The Smile on Her Face

The first thing I noticed was her hunch protruding from the back of her shoulders. Her wrinkled hands which have seen through the height of her youth reached forward to clear those plates left by the previous diners. Hands trembling, spilling sauces along the way, she cleared the messy leftovers they so hastily left behind. I watched each movement, slow but steady, her intention clear and decisive, following the motions she repeats table after table, day after day. I thanked her, again and again…and her wrinkled lips curled into an appreciative smile, her eyes lit up. My heart warmed towards this old woman who made Sunday dinner a better meal for me.

Her smile lingered as she settled into her routine at a table not far off, those hands that cleaned after us as we stream into the food court, and leave our plates uncleared. We no longer clean up after ourselves, we even forget to stack the plates to make things a little easier for the silent hardworking cleaners. Neither do some of us nod an appreciate thank-you in their direction.

It was only proper that the younger ones cleared the table while the older folks sit back and rest after a hard day’s worth of cooking. Tables have turned – why do the old ones clean up after us? Why do those people who have moulded our society as it is today have to stand hours at their jobs? Why is it that the seventy-somethings are the ones hobbling around while the seventeen-somethings laze around at cafes? Why is it that those hands that made our lives so comfortable today are not entitled to a pampering hand massage, but have to pick at our leftovers and throw them into a bin on our behalf?

We whiz by so quickly, so caught up in the race towards success, so intent on reaching the next million mark. We forget the hands that carried us from the cradle, we forget the smile on her face.

Love, Not Again.

I quote from my friend’s fiance, who departed this world at a tender age of 29. He was wise; he was patient to share. “A man must love his woman more than she loves him. Only this will the relationship between them achieve equilibrium.”

When a man loves, he does not question the rationality nor the other matters in the relationship. Love is a feeling, the rest are problems or cases that have solutions to them. Empathy and understanding of a woman’s character is generally lacking in the male species; it is not within their capacity to spend time understanding and deciphering a woman’s heart. Love that men feel, overwrites mistakes that their other halves commit – it takes an apology, a sincere make-up and an assurance that she will not repeat it within her conscience means.

When a woman loves, she seeks to understand and decipher her man’s character, temper and quirky habits. It is of women’s nature to be in touch with feelings and emotions, dwell upon them and seek to understand dissonance. Women share their thoughts and emotions with like-minded individuals, and gain further insight into their interpretation of their men’s behavior. When a woman understands, she forgives her partner’s mistakes more readily.

When a woman loves a man more than he loves her – this upsets the equilibrium. Women in love are the most complicated creatures – if I dare say. Women think, ponder, scuttle among different explanations in their minds, fly into panic, worry and pain ever so fleetingly yet leaving a trail of the aftermath of their eratic thoughts. Men – not having the capacity to understand – seek to redress the problem through their typical male “solve it now, heed not their feelings” method. The lack of enough love for their women requires constand need to redress problems and dissonance in his life – which he has no capacity to deal with, in a Mar’s society.

That being said, it is a generalised sentence, but it made sense after all. Just like how Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus (yes, a book advocates that), the biological and psychological construct between both genders are as alike as black and white. Hundreds of books have been written to help men understand women, and vice versa. Each book seeks to glorify the gender they are in support of, and seeks to have their readers understand their chosen topics. (ie. have male readers understand females etc)

I say – believe in yourselves, remember why you two got together in the first place. Make communication the first priority in your life. That’s your golden key to a relationship. And by that, I do not guarantee marriage as an end, but it made me feel the power of love, sacrifice, talking and listening.

Unspoken words

We speak a thousand words a week, but our bodies spell a million more a day.

A raised eyebrow, the slightest twitch of the lips, wrinkling of noses, fingers tapping, teeth grinding. A shift of my body – towards, away from – arch of my back, a wink. Too many.

.

A lack of smile. A peck on the lips. Your hands do not meet mine when I rest them on your knee.
My heart hurts, my smile remains frozen…you do not see.

.

A genuine grin. Smile lines crinkle. Your eyes followed my smile to you. We part our ways.
My lips remain curled..upwards. I pause, mid-step..and continued my gait, knowing we’ll meet again.

.

Words from a poet are like the dance of my fingers on your back.
Peace flows through me to you, connected by arms enveloping your fragile soul.
We lie side by side, not touching, just breathing. Yet you sleep deep tonight.
Much unspoken, but felt through the silence of the night.

When the doors close, the lights turn off…

The evil (short-tongued) Pharoh

…Life begins after dusk in the museums.

Not in our dear museums, although I wish I will see our trishaw and samsui women come to live, but at Night at the Museum 2, starring Ben Stiller and a whole lot of other characters this round.

