moody meanderings

Last night's post feels this way by the cold harsh light of day. What seemed like clever poetry last night reads like cheesy trash this afternoon. I wish I could blame it on a drunken stupor but that's a bit of a stretch when the last drop I've had was twenty-four hours before the scribblings. Maybe when the sun sets, I'll think it quite clever again. Maybe.

He sent me a Pastor when I didn't know I needed one. Not just any Pastor -- and I've met a few -- but one with a big and humble heart. One not afraid to admit to having his own share of human frailties, yet willing to challenge himself and others despite. One who loves me for all my joys and unspoken anguish, for my laughter and unshed tears, my divinity and sinfulness. I am so blessed.

I was just getting back to my desk this afternoon when my attention was drawn to a piece of paper taped to the wall behind my seat. That piece of writing had been occupying that same forgotten spot for more than half a year but today, for some reason, it caught my attention. It was an August 5, 2002 post by brilliant storyweaver extraordinaire, Matt Rossi, about Love. I re-read the article for maybe the tenth time and was amazed that it still held as powerful an effect on me as it had when I first read it. At the same time, I felt a part of me rebelling and rejecting the entire idea of love. Enough for me to msn this question to a friend: "Do you believe in love?"

His response was simply, "I have been in love so I believe in it".

But this wasn't enough for me. What if love is all a mind game? What if that's all there is to it? If all our sensory perceptions are merely synaptic responses, sending electronic impulses to the brain for interpretation, then love is merely our brain's interpretation of a chemical imbalance in the system. We could then train our mind to interpret the same signals as any other emotion that serves us. Better yet, we could learn to train our minds to love someone that was a safe candidate to fall in love with. One that is less likely to break our hearts. Or could we? I don't know what I'm talking about, of course. I don't even know why I asked the question at all. It isn't like I'm in love or in danger of being in love at this stage in my life, but there it was, this question just hanging over my head, teasing me, taunting me.

I got home this evening and turned on the tele as I do everyday. There was nothing interesting on Pearl, one of only two English language stations I receive, so I switched to listening to a CD instead. I dropped in a compilation which Al put together. Near the end of the CD was a track which title I forget but I've managed to transcribe the lyrics of the first chorus here:

I believe in love, it's the best of everything
I believe in hope, and the changes it can bring
If you believe then nothing can stand in your way
Just say, "I believe"

It was a strange coincidence. Obviously, there was going to be tracks about love but one that answered the question "Do you believe in love?"??? Too bizarre. The answer is no less simplistic than the one I got via msn, yet it addressed my doubts as if I'd spoken them: Just say, "I believe". Oh, ok.

I believe.

Been sick and not terribly inspired to do anything. I think it was housework allergies yesterday that triggered it. Was sneezing my face off all day as soon as I started work around the flat. Of course, it could very well have been brought on by the dust on the air-conditioning unit which I haven't turned on in ages until yesterday. I probably burned off more calories sneezing than doing yoga or dancing. Anyway, it left me completely exhausted today and then I woke up with a throat infection. So I've been home all day. I still can't account for the hours except for the three loads of laundry, the preparation of one meal and a very drugged nap. Having said that, it is time for bed again.

I've been invited to join an all-girl dance troupe. Of course it will be Salsa. Afterall, that is my obsession, as one reader put it. The girls in the troupe are very good dancers, most of them with some dance background, so while I'm delighted to be asked, I'm also rather daunted. I'm sure it will be fun but it sounds like it will be a lot of hard work, too. The woman who heads the group is the choreographer and instructor. She had on a very grave expression when she said, "All my girls are very punctual and work hard", alluding to the times I was late for her class. Sounds like it might just be a tad too serious for me. We'll see.

unmasking hong kong
It is amazing how many people allow their lives to be dictated by the opinion of the PTB. Since the lifting of the WHO travel advisory on Friday, Hong Kong residents have been venturing out in throngs like they haven't done in over two months since SARS crippled the city. Restaurants were reporting a surge in patronage and some of its patrons declared that they now felt safe to be out and about because of the WHO announcement. Lan Kwai Fong was bursting with life on Friday night. The distributors of Corona beer sent out a dancing duo dressed in Brazilian costume (why Brazilian is anyone's guess!) handing out screeching whistles and scarves. They were accompanied by a Polaroid photographer who took pictures for anyone who fancied being photographed between gorgeous babes in purple plumes. The photographs were so popular that the one I took with a couple of friends was pinched from under our noses.

