Did I say I am speaking more Canto?
Not that it is getting any better, but I decided to fuck it and speak up. 'Cos I need to buy my dustpan, tell the taxi uncle how to bring me home, and find out what the hell I am ordering from the menu.
The broken Canto sounds kinda cute anyway, I reckon. At least I think the fruit seller thinks so.
I should go back more often, 'cos pretty soon I think I will have free apples and bananas coming my way.
Auntie hands me my boxed lunch...
Me: Mmm goi.
Taxi uncle drops me off...
Me: Mmm goi.
Stranger bumps into me and apologizes...
Me: Mmm goi.
WTF?!?!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Jay & I
I snogged Jay.
I'd like to offer you the sordid details, which I still do remember vividly, but I think I'd spare you the envy. And agony.
It was forbidden love, however. Just because I was goddam two years older. What crap.
Oh, I so love my new bedding. Giving me such wonderful nights. Though the ergonomic pillow is still not helping my bad neck.
I am still smiling.
Well, like they say, everything in life begins with a dream. No?
I do think it all started with this:
koonie: jay coming on 30 jul
ME Inc.: !!!!!!!!!
ME Inc.: where?!?!?!?!?!?!??!
koonie: cathay la
koonie: aiyo
koonie: you DON't know
koonie: ?????
And I was so excited because I thought it was all fated since I was due back home on that day.
Until Boss ruined it all.
Dammit.
I'd like to offer you the sordid details, which I still do remember vividly, but I think I'd spare you the envy. And agony.
It was forbidden love, however. Just because I was goddam two years older. What crap.
Oh, I so love my new bedding. Giving me such wonderful nights. Though the ergonomic pillow is still not helping my bad neck.
I am still smiling.
Well, like they say, everything in life begins with a dream. No?
I do think it all started with this:
koonie: jay coming on 30 jul
ME Inc.: !!!!!!!!!
ME Inc.: where?!?!?!?!?!?!??!
koonie: cathay la
koonie: aiyo
koonie: you DON't know
koonie: ?????
And I was so excited because I thought it was all fated since I was due back home on that day.
Until Boss ruined it all.
Dammit.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Move
It's only Saturday, but it feels like donkey years since I last journalled. I really hate the idea of not being connected to the world wide web, that vast vulnerable place without which I feel strangely lonely.
Which explains why I am sitting here at the cafe having a late dinner, after a lazy housewifey Saturday.
This is the third dish I've tried so far, and it still pleases me. I can't wait to try the rest. She says I should try the salmon.
I realize, to some degree of horror, that my food expenses have more than tripled. Not that I can help it. Maybe I should just cut down on the number of meals. =/
Much has happened this week. My life just doesn't seem to cease being eventful.
And I am not complaining.
Let's start with the bad.
I got nicked. And I wasn't even in Mongkok.
There goes all my cards, credit and bank. And there goes the green spade.
I didn't lose no money - thankfully. But queueing up at the bank to draw a wad of cash every other day is not exactly the most fun thing to do.
The only good thing I can conjure up out of this entire experience is that living without credit cards is such a liberating feeling.
Oh, and I got some free sake out of it too. Awesome.
And then, finally, there's the little Fatmama pad, spacious enough to put her in comfort.
It's a quirky little old walk-up, right at the end of a commercial street, rather void of human traffic in the day but eerily quiet in the night.
Before you would pooh-pooh at my dingy apartment, I'd like to have you know that it comes with a gym. But there is only one piece of equipment: the Stairmaster. Free for all to use. Climb as high as you like. Drunk or not.
The Fatpad came furnished to the finest detail - I even got a free wine rack. I think it was meant to be.
But things started breaking down, and then I realized what they really mean when they say, cheap stuff can also look good. Much of my afternoon today was spent idling on the couch, flipping amongst the four channels I have on TV - it was so darn hard to make a choice - while the contractor dude fumbled around with the leaking pipes and malfunctioning rain shower.
I finally got to clean up the place too. For the past three days, I hated having blackened feet after walking around the house. So I got the drying rack fixed up so I could finally do the laundry. No more tumble-drying.
Then I got down on my fours to clean the floor. I am so thankful I wasn't greedy for a 'bigger' place.
I am quite anal when it comes to my house. I've just got to have the good stuff, if not the best. I tossed the sheets out and crashed on the couch on the first night, and then went on to spend a bomb the next day on new bedlinen, down quilt and all. And I slept like a baby on the second night.
There are still some stuff to get to fill up the house. Shoe racks, though I still can't quite figure how many would suffice. I've got the cutlery but I have no bowls or plates. I can't really cook in the open kitchen but I'd still like to have a tiny stove to poach some eggs and boil some pasta. I am eyeing that electric hot pot so I can have free flow of green tea without having to reboil again and again. I don't even have a decent thrash bin so I just make do with a floating plastic bag on the kitchen counter now. I think I need a wall clock because I have been jumping out of bed wondering if I had overslept again. The refridgerator needs some serious stocking up.
And even if it's not quite necessary, I'd like to have a tiny table for two. I'd never know. : )
A little bit of this, and a little bit of that. And I think the Fatpad's good to go.
It's half-past-ten.
Time flies while I'm sitting here. I really need to wire up the Fatpad soon.
I think I might try the eggs tomorrow. Or the salmon.
Which explains why I am sitting here at the cafe having a late dinner, after a lazy housewifey Saturday.
This is the third dish I've tried so far, and it still pleases me. I can't wait to try the rest. She says I should try the salmon.
I realize, to some degree of horror, that my food expenses have more than tripled. Not that I can help it. Maybe I should just cut down on the number of meals. =/
Much has happened this week. My life just doesn't seem to cease being eventful.
And I am not complaining.
Let's start with the bad.
I got nicked. And I wasn't even in Mongkok.
There goes all my cards, credit and bank. And there goes the green spade.
I didn't lose no money - thankfully. But queueing up at the bank to draw a wad of cash every other day is not exactly the most fun thing to do.
The only good thing I can conjure up out of this entire experience is that living without credit cards is such a liberating feeling.
Oh, and I got some free sake out of it too. Awesome.
And then, finally, there's the little Fatmama pad, spacious enough to put her in comfort.
It's a quirky little old walk-up, right at the end of a commercial street, rather void of human traffic in the day but eerily quiet in the night.
Before you would pooh-pooh at my dingy apartment, I'd like to have you know that it comes with a gym. But there is only one piece of equipment: the Stairmaster. Free for all to use. Climb as high as you like. Drunk or not.