Tonight’s premiere was a good one. The sequel to the first movie, Night at the Museum, takes on greater heights with more characters, more artefacts, more history icons, and producers have jacked the humour a level higher. Ben Stiller returns as Larry Daley, successful businessman in suit and all…only to rejoin the excitement of a former museum night-guard in an attempt to bring his exhibit friends back to their original homes when they were shipped off to thelabyrinthine subbasements of the Smithsonian in Washington DC.

More funny are new characters like Hank Azaria as a evil lisping Pharoh (complete with a cheesy accent!) and spunky Amy Adams playing as Amelia Earhart who’s ready for a whiff of adventure. It is a superb play of humour in conversations between the evil Pharoh and Larry; comic duo miniature cowboy Jedediah and miniature Roman General Octavius…and other brief but memorable scenes of Al Capone, Ivan the Terrible (he insisted on being called Ivan the Awesome), Abe Lincoln, Napoleon and a giant octopus deprived of water.

Gotta love the mock battle scenes and exaggerated dramatic flair, combined with a touch of cheesiness with Cupid angels groovin’ to pop music of today.

This movie isn’t about Ben Stiller anymore – I think it takes on a new level with a proper scene for every character/artefact/exhibit within the museum – everybody plays an equal (although albeit quirky) role.

Recommended: Watch it for a gooooood laugh.

Like a grounded bird, looking up at the sky (2)

I am always thankful for the people who have supported my decision to go through surgery, grateful to those who offered their company, their valet services, their words of encouragement and their personal experiences. I recall how convenient it was for someone to shed all responsibilities through this supposed difficult time of my life, but I look at the dear ones around me and I thank God for all of you.

This week marked my first consultation with the surgeon and my last physio session (before operation) with the therapist. My diagnosis looked a little more positive than the last time – I have achieved nearly full range of knee movement and am ready for surgery anytime – it is up to me now. What will be done on me will be a straightforward single/double ACL graft from my hamstring…it seemed pretty simple enough as the surgeon sat me through a technical breakdown of what will happen during surgery.

Funny how they give you assuring results, they tell you the more optimistic outcome of what you’ll expect of post-surgery. Funny how they do not mention the excruciating pain that hits you when the morphine wears off, funny how they never told you how frustrating it would be to be to depend on crutches. But of course, that’s a doctor’s job – to answer and banish away these fears of mine so that I go in without a single worry.

I’m finally allowed to run on the treadmill today.

Putting in work at the gym almost everyday became a habit, and a mentally desperate race to lose as much as possible (to allow room to grow during my stagnant days), to build up as much leg muscles as possible (because I’m gonna lose them all again). They are right when they say, “Focus on improving – you’ll feel better this way.” The wakeboarders who have shared their personal experience with me reminded me that rehab is gonna be a tough one, and I mentally prepare myself everyday for the uphill road ahead.

It is a bittersweet feeling when the physiotherapist pronounced me ready for quads strengthening, running…everything that doesn’t require me to pivot. That little step suddenly seemed like an achievement, a sign that all the gym work is paying off.

Time has broken down into weeks for me. Week 1 to the big O. Week 2 to the big O…week 1 after O, 3 months after O, 6 months and I see the sea again.

Of course, there’s the damn diet – I’m admitting in the open that I am concerned about losing shape, not fitting into my skinnies and growing flabby. Oh the scares! But well – if you do visit, just prepare salads…they’ll be greatly appreciated

A peek into the path less travelled

Let’s face it. I am not a banker, neither am I a trader, a risk manager nor do I linger in the finance industry.

I get a mixture of reactions when I tell people where I work at, and what I work as. Some frown and go, “What do you do exactly – you give tours in the museums?” Some pretend to know what I do, and muster a lame “Ah, I see. That sounds interesting.” There are the blatant ones that automatically shut me off, knowing that I’ll never be of use to their network of high-networth individuals whom they are trying to tie up deals with and sponge off abit of returns from them. And there are one or two, who go “Serious! Awesome! I haven’t met anybody who does that – hey tell me more leh!”

I used to harbour angst against some people who have embedded themselves deep into their finance-related work and measure their success by the amount they earn, the profits they made and the connections they have established with rich people and such. This transcends into the need to justify their self-worth, transposing into posh-lookin’ cars, prime apartments and chalking up a huge tab every Friday night on alcohol, and more alcohol. Designer bags, blinking cuff links and a fifty dollar note are but mere spare change to them, Tung Lok becomes the daily lunch and Starbucks the new breakfast-in-a-paperbag.