Joining in the festivities were two government officials out on their "Hong Kong is safe" walkabout campaign. One I recognised as the now infamous Anthony Leung, and the other I could not place. They were surrounded by a throng of reporters and camera men as they raised their bottle of Corona to greet the crowd. It wasn't clear if their message was "Hong Kong is a safe place" or "Drink Corona to stay safe".

Now that we have people stepping out and stimulating the beleagured economy, the next step is to get Hong Kongers to unmask. The good news is that people are already unmasking. While riding the MTR yesterday, I noted only one person in a mask on the opposite row. I estimated maybe thirty percent were still masked. A sharp drop from just days before. Very encouraging indeed. If we are to attract visitors back to Hong Kong, we need to demonstrate our own faith in the city. So if you are a masked Hong Kong resident who isn't working on the healthcare front, I encourage you to unmask now!

Two weeks ago, exactly a month after Lee's accident, her husband, Dave, with a bunch of friends, took to the skies for a flying tribute to her. A former colleague of hers sent me this photo of their dive.

The WHO has finally lifted its travel advisory against Hong Kong. Hoorah!! The city has suffered tremendously since the travel advisory was imposed on April 2. Tourism, a key industry in Hong Kong, has been taking a severe beating since the SARS scare began. With summer holidays just round the corner, this fantastic news is timely indeed. Time to send out the invitations to friends and family. I hope this means that Deb, a friend and former colleague, will confirm the trip she and her partner were planning for August.

In related news, Susan returns from her exile in Sydney next weekend too. Yippppieeee!

DG is in L.A. for the Salsa Congress there. He pretty much up-ed and left without a word on Wednesday, except to the Salsa instructors he needed to have fill-in for Wednesday lessons. Didn't even give a hint when we spoke Monday night. Found out from one of the instructors on Wednesday itself when I couldn't find him amid the sea of faces at Ing. Sent him an email which received no reply. Something tells me I should get the message by now. MOVE ON. I'll be the first to admit I'm too stubborn for my own good.

Watched Matrix Reloaded last night. It was awesome! A must-see for the gripping action and plot development. It is said that "art is the willing suspension of disbelief". This was true of Matrix Reloaded. In any other movie, some of the action sequence would have been laughably unbelievable. But with the premise of the Matrix as a digital world serving as a backdrop to the plot, nearly anything is believable. I love it! I might even watch it a second time at the theatre!

I usually wake up an hour or so after dawn. This means that in the winter, I'm up quite late and almost never get in to the office before nine. In the summer, I am roused from my sleep (however late I get to bed) at around half past six! And even though I try to get another hour of shut-eye after, it just isn't the same. So I end up lethargic in the day from lack of sleep and oversleep on my post wake-up nap and still don't get in to the office before nine.

So it was today that I opened my eyes at half past six, went back for a snooze, got up an hour an a bit later, got through my morning ablutions more slowly than usual and ended up rushing with an ensemble thrown on just on the way out the door. Literally! I grabbed the easiest thing to match a simple black pant: a no fuss, no iron fuschia blouse. The hastily put-together good-enough-for-work wear would have been fine if not for the fact that I was singing at a memorial service for a recently deceased church member that evening! Imagine how awkward I felt stepping off the elevator on the 75th floor of the Central Plaza greeted by solemn faces in dark suits! I think the complexion on my face must have matched the colour of my blouse. Luckily, I had an off-white cardigan in my bag which even with my best efforts, could not conceal the high fuschia neckline. To top it all, I'd overlooked the red wine spot on the cardigan picked up over the weekend. Very embarrasing indeed.

I have decided that my funeral will be a festive affair so no one need worry about having the wrong coloured shirt on. I've even picked out one of the songs that will be sung at the service -- "You Shall Go Out With Joy". After the service, there will be more music, Salsa music, and dancing, good food and drink. Yes, it would be a celebration of all the things I loved. I'll even record a song especially to be played at my funeral. I can't believe it, I'm really excited about planning my own funeral party. Is this a bit morbid?

