moody meanderings

And just done watching The Fellowship of the Rings. What to do next? Watch the clock tick into the new year? Or perhaps blog across two years? And send text messages across the globe to dear friends and family wishing them their very best wishes come true and more.

I've just dragged out my duvet into the living room this evening and piled pillows and cushions, propped against the sofa seat for a very comfortable and warm theatre. Made myself some pork rib tea soup (bak kut teh) for dinner and watched the documentaries on the making of The Rings before getting into the movie proper. Huddled among the covers of my duvet and shawl, I was heedless to the passing of time except that of Middle Earth. But the movie ended just before midnight and so I face the quietness of the night with only the strains of Lothlorien for company as the year creeps by. The music has ended and now I hear that the neighbourhood does not sleep. No revellers in this quiet family neighbourhood by the harbour but there are noises of people bent on staying awake to usher in the new year even twenty minutes after midnight.

Having a midnight snack now of very leftover cheese which I've just noticed has become home to stuff that grow. No worries. Nothing a glass of good leftover wine can't fix. And of course there's still the very leftover chocolates that I shan't scrutinise now. I probably should throw out all these leftovers as a symbolic gesture but I'm not one to be superstitious.

I wish you all a wonderful year ahead and may the things you wish the most be the least you get this new year!

Time to crawl back under the covers now. The chill air is setting in and the next screening awaits. Next up: The Fiddler on the Roof.

I once had a huge crush on a boy for the longest time. Being really shy and reserved, I never acted on the crush so that it went unexpressed for years. About fifteen years later, we met again and I took courage to admit to the crush by way of explaining my silly blabber that sometimes comes out of my mouth when face to face with the object of my crush. The admission proved to be an invitation for him to poke fun and ridicule my affection. That's how it felt at the time though perhaps I was overly sensitive on my part as well. The more he flirted with me, the more of an idiot I felt. In fact, I felt completely unattractive with him. After years and years fantasizing about the fireworks that would go off when we would one day kiss, the experience fell flat on its nose. I perceived the kiss as a mockery of my affections or perhaps an act of sympathy. I could not trust its sincerity since it came about only as a direct result of my profession of affections. That combined with my feeling unattractive left no room for those imagined fireworks.

I try to remember the things to be grateful for because it is a season of thanksgiving. But all the "buts" keep getting in the way.
I'm grateful for family. BUT why does apathy have a hold on my family? Why are they so indifferent to spending time together? I travel to each household so that I can spend time with my mom, siblings and their children. Why don't they call to make plans with me knowing I'm in town for only a few days? I host a bbq so that I can meet some friends. Why don't they call to make plans with me? Of course, I realise that I'm generalising and being very "poor me" about it all but that's just where I'm at. With family, it was apathy. With T, it was because his girlfriend wouldn't let him. With my best friend, well...yesterday after church, she let me know she'd got her mother to babysit her son today so we could watch a movie together or do something else. A very nice thought if not a little too late as I was on a flight back early this morning. Little things to be grateful for with huge BUTs!

Last day in Singapore. Been restless to leave all week but now, I'm feeling equally unsettled about going back. This festive season can wreak such havoc on the emotions. Last night, while lying in bed at my mom's waiting for sleep to come, a profound sense of sadness overwhelmed me. Couldn't quite pin it down. Kept me awake for a while. The melancholy has lifted somewhat but the uneasiness remains.

I have pics of my bbq up, thanks to Al.

moments lost...
Been neglecting my camera. Today, I saw the most spectacular sunset ever. The sky was a deep dark blue and right on the horizon, a startling contrast of ruddy orange. No fading or blending of colours. Just a sudden change of hue. It stayed that way for at least ten minutes, deepening in hue, tempting and teasing me for not bringing my camera along.

Check out Kevin's hip new look. Very bold. Very sexy. [Kevin, your women love it!]

If you have a head-licking fetish, you better get on that plane to Miami in a hurry! Women only...

