still seem so strange.

On Monday, drank a bottle of wine with an uncle. He ended up recommending me to his colleagues and I got a deal signed very unexpectedly. And got to meet his Korean colleague later in the week. I don't really need deals in my fulfillment role, but it did feel good to tell my beloved boss about it and hear him say 'well done'.

On Tuesday, caught up with a foreign candidate and introduced him to my kampung. We shared some thoughts over wine, pasta, dessert, a walk. I told him about the thoughts in my heart and he shared his opinion and encouraged me. He too has someone in his heart. But it's on-off and no one knows what the future may bring. We mirrored the look in our eyes, that silly, suffering, wistful, feeling. He's going back to his country, 3 weeks' later - south of ----, where she is, also, but, he will not be meeting her as he told me, as their country is too big. I do hope that they meet, somehow. Love will find a way, when you least expect it. He liked my company so much that he wanted to show me to all his single guy friends, later showing me his photo-roll in his iphone of all the 'foreign talent' guys he knows. This guy is half-English, this guy is Dutch, this guy is German. Which one do you like? I smiled and shook my head at him.

On Thursday, attended my friend's networking event just to catch up with him since I had not seen him since I started work. There were 30 people there and some looked dodgy, some were trying to sell stuff, as usual. But the first chap who talked to me seemed the most interesting, so I asked him to accompany me to my Friday session with Monday Uncle. He agreed. He's from Penang as I later found out, and taught at my school previously.

On Friday, saw Red again at brekkie. The egg mayo sandwiches at the coffee cafe below my building is really nice so many people eat there. He was reading an old novel and I was so so curious to see the title of it that I kept peering at him. Sometime in between 8:35 and 8:45 am, he fell asleep. Either the novel was very boring or he was dead tired. He shut his eyes and nodded off and I was wondering if I should wake him - what if he slept there for hours and was late for work? Lucky for him, he awoke, and sauntered off like nothing happened but I think he was rather embarassed. I sniggered all through brekkie.

Then, went to meet Monday Uncle to thank him for the deal. I was taught to have 6 to 8 touch points for every person I meet, so this is Number Three. Got introduced to a Korean. Who was so excited to meet me and called his friends to tell them about me! Penang chap was rather happy to talk with them and we told them about this event we were going to, to my surprise both of them wanted to follow us. I met a Greek, an American, and 2 Japanese. (Where are all the local blokes?) Was rather impressed by Penang chap who introduced his social enterprise idea and talked rather captivatingly. Later, we went to meet his friends at Dempsey, Selangor chap and Taiwanese chap. All were lengchai... and once again, totally unexpected to have such an evening out.

On Saturday, one of the guys whom I've previously went on dates early this year whatsapped me. He asked me to consider him, to my surprise. He said I was the nicest girl he had ever met. Sigh. But he was looking for a wife, and I was looking for love. He said, who knows, in the future, we might end up together. But I said it was impossible. Honestly I feel nothing for him. And as tactfully as I could, said that there was someone in my heart, a foreign talent. Japanese or Korean? He guessed. I said I was trying to forget, but I cannot, as yet. This guy is not half-bad, a cheerful and simple person who also supported my opposition party. (Plus points, thank you for your vote.) I'm sure he will be able to find a decent lady soon.

On Sunday, I bravely wrote a letter. Finally, coming to terms with what I've always wanted to tell him. As we are friends of some sort, I think it's okay to just say what I feel, for once, and not wanting any 'closure' or any 'call to action', just wanting, I guess, to be able to get out of my reserve and release such thoughts from my heart.

When you fall off a horse, Tuesday candidate said, the best way to recover is to immediately get on another one. (Some gallop faster, some go slower... he continued. I'm not sure if this refers to any innuendos...)

Tell him how you feel. Put up signposts. Many well-meaning people who looked into my eyes and saw the wistfulness in my heart told me, what I needed to hear. I strengthened my resolve and thus, a very surprised guy will receive my innermost thoughts soon. How he will take it, I do not know.

that aww moment just makes me go nuts.

"Awwwwwwwww!"

Someone told me that the 'barley' drink ubiquitious in our country tastes like 'liquefied wheaties' (the breakfast cereal).

Now whenever I drink barley I will be reminded of that!