Being driven and focused in one's pursuits is a virtue. But there comes a time when a girl's got to recognise that a pursuit is getting nowhere and the ROE weighs against further effort and she's just got to buckle down and walk away....

We went for a Japanese lunch of sashimi and handrolls. I was delighted that he loved Japanese food as much as I. How did I miss that? I guess it was because we hardly ate a morsel when we first met. I lost a significant amount of weight in the intitial two weeks. We were much too engrossed in each other to notice hunger pangs or disgusted stares (which I'm sure there were).

The only tables left in the restaurant were in the smoking section. So much for booking in advance. We took the table for four the waiter offered. He placed his coat on the back of the seat across from mine before slipping into the seat next to me. It's been nearly a year since we sat this way -- cosy, intimate, lost in our own world. He was eager to place our orders so that we could catch up on the other's life undisturbed. He'd only been gone two weeks but it felt like ages. As soon as the waiter left, he buried his face in my neck. He carried on that way in between conversation. Playful, passionate, tender. Yes, this was how I remembered him. We pulled apart with a lot of effort and reluctance when the waiter arrived with our orders. Between eating and cuddling, we spent nearly two and a half hours at the restaurant.

On the couch in his living room, he diligently took care to make me comfortable, plumping up cushions and throwing a blanket over us. We watched "Blow". In the middle of the movie, I began to break out in hives. One of my rare seafood allergies. I've only had a reaction to seafood one other time. He was brimming with concern. His brows furrowed, his hands outstretched, he was poised to catch me lest I fall. I explained to him that I wasn't in any danger of collapsing or anything like it. I just needed to sit really still and let the anti-histamines I'd just taken kick in. He planted a thoughtful kiss on my shoulder. The stubble on his chin lightly scratching my arm as he did so. I did not have the heart to tell him that his stubble was aggravating and breaking out the histamines under my irritable skin. We sat that way for about half an hour -- me sitting with my back to him and my arms tucked under my knees to stop myself from scratching while he, sitting two feet away from my exposed back, looking on with concern at the angry red spots on my body, neck and face, cooling the spots with the can of coke in his hand. All that time, holding back his desire to take me in his arms. He was a picture of the doting partner.

*sigh*...I could so easily fall in love with him again.

I bought a wireless broadband router and was so excited to set it up tonight. I cancelled French lessons (also because I am really tired) and rushed home to fix it up. Predictably, nothing went smoothly. The instructions were unclear and now it appears I need some PCI adaptor to make it work. Something the man at the shop that sold me the equipment failed to mention. Totally anti-climactic!! Frustrating!.

Earlier in the evening, my dehumidifier was delivered. Again, I eagerly pulled it out, plugged it in and turned it on but nothing happened. I looked for the manual in the box but the box was empty. The machine was a display unit and was re-packaged in another box too large for its size. I called the Fortress outlet where I bought it from asking about the manual. I was transferred about eight times without explanation for the not-so-merry-phone-merry-go-round. I was eventually transferred to the manager who, on understanding that I wanted someone to tell me how to turn the machine on, transferred me to the sales promoter. I couldn't seem to make her understand the problem. After explaining very slowly that the machine didn't work in "dehumidify" mode but did in "clean air" mode, she passed the phone to someone else without a word. In the end, the problem was because they had packed the manual and warranty into the water container preventing it from closing properly, which in turn, prevented it from turning on in "dehumidify" mode!! DUH!

I was born the fifth girl in a family of six siblings, followed only minutes later by my brother. When I was still little, my mom told us that she had been trying for a boy. Three pregnancies later, she finally had my brother but not before a miscarriage in an earlier pregnancy. On top of that, she got yet another girl in that package. In another story, the domestic helper working for my mother during her pregancy with us had a dream that my mother gave birth to two boys. In the dream, one of the boys crawled away from my mother to the domestic helper. Being superstitious by nature, my mother took it to mean that one of her boys was replaced with me. So, I grew up with a screwed up gender identity and desperately tried to be the boy my mother wanted. I was hardy and fiesty, running and playing football with my brother and his friends and climbing down monsoon drains. Instead of dolls and house, I imagined dug-out trenches and bunkers and wielded make-believe rifles in elaborate war games, shooting paper palettes through cardboard bunkers.