Just back from a hastily put together bbq at my place. I only decided this morning that the bbq would happen afterall. After moping and feeling sorry for myself (as is obvious from my late night post), I decided that I would make my last attempt at meeting family and friends before the new year begins. I only left for the supermarket at noon and picked the meats and seafood up in a hurry. And then it was a mad scramble to clean the food and marinate the meats. And of course, when you can't afford to forget something is when you do and this time, it was the meat marinade among other things. My sis picked them up on the way back from her visit to the doctor's.

At the flat, Sarah, a friend from the Asiaworks course I did two Decembers ago, came by early and decided that the flat needed a quick spring clean as our feet were quickly caked black from the neglected floor. She rolled up her jeans and while I put the groceries and bbq stuff away, went about mopping the flat. What an angel!

On our way to the bbq pit, we stopped by an apartment on the ground floor which had a tiny balcony garden with a sparse canopy of creepers. A woman in her sixties was tending the garden which looked like it had seen better days. We wished her a happy christmas and asked her for directions towards the playground where the bbq pit was. She welcomed the intrusion and began to make conversation. She wanted to know where I lived, what I studied at the university, would I give her my number so she could contact me when she made her next trip to HK. I gave it to her, not expecting that she would ever use it. She wanted to know when I graduated and did I know her son who studied medicine at the same university. It became clear her intentions was to find a suitable companion for her son whom she wanted to see married. The flat belonged to her thirty-four year old son who also owned another flat elsewhere. She was pushing her product very hard. And not satisfied with just my contact details, she asked for Sarah's as well. She was relentless. We were there twenty minutes before she finally let us go with directions to the playground. I'm lucky my mom doesn't do anything of the sort.

Now it is late and I'd like to post some more but it is way past my nephew's bedtime and he's waiting for me get to bed. Tonight is his turn to sleep with me.

There is something calming and therapeutic about soothing a crying baby in your arms. Baby Leo is fast asleep cradled in the nook of my elbow. His little mouth gaping with his tiny recessive chin pulled under his upper lip makes him look thoughtful in his slumber. He's grimacing now, pulling his lower lip in almost as if he reads my printed thoughts and understands they are about him. His rest is uneasy. Each time he falls asleep and is placed in his cot, he wakes almost immediately and sounds his protests at being left alone. So this time, the third time, I am keeping him in my arms long after he's asleep so he gets the rest every baby needs to grow strong and healthy because that is what the chinese believe.

I gaze into the tranquil face of this fragile being and my heart aches with a longing to hold one of my own flesh sprung of my own womb. Lately, I have noticed my aversion to bond with new children that are not my kin. I fear this yearning will increase and taint my interaction with them. Three months ago, I was asked if I could help out with Sunday school. My heart twisted at the question and the overwhelming sense of dread surprised me. I said I'd think about it but I didn't get back with a response until I was sure the need had been met. I have always loved children. For as long as I can remember, I would be drawn to babies and toddlers and learned to carry these little bundles when I was just five, starting with my neighbour's kid. And children are almost always drawn to me. I am dubbed the "kid magnet" by friends at church, most of whose children have been cradled to sleep or fed by my hand over the last ten years. But now, I am noticing an impatience to leave Singapore and all its children yet at the same time I am melancholy about missing out on little Leo and Sammy's development.

He wakes again but doesn't cry because he is cradled in human embrace even if a little too warm and humid for comfort for the both of us. I made a face and he stared attentively and then responded with a "coo". I babbled some words and he responded with a smile. I exaggerated my lip formation as I spoke and he seemed to be mimicking me. I stuck my tongue out and after a while, his tiny tongue wriggled in his mouth and then made a perfect mimicry of mine. Could it be? Or is that just wishful thinking at work? He is crying now. I cannot comfort him the way a mother's breast can, so I surrender him to his mother. It is time for his feed. And time for me to get back to my reading of Tolkien's The Silmarillion.

to all my dear friends, near and far, and friends I've come to know through cyberspace.

Christmas is my favourite time of year. It is a time when I remember how blessed I am to have faithful friends I can see at will, to have family to enjoy closeness with. To have more than enough to eat so that I eat more than I need. To have all the comforts that only peace time brings.

