Please do not let me go

Gee, how original. Sunset shot for 2008's reflection.

Hey,

Sweetie. I didn't forget you. Remember I told you I think of you for the most banal everyday things? It's the same still. Like Tin Tin in this French restaurant I went to. Ephesus and Asterix. Team America. Coffee of the Day. The Economist. :) You are in my life, no matter how short our romance was or attached I am. So like it or not, swee'heart. Suck it.

Remember my journal entries that I told you about? I went through that. It's too long winded. And emotional bordering on hysterics. I'm not gonna let you go through aaaaal that torture. You know some of it. I'll expand some of it later. But here's the brief:

If somebody were to ask me what’s THE moment in 2008, I have no answer to that.

The only word that sums up my first part of the year was hedonism. And as the rule of economics points out, what goes up must eventually come down. I am not bitter over any of it – the sub prime mortgage crisis, the cancellation of advertising plans, the heartbreak. In fact it was a welcome because I was wondering when any of this fun will come to an end. When I need to review my actions and wonder what a brat I’ve become. Champagne brunches have been relegated to home-made stuff. Concerts are carefully reviewed and selected. Family needs before self interest. That kind of thing. So keeping in tradition my control organized freak style, I’ve bulleted this entry.

Money

I learnt my lesson well. Save more. No more short holidays here and there. I guess it's easy to forget yourself when you start earning more than you've ever earned. Like I'm supposed to save for my education.

Entertainment

Broken social scene was a winner. I’ve not heard much about them but owing to no (1) above, it was another one of my impulse splurge on the ticket. I’ve blogged about it. Lover’s spit was a tear jerker.

Of course Bjork and Bachelorette in Perth. “The sky is so prrrety,” she said. It was a beautiful sunset. Russet and purple streaks across the blue sky. Her marching band, her outlandish costume and her heartbreaking vocals.

Nightlife

Birthday club hop with Q and D. Three geeks out on a geek night. We were channeling MJ on the retro dance floor. You should have seen us.

Suprise

Super belated 2007 Xmas gift from Gilbert. Almost Famous DVD which took ages to come from Amazon. I appreciated the trouble he took to get this, when they don’t sell any copies here. And the fact that he knew that I will love it. So thank you my Mr G. :)

Literature

Lolita. 100 years of Solitude. Rumi’s poetry. I was on my way to his tomb in Konya when I first heard it. The valleys, the sky – everything about the setting was perfect. It was a perfect homage to his words. There was so much love and tolerance. I was humbled.

Music

Portishead and Radiohead’s latest album. The head heads.

Love/Dating

Most were forgettable. I’ve amassed national flags but it was meaningless. The memorable one being B. We had an hour long kiss at Wine Company. Nobody around. The staff left tea lights around us. It was quiet. He carried me around the square and sat me gently on the table before kissing me again. There was the night picnic he cooked dishes from his homeland and picked me up from work. My lips were swollen from all the kissing. He was full of surprises, incredibly funny and treated me well the time we were together. I laughed, and I cried because I know there’ll come a day when I’ll say, it was good while it lasted. And I was right.

Friendship

I am blessed with like minded individuals. What more can I ask for?

Regret(s)

Not being able to catch Radiohead. Not sending my parents off on a holiday but going on 6 holidays in a year. I am such a selfish girl..

Not being able to extend my flight when I was in Istanbul therefore missing an extra week of its beauty. Missing snow by 6 hours in Istanbul.

Yes Miss Tropical Sunshine has never experienced snow and I was so excited about it. :(

Holiday

Koh Phangan with Jo. Our Harold and Kumar rendition. Watching the full moon casting its reflection on the black sea from our verandah. My holiday romance. You have to understand that I was empty from all the dating and courtship. He was different. But it’ll never work and we know that. I was reduced to tears all the way from the pick up, to the ferry, airplane. So much so I had to take urgent leave the next day to continue crying my heart out. A bit silly now when I think about it. Heh. .

