The Love Language That I Do Understand

只能陪你到这里
毕竟有些事不可以
超过了友情还不到爱情

Okay it’s official why we didn’t work out. This quiz just confirms what I’ve always known. No time at all, together with repression, creates the friendly environment for the lovely 红杏 to 出墙。But that’s giving myself too much credit for progression. People grow, after all. And mostly, they grow apart. I’m hardly exception to the rule.

If the quiz is accurate, I’m big on people who spend quality time with me (or at least conveys the impression) and I enjoy the physical touch. The former is absolutely true while I must qualify that there is very stringent control over the extent of touchiness. My comfort level: I have to find the person attractive, or the thought alone of being touched (even if it’s a relatively close friend) or brushed against can make me throw up. I can go to the bathroom to wash the offended area if thought becomes reality. Obviously Mr Dimples passed with flying colours on both accounts. While Mr Veins, as the knight in not-so-shiny armour, who faithfully renders acts of services cannot be fully appreciated by yours truly. Words of affirmation rank so lowly as a necessity that I am one conceited and stuck-up individual too full of airs and pretensions for sure. I can thrive happily on my own. Receiving gifts is middle-ly placed, so perhaps I am still not as materialistic as I fear I can possibly be.

I wrote this a year ago when I was (obviously again) bored. A year later, oh, how some things have changed, and how some people never do!

The Five Love Languages

My primary love language is probably
Quality Time
with a secondary love language being
Physical Touch.

Complete set of results

Quality Time:		10
Physical Touch:		9
Receiving Gifts:		6
Acts of Service:		3
Words of Affirmation:		2

Information

Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.

Take the quiz

暧昧让人受尽委屈
找不到相爱的证据
何时该前进何时该放弃
连拥抱都没有勇气

暧昧让人变得贪心
直到等待失去意义
无奈我和你写不出结局
放遗憾的美丽停在这里

More Addendum: Oops. Realised the link to the quiz didn't work. There. It works now.

I Don't Want To Do It Again

I can’t believe we were on the phone for close to an hour.

I can’t believe I was trying to truncate it earlier a few times (yes, that’s me, panicking and bolting out of insane pride and crazy, crazy modesty) by giving obvious openings to exit before realising you do want to continue the conversation. I am feeling slightly dizzy now, upon really ending the call, and am kicking myself for being so presumptuous and underreading (but you can’t blame me, we were on the phone and it was not written in the book). The second chance after the spectacular boo-boo in your car and I have the sinking feeling that I let you down, again!!!

My sincere apologies to you, for my clumsiness and eccentric principles, that have ensued in a conversation whereby I once again refused to wear the heart higher on the sleeve (I’m unfortunately used to sleeveless tops). If I have confounded you with my errant behaviour and confused your enthusiasm with my err...shyness (leading to a less-than-ideal response to your kind words and gestures), believe me when I say I rue, and I regret. Especially on this night before you leave for the seas. I wish you could carry fonder memories with you and I could bring myself to be more 温柔。

*

On a neutral note, he called with a purpose lah. Settling our tickets to West Side Story. But it flowed smoothly into other areas. I was silently wondering if he should get sleep and start packing, but I was too self-conscious to mouth my concern and too uptight to wish him a safe voyage (too clichéd).

*

I must remember to let the guy take the lead and not attempt a silly pre-emptive strike. I must not jump into Angelinesque conclusions and self-sabotage a good thing or commit kamikaze in advance. There is nothing to be ashamed of, or scared, or embarrassed about.

I must try very, very hard not to send mixed signals, something that I’m a natural at. Urgh.

Addendum: I guess I did do one thing right on hindsight. I shut up and allow him to book online and pay for the tickets when he said that's what he's gonna do. See the original plan had me saying I will buy first, since my job entitles me to a more special rate. After the meandering fun chat when we finally got to the point in the midst of everything else, he suggested he would buy immediately online instead. We would spend 5% more for promptness since he had the UOB card that would give him the other 10% off. I let him and I taped my mouth.