Keep on praying for forgiveness, my friends. Pray for peace.

That perfectly describes the past two days. Shopping for ten grown-ups and eleven children over two days has left my arms trembling from the exertion and feet calloused from the abuse. Call me old-fashioned but I like touching and feeling the stuff I buy which throws the online shopping argument out the window. This is the first year in a while that I've actually finished my gift-shopping before Christmas eve! Tomorrow, I slave in the kitchen to cook a meal for twelve adults and four kids.

I'm actually quite disappointed that no one in my family made any effort to plan the usual Christmas eve family dinner and gift exchange. Up until about twenty years ago, Christmas to me was about prettily wrapped up boxes under a decorated plastic tree standing just four feet high. After Christmas, the tree and decorations were taken down and put away together with the still-wrapped boxes to see another uneventful Christmas. When we were ten, no longer dazzled by the pretty lights on the tree and disillusioned by the same empty shoe-boxes under the tree, my brother and I decided to scrimp and save our frugal allowance so that we could have some real presents under the tree. Some three months before Christmas, we began setting aside a few cents each day, keeping close accounts on our saving and planning the gifts we would get our other four siblings and parents. We mutually agreed to forego presents ourselves so that there was more money for the gifts we would buy. Between us, we saved enough to make presents of pencil cases, rulers, and small decorative items. To make up for the physical size of the gifts, we wrapped them into elaborate shapes padded with wads of newspaper so that they wouldn't look too dismal under the tree. Two Christmases later, the rest of the family caught on and so began the gift-giving tradition in my family.

A few years later, when I learned to cook, I then instigated my siblings to pitch in to create a Christmas eve dinner. It was a simple menu but it was the joint effort of all of us siblings which made it so special, at least to me. Over the years, I became (and it was taken for granted that I was) the sole instigator and organiser of family activities. If I didn't plan it, it didn't happen. If someone had an idea, it would be brought to me for planning and execution. Since my departure from Singapore, none of my sisters' kids have had a birthday party. I didn't organise it. But I did initiate the Christmas plans early last year as I had just moved to HK and was looking forward to my first trip home. This year, with rehearsals and salsa taking up my evenings, I'd completely overlooked organising the menu until just a week before Christmas. So it was that just five days ago, when I called home to inform my family of my return schedule, I learned that no plans had been made for the dinner and gift exchange. Worse still, one of my siblings and family took the late notice as an excuse not to show up. I can't begin to describe how I felt then. Here I was making travel plans to spend Christmas with family while the family wasn't making plans to spend Christmas together! I simmered and stewed a few minutes, determined that this would be the last Christmas home. However, as my tickets were already booked, I resolved to take ownership and undertake by myself what was usually a joint family effort - cooking Christmas eve dinner. Today, I'm wondering how on earth I thought I would do all of it on my own. I might just have over-reached my abilities. We shall see. Thankfully, my brother-in-law assumed the usual task of cooking the turkey without missing a beat. And mom has offered to prepare dessert. And my eldest sis contributed an idea for the gift exchange: a lucky dip! We may have a family event yet.

surprise!
Since getting onto the french parent company network, I've not been able to activate my yahoo messenger. So it was a pleasant surprise when I logged on from my mom's place yesterday and found a new friend had added me to his/her contact list. Someone going by the handle "salsasia". Could it be him? My fingers were tingling for hours after, just fantasising that it is. Gawd! I feel like a teenager! That's one way to stay young...

Watched "The Two Towers" this morning with mom, eldest sis, niece and nephew. The movie lived up to my expectations as most sequels seldom do. But this isn't exactly a sequel, is it? The Ents were as I imagined. Very tree-like. Was wonderful to see my imagination was as close to those of the creators of the movie. Tolkien would have been proud, I'm sure.

