Sad Stories From Singapore August 7, 2008

About a month ago, I stumbled upon Stories.sg, a collection of personal letters by bloggers to Singapore in tribute to her 43rd birthday this Saturday.

Firstly, I was surprised by how few letters there were. Just around 20ish entries for a tech-savvy population of a couple of million.

Secondly, I was surprised that most of these letters contained more or less the similar theme: I really want to be proud of my country, but there’s a lot going against it. While some were more optimistic and others a lot more confrontational in general, there was this sense of not knowing what our national identity is about, and not knowing whether the kind of lives we lead here are sustainable.

Perhaps it’s the more “emo” types who would actually bother with a website like this, and hence the content being so similar. But if anything, I just feel a little less alone after reading this website. Thank God, it’s not just me.

Your constant drone of money, meritocracy and contradictions you fed me over and over again — they went away. I could finally hear myself think and reason. Without you, I was whole. Stormie

You’re more than people just scraping by, dreaming of money and five-star hotels. You’re a hell of a lot more than just a good air-conditioning system. You’re everybody, not just the dream citizen; you’re the Malay kids skipping school, hanging out at Peninsula Plaza in black jeans and trucker caps. You’re the unemployed kopitiam uncle with his songbirds. You’re the schoolgirl holding hands with her classmate, hoping the teacher doesn’t see. You’re every one of them, but for some reason you just won’t acknowledge this. You like to hold on to this idea of you being this clean, perfectly efficiently city, when really it’s the dirt that makes you who you are. Zing

I actually contributed an entry here, pounded out in 15 minutes during a particularly bad day and I just needed to get things out of my system. I’m not sure how much of a National Day present this is to Singapore, but hey, if anything, at least I am telling the truth.

Repeat mode July 16, 2008

This is sounding too much like an old scratchy record that cannot go beyond a certain track.

But I am tired.

There will be a little reprieve soon.

But I am so tired.

XXX June 26, 2008

Yesterday, I was reading a book that’s being distributed as part of the National Library Board’s Reading Campaign .

While reading Wena Poon’s “Lions in Winter” (by far the best story in there), I was interrupted during a particularly intense moment taking place between the protagonist and his sister. (see picture above)

Immediately, I was jolted back to reality and thought about the the poor hapless library person who had to stick thousands of “xxx” bits of paper over that damning word.

There’s also a CD with the audio version of this story. I wonder how the narrator would read that part out:

“…would call a mind-f-triple-x”? or  “…would call a mind-tooooooooooot”?

Even government-sanctioned local literature also kena censor. Sigh, and they want us to get interested in reading.

Airport refugee June 14, 2008

Since the last post, the gears have changed somewhat from literary to aqua. More specifically, the water finally overflowed from the Iowa river, buildings were evacuated, events were cancelled and roads were closed.

During this short time frame, I have had two close shaves:

- I was initially posted to a hotel that eventually got flooded the following day. How I made a narrow escape from  it is largely due to the ever-fluid arrangements of staying with people who had rented apartments around the university and eventually settling for sharing a hotel room on a hill (key word) with a kind, kind classmate who gave me and my luggage a lift up to the new accommodation.

- After the workshop officially ended on Friday afternoon  I went back to the hotel and was just about to transfer my luggage to another kind, kind classmate’s room at the hotel on the hill. While making small talk with the concierge, they conveyed to me the word of mouth advice they had picked up - all but one roads leading out of the campus will be closed by 6pm so if I want to make my flight on Sat morning, I really had to get out of there ASAP because that one open road might get closed as well. I ditched the originally-arranged airport shuttle service because they sounded so forlorn and  non-committal (that company was based in Cedar Rapids - which has half its town totally under water) and managed to call a Don from Black & White Cabs who said he would try his darnest to get there. While waiting for him, there were many other workshop participants also having the same idea as me and waiting for various kinds of transportation. Don came first to get me though, and from there, I was taken on a two-hour whirlwind tour of rural Iowa (very pretty I must say) trying to find alternative routes to the airport - most of the time, we were on gravel roads and met with countless road blocks. However, we met a family having a BBQ outside their farmhouse and they gave some insider directions which led to the airport minus the crazy jams and hurdles. I gave Don a huge tip, what a trooper for trying so hard to find a way out. What was a little sad though is that the rest of the people at the hotel I was waiting with never made it to the airport.

Of course now I am here with nothing much to do, thank God for free wireless internet and the company of a poet couple (they had escaped even earlier than I did, straight after lunch after they talked to one of the National Guards) to make things just a little more bearable. People here have been so helpful and good-natured about things even though the situation is worrying. Which is why perhaps I am not so pissed off and miserable about it. And I really hope things look up somehow, some way or another for the Midwest flood situation, which seems almost Noah-like.

But yes, I do want to go home. I wish I had shiny red shoes like Dorothy.

An eye bagful February 24, 2008

Yesterday, my facial auntie solemnly declared that she has never seen my eye bags so dark and puffy before and slopped on a whole bunch of stuff she usually doesn’t apply, followed by an eyebag massage which was a very surreal experience. If anyone else has been through that, could you share what yours was like with me? Anyway, judging by my black face and bad skin, she delicately chose not to ask me about my wedding yesterday, which is something she has been very kay poh about the last year or so, right down to what D. would be wearing (she likes his skin a lot).