The Fatpad came furnished to the finest detail - I even got a free wine rack. I think it was meant to be.
But things started breaking down, and then I realized what they really mean when they say, cheap stuff can also look good. Much of my afternoon today was spent idling on the couch, flipping amongst the four channels I have on TV - it was so darn hard to make a choice - while the contractor dude fumbled around with the leaking pipes and malfunctioning rain shower.
I finally got to clean up the place too. For the past three days, I hated having blackened feet after walking around the house. So I got the drying rack fixed up so I could finally do the laundry. No more tumble-drying.
Then I got down on my fours to clean the floor. I am so thankful I wasn't greedy for a 'bigger' place.
I am quite anal when it comes to my house. I've just got to have the good stuff, if not the best. I tossed the sheets out and crashed on the couch on the first night, and then went on to spend a bomb the next day on new bedlinen, down quilt and all. And I slept like a baby on the second night.
There are still some stuff to get to fill up the house. Shoe racks, though I still can't quite figure how many would suffice. I've got the cutlery but I have no bowls or plates. I can't really cook in the open kitchen but I'd still like to have a tiny stove to poach some eggs and boil some pasta. I am eyeing that electric hot pot so I can have free flow of green tea without having to reboil again and again. I don't even have a decent thrash bin so I just make do with a floating plastic bag on the kitchen counter now. I think I need a wall clock because I have been jumping out of bed wondering if I had overslept again. The refridgerator needs some serious stocking up.
And even if it's not quite necessary, I'd like to have a tiny table for two. I'd never know. : )
A little bit of this, and a little bit of that. And I think the Fatpad's good to go.
It's half-past-ten.
Time flies while I'm sitting here. I really need to wire up the Fatpad soon.
I think I might try the eggs tomorrow. Or the salmon.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Torn
Too much of good stuff is never good. Especially if they give you headaches.
And no, I am not talking about alcohol.
And it doesn't help that I am not a very good decision-maker. Sometimes I just take way too long a process to make one decision, and worse, I take way too long a time just to make a bad decision.
So I drew up a chart today. Hopefully, it might help me 'see' things clearly.
Then again, seeing things clearly does not necessarily help me make the right decision.
I think I am not going to complicate my mind any further.
I am going to whittle it down to just five, and I'll crack my brains over them. It's bad enough.
Or maybe, I should just...
Fuck.
It should've been a lazy sleep-in Saturday.
Instead I dragged myself out of bed at noon and met up with the agent who bought me one round of beer for every stop we made before I could settle down for lunch. Which eventually turned out to be some really good aglio olio.
People here are crazy. But at least the food is good.
And no, I am not talking about alcohol.
And it doesn't help that I am not a very good decision-maker. Sometimes I just take way too long a process to make one decision, and worse, I take way too long a time just to make a bad decision.
So I drew up a chart today. Hopefully, it might help me 'see' things clearly.
Then again, seeing things clearly does not necessarily help me make the right decision.
I think I am not going to complicate my mind any further.
I am going to whittle it down to just five, and I'll crack my brains over them. It's bad enough.
Or maybe, I should just...
Fuck.
It should've been a lazy sleep-in Saturday.
Instead I dragged myself out of bed at noon and met up with the agent who bought me one round of beer for every stop we made before I could settle down for lunch. Which eventually turned out to be some really good aglio olio.
People here are crazy. But at least the food is good.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
"What Happened To Your Girls?" x 100
I saw two schnauzies scurrying towards me on my way home tonight.
'Nuff said.
'Nuff said.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Ridiculous
Can't believe it.
It was supposed to be an early night. Some good eight hours of beauty sleep were in the plans, supposedly eased with a run earlier in the evening.
Instead, I did laundry till half-past-eleven. Mourned over my shrunken clothes. Googled on stuff for an hour. Chatted with a couple of folks on the messenger. Before I would peel meself off the chair and tuck myself into bed.
And then, the itchy fingers reached out for the remote, and the surfing started. And stopped when Meg Ryan and Andy Garcia appeared on the screen.
I must've like watched that show five times, or maybe even more. But that didn't stop me from watching it for the sixth time, or maybe twentieth time, last night.
I almost forgot how much I love that show. It has got to be one of the most realistically beautiful love stories ever played out on silver screen.
But most of all, it speaks right to me. I've always thought, I'm just like her.
I could end up just like her.
I didn't get to finish the movie, because I had to switch off the damned telly when I saw the clock at half-past-two.
I opened my eyes at five. Wide open. And hard as I shut my eyes, I just wouldn't drift back into bed.
By six, I decided I should just get my ass outta bed. If I were to really fall asleep then, I would never make it to work by nine.
Googling continued at six, and by seven, I decided I should just get to work.
Let's see.
What was supposed to be eight hours turned out three instead.
What a waste of my mask and creams. I think I am going to crash after lunch.
Yes. I am blogging at work.
Kill me.
It was supposed to be an early night. Some good eight hours of beauty sleep were in the plans, supposedly eased with a run earlier in the evening.
Instead, I did laundry till half-past-eleven. Mourned over my shrunken clothes. Googled on stuff for an hour. Chatted with a couple of folks on the messenger. Before I would peel meself off the chair and tuck myself into bed.
And then, the itchy fingers reached out for the remote, and the surfing started. And stopped when Meg Ryan and Andy Garcia appeared on the screen.
I must've like watched that show five times, or maybe even more. But that didn't stop me from watching it for the sixth time, or maybe twentieth time, last night.
I almost forgot how much I love that show. It has got to be one of the most realistically beautiful love stories ever played out on silver screen.
But most of all, it speaks right to me. I've always thought, I'm just like her.
I could end up just like her.
I didn't get to finish the movie, because I had to switch off the damned telly when I saw the clock at half-past-two.
I opened my eyes at five. Wide open. And hard as I shut my eyes, I just wouldn't drift back into bed.
By six, I decided I should just get my ass outta bed. If I were to really fall asleep then, I would never make it to work by nine.
Googling continued at six, and by seven, I decided I should just get to work.
Let's see.
What was supposed to be eight hours turned out three instead.
What a waste of my mask and creams. I think I am going to crash after lunch.
Yes. I am blogging at work.
Kill me.
"Shit Happens"
Fuck.
Now I've got a tip of my own to offer. I learned it the heart-wrenching way.
Always read the fucking care instructions on the labels of your favorites and try not to fucking act smarter.
What's not meant to be tumble-dried ought not to be tumble-dried. Even though they do look like cheap cotton clothes.