It's funny how meeting different people changes perspectives on simple, common, everyday life, things you never, ever, thought about. I always enjoy spending an evening listening to people talking (not complaining) about the stuff in their lives and the little bit of sunshine you get inside when you hear about the sweet schtuff.

Uncle Mike, as of the recent past, only an online friend, throughout Election Fever and beyond; finally caught up with me for a meal. I'm trying to be more social this week after completely blue periods of totally not meeting a single soul. I had asked him to bring over a magazine for me, not realizing he had to specially buy it from an obscure bookstore, for me!!! (When interrogated, he said he had bought two copies, awshucks!) And I was overwhelmed with warm feelings for that kind act. The magazine wasn't cheap, and we probably spent 2 weeks trying to set up a meetup so he had carried it around in his geek bag for that time frame, trying not to crush it (as he said!). Awwww.

Of course, it made me happy, only - just only, for a wee, little while. But. I think I will always think of him fondly just for that. And it got me thinking how I could maybe spread a little bit of sunshine in that undercover way, despite the blue-ness. Maybe text someone I've not met for sometime and ask them about their lives. Secretly getting the bill when your dining partner goes to the loo. Taking photos of the squirrels in my life and sending them to super-stressed friends, hopefully, they will go 'awwww...' looking at baby animals sleeping soundly on my tummy.

I'm encouraged to meet the people I meet; more than once or twice, which is the usual for me, always leaving me a bit unsettled because after that, I do feel slightly out-of-place to ask them out again. And I've been told I'm quite intimidating too. Demanding, maybe! Two blokes I sweetly asked for a meal got an entirely wrong idea when I asked to 'have dessert'.

I'm blushing at their imagination and I hope the next time I wanna 'have dessert' no one will get any ideas!

Always, I've realized that on the second time or more, I've got an entirely different read of who they really are. Those who I thought were boring were actually quite nice, unbelievably so. (Sorry!) Those who I thought were 'scary players' were also quite nice. And decent, in fact, unbelievably so!!!

So many people fit into stereotypes, I can think of so many, that we make snap judgements, that we fail to see beyond their physicality, their job title, who they really are, if they bother to tell you and if you want to listen.

And after having some small drops of sunshine upon my blue hectic workaholic life, I think, I will try to take it easy, at least this week, and not be afraid to embrace meeting new people, and just invite myself, or them. After all, its those little cheerful moments that makes my deadpan morning commute expression just that little more lively, thinking of what had transpired for me, with us, over the days that makes up our dreadful lives.

puppy-like creature observes secret invasion

They are here, and they are getting younger and younger.

I'm talking about the Europeans who are here in Singapore to work. Well, I see it as a good thing, we can learn so much from their culture and habits - most of them are really intelligent and work really hard - the average Singaporean laid-back dude though, should be worried, because they really work very hard, and in 3-5 years later they will be so much more advanced in work than their local counterparts, who would be lacking in basic skills and still thinking working the minimum hours required will get him forward. As the fall of the euro beckons, people from diverse places and countries contact me and tell me why they want to come here. I'm sure that those who really want to come here will find a way. It's almost like a secret invasion (I'm glad, because I get my cheese and chips) no one knows about yet. I've met really talented people who got into management at a really young age so now in their 30s they are in senior management (GM and director) levels, and they are really... well, fascinating to talk to and I'm thankful to have this opportunity to spend time with them. Just 20 minutes blows my mind. They tell me they are really impressed with me too, but I really don't agree. Sometimes, I think I'm flaky.

It's hard for a girl to survive in this man's world because we don't play drinking games.

And being social with men, seems a little unsettling, let's just put it that there's a fine, tricky line to tread in this area. Being over-social could backfire, but too many of us try not to be outstanding and blend too much into the wallpaper. Especially if you are young, slim, fair, and single. They will treat you like a little, cute puppy like creature (Yes I can see the soft look in their eyes), and only through sheer hard work and results, then can you prove worthy of being in the boys' club. For me, I see those wallflower girls not really making ripples but then not really being noticed either. Maybe after one year in The Office, no one will remember their name. (Yes, everyone knows my name, after only a few months, but I don't know how come!!!)