I find it slightly stressful when it comes to our going out expenses, because I'm unsure of how I can "pay it right" without offending his male sensibilities. We never split the bills, not that I recall. Mostly he pays. I try to equalise it by paying an equivalent amount every other time, when I manage to sneak in my own card in advance of his. The most extravagant offer he extended: He had wanted to waive away the Rent ticket when I had only paid in kind (in terms of food) only 50% - about $60 (!!) but I was too horrified (and well-bred) to be indebted so. So.

Perhaps I should let him spend more, as a signal? I suggest male readers of this blog share how the dating expenses should be spread, when the date is not quite the girl-friend and not the girlfriend either, especially when you hang out pretty often with a person singularly.

Remember, I remember: V

Remember remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder, treason
Should ever be forgot...

V for Vendetta is one of those films that would read well on paper. Yes, I do realise that the movie is adapted from an 80s graphic novel but I have never seen that, so I’m basing my opinion from the movie alone (besides, I doubt the wordy-ness in the movie can be accommodated by the panels of artwork).

A dystopian pastiche that tackles big ideals and ideas, meshing politics, literature, history/legend/myth, sentimentality and realism into one riveting masque, the tremendous appeal of V, for me, is really its numerous literary influences and references, as well as the excellent writing, which I can appreciate as a literary snob.

I experienced my first bout of ecstasy way early in the beginning when V appeared, the many, many, many v-words rolling off his tongue easily as he began introducing himself to Natalie Portman. Goodness, the alliteration is heavenly and in just the ridiculously right amount. The dialogue is sharp and imbued with dramatic flair that brings out the man and character, literally setting the stage for what is to come.

Subsequently, the literary references (The Count of Monte Cristo, Twelfth Night, and even the Guy Fawkes rhyme) made me tremble more. A movie that respects brilliant writing, that pays homage to classics, that has its leads declaring the infinite power of the word, that repays its literary debts thrice over at least with its infusion of the current socio/political stories, that reworks the mundane bildungsroman theme to great effect, that even embraces the popular vernacular and culture, this is one ambitious intellectual film that actually cooks up something pretty palatable in the scary melting pot of things.

Still, for a movie imploring one to be up in arms against repression, subjugation and conformity of the ruling party, it is ironic that its subversive intent is wielded by heavy-handedness. Is it oxymoronic to describe the venture as skilful mastering of subject matter but clumsy? The film gave up polished intelligence for raw gritty intellect, instead of seeking a compromise between the two, which was actually a smart move. Given all the heavy statements it wants to impress on, it cannot be self-reflexive and brood internally, or spoof itself too much, if at all. It must make the audience think in a clear-headed manner but in a specific direction. The chosen course of action, as the plot unfolds, even though it may be questionable, is never a confused issue but a matter-of-fact ie any dilemma portrayed in the film is a false one. The movie reasons coolly about justified violence, sweet vengeance, the right to expression and the need to rid fear and the enactment of such themes resonates. The show must go on, the revolution has to start and the fight must continue. Uplifting huh.

There are nevertheless some small story weaknesses here and there, whether intentionally or otherwise. Like how V is the only constant (and contender) for mystery. He appears to be a human experiment gone awry and somehow gained superior powers (only hinted at). His background and place of detention is lightly glossed over. For me, the story is less compelling on a human scale as such – and hard to have the prolonged suspension of disbelief. Like how in the world did he manage to have the resources and talents to pull off his plan (cannot be exactly like The Count of Monte Cristo right. But maybe. Since he is constantly shown to be inspired by it in the movie). But I guess if the characters are your means to bring out the huge issues, then, yes, you have a mission. Don’t distract the audience with the peripherals. Knock them out with your main message!!

In light that V uses my all time favourite Cry Me A River as the haunting refrain, I shall also overlook that it unflinchingly peels off its layers of depths, even as character V stays very dead and yet unmasked, to reveal an unapologetically happy ending, with the requisite fireworks.