Aaarrggghhh.
For now, I am only feeling so thankful there's a huge-ass Muji right at my building.
Dammit.
Now I've got a tip of my own to offer. I learned it the heart-wrenching way.
Always read the fucking care instructions on the labels of your favorites and try not to fucking act smarter.
What's not meant to be tumble-dried ought not to be tumble-dried. Even though they do look like cheap cotton clothes.
Aaarrggghhh.
For now, I am only feeling so thankful there's a huge-ass Muji right at my building.
Dammit.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Laundry Night
I can't believe I took almost three hours just for laundry tonight.
Including the time I took to get sixteen floors down to ground, walk over to the next tower to climb up another twenty-one, get down twenty-one to ground again just to change some notes for dollar coins and then back up twenty-one again to start the stupid machine. And the one hour I took just to google on "how long should I tumble-dry my clothes for". And the extra time I took to set the dryer on another run again because I didn't follow my gut feel the first time round to set it at thirty minutes.
Yeah, three hours sound just about right.
But look what life-saving tips I gained during that hour-long googling.
- Washing only your whites in hot water and the rest in cold water, will save you energy dollars and will still result in a clean wash.
- Use liquid detergents for cold water washes; powders will not dissolve well and will leave a white residue on dark clothes.
- Fold clothing immediately when the dryer cycle ends; it will reduce wrinkles.
- Half or a third of a fabric softener sheet works as well as a full sheet and saves you money.
- Dryer timed cycles may possibly be reduced. Experiment to reduce uneccessary drying time; you may only need 15 minutes and not 30 to dry your load.
- Too much detergent in your load will leave a soapy residue on your clothing.
Hmm.
Now, don't get me wrong.
I love household chores. I love the process of shopping for laundry powder and softeners along the aisle of the supermarket.
I love the smell of freshly laundered clothes. I love the feel of warmly spunned clothes.
I can't wait to get down on all fours to mop my own floors.
Including the time I took to get sixteen floors down to ground, walk over to the next tower to climb up another twenty-one, get down twenty-one to ground again just to change some notes for dollar coins and then back up twenty-one again to start the stupid machine. And the one hour I took just to google on "how long should I tumble-dry my clothes for". And the extra time I took to set the dryer on another run again because I didn't follow my gut feel the first time round to set it at thirty minutes.
Yeah, three hours sound just about right.
But look what life-saving tips I gained during that hour-long googling.
- Washing only your whites in hot water and the rest in cold water, will save you energy dollars and will still result in a clean wash.
- Use liquid detergents for cold water washes; powders will not dissolve well and will leave a white residue on dark clothes.
- Fold clothing immediately when the dryer cycle ends; it will reduce wrinkles.
- Half or a third of a fabric softener sheet works as well as a full sheet and saves you money.
- Dryer timed cycles may possibly be reduced. Experiment to reduce uneccessary drying time; you may only need 15 minutes and not 30 to dry your load.
- Too much detergent in your load will leave a soapy residue on your clothing.
Hmm.
Now, don't get me wrong.
I love household chores. I love the process of shopping for laundry powder and softeners along the aisle of the supermarket.
I love the smell of freshly laundered clothes. I love the feel of warmly spunned clothes.
I can't wait to get down on all fours to mop my own floors.
Kopitiam Price
Discovery of the day:
If I get to the supermarket just before it closes at nine, I'd be damned if I could get meself a darned decent Japanese take-home dinner at half the price.
Awesome. Awesomely cheap.
Miss Tan, if you ever do come visit me, dinner's on me.
If I get to the supermarket just before it closes at nine, I'd be damned if I could get meself a darned decent Japanese take-home dinner at half the price.
Awesome. Awesomely cheap.
Miss Tan, if you ever do come visit me, dinner's on me.
Feeling PUMPed up
I think I know why the mood dip.
I haven't run, I haven't swum, I haven't done anything remotely aerobic for weeks - except maybe walked here and there and everywhere, up the slopes and stairways, in the Kong.
So I decided to do a little recce 'round the temporary neighborhood, just to get the heart going and the sweat flowing. And hopefully the mood rising.
I almost died.
The smothering heat and the fuzzy air almost asphyxiated me. I loved the slopes though.
I did a short one today, and I'd love to do a longer one tomorrow... but I really don't know about running out there again.
So I ran in my smokin' hot new pumps today.
No, not the girly pumps.
It's the Pumps that every mother's son wanted to get his hands on twenty years ago.
I haven't run, I haven't swum, I haven't done anything remotely aerobic for weeks - except maybe walked here and there and everywhere, up the slopes and stairways, in the Kong.
So I decided to do a little recce 'round the temporary neighborhood, just to get the heart going and the sweat flowing. And hopefully the mood rising.
I almost died.
The smothering heat and the fuzzy air almost asphyxiated me. I loved the slopes though.
I did a short one today, and I'd love to do a longer one tomorrow... but I really don't know about running out there again.
So I ran in my smokin' hot new pumps today.
No, not the girly pumps.
It's the Pumps that every mother's son wanted to get his hands on twenty years ago.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Beef Noodles Beef Noodles Beef Noodles
In another twenty-four hours, the plane should be taking off.
I am rather looking forward to it. I have been so deprived of noodles and hot soup, I am already getting giddy deciding what to gobble down the moment I dump my bags.
The only thing that keeps me sane here is soy latte. Three cups a day keep the madness away.
Starbucks soy lattes. They taste the same everywhere. If that's some gratification.
I am rather looking forward to it. I have been so deprived of noodles and hot soup, I am already getting giddy deciding what to gobble down the moment I dump my bags.
The only thing that keeps me sane here is soy latte. Three cups a day keep the madness away.
Starbucks soy lattes. They taste the same everywhere. If that's some gratification.
Long Shot
My heart skipped many many beats when I saw this strange email.
Abbiamo ricevuto il Suo curriculum vitae e La ringraziamo per l’attenzione che ha riservato nei confronti della nostra azienda.
Sarà nostra premura contattarLa non appena si evidenzieranno opportunità aziendali consone al Suo profilo ed alle Sue aspettative.
In attesa di incontrarLa personalmente, Le porgiamo i nostri più cordiali saluti.
What?! What the fuck are they saying? They've finally got news for me?
Then I decided, maybe I should scroll it down a bit.
We have received your Resume and we would like to thank you for your interest in our company.
Please, rest assured it will be our commitment to contact you immediately in case there is a position that is available and suitable to your skills and expectations.