After the movie, we got to baking cookies with the kids. My sis helped pick up the ingredients from the store based on a recipe stuck on the kitchen wall, assuming that was the recipe I would use. That paper was just something that came with the baking tin I bought some years ago. In a hurry to get it out of the way, I pasted the paper on the kitchen wall and just never remembered to dispose of it. It wasn't the butter cookie recipe I wanted to bake. It was more like a rock cookie recipe which couldn't be shaped for being too soft a dough. The kids were disappointed. I attempted to rescue it. But with little experience baking, it was doomed to fail. With each serving of flour I added to stiffen the dough, the harder and drier the cookie was likely to be. Well, we're just left to wait and see now. I've pretty much despaired of having any cookies half decent enough to give away for Christmas but my niece is determined to enjoy the disaster just the same. Not without a lot of grumbling and whinging, of course.

This just in: Abraham's attempt to shape a cookie bear resulted in a cookie zombie instead. The makings of Dr Frankenstein.

This disaster just reminds me of the flight coming in. Not that I was in an air disaster, obviously, or I'd have to be a ghost Blogger, but that it was pretty rough. Imagine a cabin full of screaming passengers and you wouldn't be far off the mark. Indeed, turbulence was especially horrific this time. Weather was stormy and it took longer climbing out of it than usual. Airpockets surrounded the plane causing it to rattle and shake violently and then, without warning, it took a fairly deep plunge. The woman next to me gasped audibly. Passengers in the rear of the plane where turbulence is especially amplified, screamed in panic. When we finally cleared the bad weather, I breathed again. didn't realise I was holding my breath through it all.

Stayed 'til the end of the party last night for the first time since my visits to Club Ing. Foolish.
Met another Kiwi bloke (they're crawling out of the woodwork!) who'd never danced in his life. His colleague, Gavin, charged me with the dubious privilege of teaching him to dance. Broke a toenail as a result.

Had two dances with R again. I'm a lot less nervous now than I was the first, second and third time we danced. I actually feel less clumsy now, too. Almost as impressive as some of the better and lighter dancers on the floor. Well, I can dream, can't I? To top it all, one of the other instructors left me with a compliment that went straight to my head, "You dance very well". Ok, ok, so he's man of few words. I think he's Jamaican or Nigerian, or some other very foreign land. Another chap I haven't seen in months remarked that my dance has improved a lot. If nothing else, the lessons with R are at least paying off where they should, intentions aside. Hah!

Is there such a thing as too much honesty? About three weeks ago, my church homegroup held their last meeting for the year. I hadn’t been to the meetings since they resumed after summer break. But even before the break, I was undecided about whether I wanted to continue with the group. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the group members or that the discussion topics were boring. In fact, the discussions were rather engaging and intellectual, often generating quite animated discussions of perspectives and concepts. And I liked the people well enough even if I didn’t feel I knew each of them with any level of intimacy. It was just that the interaction was much too cerebral for me and on the whole tended to be rather impersonal. What I was looking for in the group was a place where I could just be me, stripped of all my mask of confidence, security and strength. Me in my imperfections, flaws and darkness. To be vulnerable and yet not fear judgment nor isolation from the group. A place where I was loved inspite of my shortcomings.

That Friday, I visited Pastor Scott and shared with him my intentions to leave the group. He was very supportive of any decision I took as long as I was honest with myself. I decided to leave. Later that evening, while the group was making decisions about discussion topics to cover next year, each member was asked for their opinion on the topics and to offer any other feedback about the meetings in general. Ignoring the knot of anxiety in my stomach, I shared with the group my deliberations about leaving and the reasons that brought about the deliberations in the hopes of swaying them to my vision for the group. The reaction ranged from guilt at having “failed me” to indignation at the insinuation that they weren’t good enough for me. For the longest ten minutes of my life, all eyes were on me – some dismayed, some offended, some indifferent and one kindly. As I sank deeper into the sofa, I was grateful for the comfort of the cushion I held pressed against my chest while my heart sank and tears threatened. Had I been too honest? The group soon tired of the discussion and moved on. I had been dismissed. I realized that my decision was made now. Looking back, I wonder if I might have been better off just being agreeable and not reveal my struggles.