The very same kinds who yearn that sort of success think that I do not know my priorities, and that I am still idling around, not knowing what to do for my career advancement. I measure my success by the people I know, the people who bother to listen to me, the people I’ve touched and managed to make a difference to. My drive stems from addressing a challenge that society faces everyday, the challenge to change mindsets and alter perceptions, to offer a new perception to the cynical society. I smile when I see their eyes light up and they finally get what we’ve been trying to do…and I rejoice when the word goes out, from one to ten, ten to many, many to all.

I thrive on events, on functions and gatherings that bring like-minded people together. Relationships to me are like the binding forces that piece my life together. Family, friends, colleagues, clients, partners…they interweave and create opportunities for me to be who I am, and who I see myself to be in future. I place emphasis on fostering and maintaining relationships in my life because I knew the pain and emptiness of having lost people dear to me, and watched for myself how a very strong individual survived the harsh realities faced by a single mother when she rejoined the society as a working woman.

Such angst I feel no more, now that I know how I prosper. I cannot live with my earnings coming from another individual’s loss in his/her funds, neither can I survive the dog-eat-dog world of the finance industry. My love for writing tells my story and others to those who listen, and it hopefully opens a side they have never thought about, or experienced. My work with Singapore’s museums and the country’s heritage as a whole, will hopefully continue to touch a raw nerve in our society, and remind us that we have a history to reminiscise and learn of. And through music and sports, I sing my joy unto those unahppy, and remind myself that life is worth living and shouting about, every day I wake up breathing.

I recall you saying, “Don’t you feel stupid, that all the work you do is just a small part of the larger workings of the organization/scheme of things?”

And my reply, “Don’t you feel small, that all the money you earn is just equivalent to someone else’s spare change that is worth just a blink of his eye?”

Disclaimer: I do not seek to reproach anybody’s choice in their career, but rather to make parallel the non-finance jobs and the hard-core finance-related positions. We’re after all running the same rat race, just at our own pace and looking out for our own cheese.

Little Lunch Time Luxuries!

This is what my horoscope, the Aquarius, tells me to do in in May.

Free now from the family burden, you are none the less feeling overwhelmed. It could be work or academia, which will be particularly taxing for Aquarians this month. Projects pile up, and authority figures can be unreasonably demanding. Don’t let them intimidate you. You are a highly capable individual who will get the work done as quickly as a human can. Will there be any leftover time for your personal life? Absolutely not. Your romance may also suffer. I can only advise you to remove your heart from your sleeve and tuck it into your breast pocket. Let it rest. While it’s in repose, take an inventory of the space inside that heart, and record the order of the occupants. With so many lovers and so little time to give to each of them, this might be a good time to downsize. Are you nurturing any old flames? Perhaps it’s time to put those people to rest as well. Maybe you are still committing time to friendships that have lost their meaning as well. Now is the time to withdraw a bit. Lower other people’s expectations of you so you can choose more intelligently to whom it is exactly you want to offer your time and affection. Be ruthless eliminating dead wood so you can be more devoted to those who really count. You will see. You’ll feel stronger emotionally, and your relationships will be substantially more solid.

Like a grounded bird, looking up at the sky. (1)

I decided I’d start this series of my accounts leading up to my knee operation to keep myself sane, in check and reminding myself that I am human after all.

This Thursday marks the end of April – the month of bad news and rollercoaster moments in my life, yet again – but things can’t possibly get any worse since it has made a stronger, more optimistic person out of me. This series of posts will be wordy, emotional and possibly confusing as readers embark on a journey through my mind as I get through this phase of my life.

I first saw the sports doctor on the first week of April, who diagnosed me with ACL (anterior cruciate ligament), MCL (medial collateral ligament) and meniscus tears. It was the news I never wanted to hear as a wakeboarder who’s just learning the highs of her sport, simply because an ACL tear means I’d never get to wakeboard at that level and beyond again. A second trip to the physiologist confirmed the diagnosis – a full ACL tear plus maybe slight tearing of the other ligament and meniscus; both concluded the best option for me will be surgery.

“Surgery” is a really scary word, it brings to my mind a series of panic thoughts – what would I do without activity for that couple of months, given that I’m so used to working out almost every day now? What would I do with crutches, my job, my sanity, moving around, depending on everybody else? Working from home, hobbling around, the constant pain. They tell me, “Oh just 2 weeks and you’ll be off crutches…you can start rehab by then…” Somehow I think those are all soft words. Reality simply hits the ceiling when you awake groggy from the anaestethic they pumped into you….I digressed.

