Morning Radio Is Not The Best of Mood Picker-Uppers

So here I am, a year older, not necessarily much the wiser but then again, what's new, eh?

Time sure flies when you're not on the blogosphere. Not that it doesn't when you're on it either. How I do digress. Anyway, back to the mundane...

Driving to work today, I had the radio on and they were taking calls about relationship issues with an expert from Monash University on hand to dish out advise. A woman comes on saying that she's been married for 3 years and that they've just had a baby. Then she goes on to say that the marriage/relationship is not the same after baby...there's still romance but things are just not the same, etc...but it's just not the same...etc. it's not the same anymore.

Hmmm...

It just sounded like a whole load of whining to me.

Come on, woman! Listen to yourself and grow up already! You've just added another person to your family, of course things are not the same! And you shouldn't expect them to be. It's just not about you or your partner anymore. You have a different priority in life. Of course things are not the same! Even if you haven't had a baby, relationships change, marriages evolve. Of course things are not going to be the same. What tempurung have you been living under?

Anyway, I couldn't stand how the woman was whining so I switched stations even before the expert could come on air. Someone should come up  with a station where there's minimal talking and mostly (good) music. I'd happily tune in.

Sometimes I seriously, seriously wonder what people have in their minds when they wander incoherently, eyes closed into marriage. Or relationships, for that matter.

Nothing remains the same; relationships and people evolve, things change. That is the only normalcy and constant in life.

As to being in a relationship and finding a life partner, like I recently advised a friend: we already strive so hard in life to find happiness - at work, personally, emotionally, spiritually - that we don't need to rush into a relationship or marriage just because we are lonely or that we want to be accepted by society. Being involved with another person should only be an option when that person ADDS to your happiness, not take away from it.

Seriously, what's the point when you're in a relationship and miserable when you can be single and happy? I'd take the latter any day.

It's a no-brainer; if people would realize this rather than fight it or try to live up to society's (friends, family, etc.) expectations, there'd be less miserable couples, divorces and screwed-up marriages.

Breather

Taking a short break. Trying to figure out what to do with all the pies I have my fingers stuck in. Or maybe not. Hence, the breather.

In the meantime, hugs and kisses, good health to all.

A Ride In The Clouds

On our way back to Singapore from Subang, the ATR 500 turboprop aircraft sailed over a pocket of air and we felt a little pull of gravity like we'd just gone over a speed bump.

Small fry giggles and says, "Ooh, Mummy. That tickles!"

We hit another air pocket and my stomach drops again. 

Laughter from the small fry, "Another tickle!". Giggles.

Small fry's take on flight turbulence makes us adults look boringly prosaic by comparison.

It's Over!

YESSSSSSSS!!!!

I am ecstatic that Spain has won the World Cup. I've always admired their style and precision and they are deserving of the title and trophy. Especially after the way they were harassed and harangued by the Dutch. Urgh, if the Dutch have to resort to physical tactics and fouls to trip up a worthier opponent, it shows just how good bad they are at the game. The germans at least had more class and sportsmanship than to resort to such tactics. It was an ugly game to watch.

And what a beautiful goal, right at the end by Iniesta. I love watching the Spaniards play, even though they didn't get to 'play' much against the Dutch aggression yesterday.

No matter, they won.

Viva Espana!

P.S. Small fry was a vocal couch spectator in both the Spain-Germany game and the final between Spain & Netherlands.

Trade 1: Conservation 0

At the risk of sounding pessimistic, I'm going to say it: we're going to run the Earth to the ground. I'm not entirely sure that there will be many animal species left by the time the small fry gets to my age, not any that she won't know of that's not in a zoo, conservation park or an aquarium, anyway.

I'm not sure how political a platform is the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species is, but it sounds as if trade really is trumping conservation these days.

Actually, trade is probably trumping EVERYTHING these days.

So, no protection for the Atlantic bluefin tuna (thanks to voracious appetites for sushi and sashimi), the porbeagle shark lost its protection along with six other sharks, which failed to get protection.

Just why do we need to eat shark's fin? The bloody thing doesn't even have a specific taste, just a texture.