Thanking you very much for your attention.
Then I realized. It probably took them three months to translate.
Abbiamo ricevuto il Suo curriculum vitae e La ringraziamo per l’attenzione che ha riservato nei confronti della nostra azienda.
Sarà nostra premura contattarLa non appena si evidenzieranno opportunità aziendali consone al Suo profilo ed alle Sue aspettative.
In attesa di incontrarLa personalmente, Le porgiamo i nostri più cordiali saluti.
What?! What the fuck are they saying? They've finally got news for me?
Then I decided, maybe I should scroll it down a bit.
We have received your Resume and we would like to thank you for your interest in our company.
Please, rest assured it will be our commitment to contact you immediately in case there is a position that is available and suitable to your skills and expectations.
Thanking you very much for your attention.
Then I realized. It probably took them three months to translate.
Flexi-hour, Flexi-life
The weather here is nutty.
Warm one night, refreshingly cool the next. Then chilly the following. Like it is right now.
Still, I love it. I'd rather be cold anytime than warm. When it's cold, I can pile on the clothes. But when it's hot, I can't bledy walk around topless. =/
I am absolutely bushed. And I haven't even gotten started on the real thing.
I am probably on the very steep slope of the learning curve right now, and if I don't get a grip on myself, I might just slide and crash any moment.
But all's good. I'm impressing myself by the day. And most of all, Boss has given me the green light to be absolutely autonomous.
"It's your baby."
I am loving the sound of it.
It's going to be a road trip for the next few weeks. My luggage is going to be overworked.
All of a sudden, I'm going places once more. Places I've been dying to go to. I so can't wait.
God is indeed good.
All that, but not before the trip back home to pack up all my stuff for good. So I really can't wait as well to find meself my new home in the next two weeks. Because I don't want to fuckin' return to the depressing hole all the time.
I so want to be able to lounge in my undies and sip on Penfolds and watch crappy DVDs till I fall asleep on the couch at the end of the day.
But the news that really made my day wasn't the road trips. It was something else even way better.
So I work in a flexi-hour company.
How's that for awesomeness?!?! No more guilty feeling for all those jump-out-of-bed-forty-five-minutes-after-the-alarm-rings mornings!!
This has definitely gotta be more awesome than those business class seats.
*****
So I am packing my bags for good.
Something I can't really tell to my folks.
I just really don't know where I'll eventually end up. I don't want to think, I don't want to plan. This is only but the beginning. I hope.
If you'd ask me, I'd have to say I think I am one of them women who have decided to throw all my life into my work because love has eluded me.
Warm one night, refreshingly cool the next. Then chilly the following. Like it is right now.
Still, I love it. I'd rather be cold anytime than warm. When it's cold, I can pile on the clothes. But when it's hot, I can't bledy walk around topless. =/
I am absolutely bushed. And I haven't even gotten started on the real thing.
I am probably on the very steep slope of the learning curve right now, and if I don't get a grip on myself, I might just slide and crash any moment.
But all's good. I'm impressing myself by the day. And most of all, Boss has given me the green light to be absolutely autonomous.
"It's your baby."
I am loving the sound of it.
It's going to be a road trip for the next few weeks. My luggage is going to be overworked.
All of a sudden, I'm going places once more. Places I've been dying to go to. I so can't wait.
God is indeed good.
All that, but not before the trip back home to pack up all my stuff for good. So I really can't wait as well to find meself my new home in the next two weeks. Because I don't want to fuckin' return to the depressing hole all the time.
I so want to be able to lounge in my undies and sip on Penfolds and watch crappy DVDs till I fall asleep on the couch at the end of the day.
But the news that really made my day wasn't the road trips. It was something else even way better.
So I work in a flexi-hour company.
How's that for awesomeness?!?! No more guilty feeling for all those jump-out-of-bed-forty-five-minutes-after-the-alarm-rings mornings!!
This has definitely gotta be more awesome than those business class seats.
*****
So I am packing my bags for good.
Something I can't really tell to my folks.
I just really don't know where I'll eventually end up. I don't want to think, I don't want to plan. This is only but the beginning. I hope.
If you'd ask me, I'd have to say I think I am one of them women who have decided to throw all my life into my work because love has eluded me.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Upping My Cutesiness
I am so very impressed with my Samsung phone.
But I am even more so impressed with the Eleanor Grosch Keds I've finally hunted down!
I don't need to spend half my salary on SKIIs. I just need shoes.
But wait... I am not thirty-five yet.
Dammit.
But I am even more so impressed with the Eleanor Grosch Keds I've finally hunted down!
I don't need to spend half my salary on SKIIs. I just need shoes.
But wait... I am not thirty-five yet.
Dammit.
Part II
I am very tempted to delve deeper into the men-versus-women career-myth hypothesis I've crafted, but it touches on emotional and behavioral issues.
So maybe I should refrain here, just in case I ruffle some feathers. Or at least, till I am in a more foul or emotional mood.
...
What the heck. This is the Fatmama blog.
Moreover, I could probably not be in a more foul mood than I am now.
So men get married to get promoted. Because the conventional view is that men portray a (sometimes misleading) image of stability and trust when they flaunt a wedding band.
Let's see. It is all very logical, very natural if you were to try understanding your male friends around you.
Men don't usually rise to boss-hood in their twenties. Which pretty much coincides with their behavioral stage where they just want to play. (At this point, I do note that the few men who do rise to boss-hood in their twenties are usually nerds who have no life.)
So one fine day, usually taking place some time in their thirties, men decide they are done with their frivolous lives and they ought to start working hard at their jobs because they decide they have squandered away too much of their moolah and it is time to earn it all back at an accelerated rate. But men being men, they do feel the need for some companionship, maybe just more constant this time round. So how about getting a wife too?
The rate of getting a wife seems definitely faster than the rate of getting a promotion, because you only need to compare the number of 'nice girls' out there versus the number of bosses you can have in a company.
So men start slogging long-er hours at work and stop spending time at the bars, sufficiently motivated by the soothing companionship of a loving woman at the end of the day. Women, simply impressed by the hardworking men they have snagged, surely cannot resist the allure of a marriage proposal.
Bam! Men get married. Give them some time, and a letter and a pay rise come along the way.
It all pans out well for men. And it doesn't hurt much too. After all, they will always have secretaries and pretty girl colleagues in short tight skirts to ogle at.
Women, on the other hand, get promoted when they are single, and may usually stay that way for a long while.
