Shoe Stress

This is going to be one retarded post.

I am terribly stressed over owning so many pairs of expensive shoes which I don't take care of. They're so ex, I don't wear them that often, yet their heels are all scratched.

And I have 3 new pairs (all spanning from 3 months to more than a year old) but they're just sitting there, because they're too uncomfortable or inappropriate for school. I can't wear them clubbing cos' I can't dance in them, but I've nobody to go out on fancy dinner dates with where I can just sit down and let my feet look pretty.

I am terribly stressed because I'm letting them go to rot. And I feel I'm not treating my shoes right and getting my money's worth of them.

People, this is a real situation. A crisis. Help!

Random Happy Moments

1. Realizing the waxed lab floor is great for spins in my Birks.
2. Spotting super hot guys (even if they're gay).
3. Looking in the mirror at clear skin.
4. Laughing out loud at a funny joke on Modern Family.
5. Thinking of Mom getting my new clothes from Miami.
6. Rereading a bible passage and finding new significance to it (thanks, BSF).
7. Marvelling at a new Jaydon idea.
8. Relief of a familiar face that makes you smile when the weight of being in school is tearing you down.
   

Doubt & Fear

. on Flickr by slaapdronken

It is just so damn hard to put my faith in God and things unseen/yet to come when I only know how to put my faith in things I can see. Like successful endeavors, material possessions and above all, successful/loving/emotionally fulfilling relationships.

It's really difficult to keep looking forward, telling yourself your time will come when the only things you are sure of are the things you already have. Sometimes it's all I can do to endure wanting what I can't have. It's like trying to make yourself believe that there will be something better, when you secretly feel sure there's nothing better. And on top of that, you get to be tortured everyday with being reminded of what you lost, as well as watch the progress of things.

It's like it actually feels worse the more time has passed. It emphasizes my continual downward curve against your continual upward curve. And the more I'm supposed to accept things, the more I struggle to. I refuse to acknowledge how this is your destiny, because it makes me the stupid one who can't move on.

I hate how I keep making this the most important thing in my life. But it's as though I've opened Pandora's Box and I can never go back to not knowing what it's like.

I am just waiting for the day when I can look back at all this and feel nothing but humour at my silly obsession. To be in such a better place that I will have absolutely no emotional reaction to the past at all.

It's Halloween tomorrow!

No, I'm not doing anything, same as every year. I've probably only dressed up once? When I was that detective in the ginormous trench coat and smoke pipe for Phyl's Halloween party. Last year I had grand dreams to go clubbing as a fairy. But this year, there's Paedo test next week and I'm all partied out (refer: previous post).

So instead, I'm watching the usual themed episodes on TV. Cougar Town's Halloween episode is so funny because the costumes are so genius. We should totally dress up as each other, as your own friends. Except that in Singapore, nobody's too distinct in their dressing.

Even this cat is going to have more fun than me this Hallow's Eve.

Give Me Meaning

I desperately need something meaningful in life.

List of possible meaningful things in life:

1. Charity work
2. Skillful hobby
3. A relationship
4. A pet
5. Dentistry
6. Church/God

Number 3 is out.
Number 4 is not going to happen when I spend about 3 waking hours at home everyday.
Number 5, I feel a huge obligation towards, especially after all the JN talks about my lack of 'owning the patient' and 'need to observe the way other operators speak'. But it's terribly hard to get out of my mentality of prioritizing number 3 above everything else in life.
Number 6, I try. It's more of a back up life saver than my energy fuel. Story of my life.
So it's down to number 1 or 2. Yeahhhhhh. I'll think about it.

Official Worst Day Ever

Today, I spent most of my time hugging the toilet bowl. Must be the mushrooms. My biggest worry is that I'm dying without realizing it, of low BP and lack of nutrition.

On the other hand, my eczema/rash is finally gone! My skin's finally smooth again. For today at least.

Save Mother Earth

58/365; Mother Earth on Flickr by Rachel. Elizabeth

Finally! It's my chance to save the earth!