I don't aim to be noticed for the sake of it, but I am intelligent too and sometimes my opinion counts for something, I enjoy making positive changes to the status quo. I never was inclined to venture into this corporate jungle but since I'm here, I might as well try to make the best of my remaining youthful years ahead. It has to count for something, hopefully...? After all, I told myself, I can always go back to what I've been doing and it would be a nice retirement job/hobby...

Sometimes I am lonesome, and tired, and I had a nice moment last evening when during games night, my new friend - someone I had just met over the events of the past week - brought me aside, and told me to look at the view. From the balcony of the condo we were in, we could see the shophouses, and the lights, and the blocks beyond. It's just like any other city view, I found myself saying. Almost similar to the view from my block. He liked it, he said. He loved living in this city. The largest city in his country only had 1 million people. He loved being in crowds like this. For those minutes we just looked out in silence, comfortable silence reminiscent of the midnight rides with Chester.

Encouragement comes in strange ways; at the beginning of the week I was having a really tough day; I couldn't walk properly due to overworked hamstrings, plus it was super sunny and I was quite miserable. How was your day, the new friend had asked. I'm upset 'cuz each step I took was painful, I said, actually amazing myself with my sheer honesty because rarely do I admit my upset-ness to anyone, ever. He patted my shoulder as if I were a puppy and later whilst talking about the weather, he said, he loved the sunshine. It reminded him of happy childhood days. I think most of us locals would not have shared his ideology... He said that he came from a dark and cold country, and each time he saw the sun in Singapore, he would smile. And his eyes lighted up, and there was this childlike innocence on his flawless face.

It really made my day so much better, and I smiled to myself on the taxi ride homeward bound.

On weekdays

On weekdays, it's all about work. Most days, I'm super exhausted with no one to blame but myself. I'm trying to do, in essence, the work of two people with one body. In an effort to make up for the insipid routine of my past life. Some days I collapse into bed at 8ish; I thought I was nocturnal, but my body has somehow adapted to being up early in the morning while it's still dark, and shutting my eyes before twilight. Having met so many people on working weekdays, my weekends are now quiet, peaceful ones.

On weekends, I think about love. Or rather, allow my mind to deliciously, wander into almost forbidden territory. Taking a solitary walk to the nearby prata shop, order an egg-and-onion; and sweet hot milk tea, and immerse myself in a novel that speaks of love, or the notion of it, set in the 18th century where love, like today, is frail, often temporal, fleeting, momentary. As they write about the moments that imprint themselves into the beloved/lovelorn's mind with deep intensity, I too find myself harkening back to that short, split second where my eyes chanced upon his smile, an almost rakish smile that burst right open into a full, embracing, warm smile from the heart, a sort of indescribable happiness at this intangible moment we shared, for a minute, for that moment. And in unexpected moments, while hanging on for dear life in a crowded train, or while I sit on a bench to rest my feet, that dear image springs to mind, and I forget my senses, and smile back as if Moppet was here. I wished he knew what was written on my heart. But I'd never have the guts to tell!

I wrote(tweeted) earlier this week that; if love came easy for me... ... then I'd never be able to treasure the simple moments of just... walking hand in hand, and without sounding overwhelmingly overwrought, I'd always have taken that for granted otherwise, until I realize how hard it is to find, or for someone to find you, in the midst of the madness that is the everyday sameness of life.

On weekdays, I try to limit myself to one cup of coffee everyday. I found yummy English chips (I am a chips aficionado!!!) and red velvet cake (my latest obsession!!! I never thought that sg sells red velvet cake and maybe one day I will discover crumpets too) at a cafe nearby; and just opposite, curry puffs freshly baked in flavors of potato and egg, chicken, sardine. Piping hot curried potato just smells and tastes heavenly!

Myself and my colleague has taken to mid-morning snacks of curry puffs so often that everyone now knows of their existence. I hate the morning commute, especially during the half eight crunchtime, I literally see people sprinting to their offices, running through the tunnels. Too often for my liking I have been bodily pressed on scruffy looking industrial workers whose knapsacks have never been washed and seem covered in layers of cobwebs and gray schtuff.

