Come What May

A gathering of old friends. This is sort of a pre-Christmas get-together, to whet our own appetites and awaken our own memories of our many years of holiday season reunion.

We are at Sun with Moon Japanese Dining and Cafe at Wheelock Place. This place has received rather good reviews of food, ambience and presentation. It seems the reviews are right.

It is another rainy night which makes me feel colder than it actually is.

Like it’s snowing.

I notice the dazzling glow of Orchard Road’s lights the most. It penetrates the sheen of water falling down upon us all.

Like snow.

This is nice.

Three of us meet outside Borders, and after enjoying a pre-dinner smoke, we head up to Sun and Moon Japanese Dining and Cafe where another two friends are already settled in. The place is packed for a Wednesday night – I suppose everyone else is out enjoying their pre-Christmas celebrations too. Conversations are buzzing within the Japanese restaurant where Olio Dome used to be. I see many happy, smiling faces, engrossed in sharing the spice in their lives with their dining companions, immersed in telling their stories or juicy gossips.

I am filled with an immense sense of bliss.

Stepping into our private room that the waitress has prepared for us, my friends and I simultaneously and spontaneously burst into jokes of how we must be such a disgrace that we are shelved to the back of the restaurant and how they must be able to tell from our looks that we are a rowdy bunch.

Friends actually take pride in being either or both. We are secretly and smugly pleased with ourselves for having that power to intimidate others with our open and boisterous selves.

The night is filled with such conversations where we amuse ourselves with our shamed history in our coming of age years – jokes that have been repeated and done to death; tease one another endlessly and laugh over nothing at all. There are moments when we have nothing to talk about and then we just eat and smile to ourselves. But there is no one awkward moment.

We are only five where we used to be ten. Aside from those who have left the group, some are caught at work while a few are overseas on holiday. Two of my friends just got married too.

We are all grown up. And I don’t feel like I have ever moved from that age where we first met and bonded.

Next year marks the tenth year of our friendship. As we sit there musing about it, our faces are cast in a glow of joy that we have come to our tenth anniversary. It is a radiance that I don’t often see among many friends.

It is not just a radiance of a friendship shared. Neither is it one that is shone on faces after spending a good time together. And it definitely isn’t the kind of radiance that is glimpsed on young lover’s faces. Those are flushes of what true radiance is.

This is the radiance that is seen on faces of old people when they meet long-lost friends, or when they look upon their grandchildren; of a couple sharing just that brief moment that takes them back to their courting days; that is sometimes seen on special occasions when one stops being in an activity but pauses long enough to look around and appreciate those sitting around you right there, right then.

This radiance isn’t exciting. It is nostalgic.
It isn’t newfound but something you’re used to.

And as I sit there gazing at my friends, I catch myself admiring the beauty of this radiance and I know, more surely than I had known ten years ago, that I can never find this kind of love anymore, no matter how alluring new friendships are and how perfectly I can fit in with other close friends. There’s always going to be something my other friendships lack and will always lack in comparison – age.

And so I thank God for this aged radiance on our faces. It may be covered with blemishes of having spent bad times together, and also tainted with shady hues where there have been disagreements and disharmony. But beneath these darker shades are solid foundations of a shared history, and above these same shades are brilliant reflections of a certainty that there will always be better things to come. Come what may.

a colourful entry

my friend, Jooj, had quite a start to her day this morning.

she was walking down the overhead bridge near her house as a man in his 30s or 40s was walking up.

the bugger unzipped his pants and pulled out his, yes, THAT! what a cow!!!

she was shaken but said if she had not been so surprised she would have told him off. yes, it is unfortunate that a lot of these assholes get away with their misdemeanour simply because the surprised party lacks the chance to recover from their shock to wreck the same havoc back.

my first reaction when Jooj told me was to yank and twist that thing until you hear the chicken-shit whimper and cry out. but you know what, WE DON'T WANT TO TOUCH THAT!!! *screams*

assholes.

while we are on the topic of assholes, i met this guy on Sunday night and it was by far, the worst date i have ever gone on. THE ABSOLUTE WORST. i think i have met my share of jerks but this takes the cake. i will refer to him as the Fucker (forgive the language but that's how i feel about him).

firstly, he asks if i have a degree and then how much i earn. what the fuck!? next he checks about my "commitments" and goes right ahead, without being asked to, to calculate how i should manage my finances.