My usual roommates (to whom I can thank for turning the bedroom into a room where you really only crawl into bed when it's time to sleep) are out of town!

It's time to do my part and... sleep without aircon!

Let's hope that one night of less energy and heat produced can make up for those few cans I did not recycle, all the times I leave the water running or the TV on and all those tissues I just used instead of a towel.

Yup, save the world!

-----
Ooh, them not being home also means I can finally wake up tomorrow and see my clothes in the light! I can actually choose what I want to wear by vision and not tactile sensation! I can colour match!

Gosh. I miss having my own room. :(

More Cabby Convers

The number of cabby convers I have either indicate how many cab rides I take or how many chatty cabdrivers I get. Maybe it's the same for everybody.

In today's episode, the old man started by asking if I was a teacher because I kept saying, 'Correct' to everything (in Mandarin). It's kinda hard to know what's the usual young person's slang when you don't speak the language. Wonder what kind of class/race/profession I sound like when I try.

Then we somehow went onto Malaysia, and the language plunged into Cantonese. Can't really decide which is worse for me. But I ended up speaking the worst Canton-English ever for the next 15 minutes. I don't suppose he realized that most of my verbs, nouns, pronouns and adjectives were in English, with some Cantonese conjunctions.

In summary, the cabby concluded that as a dentist, it's going to be very difficult for me to find a boyfriend. Which I agreed to. And his advice was that if any doctor comes along, showing an interest in me, I should quickly grab it. Which I agreed to (in a non committal manner).

Even a stranger knows my future is sad and gray.

The blue Sailor's Song on Flickr by MINT ICETEA

Was kept up tossing and turning from 5am to 7am, until I finally took some Panadol. In between I had several dreams, one of which was that I had a bunch of really tiny tiny hamsters. But the moment I put them down, they vanished. I kept looking and looking around the floor but they were simply gone.

I think my dreams fall into a few categories:
1) Completely ludicrous
2) Completely real

The completely real dreams can be further divided into:
a) Neutral dreams - Where I wake up confused if they happened or not.
These kind of dreams go along the line of Elmer, my primary schoolmate telling me we have homework to do. Then I wake up and go look for the homework but it was just a dream.

b) Happy dreams - Things I want to happen, or old wonderful memories relived.
Dreaming of being with the person you love, with family, doing fun things. You wake up feeling great, or really sad that your subconscious still wants some things so badly but they can never happen again.

c) Awful dreams - The manifestation of your fears, your horrific imaginations or the things you witnessed that you suppressed at the time.
Everything I imagined in my head that gave me so much pain comes alive in the dream and I wake up horrified that my mind is so astute. Quite amazing how the fragmented fears and thoughts I have in the day can become such well developed events, complete with beginning and end, when I'm asleep at night.

Freaking irritated.

It's like there are freaking ants crawling over the whole house and my body. Or I'm freaking allergic to something. And I've no patience to grow my freaking fringe long cos' it's freaking itching me. Any second now and I'm going to cut it and tomorrow I'll wake up in regret.

No, seriously. Are there freaking ants in the water supply? Or did they all just decide to climb into my cup to drown?

Jaydon Is Now 7

Today was Jaydon's birthday celebration. Today was also the day I wore all black to church. This all black thing is starting to grow on me. Colour's becoming overrated.

I really like how Sa-ee always puts so much effort into the little details. Nothing on the scale of Party Planner but she's got cute musical note patterned napkins, coloured plastic eating utensils, multicoloured Tupperware containers (the perks of being Tupperware's sales ambassador), streamers, doorgifts and other thoughtful things. I am one who, although want things to be neat and tidy, get so overwhelmed at where to start that I just let things get messier and messier. It's the Defeated Before You Try syndrome. Sa-ee on the other hand always finds the cutest trinkets to keep things in and can do a table/bathroom/bedroom revamp while I'm away. It's the kind of thing that makes you so happy to come home to. The ultimate housewife. Who I will never be. T.T

Bad habit of always making things about me.