Men and their virility complex are the culprits in trade of exotic animal parts: tiger, bear, what not. No, you're not gonna get it up just by consuming the penis of this or that. You have your own, just figure out how to bloody use it! It's not enough that there are enough phallic symbols in our daily lives; our wildlife has been and still is paying for man's vanity and greed.

One day we'll discover we went too far. By then, it will be too late.

Good luck to us. No, good luck to our future generations.

A While In The Dry

It's been silent here for a while. As usual, I've been chasing deadlines, trying to find inspiration and getting caught up in the everyday.

In reflection, let me take you to Steve McCurry.

What A Wonderful World

A lot of things are seriously wrong in our country today.

LOADS.

Hello, 2010!

The plan was to watch the fireworks from hubby's office last night, complete with small fry in tow. Jona's back in the Philippines on break and neither set of parents are quite dispensed to come down to mind the small fry.

That was the plan, anyway.

Small fry had much to adjust to from traveling to and back from Brisbane that it seemed too much to ask of her to schlep along with us to catch an annual fireworks display. I was ok with staying at home, heck, was even dressed for an evening home, even though I'd already preset the settings for the camera for the night.

Final word from hubby sealed it though. We'd brought out the stroller and were prepping it to transfer a sleeping small fry into it when he turned around and thought better of the idea. I just shrugged and went back to my book.

My enthusiasm for the new year was that abundant. Yay. In truth, it's just another year and another 365 days to call a new year.

But the brown cows had a blast. They got a major grooming session while we were catching the fireworks on TV. At least some members of the family were receiving some pretty much needed TLC.

Welcome, 2010.

Artist Or Rapist?

If you don't already know, Roman Polanski was arrested by the Swiss auhorities recently. The crime? The film director drugged and anally raped a 13-year old girl in 1977. The original charge of rape was reduced to sex with a minor. The director then fled the US to avoid sentencing. He has lived abroad in Europe till his arrest recently. The director's 'friends', among the likes of whom are Salman Rushdie, Woody Allen, Milan Kundera, and Isabelle Adjani, are rallying beside him.

Wait a minute. What is the matter with these people? Talents aside, what happened to their decent moral values. Oh hang on. They're stars. They DON'T HAVE moral values. According to Whoopi Goldberg, it wasn't 'Rape-rape'. So Whoopi, what exactly constitutes rape-rape?

A rape is a rape is a rape. The bottom line is, the man committed a heinous, despicable, indefensible act. Enforced upon a young child. Imagine that child to be your daughter/sister/cousin/niece/friend/neighbour or just someone you know. I have a daughter. I cannot imagine her being violated in even the most benign way; the thought of it just sickens me.

For those who feel that Polanski has learned his lesson and suffered enough, take a look at an excerpt of an interview he did with novelist Martin Amis in 1979:

“If I had killed somebody, it wouldn’t have had so much appeal to the press, you see? But… f—ing, you see, and the young girls. Judges want to f— young girls. Juries want to f— young girls. Everyone wants to f— young girls!”

Now people, is that the mind of someone who is sorry for what he's done? Or do you even think that was the first or last young girl that he violated or raped?

Rapists deserve to be judged, treated and sentenced for the crime they have committed. A fugitive child rapist - because essentially that is what this supposed brilliant director is - deserves no less. Just because you make films that people adore doesn't give you a ticket out. It doesn't give you a different set of rules to operate by.

I hope they get him, and that they get him real good.

Tremors

So while the rest of the country were reeling from the tremor from an earthquake off Padang that shook buildings at around 6.15pm, I was at the Mac, groggy from a nap, wondering if my slight swaying left and right was because of my heartbeat pumping up a storm through my head. You know when it's really quiet and all you can hear is your heartbeat pounding in your head and it makes you feel like you're moving to its beat?

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Jona notices that the water in the bowls are quivering and the bunch of bananas hanging off the cupboard is swaying. She doesn't think to ask until several minutes later.

And then I look at her and go, "Oh, so it wasn't me feeling blur and groggy?"

"No! The water was moving and the bananas were swinging!"

Oh.

Languishing In A Sweat Bath

"Why am I doing this?"