Puberty was especially difficult because not only did the oldest boy no longer treat me like one-of-the-boys, I was grappling with my growing attraction for him and at the same time keeping the mammalian glands down. I grew up with ill-fitting bras which I hated on the one hand but on the other hoped they would help to suppress the growth of cumbersome breasts. I think I only came to terms with my feminity as late as my late teens or early twenties.

Today, I wonder at those early years wishing and trying to be a boy. As a woman, I am at the receiving end of unexpected privileges. Sometimes, I get the few chivalrous men left tripping over themselves to open doors for me. Quite often, I find myself in a battle over restaurant bills. Two weeks ago, a friend and neighbour came to check and remove the broken lights in my flat while hot salsa god came to fix a new one for me last week. And a particular sales cashier at Pret-a-Manger never fails to throw in a freebie with my purchase. This afternoon, it was soup and on other days, I've had chips and hot chocolate.

Of course there are still moments when I slip into penis-envy mode but days like today make me glad I am without.

I'm feeling very restless. All is quiet. Susan, like many expats, has been evacuated out of Hong Kong. She's been in Sydney for nearly two weeks now. While Johan, my tea-time partner, is quarantining himself in Bangkok so that he can get into Taiwan for business. I miss them.

Things that got to me while in Singapore:
1) Colleagues in the Singapore office did not want to receive me or my colleague who was also visiting from Hong Kong.
2) A close friend didn't want the surprise visit that I was about to spring on her. She asked me not to stop by. Just as well that I called ahead of my visit to check if she was in the office.
3) I decided not to call on my best friend because I didn't think I could handle it if even she, my friend of more than twenty years, didn't want to see me.
4) Another friend I ran into on Friday afternoon said he'd join a seafood dinner party I'd arranged with some mutual friends. He changed his mind later that evening but didn't even call to say so.
5) My niece and nephew were not allowed to attend Sunday school because a member of their household (me) had recently returned from a SARS-affected country. I got the feeling the kids were not too disappointed though.

So I'm back in HK, land of the SARS mask. I don't care for the obscured faces but it's good to be back. Looks like HK has become my home. Of course, it is also home to my dance god, too. He is looking scrummier than ever. I think I should stop putting off yoga. Seems to be doing him a lot of good. I could use more supple and toned muscles too.

That seems to be a pet phrase in Singapore to visitors from SARS-hit countries. Some other observations while in Singapore:
1) a close friend was too afraid to meet me when I tried to give her a surprise visit.
2) people take their body temperature twice a day diligently as encouraged by the government.
3) visitors to schools are required to be temperature screened and are given a "screened" sticker to wear as a badge of health.
4) dialect, once banned from national television is back in use on government sponsored spots to assure the general public that it is safe to be out and about as long as they take their temperature regularly and maintain good hygiene.

Life, in general, seems normal aside from these. Restaurants are packing in the crowds, shopping malls are still busy and Salsa spots are busier than I last remembered. Singapore has certainly handled the crisis well and it is clear that its "socialist" style of government often ridiculed by its neighbours near and far has proven to be the key to its success once more.

Flight to Singapore was a pretty smooth one but the in-flight service left much to be desired. None of the safety procedures adopted by other major airlines seemed to apply. A couple of passengers used their mobile phones on board the plane right in front of flight attendants. Others were using the toilet less than five minutes before landing. The flight attendants stationed by the toilets weren't there to get passengers back to their seats for landing but to unlatch the safety lock on the door for them. So it was no surprise that passengers were not asked to remain in their seats as soon as the wheels hit the tarmac. This Sunday is definitely the last time I'm flying Garuda! I can understand that the service was not up to scratch but certainly would not expect safety to be compromised!

I'm all packed and checked-in to give my mom a surprise Mother's Day visit. I decided on impulse last Friday to do this since my next trip isn't until September. With flights being reduced on account of SARS, I'm stuck with flying Garuda on a very inflexible schedule because it would have cost a bomb to fly Cathay or Singapore Airlines. And United, my usual choice, cancelled all their flights to Singapore!