Turkey

There are some places that calls out to you without having been there. So much beauty, history, sorrow and passion. It was unbelievable. You've been there, I'm not sure if you feel the same. Maybe its the azan. But we'll go through that later.

Coming from a clinical white (pardon the pun) washed background, with complete disregard and shame to our forefather’s roots, I was losing more respect than I could for my birth country. I was ashamed when Singaporeans cited the reasons for visiting:

“It’s cheaper than Europe.”

“It’s more value for money.”

We are talking about the country who has seen the rise and fall of distinct civilizations – the Hellenites, the Byzantines and the Ottomans who, at the height of its power spanned three continents. I can rant on and on about their military might, architecture, tolerance. (yes, etc etc).

I was at Domalbahce palace and saw a 150 year old piano with no significance comparatively whatsoever to its surrounding. Can’t help but remark, gee this dusty piano at the corner of the room is older than my country. Well, we were not taught to be from Temasek in schools now. Everything begins from good old Stamford Raffles. But we know better. We were older than that. You know, its OK to have a humble, maybe less glamorized past. You can teach history, but you can’t force pride down our throats. I mean, look at Malaysia. Look at Thailand. Look at how divided and united they can be. Where is the passion? Everything here is soulless. Sex, Art appreciation, politics - where is it?

And I've ranted unconsciously again. I rest my case, but those who know me will know how fucking pissed off I can get with these sort of statements. How can you say its value for money? I feel so ashamed of my countrymen.

Anyway.

I fell in love with this country and I’m glad I chose this destination instead. I’ve learnt so much here than the rest of the year totaled. And I was glad the best friend was there with me. For understanding when I cried for no reason whatsoever during our trip, and for sharing the tears and laughter with me. Melodramatic as this may sound, I ushered in 2009 without my heart. I left it behind.

:(

There's more to go on but I'll spare you the agony. For now. :P

So what is your 2008's story? I want to hear all about it.

xxxxxxxxx

me

Wonderwall

Q: I'll live my life vicariously through you...



Now, no more panic attacks.

Come Pick Me Up

I had the most feeling feeling week ever. In The Minah’s dictionary, feeling feeling is akin, if not synonymous with delusion, self deception, hallucination…well, I can plonk the whole thesaurus section in here but I have work the next day. This time, I’ll persevere for this entry to end.

Last Saturday, Din din came over to my place for a nightcap and the usual movie when the folks are out of town. We watched Apocalypto, and ended up tussling in bed with no-can’t-I-hate-gore-no-thanks-is-he-gonna die-??!!-Let me sleep-!!!-but you forced me to watch this-oh-my-FUCK-they’re-all-gonna-die-BABE-WAKE-UP!-please-just-give-me-the-ending-SHUT-UP-AND-JUST-WATCH!!!!

And DD never completed the movie marathon. After half an hour of careful selection, she conveniently snoozed on my bed whilst I proceeded to watch Pretty Woman alone. The entire movie, no interruption, for the first bloody time. I have issues with movies like this. Together with fairytales and porn. But I’ll leave them for another entry when I’m on a 28^th day Venus come hither and enlarge my boobs rant.

Blimey, this week is full of Pretty Woman activities. Let’s see:

1. There was dinner with friends at the NUS Guild House with the bapoks while the Asian Cup was going on. Someone ordered escargos and I was struggling with the pincer-like-thong thingamajig. It almost flew…

I said almost.

2. There was that shopping spree. No, I wish someone could offer me his credit card and make the whole store suck up to me. But I went somewhere where I felt slightly more inclined to part with my money. No other fine, dignified, risk free and fashionable place other than Johore Bahru. That’s right folks. When you are broke, but you want to shop and at the same time pretend for that little while you have double the amount you own, Jusco at Terbau is where its at. They have brands that’ll blow your brains out. Think about it – TOPSHOP, WAREHOUSE, MANGO, ZARA. You’ll be the talk of the town. Maybe not.

So I’ll see you there. All you need is a pile of bribery money, car and yes, life insurance. Naturally.