The thought crossed my mind more than a few times as I got into the nth pose during my Hot Yoga session this morning. I feel like a piece of limp dough that's been stretched out and left in the sun too long, and I'm melting into oblivion.

The pose itself I could execute. It was the 38 degree room that felt stifling and made holding the pose all the more difficult. I had to drag my mind away from the thought of the heat. It boiled down to just me, my mat and my sweat.

Sometime later, T-shirt drenched and yoga pants pretty much soaked through, I figure it's almost the end of the class because I hear the click of a knob and the drone of the heater softens. All right, I can do this; I'm almost there.

90 excruciating minutes later, while we're in the relaxed pose (the names of poses elude me), lying down on the mat with eyes closed, I pick up the sound of the instructor opening the windows, letting in a burst of cool air and turning on the air-conditioning.

Finally.

I slow down my breathing some more. Relax. And try to relish having sweat more in 90 minutes than I have in a week.

A warm shower later, clean hair, skin and clothes, and I feel rejuvenated. More than I have in yonks. I look in the mirror and my cheeks are actually flushed.

Then the hairdryer decides it doesn't want to work for me. It's humiliating because there's someone else using the other one just fine. So I wait and walk back into the dressing room when the other person's done. No luck. Even that hairdryer decides I'm beneath it to work.

The receptionist has to get in there and make sure I'm not pulling her leg. Sure enough, one of them is a dud.

I end up signing up for a 20+5 class programme.

When I see Rizal for lunch, he says I sound and look happier. Huh. And then says why didn't I sign up for a 100 classes or more? Huh.

We'll see if I survive the 25 first.

The Island's Strays

Singapore has a healthy population of stray cats. When I say healthy, I mean that most of these strays have been neutered.

I haven't come across that many street cats in my forays out into the city. Maybe I haven't been walking the alleys enough. They generally hang in and around markets, food courts and the general HDB areas.

Sometimes, when I'm lucky like today, I come across more than one street feline. On my way to the library I spotted a tri-coloured kitty and couldn't resist calling out to her and giving her a rub. Surprisingly, she was very friendly. And then I noticed that her ear was clipped, a universal sign that she'd been neutered. Her friendliness also went to show that she's comfortable among humans, meaning some kind souls have probably been feeding her. Then I found that she wouldn't let me walk off on my own. She took to following me when I started to head off. Finally not able to keep up with me when I crossed the road, she sat down and meowled quite woefully. Smart cat, trying to appeal to my soft spot.

I studiously walked around her on my way back. By then she was still looking in the general direction of where I'd gone but was distracted by a car tire.

On my way towards Shop N Save, I passed by another stray cat, this one a tuxedo beauty, who also had her ear clipped. She was observing human traffic perched atop a stack of plastic chairs. She wasn't too happy that I decided to stop by and pat her head.

Both cats appeared healthy and well-taken care of, even though, with the tip of one ear snipped off, they are clearly strays. Singapore's catch-and-release programme seems to be working much more effectively than KL's.

As usual.

Lounging

A two-year old knows more about relaxing and enjoying life than all the adults put together. Aaaaah, if only we always remember what really matters in life; maybe we'd experience life like a toddler or a child more often.

Rest In Peace

Too many gone. Too soon.

A Leetle Bit Busy

So, we're a teensy weensy bit busy these days, due to my impending deadline and my compulsion towards procrastination.

Add to that I've been trying to wring out some time to:

1. tinker on the Macbook Pro
2. reread Harry Potter #7
3. do my other work other than the writing
4. spend time with Sophia
5. practice with my D80 and the new 50mm lens
6. sleep

When you break it down, there really is not very much time in a day to do everything that you want to do. Well, due more to my skill at leaving things till the last minute than anything else.

Sophia's birthday scar is healing quite nicely, after a couple of days of peeling (too much time spent in the tub; she's now relegated to quick showers only). It's pretty unsightly - dark purple and bumpy and lumpy - but it's dry and not spewing pus, so my fingers and toes are crossed that it'll be healed enough by next weekend that she'll be able to head into the pool again.