Plus, they smell, so I often wake up earlier and reach before crunchtime, sit at the coffee place below my office building and eat a muesli bar and drink my morning cuppa. I have a quiet stranger-companion sitting next to me most mornings. He has a shocking shade of red hair, which made me feel a little sorry for him, and is as tall as Moppet, and I believe from the same country, although he has never so much as uttered a word in my presence. He always orders the same thing, a sandwich, orange juice, coffee, and reads the same magazine from the coffeeshop daily until he recently bought a playbook or one of those pad computer thingys. I start work half and hour earlier than him so we often see each other coming or going; except for that 10 minute overlap of time where we both sit in the same spot.

Immersed as I was in my book reading habit, I scarcely paid any attention to him til one day I heard strange noises (angry bird?) emanating from his table, mere inches away from my ear, and I turned to look for the source of the noise, and there he was, playing some game before work, after sandwiches. He always walks off in a northeasterly direction and arrives the same way, so Red isn't working in the same building as me. Sometimes, we spot each other at our nearest Starbucks, and, in silent acknowledgement of 2 familiar strangers etching out a living in the buildings dotting the central business district, you may see that the sides of our mouth are upturned, just a little bit, in recognition.

quite good...

If that's the way the English speak then I don't understand my boss a single bit...

sugarcoated memories

I met a man, a foreigner to our shores. He had the most gorgeous pair of eyes anyone could wish for. In videos as he was filmed, those eyes were kind; and sad. In real-life, they bore testimony to a steel-hearted determination only seen in the most high caliber of people.

After meeting him, I felt upset for some time. In fact, I'm still upset. It takes a lot for me to really like someone and as of now, I'm still undecided. He isn't half bad; the ability I have to get people to really open up to me is a blessing and a curse. The second time we met, I could sense his undercurrent of unhappiness despite his powerful presence. I could sense that this country was only a temporary stop for him; and he told me so, more or less. He was hoping to ramp up the business here as fast as possible, and go back to the country where he had left a girl behind, the love of his life. Although he did not describe it in this way, I felt so when he referred to her as if she was in the present tense, and not the past. I could feel her right beside him, as if he had never had to leave. And the country in which he had spent 5 years, the country he referred to as 'not as civilised' as this country, where the people have never seen so many blue-eyed, white skinned, tall beings, where little kids point at him and call him 'godzilla' and he could never, would never be able to understand the language, that was the country in his heart.

And in his eyes I could see what he had left behind.

For a moment, triggered perhaps by my cheerful foreign language greeting, I caught a glimpse of that sad-eyed look I used to have, the haunting, vulnerable, young boy irrepressibly in love, replaced after a few seconds by a hard, almost calculating look. And I've always said that I like people to be honest with me; but perhaps honesty is not always the best policy. He referred to some of his staff as lackeys; saying with a knowing look that they thought highly of themselves but in reality they have a long way to go. He was hard on them and I thought a bit too mean. I dislike people who only have negative things to say about all their employees. Of course, he was just honest with me, too honest. Maybe he regretted saying too much after. In an instant I knew he only valued the people who could bring in the dollars and not see the hard work behind it, the hearts of the people like myself, who were also efficient, who were also performing, just that we were not in the role of the moneymakers. And I knew I would never be able to see eye-to-eye with him, as much as I pitied him in the glimpse of the young man in love I had seen in the reflection of his sad eyes.

And it makes me so upset that I'm almost tearful at the thought of being the girl who was left behind, by a young man who loved her but he had to choose to go, and leave a dream behind in the country that he loved, leaving behind the love. I don't want to be like her, waiting, wishing, for a dream that would never be realized - and then what happens next? I dearly hope that there will be a happy ending at the end of this story, but it's dreadful to think that life, as monotonous as it is, goes on, and every day in her soul, she whispers, I miss you.

I miss you so much.

learning mandarin...

Last week, while standing in a queue, Moppet whipped out his phone, and proudly showed me a new app he downloaded.

'See, I'm learning Mandarin', he proclaimed. He showed me various phrases on the app.

I whipped out my phone too and showed him that I had previously downloaded a similar app. My app could string together common phrases and had a mechanical voice pronouncing it accurately. He gaped at me, quizzically asking me, why do I have a learn-Mandarin app?

I, irritated, told him that I had failed in this language since I was in primary school !!! He was stunned speechless for a few seconds, thinking of what to say, then recovered quickly, and said,

'We can learn it together!'