Remember? I remember
All that you said
Told me love was too plebeian
Told me you were through with me and
Now you say you say love me
Well, just to prove you do
Come on and cry me a river
Cry me a river
I cried a river over you

A Matter of Privates

Last night I was privileged to be schooled in Men’s Undies 101 by the I-no-longer-stay-in-Bedok Minxiu. Now that he has moved to Boon Kheng, it’s less attractive to go out together, since I would not have anyone to accompany me back to the East and the odds are I will be cabbing home precisely because I am alone. But we did meet and so there we were, at Metro, Paragon ‘cos he took his brother’s Metro card and birthday vouchers to do a bit of private (oooh, no pun intended) shopping. We had caught a movie (Mad Hot Ballroom – made me feel like taking up dance class) just before and I also wanted to see if Metro also carried any stuff I want – hey 20% off blue tag items, why not). We ended up the longest at the Calvin Klein men's section whereby selected merchandise were up to 50% off regular prices. What I found out, according to tutor Minxiu’s personal prejudices and preferences:

Brentwood, Goldlion, Ashworth, Arnold Palmer are apparently Ah Pek’s undies, otherwise worn by guys whose mums made the purchases on their behalf.

The usual suspects like Calvin Klein, Dockers, Renoma and Levis are acceptable yuppie male undies wear.

Guys’ undies can be no less expensive the girls’ (ie on par for some) but ultimately for girls’ prices – we are still charged most exorbitantly and sky’s the limit. No men’s undies can match the price of a decently branded bra. Yuck.

I do not see what functional purpose there is in a jock strap. My teacher cannot say.

Male undies can come with buttons, at that particular area and not going all the way up either. I see no functional purpose in this design either.

Metro doesn’t carry padded undies to boost the appendage.

It does carry this strange pouch thing at $9.90. Imagine a large handphone pouch. Imagine wearing it. Yes, that’s what I saw. Wouldn’t it slip out or suffocate? Hmm.

The size of what Minxiu is strutting, under normal circumstances ( referring to undies).

There’s a brand of male undies called Great India – crystal studded some more.

I feel quite educated.

Subsequently, I bought two pairs of Everbest heels and saved $28!!! Hurray for blue tag items and the Metro card!!!

Then I took the train home. So proud of myself.

*

In another parallel world:

Me: Err…what do you think of 费玉清 ? Wanna attend his concert? On the house!!

He: I’m too shocked to answer that now… 费玉清 sounds out of my league.

Me: I have to go leh. Hmph. If you can sit through A R Rahman’s 4 hour long Indian concert and Disney On Ice with me, I don’t see how this poses an obstacle. It’s in Chinese okay.

He: All right. Go loh.

(me with thought bubble: That was easy)

Me: Thanks for agreeing. Please remember to wear those men’s cheongsam hor. I think it’s called a mapao.

He: Haha. Unfortunately my trusted pda is not with me now, cannot record down, may forget…

Me: Oh no you won’t. It’s such a big thing to attend a 费玉清 concert. You will be the envy of your elders and earn the contempt of your peers! Please be discreet. You have been warned.

He: *solemnly* I shall be.

Why Not II

He was always so busy. The smses would come in a few days later when the recipient of his generosity was no longer interested in the issue at hand or had found other means and companionship to render his absence completely irrelevant. The very rare calls I had to make went unanswered and he called on weekends from the office, if only to prove how terribly buried he was by work. The times we were out felt like stolen moments, with him monitoring the hour (yes, if he said we can meet for three hours, we have to keep to that time frame. Like duh.) and work always was on the back of his mind. It wasn’t always like this, I know, but those days that were not, they never felt further and they may not stage a comeback any earlier.

I found myself putting up with such nonsense until I hate myself for being really small and pathetic. I alternate between feeling like an ingrate and a loser, the former being living testimony of how ridiculously brainwashed I was to think I wasn’t appreciative as opposed to his not appreciating me.

No. I don’t understand just how busy one can get, I still don’t. You still have to eat, to sleep, to pull together some ghost of a life, which simply means there has to be some time set aside for me. And I don’t want to feel beggary. I hate the way he made me feel I was demanding when I must be the most low-maintenance girl I know (in terms of time only).

I don’t think Best Friend was very pleased when I aligned her recent busy-ness with that of Mr Veins’. Well, it wasn’t entirely a fair statement, given she’s still struggling to find balance and harmony in a new job in a new environment. But that doesn’t preclude or deprive me of the right to declare that I really, really don’t understand how busy one can get. I have been through times that I feel like dying but those times only make me want to find an outlet to channel all that negativity. And that’s easily accomplished through going out with friends, retail therapy etc – whatever, time has to be set aside for the means to cope. Well, probably we have different mechanisms to cope then. Some people just throw their heart and soul harder into what’s causing the distress rather then taking a step back to consider drowning themselves elsewhere for a regenerative and restorative process.