Blame it on television. Blame in on the culture of feminism. Blame it on girl power. Blame it on the newfound independence and freedom. Whatever. But there are largely two kinds of women in existence these days: women who only yearn to find love and get married to the One, and women who believe in achieving success in what they want and like to do.
Of course, it doesn't have to be a compromise, but I have to stop believing in fairy tales.
Women who get married and enjoy a better work-life balance in their twenties tend to find tough competition against their single girlfriends who decide that if love eludes them, they would spend all their time and efforts at work instead.
It's a vicious circle. When the babies come, it spells bigger trouble in the ladder-climbing, even after the tummy is long gone.
Women who decide that they have no better luck in the love department than in the work department and therefore decide to throw their youth into Excel spreadsheets end up getting booted out of the love department altogether eventually.
Bosses love women workers, not so much for the short skirts they wear sometimes, but because women workers can be a crazy bunch of workaholics. What depression underlying the drive and motivation usually escapes the notice of the bosses.
If Mrs X is always running home for dinner with the hubby, or if Mrs Y has possibly two more maternity leaves to apply for in the next three years, why not give the job to Miss Z who has no life but finishes her assignments by midnight everyday?
So Miss Z gets the job, works till three in the morning, turns old and haggard, and starts spending half her salary on SKIIs when she realizes she is in real deep shit at thirty-five. The toilet uncle in her office would not even take a second look at her.
I am so scaring myself now. =/
So maybe I should refrain here, just in case I ruffle some feathers. Or at least, till I am in a more foul or emotional mood.
...
What the heck. This is the Fatmama blog.
Moreover, I could probably not be in a more foul mood than I am now.
So men get married to get promoted. Because the conventional view is that men portray a (sometimes misleading) image of stability and trust when they flaunt a wedding band.
Let's see. It is all very logical, very natural if you were to try understanding your male friends around you.
Men don't usually rise to boss-hood in their twenties. Which pretty much coincides with their behavioral stage where they just want to play. (At this point, I do note that the few men who do rise to boss-hood in their twenties are usually nerds who have no life.)
So one fine day, usually taking place some time in their thirties, men decide they are done with their frivolous lives and they ought to start working hard at their jobs because they decide they have squandered away too much of their moolah and it is time to earn it all back at an accelerated rate. But men being men, they do feel the need for some companionship, maybe just more constant this time round. So how about getting a wife too?
The rate of getting a wife seems definitely faster than the rate of getting a promotion, because you only need to compare the number of 'nice girls' out there versus the number of bosses you can have in a company.
So men start slogging long-er hours at work and stop spending time at the bars, sufficiently motivated by the soothing companionship of a loving woman at the end of the day. Women, simply impressed by the hardworking men they have snagged, surely cannot resist the allure of a marriage proposal.
Bam! Men get married. Give them some time, and a letter and a pay rise come along the way.
It all pans out well for men. And it doesn't hurt much too. After all, they will always have secretaries and pretty girl colleagues in short tight skirts to ogle at.
Women, on the other hand, get promoted when they are single, and may usually stay that way for a long while.
Blame it on television. Blame in on the culture of feminism. Blame it on girl power. Blame it on the newfound independence and freedom. Whatever. But there are largely two kinds of women in existence these days: women who only yearn to find love and get married to the One, and women who believe in achieving success in what they want and like to do.
Of course, it doesn't have to be a compromise, but I have to stop believing in fairy tales.
Women who get married and enjoy a better work-life balance in their twenties tend to find tough competition against their single girlfriends who decide that if love eludes them, they would spend all their time and efforts at work instead.
It's a vicious circle. When the babies come, it spells bigger trouble in the ladder-climbing, even after the tummy is long gone.
Women who decide that they have no better luck in the love department than in the work department and therefore decide to throw their youth into Excel spreadsheets end up getting booted out of the love department altogether eventually.
Bosses love women workers, not so much for the short skirts they wear sometimes, but because women workers can be a crazy bunch of workaholics. What depression underlying the drive and motivation usually escapes the notice of the bosses.
If Mrs X is always running home for dinner with the hubby, or if Mrs Y has possibly two more maternity leaves to apply for in the next three years, why not give the job to Miss Z who has no life but finishes her assignments by midnight everyday?
So Miss Z gets the job, works till three in the morning, turns old and haggard, and starts spending half her salary on SKIIs when she realizes she is in real deep shit at thirty-five. The toilet uncle in her office would not even take a second look at her.
I am so scaring myself now. =/
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
FatQuote of the Day
It is always easy to spot the 'Inflatables' guy.
"The 'Inflatables' guys always look... inflated."
"The 'Inflatables' guys always look... inflated."
Men versus Women
Ah. One of the better snoozes I've had since I arrived.
I crashed right into bed and six hours straight without a jolt out of sleep. Still, too late to catch a run. That should be tomorow then.
Yes, yes. First thing I did on Monday was to get meself new running shoes. And shorts. And a top. That should suffice for now.
I woke up to an equally bright, fogless morning. Not absolutely clear, but the skies don't seem that fogged up today. Pretty much mirroring the state of mind I woke up with. Sweet.
Until I stepped out of the room to grab a coffee, only to see a note stuck on my neighbor's door, signed off by the room service waiter as...
@*&%^!&^%!!!!!
Anyhoos. It was rather strange as I got to do some thinking while in the bathroom this morning. I was that awake.
I thought about where I am now. And I thought about where I'd really like to eventually be this time round. If I were to really stick around in this game for real this time, there's only one way for me - and that is 'up'.
So I looked at the possibilities. The realities. And then the people who've made it 'up' there.
There are men, and of course these days, there are women up there. I thought about the ones I know of. Men bosses, women bosses. And I recognized what I'd only, up till now, read in magazine articles. A strange, but seemingly real pattern of the corporate shithole.
Men bosses are usually married. I haven't seen one that isn't yet. Career myth: Men who are married portray an image of stability and therefore trust in a high-level position.
Women bosses are sometimes not married. In fact, I note that there are more unmarried women bosses than the married ones. Career myth: Women who are married would naturally tend to split time more equally (or, unequally sometimes) between work and family, and worse, sometimes they take a long time away from work to make babies. On the other hand, unmarried ones usually stay that way even at a certain age and therefore make better, harder-working, more 'lifeless' slaves at work.
Myth or not, I actually can't be sure of now.
But I shudder.
So this is how it really is. Men get married to get promoted. Women get promoted and stay unmarried.
I shudder.
I crashed right into bed and six hours straight without a jolt out of sleep. Still, too late to catch a run. That should be tomorow then.