Only later did I realize what he was trying to impress upon me. (:

the good, the bad and the nasty

Well, next week will make it 2 months into my new job. Already, I've had some key wins, unprecendented and unheard of in my firm - which propels me into the spotlight. Like it or not, I'm suddenly famous. I have calls from better firms trying to make me an offer; of which I am flattered. A couple of them seem sincere, and seem like something I would enjoy very much in the long term. One MD said that his door is open to me for the next 12 months; anytime I wanted to consider a change, just give him a call. That was very nice of him!

But bad things happen too, those you cannot possibly imagine. There are people trying to hypnotize me daily into doing things I don't want, and trying all means and ways to make me bend to their will. At first I looked at it amusedly, but now, it's no longer funny. On Friday I broke down, the accumulation of all that was nasty came bearing down on my little head. I just needed the peace of mind to do what I was good at and not be bothered with all the nuisances that seem to come with this firm. It was perhaps the first time that I wanted to throw in the towel or even had a faint glimmer of it, although I could foresee it coming, as others had kindly warned me. The rest of my team was unutterably kind, in ways I could have never expected. Although in a way we are supposed to be competitors, the way they helped me survive the day made it all better - the nasty things brought about the goodness in all of them.

I look forward to Moppet's daily calls. Yes, apart from the short emails, we talk daily for a short while, when we both can spare some time in between interviews and sales calls. Sometimes we miss each other on the phone but we will keep trying to call back during the day till we reach each other. I'm always happy to hear his voice, though he always tries to rile me up still and make me squeal in exasperation, he tells me about his hours, the things he did, and I find I can tell him about any little thing from the bruise on my finger to the small achievements and even frustrations and I've got a strange feeling that he would just understand. Isn't it strange that despite our different accents we can understand each other perfectly? Of course, the neurotic part of me, bruised by certain light of past events, asks myself if this could last, if he's really what he makes himself out to be - if we're going into 'friend-zone'... tiny nigglings of doubt that every woman encounters from time to time though we try to push it deep into the recesses of the small container at the back of the freezer compartment.

And after the nasty happened, Moppet made it all better by giving me sensible advice, told me about his previous similar experiences and said I could call him anytime - this made me feel so much better - I know he doesn't say that easily. I guess that's why I'm careful in choosing to share with people because at that low point of time I'd hate for some of my other friends to say 'Ya-they-are-like-that-one,what-to-do-lah'... thanks but no thanks! Later when I had recovered, he asked me how I was, and we had a vulnerable and sweet chat.

Lately, when there are funny things that happened in my daily encounters, for instance, Mom excitedly said to me she bought me 'London' chips!!! (I always rave about my Aussie Red Rock Deli chips) ... and showed me the pack, it said 'Scotland'... I said, hey Mom these are from Scotland... then she said emphatically, YA! Scotland is in London! - I can't even begin to describe how hilarious that is... I always try to store up, in my short-term memory, these funny incidents to relate it to Moppet, hoping that he will find it funny too, knowing that he would at least crack a smile at it (I think he is smiling more at my way of relating it more than anything else) ... lately I find myself having so many things that I've stored up in which I would want to chat with him about... mostly funny things, also some things to exasperate him (morbid fascination at making him riled up). I'm glad that when there was something nasty that happened- I don't feel so alone in the world. He has no idea how much he means to me.

loss/locks

From one of my backpacker friends' albums, she's now in Europe, couch surfing on a shoestring. I need to travel real soon... itchy!!! I thought the heart lock was simply lovely, innit?

I heard a song, a morning as I walked to college. It came to me across the radio playing on a stall I passed. A song from far away, about a lost love. At least so I imagined, I didn’t understand the words, only the melody.

But in the low notes I could hear the loss this man had suffered. And in the high notes I understood too that it was a song about something that could never be.

I had not wept in years. But I did, there and then, on the side of a dusty street, surrounded by strangers. The melody stayed with me for years. This is how it is when you glimpse a woman for the first time, a woman you know you could love. People are wrong when they talk of love at first sight. It is neither love nor lust. No. As she walks away from you, what you feel is loss. A premonition of loss.

-Excerpt from a wonderfully written novel I’m about to read and purchase next.