And more recently over dinner, in a conversation with R & C, R asked what I did with the poems I wrote. I published them on my website. Did I want him to know about my web page when it read like the childish ramblings of a smitten schoolgirl? Would he think less of me for the infatuation? Again, I chose honesty and naturally got them curious about my url which I refused to divulge. This only got them more curious and me flustered. Eventually, it occurred to me to edit the index page on my geocities page removing the link to my blog. Pleased with my ingenuity, I sent off the url to them this morning. On visiting my now boring home page, R couldn’t fathom what all the fuss and secrecy was all about. He must now think me a complete looney prone to disproportionate reactions. I can't decide which is worse: that the thinks I’m an over-reactive loon or a silly smitten airhead? Hopefully, he doesn’t find out I’m both!

So, is there such a thing as being too honest afterall? Is there room for “white lies” in a space of honesty?

So much to blog about but I'm so tired now. First night home in over a month! No rehearsal for me until the new year. The bed beckons. Was out until one in the morning having dinner and drinks with Ricci, my hot salsa instructor, and a fellow student, Clyde, after class. This was the second time I was having dinner with Ricci. He's so unassuming and generous. He's a great dancer but doesn't strut around with airs like some of the good dancers at Club Ing who won't dance with anyone not perceived to be in their "league"! And he never finishes the lesson on the hour just because the hour was up. And he paid for dinner again last night! He's such a hottie! But this hottie now knows I have a web page and may be curious enough to find me here! His search thus far only resulted in an article about a certain "mad sex-kitten" of a poet who writes "sex crazed" poetry and is an accomplished salsa dancer, singer and actress! How uncanny. What a compliment that he thought it might be me! Hah! Sex kitten indeed! [Remember Ricci, if you ever read this, you don't have to tell me!!!]

Had lunch today with a kiwi chap from the production. He has the hots for me but he's married to an absent wife! I enjoy the playful banter during rehearsals and goofing around to lighten the oftentimes tense atmosphere that the stupid french choreographer creates. But why is it the only men who are ever attracted to me (ones that I know of, that is) are either married, underaged or overaged? Last Saturday, the old taxi driver who drove me home after Clyde's party tried to pick me up, asking me for my phone number! Tell me it doesn't get any worse than that!

That's the brief update for a long break. I'll try to squeeze another post tomorrow.

I was invited by a very rich couple from our church to sing at a special Advent Thanksgiving dinner that they were hosting for nearly a hundred guests last Friday. What an honour. The guest list read like the who's-who of Hong Kong's most influential: the Secretary for defense, the Chairman of a local bank, among others, and the owner of Laura Ashley who flew in from Malaysia to deliver a moving testimonial. With a guest list like that, it was difficult not to be especially nervous. Thankfully, Pastor Scott, who was accompanying me on the guitar, whispered a prayer while we were being introduced on stage and my nerves were suddenly calmed. It is amazing to be touched by the Holy Spirit that way. I've never "performed" on stage before, much less to a hundred of some of the most important people I'd never have met in my lifetime if not for this unique opportunity.

The company is finally on the French parent company network and paranoia reigns. My every move on the internet is now monitored and logged. No personal activity may be conducted through the company network. This is my last post until the weekend -- which, of course, starts tomorrow. I've also lost my use of Yahoo messenger which means I'm cut off from my family and friends during the week. Not happy. The general sentiment at the office is: if the company is going to be so draconian in their management, then we'll stop working weekends and outside the official hours too. In fact, some have gone as far as to declare that they will now work according to the French thirty-five hour work week. Most of us usually work into the wee hours from home and even on weekends when there is an important project on hand. We've become accustomed to the American corporate culture which has a lot of flexibility in its management style. Folks willingly work late and long hours as long as they're not micro-managed. People always put forward their best when you affirm your trust in them. It's a matter of 'give and take'.

So it looks like my posts will become increasingly sporadic.

And speaking of french, my little french fancy finally turns twenty-eight next week. Yes, he was a mere man-child of twenty-seven when we met. His smile still melts my heart even as fancy fades.

[warning: this entire post has been monitored and logged]

lyrics: Jesus, the Light of the World
Because several people have stumbled upon my page while searching the lyrics for "Jesus, the Light of the World", I feel a moral responsibility to post the correct lyrics since the last time I posted the lyrics, it was from memory and some lines were inadvertently ommited.