So it was a food, or good, day. Curry chicken and bread, beehoon and mixed veg, spaghetti bolognaise, awesome baked chicken and potatoes, tarts, icecream cake. Only the best of the best. The only downside was having to turn a deaf ear to screaming kids for, oh about 5 hours? Halfway I managed to take a nap too, in a thankfully soundproof bedroom.

I think my passivity is very much cultivated/inherited from some members of my family. I can count several reclusive antisocial people (RP, JP, LilC, to anonymously name a few). And I'm also one of them. People like me have such low energy that we rather just sit back and watch the proceedings without taking part in any of it. People like me imagine about exciting things to do in life rather than actually go do it. For people like me, the anticipation and the fantasy is always so much better than real life, to a point that real life can seem so dissatisfying. Then I start to wonder what's wrong with me, why is my life so boring and meaningless, isn't there something more? Something better than this?

Just a thought.

I did have a good time though. The sweetest part of the day (that made all the obnoxious behaviour a thing of the past) was when Jaydon was about to cut his cake. He'd just blown his candles and he suddenly exclaimed, 'Wait I've to make my wish! Oh, actually I've already made my wish. And my wish already came true. I wished that all of you would be able to celebrate my birthday with me!' And before he was going to start the cake cutting and birthday song singing, he kept looking for Mama, waiting for her to take part in the ceremony. Except that Mama was having a massage (haha).

Sniff.

Stoked

I moved out of hall sometime in March but I still have things in luggage bags and various places that can't fit in the closet space at home. Today I opened up those bags and found:

1. Venus Razor Refills
2. Cucumber Eyegel
3. 2 months worth of Focus Dailies (Which I had despaired over losing)

I am stoked!

Dental School

Year 2 to Year 1

Year 3 to Year 2

I think maybe only the Year 3s and 4s have a true common ground for discussion and understanding. For me, at least. I won't speak on behalf of those who clearly have immense preparation for new things. Ahem.

The Friday Which Stretched Into Saturday

Went night cycling last night with Temasek Hall people, none of whom I knew. This is not reflective of the hall but of me, because having stayed there for 1 1/2 years, I never really made any new friends. Correction, I really never made any new friends. So everyone was new to me, and though it was snail speed in coming, I finally did make conversation and get to know people.

Before this grand event, I was on the MRT home. On my right sat an army guy whose pungent odour preceded him. I literally could not breathe because the molecules in the air were choking my nostrils. In that moment I realized what poor lung capacity I now have (compared to previous abilities to hold my breathe for more than 1 minute underwater). Was trying to breathe through my mouth, then trying to hold my breath while taking intermittent gulps of air, but I was starting to feel like a panic attack was oncoming. Finally settled for breathing facing the opposite direction while plastering my relatively better smelling hands to my nose. Don't think he got the hint.

On my left was an old auntie who was trimming her nails (with nails flying).

Anyway, back to night cycling.

It was really fun, overall. But somewhere after the 3rd stop, I fully appreciated the importance of soft chairs, soft beds and cushions. A bike is not meant to be sat on for more than a few hours. Lance Armstrong would know.

The night is sort of broken down into a few phases. I mean my mental and physical condition, not cycling phases. At first, everyone starts off excited and their muscles are all limber. At the first stop, it's so exciting to see a sea of orange shirted people, and everyone wants to save their stomachs for better food. For the next few hours, you start getting really sleepy. At the stops, you keep checking your watch in disbelief that it's only 12am, it's only 2am. And suddenly you're ravenous. Started eating all the frog porridge and tau huey with abandon.

After that it's all a daze. All you can think about is how to not move too much so you don't get abrasion in the nether regions. But by then just getting on and off is a huge pain. You start to think you'll never walk again or have children. But at this hour (4am?) the traffic is zero in the East and suddenly it's so fun to whiz along the empty roads. Now I like the wanton mee place at Joo Chiat. It's quite different from the usual wet noodles in the rest of Singapore.

Nearing the end of the night, everyone's asking, 'Is this the last stop yet?' because we all cannot stop imagining the cooling shower, nice smelling soap, warm dry towel and soft bed covers that are close by. And finally, finally we reach East Coast Park just as the sun is rising. Everyone finally gets a good solid look at each others' faces, after having squinted through the night. And I wolfed down my McDonalds. Nothing new there.