In a nutshell, wasn’t feeling too good because I’m sick and because of the above – kanna reminded of my inability to comprehend how absolutely busy some people can get and how they actually do mean it. But Peiyun from my DHS 2I class called and somehow everything was made well again. Now a Citibank associate (where are all the people earning dough the decent way???), she’s another busy girl but because we meet infrequently, it matters less. But we are immensely fond of each other.

Me: What? Why suddenly call? You evil thing! Said you’ll call me in November, see now is when?

She: Oi, you always busy okay.

Me: Rubbish!

She: I just got off work and it’s my earliest time yet (it was close to 8pm)

Me: Wah lau, I hope you are raking in big bucks

She: I saw two girls in VJC unforms just now…

Me: *interrupting with glee* excuse me, I was from Temasek Junior College okay.

She: *giggles* I know lah. But you see, I started having flashbacks of school and of course when I reached Dunman High, I thought of you!!!

So we are meeting next week. I guess moral of the story is: Que sera sera. Perhaps someday, when someone slows down, I will be thought of. Could be six months, could be years after. But meanwhile, let me lead Life the way I enjoy and never pause to wait for anything and anyone less than worthy.

Ending on yet another bright note, Kaile and I are going to the 黄舒骏 concert!!! I was so afraid no one would accompany me ‘cos he has quite a niche following. But Kaile yes-ed me most enthusiastically and I will be eternally grateful for his companionship. I missed his concert last year (bloody sell out) so it’s one determined lady here who must secure the tickets!!!

(HOW CAN ANYONE BE SO BUSY!? IS THIS CALLED DRIVE? FOCUS? AMBITION? LEADING TO SUCCESS?)

Why Not

I’m on sick leave. Have been completely floored by a particularly virulent strain that causes feverish aches in bones, nose to run determinedly and random loss of voice.

The personal calamity did not stop me from attending an informal dialogue session last night chaired by the SRT meant to suss out our views on local theatre productions and groups. In a cosy setting with an intimate (and un-intimidating) number of eight (even though nothing would affect my frank assessment of the entertainment scene), we made new friends and exchanged thoughts. I have to admit unabashedly that this mini forum would have been pretty dull without me. I was an even more exciting participant than Minxiu (whom I had expected to be more verbose, but he was subdued and restrained). Perhaps all the germs and medication have made me tipsy.

We, that is, Minxiu and I, walked away triumphantly with two bottles of wine and four complimentary passes to any SRT production. Yay!

It’s so difficult to get company for theatre. Minxiu is often first choice, followed by Best Friend and maybe Beautante. Mr Dimples - if only I need an escort – for I don’t think he’s the avid theatre-goer yet, more like he’s going to 陪我 . And that’s the last thing what I want!! It will be great to discuss and analyse in an intellectual, geeky manner and go on endlessly, ecstatically, esoterically about themes, layers and intensity. Ha. Ha. Ha. Mr Dimples is more company for musicals and the big ticket items that other friends baulked at paying for. Sigh. I need new friends.

A thing that has been bugging me ever since 2000: why is Chinese theatre languishing?

I find myself still asking this question 6 years later. It’s definitely not cyclical, in the sense of it having its ups and downs. Chinese theatre 没落了！！！每况愈下，一蹶不振！！！

I don’t understand, I really don’t. My friends and I come from a predominantly Chinese theatre background. Through exchanges with other schools and watching school productions (we started going for the then named HCJC’s 黄城夜韵 in formative years. And even attended the lesser known RJC Chinese drama productions enthusiastically), I can swear that there was a talented pool of youngsters who are very into Chinese theatre and made it seem so prominently promising and enticing (it is always attractive and aphrodisiac to work with talented and attractive people – irresistible). English drama, on the other hand, was always blah and I don’t recall attending any English school productions at all.

So it just doesn’t make sense how come all the promise and potential just vaporised when we left school, and no one I know personally still engages in Chinese and is a Chinese theatre practioner. How come English theatre flourishes when no one was paying attention to it? What happened to the glorious school days when Chinese theatre was the It thing?