However, there are a lot of other people, with good intentions I’m sure,  who ask me whether I am excited about the wedding. Well, I am looking forward to being married to a guy I love, but not so much all the fruity pomp and ceremony that has to go along with it. To be really honest, what I am most looking forward to is getting away from all this craziness with the long honeymoon (more like refuge) to Melbourne. Some friends have been really supportive and helpful and I’m really touched by that, and occasionally my family reveals moments of trying to go along with things, which I know takes a lot out of them so I must be grateful. And I really do love looking at Martha Stewart magazines now, their aesthetics actually cheer me up.

However, what I really cannot wait to be rid off:

- all that admin work. I long for my life to go back to just one simple, to-list with less than 10 items

- being expected to be girly. I really don’t know how to describe the gowns other than one is white, one is blue and I like ‘ em. I really don’t want to use roses for the wedding. I really don’t want to wear Auntie Y’s humongous family heirloom bling bling necklace and if I lose it, I lose my head as well. I really cannot wait to cut my hair off the day after the wedding.

- The Elders changing their minds every two days or so and adding a couple of drastic, last minute changes which send us all into a frenzy

Uncle was right.

Vulnerable January 25, 2008

It is the oft repeated story that soon after I yelp a bit about feeling too busy, my body starts giving way. A minor bout of flu (which D. also shared and now he’s coughy) I gleefully doused off with plenty of liang cha. Then these persistent stomach pains set in, which I initially thought was gastric, but now turns out to be a bladder infection and is turning out to be quite annoying.

The good news is, this crazy month’ busyness is tapering off. Things will slow down with the nitty-gritty of wedding/housing logistics done and lessons soon coming to a close. And even if they don’t, I am going to be more firm about getting myself to slow down. I have and will turn down all freelance writing assignments. I will not go for social things unless I really do feel up to it (in advance, apologies for whatever flakiness I might pull these next two months). I will take deep breaths and go for more long nature trail walks to clear my mind off on a more regular basis.

I do feel guilty whenever these body floppy things happen. I cannot put in my share of the work for D, my colleagues and my students. Ok another point to note: stop feeling guilty and just get well dammit.

Helloireallyshouldntbeblogging January 21, 2008

Butyesijustneedtorantalittleabouthowthereisnotimeforeverything.

Inthenewyearpeopleliketomakelotsandlotsofplanstofeelaccomplishedandproductive.

Thismeanslotsandlotsandlotsmorethingstodothanoriginallythought.

Mytodolistreallysucksasimentionedalreadyyesitendtorepeatmyself.

Mustlearntobalancethingsbetterlikestopwatchinggilmoregirlsoneseasonatatimenowisthatatimewasterorwhat.

Ialsothinkweddingbanquetsswithmorethanfiftytableshouldbemadeillegal.

Thatsall.

Probably PMS again November 2, 2007

I crave for quiet moments, especially at this period when I am getting increasingly puzzled by the unsaid nuances of human nature. It is disheartening, it makes me feel so foolish and then I kind of forget who I am sometimes.

This is yet another phase of growing up - one of facing up to my imperfections, facing up to other people’s imperfections, and facing the consequences of all that. I really can’t keep up with all these social/power/whatever transactions. I really want to remember what I used to love about life and people.

Working it off October 24, 2007

Work was never meant to be a bad thing. Work brings out one’s strength and develops one’s passion. Work brings the bacon home. Work provides one with opportunities to be in touch with the outside world. Work broadens mindsets and brings us new friends. Work makes us feel useful and gives a sense of purpose and satisfaction in life. Work is something you do while you whistle happily.

However, we human beings are just too good in screwing things up.  This is what work also has the potential to become in modern-day life:

- a bloody warzone of bruised egos and blatant injustice

- a sweatshop cleverly disguised as a “golden career path”

- a health hazard

- where we sell out so we can bring the bacon home: bacon too expensive these days

- a place where people become commodities and networking is ultimately shopping  for useful contacts

- a destroyer of relationships: no time, no energy, no patience, no life…enough said.

- a transformer: generally brings out the worst in most people.

Work. What a double-edged sword.

Point of exhaustion September 30, 2007

And I really shouldn’t be that way since my life is in no way hectic by urban standards. But that’s how it is - depleted is the only way I can describe it.

Perhaps it is the realisation that fitting into the system requires too much brain-numbing and fitting a square into a round hole.

Perhaps it is the labels that I try to remove from myself and other people - and yet it unwittingly becomes the main basis of judgement (why am I judging in the first place?).
Perhaps it is the few young people that I try to help in whatever little way I can - but realise how hopeless it is because the circumstances are so overwhelming.

Perhaps because the unresolved skeletons have come out of the wardrobe for some airing, and probably will be prancing around quite a bit for the next few months.

Perhaps it is because I have been neglecting the spiritual side of things for a while - and while legalism and seemingly self-righteous cliques are really disturbing to me, I also realise now how these institutions and sub-groups give guidelines and comfort that no brilliant logical insight or hard hitting social commentary can ever provide. (these just make you go “Aha! So the world is as screwed up as I thought it was!” but does not solve anything) If only I can find the right balance between the two.

Perhaps I am just spending too much time on Facebook - MUST restrain. You know things have gotten a little out of hand when someone approaches you during a wedding reception and declares with a straight face, “Your Fluff Friend beat my Horny Beast in a race and now I have lost all my munny.”