The people closest to me told me to opt out of surgery, because there’s no point going through all that pain just to wakeboard. “It is worth it,” they said. “Think of the long term,” the doctors and sports enthusiasts said. Who shall I believe? I wavered between the two – people who have embraced sedentary lifestyles and people who continue to push the limits of their bodies. This was one of the harder decision I have got to make, and it frustrates me that people simply dismiss it as “aiya get it over and done with” or the alternative, “why bother to go through the pain, just stop wakeboarding!” It isn’t just about wakeboarding, my knee now prevents me from doing other things I love – running terrains, monkeying around on the sand, kickboxing, dancing, floorball and other sports.

I wouldn’t blame them really. Who knows what is the best thing to say when presented with this sort of news? Ultimately I’m my best weapon against myself. The mind is an amazing thing, so are well-developed muscles, which again – stems from the disciplined mind. I’m pretty amazed to be walking, running after the bus if I needed to, gymming actively and even possibly wakeskating.

The MRI results confirmed that I’ve fully torn my ACL, but my ligaments and meniscus remain intact. What was more interesting was damage to my cartilage and really bad bruising in my tissue. Damage to the cartilage indicated surgery as soon as possible, but tissue bruising at this point in time would have prevented a high success rate in the grafting of my ACL.

I’ve decided on surgery, but when – I don’t know. The next task – mentally preparing myself for life after that.

Christian Lacroix unleashed

Mikeller’s enthusiasm for fashion rubbed off my enthusiasm for all dramatic things alike – hence the decision to trot down to the National Museum of Singapore to get our long-delayed culture-vulture fix.

T’was a sight to behold with small-scale stage costumes greeting us at the entrance. Dating from the 18th century operas and progressing to romantic (and dramatic) 19th century hits, one could view a medley of costume designer Lacroix’s sketches and thought processes, and admire his translated works onto fabric.

I marveled at the details in his sketches – reflecting a mastered drawing technique in textured fabric, intricate details and the natural flair to dramatize his characters. As I recall a line from Lacroix, he mentioned how he liked to take on a humble position as “theatre director” of his cast and costumes, simply because it enables him to understand each characters, project their colours onto his costumes, and direct the cast members to present the opera’s story and experience to its maximum potential.

It was easy to pick out my favourites in this exhibition – when Lacroix marries masculinity with the soft touches of femininity (see photo above with tailored suit plus a tutu), and the drama-like quality of the 19th century opera costumes, complete with heavy layers and intricate lace, gold and everything else woven in.

I liked how several aspects of fashion are reflected in today’s clothes, apparel that I am a huge fan of – especially when it boils down to the cut and flouncy skirt. Gathers, frills, bubbles, flare…I’m no fashion journalist, nor am I an expert on fabrics. But Lacroix’s versatility and creativity wowed me to warrant a return visit with another group of enthusiasts – that it, after I have infected them with my enthusiasm for Lacroix.

More photos over at the Flickr section on the right.

Mojito, extra mint please.

Esplanade’s rooftop garden finally served its true alternate purpose when Orgo succesfully bidded a 2 year’s stay atop the Esplanade. Formerly conceptualized as a mobile pub when they were humbly at the banks of Singapore River just below the Central, Orgo revealed its quiet magnificence when I paid them a visit after a musical feast on Friday night.

Well known for their real fruit martinis, kick ass mojitos and cute Japanese bartenders, I cannot imagine why would anybody NOT sit at the bar. I shall refrain from discussing the bartenders’ appeal, but you know how it is when guys do their “thing”. Ultimately sexy. Disclaimer: That’s my opinion though, you may not discuss this further.

Orgo makes a tidy little niche Lego construction, with deep chocolate brown rattan-weaved chairs lining the brightly-lit bar, arranged in squares and transparent air-conditioned boxes with lounge chairs within. Pick your choice – lounge in comfort or brave the current sweltering heat in Singapore, although I would go with the latter to enjoy the cityscape and in future, Marina Bay Sands completed.

Music matters not here – one sits to peaceful silence and constant murmurs from conversations all around, or listen to the wind blow in his/her ears. I loved the peace that came along with Orgo, drowned in the whirring of blended cocktails and shaken (not stirred) martini art.

Just remember to order their kick-ass mojitos too. That’s one more to add to the list of chill pill pads.

I have Meow’ed

I thought I got it right this time, spending a good $110 for decent Cat 3 seats at the Esplanade Theatre, ensuring centre stage view for the girl-friend and myself – to finally get my musical fix for 2009.