Every day I think 'I can't believe so much time has passed!' followed immediately by 'I can't believe so little time has passed!', depending on which incident I backtrack to.

I want time to get moving because I want to reach a different destination, yet I don't want time to move so fast in the fear that such a destination does not exist.

Every term has been wildly different. It's the 3rd week of the 3rd term since, and all I want to do now is really truly put it behind me as though it never existed. Slowly but surely detach myself.

serie donosti 1 on Flickr by idlphoto

I feel like I'm reaching a point of stability. And I really don't want anything to mess it up. It's a point where I don't want to know, care or hear anymore, because I've tried the desensitizing alternative and it's like placing your hand on the bug zapper intentionally again and again. So I really hope there's some finality to this. That I can really just lock it away and never have it come back to hurt me anymore, past, present or future. Especially future.

Musketeer Reunion

Just had a stupendous night. I'm beaming from ear to ear.

After dinner with the cell, I met Mom (along with Desiree) at City Hall MRT. Prior to that she'd called and SMS-ed me a zillion times to tell me which station, which carriage (first or last) and what time. I think it's her and Dad's first time on the train. Met up with Auntie Luan Imm and Isabelle who were together with them and we headed to their new house for an old friend reunion.

To digress a bit, their new house is gorgeously roomy with a really cooling patio. Already hinted to Mom to buy a corner lot just like that, or the neighbour's place so we can all be a big happy family here in Singapore. But we sorta know deep down that familiarity breeds contempt and absence makes the heart grow fonder.

It was really fun listening to Dad, Uncle Boo & Uncle Kum Weng talk about their past. Some we've heard before, most we've not. Now that we're all grown up, it's no holds barred for our ears. After 2 bottles of wine, all the dirty secrets started coming out.

From joining a church to chase girls ('Sadly, none of us got converted,' lamented Dad) to how Uncle KW was the innocent sidekick, driving the boys to the girls' houses, because that's how old fashioned courting was done - talking by the gate to finally sitting in a girl's living room. Apparently a lot of backstabbing was done with secret rendezvouz, more than one of them secretly seeing the same girl. When they couldn't find someone in the group, they automatically could guess what he was up to.

All the old flames' names started popping up. But we surmised that as cool as they made it out to be, my Dad and his old primary school friends were not exactly the cool kids. The best part is simply how they've stuck it out, stayed so close all these years and dated so closely that all their wives are also best/good friends.

Vulgarities started spewing over some lost Musketeers, those who've gone abroad and forgotten them. Who come home but act chilly over a cold meal, or don't even bother to call. With the advent of the Internet and iPad, we started Google-ing a fairweather friend's house in Australia, with his lake and boats. The stalking was hilarious. After that they tried to Facebook search a Gunasegaran Subramaniam, another old forgotten friend close to Uncle Boo. And they howled like hyenas over how they bullied him into going for a 'massage' at Guna's coming of age, especially how he emerged all smiles.

Mom and Auntie Luan Imm used to matchmake people: Indian girl with Indian guy, short girl with short guy, broken hearted girl with broken hearted guy. Unfortunately one of the pairings (coincidentally another friend who's forgotten his roots) ended up in the girl turning gay. More surprising is that she's someone prominent in Penang. Then there was Black Kam Weng, the Indian adopted by a Chinese family. They called him Uncle Kum Weng's black counterpart. The night started turning into a GG episode.

Finally before our family went home, Dad thrust an imaginary sword into the air, 'All for one and one for all!' and Uncle KW followed suit. The wine. It does things to people. Though I must say Dad's always quirky any old day. As he walked out, he tried to remember, 'Hey Boo, who's the 3rd musketeer who died in the show?' But none of us could remember. But we all knew which Musketeers have died in their version of the 5 Musketeers.

Wonder what my story will be someday. I hope I have my childhood friends with me, like an extended family. Moments like these are my ultimate favourite in life.