Being the Chinese Chinese, I’m quite traumatised by this theatrical state of affairs. I’m still trying to find the reasons to account for why Chinese theatre groups are struggling so hard.

I’m doing my bit. I try to attend as many Chinese local productions I can when I do find company and the themes appeal to me. (I have a particular soft spot for DramaBox but they are venturing into themes that I don’t care for. So too bad).

Why Chinese theatre? I think it is more human, more sentimental and less pretentious, less in-your-face. I like to see a play slowly unfolding to revel in its complexities. And I find Chinese speak ever so much more lyrical and poetic.

Please look for me when you want to watch Chinese theatre. Please reconsider your decision the next time I ask you and your instinctive reaction is the no on the tip of your tongue. Bite it, darling. Why not.

Someday We'll Know

She: We must refrain from chatting in your car when parked under my block. We could well be the next couple found dead in the car and make it to the national headlines. See Sunday Times today.

He: Don’t worry. I have not done any modifications to my bumper to block my car exhaust pipes. My two-year-old car shouldn’t have any holes in the undercarriage yet.

*

Ninety miles outside Chicago
Can’t stop driving
I don’t know why
So many questions
I need an answer
Two years later you're still on my mind

Whatever happened to Amelia Earheart?
Who holds the stars up in the sky?
Is true love just once in a lifetime?
Did the captain of the Titanic cry?

Someday we’ll know
If love can move a mountain
Someday we’ll know
Why the sky is blue
Someday we’ll know
Why I wasn’t meant for you

Does anybody know the way to Atlantis?
Or what the wind says when she cries?
I’m speeding by the place that I met you
For the ninety-seventh time...Tonight

Someday we’ll know
If love can move a mountain
Someday we’ll know
Why the sky is blue
Someday we’ll know
Why I wasn’t meant for you...

Someday we’ll know
Why Samson loved Dalilah
One day I'll go
Dancing on the moon
Someday you’ll know
That I was the one for you....

Open up the world
I bought a ticket to the end of the rainbow
Watched the stars crash in the sea
If I can ask God just one question
Why aren’t you here with me tonight?

见习爱神

我想问见习爱神如何养成
我爱的他要怎样才不会再慢吞吞
我想问见习的爱人如何胜任
爱情的课程怎样得分
这学问是否我没天份

In response to Meihui’s comment on my previous post, I did two things.

1. Avoid Mr Dimples half-heartedly. Upon learning I was free from work-related concerns today, thereby earning an extra four hours of me time, instead of getting Mr Dimples out, I tried to cajole two other persons to be with me. Mission was declared an utter failure. To be fair, I resorted to sms-ing Mr Dimples eventually and was expectantly expecting a “sorry, I can’t.” I got more than I deserved. I received silence. Well. It’s okay. I can be on my own. I’m a worldly independent woman. There’s no amount of loneliness that shopping can’t cure.

An hour later, Mr Dimples called.

He: Sorry, I only just read your sms. Where are you going?

Me: I’m going to Orchard.

He: I want to go to Orchard too! Where are you now?

Me: Er…on my way to Orchard? Actually I’m just a stop away.

He: Oh.

Me: Hey, I went out on my own. Can’t expect me to wait for you right.

He. Wait for me!!!

Moral of the story: Do not think too much. Do not read too much.

*

2. Traumatise Mr Dimples. After finding myself ending up with Mr Dimples for yet another afternoon, I decided to scare him with my decidedly preposterous thought buy. I had come into a bit of money lately from doing some stuff and was thinking of buying a branded wallet either from Burberry or Coach. That would pretty much used up every bit of what I have got and I probably have to top up some extra $100 odd. I think this business of traumatizing him was slightly more successful. But success was limited ‘cos I didn’t actually make the buy. Just talked about it. He did support the decision to buy an ipod instead. I looked at him with a straight and solemn face. Perhaps a Bvlgari watch. I’m not sure if he got it. But he said a watch is a better buy. Oh well. He was at least alarmed, I hope.

Moral of the story: I should stop these silly little tests. They suggest I think too much and read too much. Why am I driving at by scaring him?

We also browsed through Birkenstocks and golf equipment.