She has been shortlisted for the Orange Book prize for women novelists 2011.
Aminatta Forna, The Memory of Love.

no regrets

We don't want to appear clingy or needy because we don't want to be labelled as the clingy/needy one. So we appear insouciant, nonchalant, with a je ne sai quois carefree breezy spirit, but a part of us, deep down, is aching (though we'd rather die to admit it), aching for someone to care, to pat our heads and tell us they love us. In ways more than words.

We always say we live our life without regrets because we like to overpositively subscribe to this positive mentality and leave no room for turning back, only for moving on. But we also know that when we try a bit too hard to live without regrets, or at least embody that in our mindset, we forget to remember that sometimes a little regret can be good, it can be food for thought, a little regret can make us treasure the here and now, the things we should not have room for regret.

As you can tell, I care more than I'd like to admit. The four-minute experiment of gazing into each others' eyes intensely, confidently saying, hey, I'm game if you are, went horribly right.

porridge

I imagined myself talking to him like this, when we just had pockets, pockets of time to share about the little things we observe and the funny things we encountered. I find myself stuffing those little things into the furthermost corner of my mind, because talking like that, so freely, so happily, I imagined, that it was somehow wrong. I was so disappointed when I could not meet him due to my bout with tonsillitis and my inability to speak, or eat. (Porridge diet makes me super grumpy.) It has been almost a month since we last met.

Today, wobbly and woozy from the antibiotic dosage - my body must be really overreacting because I haven't taken antibiotics in years - I crawled to work, and we had a conversation that lasted the whole day. In between meetings and phone calls, we exchanged emails. Mostly about food, because I was perpetually hungry from the meagre porridge and cereal sustenance - I told him about my cravings for lamingtons and crumpets, and he asked if I liked flapjacks and oatmeal. Yes to flapjacks and no to oatmeal, said I - oatmeal, he insisted, was called porridge and the original term for porridge instead of the watery rice gruel we have here for meals. He said he loved oatmeal. I found it yucky, perhaps eating too much of it when I was really young.

Although it was only for a meal and practically for work purposes, nothing more, I remember the nuances of our first meeting like it was crystal clear. The funny parts, the rakish way he slung his jacket over his shoulders, a little bit of mushroom soup that lingered on his chin... how strange, I thought to myself, that despite our strange accents, I understood him perfectly, and how strange, and how perfect that little moment was. I've met so many, too many people in these last 6 weeks. And yet, he sticks out, cutting a clear silhouette, a vivid memory. Do we choose who we want to remember, who we want to meet again, unforgettable after a month, and then, what do we do with all these thoughts? It was more than what I'd expected for a simple lunch meeting, it was lovely, nice, and if I could, I would spend more time talking to him- it feels like there is someone in this world who thought the same way as me, traveled the same path and wound up bumping into each other.

the things we learn from being political

There are three taboo topics that you should never talk about to a potential love interest (apparently makes a bad impression) on the first few meetings - politics, religion and... sex...

I find myself constantly talking about the first topic, to almost all my candidates and newfound friends! And I am constantly surprised by my, and their passion! Honestly, for me, I am in the hotly contested zone, so of course, my area, having made the headlines every day last week and with the now-famous slogan 'repent...you and your children'... I would be more passionate about the concerns surrounding my area and the quality of the contesting candidates. But I am pleasantly surprised that many candidates, fine young (and old) men, told me of their support and respect for the various parties, following the events closely. I start to realize that while I am lackadasical about the truly apolitical - who void their vote or don't even turn up or don't even know the names of their candidates in their residence; those, I cannot help but feel sorry for them and thankful that, well, I have some strong thoughts about the matter. I can't help but feel touched that when the newfound friends know that I am being involved in the election on a small, small scale, they all said that it's really good of me and sms-ed and called me to press on!

I was really impressed by a new friend, a really cute foreign talent, who has only been here for a couple of months; and he can tell me before the election that, he hopes that Singapore will change, echoing the thoughts in my heart. And after the election, he told me he was glad that WP can win a GRC. I've seen so many apathetic apolitical locals that I am amazed he knows so much, and knows enough to care. (He wrote a whole paragraph in our email-correspondence, so passionate...I LIKE.) I really like people who speak with passion. Just like the candidate whom I found out lived near me, but just a street away, so he was in a different GRC. He frankly voted for the ruling party for his area as it's best, but he told me of his admiration for the party I voted for, and the various candidates of note. He's a really high flyer in his job for his age and I assumed he would not be concerned about our kind of issues, but he told me his concerns about the soaring housing prices and also made it down to one of our rallies. And when he spoke you could see in his eyes that he really cared. I was touched and impressed at the same time, the kind of choking feeling you have in your throat when you hear someone speak with heart. Plus, we were talking about salary scales and he said sincerely that one day, when he reaches that amount, he will donate part of it to me and my party. You can guess that they've made it into my good books!