Jesus, the Light of the World (Words by Lanny Wolfe)
Just one little flame in the darness,
just one little flicker of light,
just one small glimmer of brightness
dispelling the darkness of night.
But O what God did to the darkness
with just one flicker of light
O what God did with its brightness
when it touched just one other life.
Then two lights reached out with new brightness
and soon there were four and then more.
So quickly His light conquered darkness;
new lights flared up by the score.
No longer just one light in the darkness,
no longer one tiny flame.
Now the world's a-glow with His brightness
since the light of the world, Jesus, came.
Oh, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus the light of the world.
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus the light of the world (3x)

Couldn't resist trying out the love test I found via HL's page. The results are amusing, to say the least.

1. You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and
free.

2. In the process of courtship, the approach that would make you
feel irresistable is patience, never give up on you.

3. The impression you would like to give to your lover is optimistic.

4. What you hate most in your partner is that the person is
ruthless, cold-blooded, and/or ironic.

5. The kind of relationship you would like to build with your
partner is that both of you can talk about everything and
anything, no secret is kept.

6. You care about the society and morality, you won't do anything
wrong after marriage.

7. You always want to get married, but in fact, you don't even know
what it really is.

8. At this moment, you don't want to be tied down by a steady
relationship, you just want to flirt around. [I've completely missed my calling!]

A man was shot to death at a tea house down the street from where I work. This happened last Saturday. The assailant was apparently having his breakfast at the tea house where he knew his target regularly breakfasted. According to witness reports, after finishing his own breakfast, the gunman walked up to his victim, a businessman, and shot him in the head before walking calmly away from the scene of the crime. I wonder how he kept his food down after splattering a man's brains.

I guess this would explain my dream of Saturday night.


Update: Just walked past Luk Yu Teahouse on the way back from lunch and it looks like business as usual or perhaps even better than usual. There was a group of tourists hanging around at the entrance, obstructing the narrow sidewalk. It looked like they were either just leaving from or contemplating going into the restaurant or perhaps just stopping by the latest "attraction". Funny how one's tragedy could turn into another's profit. The teahouse is just fifty metres away from my office building down Stanley street where I often lunch.

I've been really tired all the time this past month. I wonder if it is age catching up in a hurry. As if it is making up for lost time.
Met up a friend making a stopover in Hong Kong enroute from San Francisco. A flight attendant I met a couple of years back when I was travelling extensively on the job. As we parted company, he commented that I'd lost weight. He's the hundredth person to tell me that. If nearly every friend who sees me tells me I've lost weight nearly everytime I meet them, I must have been a whale when we first met! Of course, it could also be -- and in all likelihood, it is -- that my friends are too tactful to tell me when I've put on weight so I only get to hear the compliments. And when he said I'd become too skinny and looked better when I had more meat on my body, it got me thinking how often we bemoan being overweight and needing or wanting to lose weight and get so caught up in the whole "thin chase" that we never get to enjoy the times that we are actually slimmer because we're just not slim enough yet. So the next time you're in front of the mirror, admire and enjoy your body as it is now, with all its imperfections because even supermodels aren't ever satisfied with their bodies.

Another dream last night and again, I have limited recollection of its details but what little I remember was violent. Someone was holding a gun to my head. I had been picked to die. I pleaded and cajoled and finally got them to hold off pulling the trigger for a little while. I don't know my captors nor do I know their cause. I gather they must be terrorists. Just when I think I've managed to avert an untimely and violent end to my life, I find another gun pointed at my chest with a woman's finger ready on the trigger. Time stands still while I consider dodging the barrel or lunging for the gun. I realise that it would be impossible to dodge a bullet just a few feet from me so I lunge for the gun and wrestle for control. I'm the stronger of the two and manage to turn the barrel towards her stomach thinking that she would remove her finger from the trigger. But she is trained not to be taken prisoner so she pulls the trigger anyway and falls to the ground, eyes wide open. Expressionless.

I could really use a dreamless sleep tonight.