3. Brooklyn boy suggested a night out, howaboutaplay? and I said sure, I trust your taste. Go book and surprise me.

The play became an Italian opera. Where's luck when you need it? I’ve been having few hours of sleep daily, nodding to sleep after lunch at work and he expected us to watch a 3hr bleeding opera with no dinner in my stomach! But say say say, it was pretty woman moment no? Only I wasn’t wearing a beautiful long dress, with satin elbow gloves and Charles and Keith shoes. (Thanks for the unglam idea BR) But well. The night was good. Hey Figaro was awesome, if you love corny lame stuff like moi.

We went to Wine bar afterwards. As usual, I have an issue to raise.

They call themselves the Wine Bar right? But when the house wine came, it tasted like it came straight off a scrapped sweaty armpit. You don’t call yourself Wine Bar when you serve armpit sweat and try to pass it off as wine! Even an uncouth, very un-class minah (from the ghetto) like me know its crap!

Urrgh. Friday nights are also called media nights there. It’s for the fancy, endless pretentious schmoozing and “oh my gawd, you look fantastic dahlin dahlin dahlin” moment. And I’m just one of them. Being fake is fun, sometimes. Entering another role can be quite a relief. You have no idea how much of a burden it is being me. All the world’s misery on my shoulders, the angst, the weight of centuries worth of philosophical woes and existential dilemma. You have NO idea.

4. For the benefit of...I can say it now (losers) out there who have not watched the movie, you will NOW know that the movie scenes revolved around the suite. I had a hotel room moment as well! The Bapoks were at Hyatt last Saturday. DD’s sis and beau got us a room to celebrate Butty Boy’s birthday. We were suppose to head out, but ended up rolling around in bed. And wait wait! We had a bar scene too at Mezzanine. Again, I wasn’t in a dress, there was no piano OR sex or anything like that. Bummer. At midnight, we threw ourselves at Butty Boy who was comfortably stripped and encased in a bathroom robe.

5. And yesterday, at the kind invitation of our client, my colleagues and I were at the Singapore Turf Club for upper crass class lunch, high tea and horse racing. Four girls all decked out in colorful dresses courtesy of Mango, Zara, Dorothy Perkins and the likes. The moment we entered, it was a much somber mood. Men in dark suits, women in prada and chanel, professor umbridge look-alikes – three of them in fact, decked out from head to toe in pink. But who cares, right? We were there for the food.

We decided to bet. Two dollar place forecast bets. The gentlemen at our table were frowning in concentration at their booklets, discussing horses and their breed, jockey weight, the weather, the turf before carefully making a selection. Our selections were based on 1) cute jockeys 2) cute horses with cute tails 3) cute horse names 4) the color of the horse’s socks (at least that’s what it looked like) 5) favorite numbers.

Bad choice. In the end, after copious amounts of food, tea (and alcohol for yours truly), we ended up chatting with the unassuming uncles who turned out to be multi-millionaires, horse owners, horse buyers, businessmen etc etc. While we betted 2 bucks for a race, they were going by the thousands per race. We even get to choose numbers for them – just for the hell of it and why not? It’s all luck.

I lost a grand total of 12 bucks. We had great food, good laugh from the uncles and an amazing view from the grandstand. The day turned out unexpectedly good. It wasn’t a day like the one in pretty woman, with plumey hats and picnic baskets. Besides we’d have looked ridiculous with the crazy weather, but it was close. The only thing missing is a Richard Gere character. And good sex. Perhaps I should do a hooker scene to round off the pretty woman week. And maybe, just maybe, a pick-me-up scene turn fairy tale will come true.

But who are we exactly kidding? We are imbued with this crap from young and grow up thinking a prince charming will sweep you off your feet. Men end up as chauvinist pigs OR a whimpering wuss. Fine balance is a joke, unless he’s gay. Women end up useless, wantonly desiring that crystalline tower scene that will never, ever come true.

Something tells me I just did a Venus rant.

And maybe, just maybe, it is about time I finally did.

Edit: Wha'eva!