I can't wait to see the surprise look on my mom's face as well as my niece's and nephew's. More later.

Got this link from a friend today. It is as cheesy as cheesy gets. I love it. Definitely worth a visit!

Been listening to Diana Krall's "The Look of Love" CD all weekend. None of the usual heart-thumping, feet pumping Salsa rhythms that usually mark my weekends at home. I gave J a copy half a year ago when he sang one line of the song to me. Last Friday, I asked if he would make a copy for me. Of course he obliged even though he was clueless how he would do that without a CD burner himself.

As I was leaving my office a little later, who should show up riding the escalator to my building by J himself. Wearing that same soft smile he left me with just an hour earlier. In his hand was a copy of Diana Krall. I was surprised that he had the CD with him and still in its packaging. I was about to ask him about it when I caught sight of the HMV price tag. He saw it too and sheepishly peeled it off before giving it to me. He had just got off the phone with me, popped into the store in the building next to his office, bought it and brought it over as a surprise. It was the sweetest gesture which rendered me near speechless except to repeat "oh my goodness! thank you!" in several different keys.

Naturally, my weekend wouldn't be complete without an evening of spicy Salsa action. The floor was packed. It was very encouraging to see familiar faces emerging from self-imposed isolation. People are finally coming round to the fact that SARS is here to stay and life must resume eventually. They were rewarded with a sampling of my chocolate dessert.

More pics from the boat trip here.

I had a disturbing dream two nights ago. That friend who suddenly stopped speaking to me was a spy on the enemy camp. Yes, we were at war. But in my heart, I knew her as a dear friend. We were in a stand-off. I went to see her hoping to appeal to her for a truce. Our differences ran too deep and her malice was an impregnable wall. She accused me of being a spy and turned me away. I returned to my home to find that the buildings all around were ablaze. Mayhem and pandemonia raged. I wandered around in a daze, feeling a deep sense of betrayal and despair, and wondering how a friendship could turn to this. I awoke to the sound of desperate sobbing.

Yesterday afternoon, I felt compelled to write to her. To see how she she's been getting on, and also in the hope that she might give me a clue as to why she still pinned her sister's marital woes of three years ago on me. Back then, S had written me an email to say that her sister's new husband was seeing a woman he declared was his soulmate. She admitted that she was projecting her anger towards the "other woman" onto me because of my own history. She acknowledged that it wasn't fair of her to do so, hence her email. I wrote back saying how sorry I was that her sister had to go through this trial and so early in the marriage -- just six months -- but that based on personal experience, given half a chance and the "other woman" willing, a man would continue to cheat on his marriage to see his "soulmate" even if he promised not to do so. Perhaps that was more truth than she wanted to hear. I never heard from her again. She neither replied to my email nor returned my calls. Fifteen years of friendship down the toilet because someone unrelated to me did a stupid thing to someone else unrelated to me.

She hasn't replied to my email.

The weather forecast yesterday predicted sunny skies with scattered clouds. It was raining early this morning. I was awakened by a phone call from Sara to check if the boat outing was still on. I had invited a large group including my boss, french tutor and church friend and his kids. I was loathe to cancel the outing. I optimistically declared that the weather would turn in our favour. The skies remained overcast until our arrival at our seafood lunch destination when the sun suddenly burst through with blue skies.

We picked a table away from the canopy to take advantage of the welcome sunshine. As the meal drew to a close, so did the sunshine. That turned out to be a blessing as we tracked for an hour and a half over the hill to the other side of the island. We had more sun half way through the hike and through the rest of the afternoon as we dipped in the chilly waters.

I made a decadent chocolate dessert churned out from memory after watching a Jamie Oliver episode more than a month ago. We had it for tea. It was a resounding success!

What a splendid way to spend May Day. Sun, sea, surf, seafood, steps....what else can one ask for?

grounded. an abandoned boat.


spring blossoms. love the colours.




emeric posing with cows abandoned by farmers when they sold their farms.


abandoned vietnamese refugee boats.