I was also amazed to hear the shouts of cheers from the blocks on-going until 4 am when the results were announced... this is something that has to be heard at that moment to really feel the intensity of the joy in it... My regular China lady masseuse who lives in Hougang even declared her support (Told me my friend the Hougang MP is very handsome and all china lady friends love him) and said in Hougang, everyone was cheering happily as well. It's really a great feeling to be living in times like these, to be living amongst people who feel the same way - it's been said that my area had the most concentration of party voters, we were either the rebels - or the ones who dared to embrace change.

And this foreign talent, from the way he mentions about certain things and the way he handles certain other things, I can't help thinking that I'd like to spend a whole lot of time with him. It's strange that despite our different culture and upbringing, we can understand each other perfectly, in some ways, and I do hope that this connection brings something meaningful, at the very least, a penpal? But it's early days yet, the way it is too early to tell what this vote for change means metaphysically.

Modern Love: Even in Real Life, There Were Screens Between Us

As told by Caitlin Dewey,
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/01/fashion/01Modern.html?_r=1&ref=modernlove

CURLED up at the foot of my bed, my face inches from the laptop screen, I stared anxiously at the Google chat box. “Will is typing,” the box told me, helpfully.

I forced myself to read e-mail while I waited for his message. Then I refreshed my Twitter feed, scrolled through my blog posts and began brushing my teeth.

Still the box said, “Will is typing.”

“Don’t you dare get hurt by this,” I muttered around my toothpaste. “This was a stupid idea, and you knew that from the start.”

But recognizing the stupidity of falling for someone on the Internet does not prevent you from doing it. My friend Jeanette, a college radio D.J., chats constantly with some music blogger she met on Tumblr. My friend Tuan, who lives in Los Angeles, stays up until after 3 to talk to his London-based girlfriend.

And I had just driven nearly 1,100 miles round trip to visit Will, a guy I met in October at a Web journalism conference and got to know almost entirely on Skype.

I noticed him across the table at a noisy hotel bar. Will owns thick black-frame glasses but no hairbrush or comb, traits that lend him the look of a basement-bound hacker. If you have ever attended an Internet conference, you understand how pale skin, thick glasses and scruffy hair can be attractive; otherwise, I can’t explain it to you.

In either case, I liked Will’s weirdly overconfident smirk and his obsession with WordPress. He regaled me with the merits of plug-ins and PHP until I became tired and went to bed.
“I’ll find you on Twitter,” I joked when I left.

I didn’t expect or even want to see Will again after that weekend. Since he lived three states away, further face time seemed unlikely. I followed his Twitter posts with detached curiosity; in January, he G-chatted me to complain about work. Then he got drunk and messaged me again, sometime near midnight, as I uploaded photos and otherwise wasted bandwidth.

With obvious sarcasm, he wrote, “Do you have that Skype thing kids talk about these days?”
I’ve read that 90 percent of human communication is nonverbal. Skype captures that 90 percent on a low-resolution video camera, compresses it, funnels it to a node computer and reproduces it on a screen anywhere in the world. Skype eliminates distance; that’s why it works.
And that’s exactly what it did for us. With my Skype screen open and my webcam on, I viscerally felt that Will was sitting a foot away on my bed. Ignoring the times the picture froze or his voice cut out, I thought he looked and sounded exactly as he had in person. Sometimes, when he leaned into the computer to read an article I had sent him, I could see the pores of his face.

We started video chatting for hours every night — he from an ascetic all-white bedroom, me from the cupcake-print corner of my studio apartment. I learned that he ate take-out for every meal, slept in a series of identical white V-neck T-shirts and smirked with one side of his mouth when I said something clever. I knew his preferred coding languages, his least favorite content management system, and his general hatred of dancing, small talk and girls in bars.