Yes, yes. First thing I did on Monday was to get meself new running shoes. And shorts. And a top. That should suffice for now.
I woke up to an equally bright, fogless morning. Not absolutely clear, but the skies don't seem that fogged up today. Pretty much mirroring the state of mind I woke up with. Sweet.
Until I stepped out of the room to grab a coffee, only to see a note stuck on my neighbor's door, signed off by the room service waiter as...
@*&%^!&^%!!!!!
Anyhoos. It was rather strange as I got to do some thinking while in the bathroom this morning. I was that awake.
I thought about where I am now. And I thought about where I'd really like to eventually be this time round. If I were to really stick around in this game for real this time, there's only one way for me - and that is 'up'.
So I looked at the possibilities. The realities. And then the people who've made it 'up' there.
There are men, and of course these days, there are women up there. I thought about the ones I know of. Men bosses, women bosses. And I recognized what I'd only, up till now, read in magazine articles. A strange, but seemingly real pattern of the corporate shithole.
Men bosses are usually married. I haven't seen one that isn't yet. Career myth: Men who are married portray an image of stability and therefore trust in a high-level position.
Women bosses are sometimes not married. In fact, I note that there are more unmarried women bosses than the married ones. Career myth: Women who are married would naturally tend to split time more equally (or, unequally sometimes) between work and family, and worse, sometimes they take a long time away from work to make babies. On the other hand, unmarried ones usually stay that way even at a certain age and therefore make better, harder-working, more 'lifeless' slaves at work.
Myth or not, I actually can't be sure of now.
But I shudder.
So this is how it really is. Men get married to get promoted. Women get promoted and stay unmarried.
I shudder.
"Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen!"
I haven't been this tired in a long while.
Jet lag that I can't deal with suddenly. Thoughts in the head that wouldn't bug off. Eyes that wouldn't stay moist and open. Problems that I can't solve... yet.
So I can't help it if I am acting this cranky.
I did feel good at work today, though.
After all these days of worrying and wondering, I think I still have some, if not all, in me.
Which is a pretty good start. All very crucial for the building up of my well-being, I suppose.
Sometimes it's all a matter, for me at least, of heart versus head, mind versus body. I just have to get it right.
I have my personal maxim. And I stick by it.
Sometimes it matters not to me if what I do per se is right or wrong in itself, but it matters more to me if what I do is what I really want to do.
Yes, sometimes it's not a matter of heart versus mind, but rather one of whether my heart gets to fulfill its wishes.
But people around me translate that to me being stupid, me being too stubborn. Even the close ones. Especially the close ones.
Is that all that wrong?
I have lost faith in many things, in love even.
I just don't want to lose that precious faith in myself, however tiny it may be.
I don't think I have a point to make tonight.
I just need to babble. To cut it loose a little.
You must be better than just getting by.
Jet lag that I can't deal with suddenly. Thoughts in the head that wouldn't bug off. Eyes that wouldn't stay moist and open. Problems that I can't solve... yet.
So I can't help it if I am acting this cranky.
I did feel good at work today, though.
After all these days of worrying and wondering, I think I still have some, if not all, in me.
Which is a pretty good start. All very crucial for the building up of my well-being, I suppose.
Sometimes it's all a matter, for me at least, of heart versus head, mind versus body. I just have to get it right.
I have my personal maxim. And I stick by it.
Sometimes it matters not to me if what I do per se is right or wrong in itself, but it matters more to me if what I do is what I really want to do.
Yes, sometimes it's not a matter of heart versus mind, but rather one of whether my heart gets to fulfill its wishes.
But people around me translate that to me being stupid, me being too stubborn. Even the close ones. Especially the close ones.
Is that all that wrong?
I have lost faith in many things, in love even.
I just don't want to lose that precious faith in myself, however tiny it may be.
I don't think I have a point to make tonight.
I just need to babble. To cut it loose a little.
You must be better than just getting by.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Frustrated
These spooky manifestations - in the names of random strangers, names of new work people, names of pubs, in stupid fortune cookies - are absolutely fuckin' spooking me out and driving me nuts.
I have never in my life seen so many... never mind.
Dammit.
And I just had the strangest dream ever. A bit hilarious, though.
I think I'm suffering from hallucinations instead.
I have never in my life seen so many... never mind.
Dammit.
And I just had the strangest dream ever. A bit hilarious, though.
I think I'm suffering from hallucinations instead.
Chilly Summer
"So do you have a family?"
?????
"I mean, are you moving over with your family? I mean, do you have a husband, or a boyfriend?"
Oh. Duh. Check-out.
Not a rather easy third day at work. As I start to realize my floating device is faulty with a tiny hole somewhere and I am instead getting thrown deeper and further away into the deep blue ocean. And no one would bother saving me because the lifeboat is only that big for say, hmm, maybe the rest of my teammates.
I can't really complain. I can't say anything about the mess nor the mess. Because I had seen it coming. Especially because I had seen it years before. Just that I had not been the one to have to fix it before. Though now, it's my job to.
I had always been an 'unwanted' child. But I grew up fine. I am just being adopted into another new family as the 'unwanted' child again. So I should be fine.
I should know how to deal with this.
I am in fact beginning to adore this 'unwanted' child syndrome. There I am, always part of the family dinners and outings, all the big brothers all laughing and joking with me. But no one really cares how I am doing.
So it's good. No one fusses when I sneeze, cos I hate that sort of attention. No one breathes down my neck, scrutinizes my every single move, no one stops me from making any one step beyond my realm. It's great. I can run around, bare-footed, exploring the new world, venturing into unchartered territories, making up crazy ideas and putting them into plans. So long as I bring food home to the family on that very tiny little platter. And so long as I don't give trouble to the big brothers.
First thing though, I have to sort out the messy little room I've been suddenly thrown into. Before I can step outside to all the fun.
Dammit.
Retail therapy works.
Especially when you're busy picking out all the baby Gaps on the sale rack. Because when you're doing that, you only have all your little ones in your mind and it is such thoughts that warm your heart up and make you wonder, "Things aren't really that bad, are they?"
And especially because when you're doing that right in front of the sale rack, you get all excited and sweaty, running complicated math calculations in your mind - "$4.99? $6.99? $4.99 x 2? $7.99 x 2 x 2?..." You really don't have much more space left in your brains for anything else more complicated than that.
Before you know it, you have enough to set up a weekend flea market store.
Yes, things just don't seem that bad during a retail therapy session.