Other than that, she's been a real saint about the unsightly mark on her face. She doesn't touch it unnecessarily unless she wants me to kiss it. I have my rose hip oil and aloe vera handy in case it's gonna get itchy the more it heals.

Enough for now then, I'd better get back to my deadlines....

Weird Encounters In The Service Industry

There are some weird goings-on in the food industry. On Tuesday I sat next to a lady with a weird request along with her order. Today, Sophia and I witnessed an interesting incident at California Pizza Kitchen at The Forum on Orchard.

I'm still not sure if the incident was borne of a possible miscommunication or misunderstanding, or if it was just a stupid policy of the restaurant.

A group of three office people came in for lunch. From their accent and conversations in Cantonese, I surmised that they were probably Hongkies. Anyway, the man in the group started raising his voice after the waitress got to their table and I was able to make out something along the lines of them wanting to split the bill three-ways and the waitress telling them that was not possible. At which, the man called loudly to see the manager.

Instead of getting the manager, the waitress got the cashier. And while the customer was grilling the cashier, the manager showed up. I couldn't really make out what they were discussing, just the fact that the customer was quite upset.

In the end, customer and manager somehow came to a cort of compromise and the group was allowed to split the bill individually. The weird thing was how that was managed. I saw the group of three break up and two of them individually sat at another table each. And the man who had complained said something to the effect of, 'Serve them right for such a stupid policy. I don't care if we have to split up into three different tables just to get our bill separated. It's absurd and there was no issue the last time I was here but if they want to make it an issue and do it this way, then we'll just do it their way."

So that was how the group of three at one table split up into three groups of one, each at a different table, just so that they could get separate bills on their lunch.

How about that for service?

While I Was Eating Today

Lunch was a somewhat 'quirky' affair today.

I had a passable beef kuay teow soup, replete with beefballs and beef slices. I would have probably enjoyed it more except for the fact that not two feet away, at the table on my left, a Buddhist nun had vegetarian fried meehoon. As I was finishing up on my meal, a lady sat down at the table on my right and ordered her lunch.

"Can you tell the chef not to use oil in my laksa? I don't want oil, if possible. I don't want oil floating at the top of my laksa," she told the waitress.

I bit back a rude retort and stifled a smirk. Er, laksa with no oil?

What part of laksa does she not understand? You can't have laksa with no oil!

As my husband would say, "Damn stupid Singaporeans!"

Something's Gotta Give

It's crunch time. I've got to prioritise.

In deciding to pursue the photography bit more seriously and spend more time doing work (biz dev as well as take on more writing jobs), my hours spent reading has got to go. The decision's not a hard one to make; the books will always be there. They're not gonna grow legs and run away. It's just a matter of how much I want to read and when.

Besides, I'd like to spend as much time with the little monster as possible while she's awake. And while she still wants me around.

So my books are gonna have to take a backseat for now. Oh well....

Tweet Tweet

OK, I admit. I'm somewhat addicted to Twitter.

I like that what I write gets limited to 140 characters. I like receiving news streams, heck, I'm finding out so much more about what's happening in the world through short and varied headlines than I ever could with shitty local newspapers. Plus, I don't have to pay to get the news tweeted and I don't need to worry about storage and recycling when I'm done.

Did I mention that I really, really like the 140 character cap on whatever I write?

Me No Eat Dog

Earlier in the month, I'd sent an email to Lauren Myracle after I'd read Bliss. One of her characters, Sandy, had said that in Malaysia, we eat dogs. So I wrote to her to tell her I wouldn't eat my pet dog, even though I suspected that she'd written that line in to illustrate just how crazy her character is. Just thought I'd be a little vocal and seek confirmation. Here's what she replied:


Oh, you sweetie, I was *absolutely* trying to make the point that Sandy is...well...a bit crazy! (And if you've finished the novel, you know that she's actually A LOT crazy...)

I am soooooo sorry if you were the slightest bit offended. Authors most definitely DON'T agree with everything their characters say/believe.

I'm glad you liked the book, though! (And sounds like you already suspect on your own that Sandy spoke for herself and not for me, so that's good.)

Cheers,
Lauren


Not bad, eh? Pretty cool, in fact. Me writing and her replying.

My first correspondence with an author. Wow!