*

Today was also a day during which I met YJ and his wife-to-be as well as YQ, Eric and Ryan for dinner for YJ to hand out the invites personally. I also thank YJ here for keeping my online identity separated from the me in person, managing to make only one sly snide reference that no one but me understood.

The couple left us and we continued to convulse with laughter at the Mind Café along Boat Quay. Played really ridiculous games that left us in stitches.

*

Which is scarier? To end up with a perfect stranger who has no nexus with my past and history and we have to find a future together, or to end up with someone whom I already know and who shares the same life story and swims in the same pool of friends?

我想问见习爱神如何养成
除了要美得过分靠不靠可爱眼神
我想问见习的爱人如何胜任
甜美的我们怎样得分
教我们不再做冷板凳

Oops! I Think I Did It Again

Just lunched with the lovely Miss Vignette (yes, I’m not working today) and updated each other on our lives in Billy Bombers, Tampines Mall. Short digression: Ms Vignette and I ordered the famous cod fish dish and were served dory fish instead. We were chewing thoughtfully when Ms Vignette voiced somewhat hesitantly that the fish tasted different. I had the same sinking feeling and I remarked casually, let’s return the dishes. It’s our rightful right. I think we were served a different fish from what the menu claimed. Ms Vignette looked slightly horrified by the suggestion.

I refuse to pay so much for three pieces of dory fish (a principle indoctrinated by Mr Veins). Somemore the menu said cod fish what. How can anyhow replace with dory without warning, especially when it is a signature dish. This is blatant misrepresentation. I will return the dishes! Insisted Miss I-Will-Not-Be-Shortcharged ie me most dramatically the more I chewed on my fishy meat.

Emboldened by her daring friend, Miss Vignette nodded her head vigorously. And we had our dishes duly replaced by others and continued with our meals happily.

If it were Ruth, I shared sorrowfully with Miss Vignette, our mutual friend, she would have been appalled by my action (sit down, sit down, no need to stand up for your rights, 随便 lah, it’s still fish) and I would be irritated by her elastic ability to compromise at the expense of oneself (and making me look evil in the process - despite my 这是原则问题), and we would have carried on eating in complete silence until one of us, depending who feels less wronged and therefore more guilty, tries to kickstart a conversation again lamely and half-heartedly. It has happened at least once like that before with more insignificant incidents occurring in likewise manner. Sigh. But I forgive my Best Friend.

Oh dear. Short digression quite long hor. Okay back to what I had intended.

*

So Miss Vignette admitted to being finally officially attached, to the same guy she has last told me about. How about you? She asked.

Hmmm. Well, you know that Mr Veins has been banished to 冷宫 mah. The other person that I go out with more, we are still going out, but that’s just it. We went out the day before too.

Has he said anything or hint hint so far?
(this is a question that has neither head nor tail but in the context of things, we all comprehend the meaning)

*pause pause*

But now that you probed, I do recall him saying when we were driving yesterday that he meets only some friends frequently. And frequently for him is once a month. And he said, looking at me, instead of the road, that so, we meet very frequently.

Oops, I cupped my mouth in recollection. Wisdom on hindsight is wisdom acquired too late. Was that supposed to be a wild line testing my reaction? I groaned in front of an amused Ms Vignette. If that is so, I just absolutely killed him with my response.

You know what I said? Boy, you wouldn’t believe this. I told him it’s very relative to the person, this concept of frequency of hanging out. I used to go out with another person (not Mr Veins, but his senior from law school) on a totally platonic level on a weekly basis. When I protested saying he jio-ed me out too often, he said it was only once a week. But I don’t even see my Best Friend so regularly, exclaimed I indignantly. And I probably broke Mr Dimples’ heart had he so intended, when I followed up with the ultimate line-killer: I went out with him because I didn’t know how to say no.

Miss Vignette shook her head and wagged her finger – you little terror.

Oops I think I did it again. I’m miraculously good at screwing up potential situations like these. I love to implode them before they explode in my face.

Revealed Ms Vignette, I took the initiative to hold my boyfriend’s hand okay. Can you please be more upfront and honest?

I brandished my fork violently in mid-air: You can stab me with a knife first!!!

*

Can I talk and write about Mr Dimples without feeling pressured that he is someone special? May I? Can my friends stop putting funny ideas in my head? Can I stop speculating so myself as well. It’s only fun now and then. Eventually, it becomes stressful.