?????
"I mean, are you moving over with your family? I mean, do you have a husband, or a boyfriend?"
Oh. Duh. Check-out.
Not a rather easy third day at work. As I start to realize my floating device is faulty with a tiny hole somewhere and I am instead getting thrown deeper and further away into the deep blue ocean. And no one would bother saving me because the lifeboat is only that big for say, hmm, maybe the rest of my teammates.
I can't really complain. I can't say anything about the mess nor the mess. Because I had seen it coming. Especially because I had seen it years before. Just that I had not been the one to have to fix it before. Though now, it's my job to.
I had always been an 'unwanted' child. But I grew up fine. I am just being adopted into another new family as the 'unwanted' child again. So I should be fine.
I should know how to deal with this.
I am in fact beginning to adore this 'unwanted' child syndrome. There I am, always part of the family dinners and outings, all the big brothers all laughing and joking with me. But no one really cares how I am doing.
So it's good. No one fusses when I sneeze, cos I hate that sort of attention. No one breathes down my neck, scrutinizes my every single move, no one stops me from making any one step beyond my realm. It's great. I can run around, bare-footed, exploring the new world, venturing into unchartered territories, making up crazy ideas and putting them into plans. So long as I bring food home to the family on that very tiny little platter. And so long as I don't give trouble to the big brothers.
First thing though, I have to sort out the messy little room I've been suddenly thrown into. Before I can step outside to all the fun.
Dammit.
Retail therapy works.
Especially when you're busy picking out all the baby Gaps on the sale rack. Because when you're doing that, you only have all your little ones in your mind and it is such thoughts that warm your heart up and make you wonder, "Things aren't really that bad, are they?"
And especially because when you're doing that right in front of the sale rack, you get all excited and sweaty, running complicated math calculations in your mind - "$4.99? $6.99? $4.99 x 2? $7.99 x 2 x 2?..." You really don't have much more space left in your brains for anything else more complicated than that.
Before you know it, you have enough to set up a weekend flea market store.
Yes, things just don't seem that bad during a retail therapy session.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Boston
I can't believe I am actually back here. The air just feels different.
I can't especially believe it actually brings back the déjà vu feeling - the one where you feel glad for a while, as if you're momentarily taken away to a faraway land, far away from shit. The one where you just feel different. I can't explain if it's 'different' in a good or bad way. But just different.
The air here, so dry and so merciless at times. It just seems to suck you up so dry. Then you feel so crinkled, so shrivelled, sometimes you wish you could cuddle and hole up in your mother's womb again.
Sometimes you take the chill right in the face, and you smile as you notice your lips cracking from the creases around your lips.
Right. Anyhoo.
I miss this shit alright.
I saw Mount Rainier on my way in. Good shit.
I can't especially believe it actually brings back the déjà vu feeling - the one where you feel glad for a while, as if you're momentarily taken away to a faraway land, far away from shit. The one where you just feel different. I can't explain if it's 'different' in a good or bad way. But just different.
The air here, so dry and so merciless at times. It just seems to suck you up so dry. Then you feel so crinkled, so shrivelled, sometimes you wish you could cuddle and hole up in your mother's womb again.
Sometimes you take the chill right in the face, and you smile as you notice your lips cracking from the creases around your lips.
Right. Anyhoo.
I miss this shit alright.
I saw Mount Rainier on my way in. Good shit.
Remorseful
Do you know how it feels inside, to know that you must've done something really bad yet not know exactly what bad thing you've done?
You just know you'd done something. And you just know it had to be something bad.
It happens. I know it does to me.
I knew it happened again.
I think I just turned into a stupid monster again. I gotta quit that stupid shit.
And then you just realise, it doesn't matter even if you're feeling really sorry.
It doesn't matter at all.
You just know you'd done something. And you just know it had to be something bad.
It happens. I know it does to me.
I knew it happened again.
I think I just turned into a stupid monster again. I gotta quit that stupid shit.
And then you just realise, it doesn't matter even if you're feeling really sorry.
It doesn't matter at all.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Sweaty Armpits
The weather's a little awful now, but I can't really complain since I am supposed to be "used to it".
Still, I get sweaty armpits just from grabbing my soy latte from the Starbucks across the street. And just minutes ago, I was freezing my ass off in the hole. Not sweet.
Which brings me to the next point: the air-conditioning here and everywhere is driving me insane. In the malls, in the trains, in the supermarkets, in Starbucks, even in the pubs, and of course, in the office.
Rightee. Shutting down and heading to the "Gei Chiong Fai Xun" (I hope I didn't write "Gong Xi Fa Cai") in another... oops, now.
Everything seems very surreal.
All of a sudden, I'm thrown back into a work desk, with meetings to attend and emails to reply, lunches to pack and co-workers to get to know. Suddenly, I have to remember how to think 'business'. Suddenly, I have to remember how to pack fast and efficient. Suddenly, I am earning mileage again.
I'll talk more about that another time... cos for now, I am just looking forward to my next destination.
Oh, and by the way, did I mention soy latte has just overtaken skinny latte as my new Starbucks favorite?
Blame it on the lack of kopi-o here.
Still, I get sweaty armpits just from grabbing my soy latte from the Starbucks across the street. And just minutes ago, I was freezing my ass off in the hole. Not sweet.
Which brings me to the next point: the air-conditioning here and everywhere is driving me insane. In the malls, in the trains, in the supermarkets, in Starbucks, even in the pubs, and of course, in the office.
Rightee. Shutting down and heading to the "Gei Chiong Fai Xun" (I hope I didn't write "Gong Xi Fa Cai") in another... oops, now.
Everything seems very surreal.
All of a sudden, I'm thrown back into a work desk, with meetings to attend and emails to reply, lunches to pack and co-workers to get to know. Suddenly, I have to remember how to think 'business'. Suddenly, I have to remember how to pack fast and efficient. Suddenly, I am earning mileage again.
I'll talk more about that another time... cos for now, I am just looking forward to my next destination.
Oh, and by the way, did I mention soy latte has just overtaken skinny latte as my new Starbucks favorite?
Blame it on the lack of kopi-o here.
Friday, July 06, 2007
I Miss My Friday Chick
"So this is your second day?"
"Yes! And it's already the weekend. Yay."
Not too bad, methinks.
Second day, and the Zzz monster has already tracked me down in some ulu 20th-floor corner in the Kong. Dammit.
Zzz monsters should just keep their activities to the night.
Actually, all monsters should.