The highly anticipated Cats musical was severely dampened by terrible accoustics and sound engineering – the mike fizzled out halfway and we couldn’t hear ‘em singing for about 5 seconds. Singing was muffled for a scene or two, and I thought the supporting cast was way better than the female lead. To summarize, it wasn’t bad – but it wasn’t good either. The cast came across as a brillant theatre group, complete with skills ranging from singing to dancing to acrobatics, although I personally thought they exhibited a stronger dance element in the performance.

Stars of the night were dominantly Munkustrap, male lead singer, and Rum Tum Tugger (my personal favourite) – self obsessed, flamboyant, showy…with that little hint of arrogance but you know deep down he’s a pretty nice guy (*ahem* cat) inside, together with sopranos Bombalurina and Demeter. I liked how clearly they articulated their words and how rich their vibratos were. I would think that the cast spend a week observing felines in their natural behavior, given how they so skillfully tumbled, slid and swayed their hinds with utmost agility to the rhythm.

A pretty sound performance overall, pity about the lack of a live orchestra, which I thought made one helluva difference to a good and bad musical. The female lead was struggling to catch up with the pre-recorded music in her solo, which very unfortuantely killed the power of that stanza. What…a pity indeed.

20 Things you Didn’t Know About Sex

Idle surfing led to the following extract taken from http://discovermagazine.com/columns/20-things-you-didnt-know
Something to chew on, for the Monday blues.

1 Life emerged on earth about 3.8 billion years ago, but sex did not evolve until more than 2 billion years later. Dirty limericks emerged only quite recently, geologically speaking. And we thought it was embedded in our systems since birth.

2 Sex—what is it good for? Scientists are not sure, since asexual reproduction is a better evolutionary strategy. I suppose we get bored with the same parts, some variety needed!

3 For those who refuse to commit to one strategy: The hermaphroditic earthworm Dendrobaena rubida has both male and female genitalia. If it cannot find a partner, the worm doubles up so that its female bits and male bits can go to town. It’s self-satisfaction at a new level, baby.

4 Although famously monogamous, female Adélie penguins slip away from their mates occasionally to couple with unattached males. They exact a fee for such a dalliance—stones to bolster their nests—c’mon women we’ve got to learn from them!

5 Some talented penguin teasers can get a gift even without putting out. Again, not unlike certain people.

6 Barbary macaques have a distinctive way to get their mates to make a sperm donation: yelling. If the female does not shout, the male almost never climaxes. Think: “OHHHHHH OHHHHHHHHH COME ON, MAC – MAX IT OUT!” – literally, figuratively – you have it.

7 How do we know this? German primatologist Dana Pfefferle watched a group of macaques, counting the females’ yells and the males’ pelvic thrusts. She says this work is “quite weird, but it’s science.”

8 Here in the US of A, that kind of stuff ends up on YouTube.

9 Because Barry White sounds terrible underwater: Fish can produce a variety of noises with their bones, teeth, and gas bladders. Grant Gilmore of Estuarine Coastal and Ocean Science Inc. says that male fish probably use some of these sounds to woo females. ...And that explains why males tend to fart louder?

10 The spiny anteater, an egg-laying mammal native to Australia and New Guinea, has a penis with four heads, but only two fit into the female at once.

11 The tiny male paper nautilus, an octopus, impregnates the much larger female by shooting his penis (a modified tentacle) into her—and leaving it there.

12 Homosexual behavior is found in at least 1,500 species of mammal, fish, reptile, bird, and even invertebrate. Hoorah to gays!

13 My two dads: When a male goose courts another male goose, a female sometimes slips in and mates with both males. Later, the male partners share paternal duties.

14 Some seagulls practice lesbian mating, although the eggs that result from their liaisons are sterile.

15 Biologists at the University of California at San Francisco have found that male fruit flies exposed to high levels of alcohol become hypersexual and try to court practically anything with wings, including other male fruit flies. Eventually the revelry turns into a dysfunctional orgy, with “a chain of males chasing each other,” says one insect expert.

16 As the flies get increasingly tanked, their chance for mating success keeps dropping. This is one more reason why the fruit fly is a great model for studying humans.

17 Only a few vertebrates besides humans copulate face to face. Among those that sometimes do this: hamsters, beavers, and some primates, such as bonobos and orangutans.

18 French kissing is rarer still. The only other species known to do it as a prelude to mating is the white-fronted parrot. After the birds open their beaks and touch tongues, the male spews his lunch onto the female’s chest.

19 It is here that the mating habits of the white-fronted parrot and Homo sapiens diverge.

20 Size really does matter: People tend to choose mates of similar race, education level—and chubbiness. A recent British study indicates that obese people usually select partners with comparable levels of body fat.