As I was writing this, I was also on msn with Hwee:

Huixin says: So do you wonder what he is thinking

Kitiara says: I used to wonder more about Mr Veins. With this person, I don't really wonder or have a pressing need to know (is that good?). But I do find him attractive. And I feel good when I’m with him. Happy.

Not So Long Ago

Now that I have figured out how to upload the photos taken with my beloved FujiFilm FinePix F11 into my PC, I can be daring and expose everyone's identities, as if they weren't obvious enough to begin with. This is Meihui and I, at her housewarming cum Chinese New Year's gathering. Meihui is a rich PhD student in NUS under the A*Star scheme. Currently dating BJ who's on exchange at Harvard, for which I'm greatly grateful. How else can I get a Harvard tee??

This is the mini DHS reunion. The guys from left: fellow struggling scholar Minxiu, prosperous UK banker Zhaotan, army scholar Jingcai, engineered engineer Qingwei who purportedly has very manly veins but I somehow always manage to miss and neglect. The girls: Angsty Angeline, Amazing Minchao who is both a financial advisor and fitness trainer now (!!!), the Amorous Meihui. Incidentally we all hailed from the same primary school! My second primary school, that is - Gongshang.

Boring AEROSPACE

The girl doesn't get it and doesn't care.

Fans, generators, whatever you like. Take them!!

This is a nice shot. Anything beyond that is beyond me.

Miniature helicopters.

For my useless info only.

The phallic and penile. Thicker wouldn't hurt.

Ooh, a tank! Yawn. Give me words any day!! Sign, my literary background will be the death of me eventually. There must be some use in the interest of such un-literary subjects!!

Looking bleary-eyed at home after that.

i, Again

He: Hi, I’m running very late. I think I will be late by 15 min. Wait for me. Reason: Completing work.

Me: Poor you! See you late-r.

*

Mr Dimples, as always, has impeccable British manners.

I spied the familiar white Chevrolet turning into the lane and hopped inside. My friend was charmingly dapper in the new shirt we bought together the last time. It would be a happy day.

We drove to the stadium and found ourselves in the Disney bubble.

Lunch was at a Hakka place tucked away somewhere after Kallang.

Did our rounds at the lovely Marina, walked into furniture shops, agreed that our current homes were purely functional and that it would be great to have a new empty place to inscribe our desires, said no to a guy who wanted to promote wedding packages to us, thought seriously about getting croc flip-flops (he started the thought and I was infected through osmosis, by simply being in the shop with him) and we decided to hold out in the end.

I hate to learn he has received his platinum Citibank card when I have not, and we had applied together so.

*

I have sold out. My legs are now baby smooth and amazingly hairless - unnerving and ironically liberating, referring to this new state, rather than the process and experience to get to there. I’m almost buying into the notion that being less self-conscious is a good mode to be in.

*

I need to believe I’m living better, doing better, and getting better as a person. Sometimes, I find I’m too cynical for my own good. This is where Disney and Mr Dimples come to the rescue. Both are very safe and very sane, and make me secure with the knowing that there are still things in life that I can easily have, that I can be happy and enjoying some kind of normalcy.

你还记得吗 记忆的炎夏 我终于没选择的分岔 最后又有谁到达

The Wedding

I think it is so cool YJ is getting married.

YQ (the groom’s man-in-honour) said YJ had originally wanted something as minimalist as realistically and parentally possible, which I guess, meant YJ had to expand his guest list for the big day, no matter how “exclusive” it was supposed to be.

Made my day when he called this evening ‘cos I still get a kick out of attending weddings. Unlike others, I don’t dread them. However, I do abhor the secret fear most of my friends will never get hitched or settled down (illegally nevertheless) in the quaintly couple-ly fashion. Sure looks like that’s the way things would stay. But that’s okay. We have one another.

In any case, YQ has proven the SAP curse can be broken. Then again, he was never Chinese to begin with. Ha!

What I do want to know, YJ, apart from the kind of wedding gift you would like, is whether you do read my blog on a regular basis.

Now back to my hibernation. I have saved a draft entry as to be continued but am currently too languorous to persist in fluttering on the keyboard.