It seems the new folks have a problem with my clothes. They had just stuffed a bunch of weirder-looking but brand new clothes in my face.
Don't tell me they think I am 'strange' too. I mean, c'mon, this is the Kong.
Or perhaps, I have just infiltrated yet another crazy cult who is so brainwashed by this thing called 'brand passion', it is already plotting to brainwash me and tarnish my awesome dress sense.
Although I am still very Singaporean, I am not very excited about the 'free' clothes.
This one, must 'D-A-M-M-I-T' loud loud.
I feel very much like a visitor still.
One who just can't stand the idea of being cooped up in her depressing hole, though she has tried to.
I need my VB.
DAMMIT.
I'd better find my new pad soon.
I'll call it my very own 'VB' then. :)
"Yes! And it's already the weekend. Yay."
Not too bad, methinks.
Second day, and the Zzz monster has already tracked me down in some ulu 20th-floor corner in the Kong. Dammit.
Zzz monsters should just keep their activities to the night.
Actually, all monsters should.
It seems the new folks have a problem with my clothes. They had just stuffed a bunch of weirder-looking but brand new clothes in my face.
Don't tell me they think I am 'strange' too. I mean, c'mon, this is the Kong.
Or perhaps, I have just infiltrated yet another crazy cult who is so brainwashed by this thing called 'brand passion', it is already plotting to brainwash me and tarnish my awesome dress sense.
Although I am still very Singaporean, I am not very excited about the 'free' clothes.
This one, must 'D-A-M-M-I-T' loud loud.
I feel very much like a visitor still.
One who just can't stand the idea of being cooped up in her depressing hole, though she has tried to.
I need my VB.
DAMMIT.
I'd better find my new pad soon.
I'll call it my very own 'VB' then. :)
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Fatheongkongmuimui
"I hate PCs."
"Get used to it. You are not being paid to blog."
Dammit. Dammit. DAMMIT.
Now, let me see what new things I have learnt in my first day as a new resident...
So my canto sucks. I just 'mmm koi' everything.
I so swear by internet banking. Queues kill me.
I see so many new numbers in my life now in the past week, I really feel like calling Mom and asking her to buy some 4Ds on my behalf.
I am really very 'sua ku'. I am actually very excited about taking business class to Boston. Though it's going to be freakin' eighteen hours up there.
Yogurt in Hong Kong is very expensive.
The only awesome thing about this hole is the free internet access.
Hole? What hole?
This "serviced apartment" in which I sleep right next to the sink.
*****
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't really know.
"Get used to it. You are not being paid to blog."
Dammit. Dammit. DAMMIT.
Now, let me see what new things I have learnt in my first day as a new resident...
So my canto sucks. I just 'mmm koi' everything.
I so swear by internet banking. Queues kill me.
I see so many new numbers in my life now in the past week, I really feel like calling Mom and asking her to buy some 4Ds on my behalf.
I am really very 'sua ku'. I am actually very excited about taking business class to Boston. Though it's going to be freakin' eighteen hours up there.
Yogurt in Hong Kong is very expensive.
The only awesome thing about this hole is the free internet access.
Hole? What hole?
This "serviced apartment" in which I sleep right next to the sink.
*****
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't really know.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
No "Goodbyes", Just "See-You-Soons"
So this is it.
I am finally like the sheperd boy, taking my first baby steps out of my world. In search of a new one, may it be better or not.
The road ahead leads only to a horizon so far and wide, I can never imagine what may lie ahead for me.
Remember my friends, Fatmama loves all of you. :)
I am finally like the sheperd boy, taking my first baby steps out of my world. In search of a new one, may it be better or not.
The road ahead leads only to a horizon so far and wide, I can never imagine what may lie ahead for me.
Remember my friends, Fatmama loves all of you. :)
Monday, July 02, 2007
Hometown
I did the last kopitiam session with my baby girl, our usual weekend shit.
Well, this one was a little more memorable. For obvious reasons, of course. But also because this was the one where my baby girl got that usual pick-up line I'd have heard elsewhere, where erm... 'drinks' would have been more worthwhile.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
Let's disregard the fact that it came from an ah neh uncle, who might have gone on home to beat up the wife if we'd taken up the drinks offer. Still... it was totally out of whack.
My baby girl said the right thing her fatmomma would have said: "No, thanks."
So, me and my baby girl sat al fresco in the droning heat for a little longer than usual.
It was not only my last, but hers as well.
By the time I am next back in August, I'll be gorging on Ben & Jerry's with her new dessert spoons at her house-warming party in ulu Seng Kang.
So, between mom and daughter, that was our farewell kopi session in our hometown.
I think I choped the "Penguin". Oh no, maybe not. Maybe it was the "Cow". Or was it the "Pig"?
So, as usual, I took a stroll back home after we bade our goodbyes. And this time, I took a long, hard look at the apartments along the way. The trees, the roads, the bus-stop. The basketball court where I swore I would pick up the game when I was only all of twelve. The primary school that is in the process of resurrection.
The everything I had grown up with over the past twenty-nine years.
The familiarity and the comfort zone that I am removing myself from.
...
And I feel exhilarated.
I will never, ever forget my hometown.
But it doesn't mean I will never leave it.
Well, this one was a little more memorable. For obvious reasons, of course. But also because this was the one where my baby girl got that usual pick-up line I'd have heard elsewhere, where erm... 'drinks' would have been more worthwhile.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
Let's disregard the fact that it came from an ah neh uncle, who might have gone on home to beat up the wife if we'd taken up the drinks offer. Still... it was totally out of whack.
My baby girl said the right thing her fatmomma would have said: "No, thanks."
So, me and my baby girl sat al fresco in the droning heat for a little longer than usual.
It was not only my last, but hers as well.
By the time I am next back in August, I'll be gorging on Ben & Jerry's with her new dessert spoons at her house-warming party in ulu Seng Kang.
So, between mom and daughter, that was our farewell kopi session in our hometown.
I think I choped the "Penguin". Oh no, maybe not. Maybe it was the "Cow". Or was it the "Pig"?
So, as usual, I took a stroll back home after we bade our goodbyes. And this time, I took a long, hard look at the apartments along the way. The trees, the roads, the bus-stop. The basketball court where I swore I would pick up the game when I was only all of twelve. The primary school that is in the process of resurrection.
The everything I had grown up with over the past twenty-nine years.
The familiarity and the comfort zone that I am removing myself from.
...
And I feel exhilarated.
I will never, ever forget my hometown.
But it doesn't mean I will never leave it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)