One night, when we talked too late, I fell asleep with my laptop open and woke up seven hours later, tangled in cords. He was still there, asleep in the light from an open window, pale and young and pixelated.

Eventually he stirred, blinked at the camera and said, “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” I said easily. “How did you sleep?”

As the weeks went on, I told Will about my last boyfriend, a guy I had met in psychology class and dated for almost two years. He listened quietly, his glasses reflecting my image from his computer, and gave good, clear-eyed advice about letting go.

I couldn’t remember the last time I met somebody that smart and talented in ways I certainly wasn’t. He told me about his ex-girlfriend, who never appreciated his work. I texted him from classes when I was frustrated or bored.

In the safety of my apartment, I could see Will, but I couldn’t touch him. I could summon him when I wanted to talk, but I never knew him in any light other than the one from his bedside lamp. This phenomenon worked in my favor as well. I could call him after a few drinks, when I felt sufficiently talkative and social; I could avoid him if I had videos to edit or blog posts to write. I could say whatever I wanted and risk awkwardness, because at the end of the conversation, one click of the mouse would shut him out of my room.

THE irony is that we flock to the Internet for this type of safe, sanitized intimacy, but we want something entirely different. “In real life,” or IRL, is a popular term in online parlance. At Internet conferences like the one where I met Will, Twitter explodes with people celebrating IRL meetings: “So nice to finally see @so-and-so IRL.” “Hey @so-and-so, I can’t believe we hadn’t met IRL yet!”

The Internet brings these people together with hash tags and message boards, but it never satisfies them. No matter how much you love someone’s blog or Twitter feed, it isn’t their posts you actually want.

And so — slowly, cautiously — Will and I began circling the question of what it all meant.

“I really like you,” he said one night, after getting home from the bar.
“I really like you too,” I said. “I don’t know what that means.”

I wanted to find out. So in early March I rented a car, begged my professors to let me out of class a day early, and drove 540 miles to spend a long weekend in the midsize city where Will lives. When I got close, I called my friend Tuan from a rest stop, where I fixed my makeup and chewed gum and generally tried to calm down.

“What if it’s terrible?” I demanded. “What if he’s nothing like I expect?”

In fact, Will was almost exactly as I expected: thin lips, straight nose, small hazel eyes, glasses. He stood waiting at the side of the street while I parked my car — going forward and back, forward and back, until I nervously got within two feet of the curb. We kissed on the cold, blustery sidewalk as the wind whipped my thoughts around. Mostly, I felt relieved. I thought: “This works in real life. This means something.”

But after we kissed and ate pizza and went back to his house, we struggled for things to talk about. In real life, Will stared off at nothing while I talked. In real life, he had no questions about the drive or my work or the stuff that waited for me when I went back to school.

He took me out for dinner and read his e-mail while we waited for our food. He apologized profusely, but still checked his Web site’s traffic stats while we sat in his living room.

He took me to a party at his friend’s house where they proceeded to argue for hours about Web design while I sat on a futon and stared at the ceiling, drunk and bored and terribly concerned that I looked thinner online. At points, he grabbed my hand and gave me small, apologetic smiles. It seemed like a strategy game: a constant dance of reaching for me and pulling back, of intimacy and distance, of real life and Internet make-believe.

On the last day of my visit, Will overslept. He rushed around the apartment with his hair wet and his tie untied, looking for his laptop. According to the plan we made the night before, he would go to work and I would leave when it suited me, dropping his spare keys in the mailbox.
In the front hallway, where I stood rubbing my eyes, Will hugged me goodbye and told me to drive safely. He struggled for a closing statement.

“It was great to see you,” he said at last.

I didn’t leave right away. After I showered and packed and studied the books near his fireplace, I sat for a long time at his kitchen counter, trying to work out what happened. I didn’t like being surrounded by his things. I felt more comfortable in my room, with my things, and with his presence confined to a laptop screen.

I wrote him a note before I left: “Dear Will: Thank you so much for having me this weekend. It meant a lot to me to spend time with you in person.”

I signed my name and left it on the counter. Then, willing myself not to cry, I dropped his keys in the mailbox and gunned it home. In real life, getting there took nine hours.

Caitlin Dewey is a senior at Syracuse University majoring in magazine journalism.