*simmers*

among some other irritating things he said:

- "the education system in Singapore favours women" and then proceeds to share his wise words that this is why a lot of men don't do as well. maybe it's just you???
- "do all your friends have degrees too?" like fuck i will introduce you to them.
- "we should put the pineapple rice here in the middle." because you can't eat it if it's at the side?!
- "women are independent only if they have degrees," while i'm trying to explain that i am more independent these days compared to my younger days in the sense that i don't collapse if there's no man around. "if you don't have a degree, you won't be independent too." FUCK YOU MONSTER!!!!
- "no, i know writers earn a lot." he insists for like, three times, after i told him that it's not true. ARE YOU A WRITER?!!

i tell myself that maybe this is all a misunderstanding and i may have misread his intentions.

this sentiment isn't able to last long, as hard as i try to tell myself that.

he keeps pressing me on what attracts me to the guys i liked, which i honestly don't know because the guys i like are generally quite different from one another. eventually, i give it to him.

i say, "i like people who are genuine and sincere and honest. it's very easy to tell when people are being real or not," and then i look him in the eyes that i will so love to stab with my fork, "if you try to smoke me, i will know."

guess what? he actually turns red. and not just red, but DEEP RED.
that seals my conviction that this worm sitting before me is a mere insignificant shithead i don't have to be nice to.

then he asks about my past relationships. you know, sometimes, i think i am too irritable with people who are really nice... and so i try to catch myself before i hurt someone. this is one of those times i do... and definitely one of those times i shouldn't bother to!

he sits there calculating when i met potato, and when i met blue cap, which year i was with potato and which with blue cap, how long i spent with one, which month of which year i was with the other.

WTF!?!

he keeps saying everything is subjective. but what he means is that things are subjective to what he thinks.

for example, apparently, i don't know why my relationships fail because its "subjective". i say, yes, relationships fail because of many reasons but my relationships are subjective to me and my boyfriends only. not anyone else. he thinks he understands my relationships better than i do.

he also attempts to insult my ex-boyfriends. i say attempt because i don't let him get far with this. if you guys don't know, i am HIGHLY PROTECTIVE of the men i've loved.

simply because i think i've been very blessed to have met and loved two good guys in my life. a relationship not working out doesn't put any of them on my 'hate' list. they are essentially the ones who have shared the most intimate parts of my life, the people whom i've loved and who's loved me.

THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING TO GET AWAY WITH DISSING THEM. i don't even let my mother speak badly of them, WHO THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU ARE?!
and if the Fucker thinks just because these guys are ex-es and past and over and i must hence, feel some sort of animosity towards them, well, fucking think again, you fucking piece of SHIT.

and THEN, he goes on to fish if i ever slept with any of them.

THAT'S IT. this is IT.

and even then, i try to be nice! why!? because i had told him i am a Catholic. i wonder if this makes me hypocritical because if i hadn't told him that, i probably will give it to him. though i know it'll make me feel so bad later, which is what holds me back a lot these days too.
but the point is, if i had been nasty, and it happens that i'm the one and only Catholic he knows, he's going to be shooting his mouth off with his words of wisdom so readily and easily to others about how Catholics are really terrible people because he once met this girl who's a Catholic and she's just plain rude and if that's what being a Catholic is, then he's never going to be one. urgh.

dinner finally ends and i'm able to make my escape.

"shall we go for a walk?"

walk my ass.

"sure." i say and i walk towards the cab stand.

along the way, he tries again to find out if i ever slept with my boyfriends! GOSH!!!!! *SCREAMS!!!*

*mental picture of kicking him in the balls into the river and shouting as he drowns, "GO FUCK YOURSELF!"*

i turn to him and icily - i've lost it - "what do you want to know? if there's something you want to ask, ASK IT. WHY DO YOU NEED TO KNOW ANYWAY?"

fucking coward. look, my take is, if you have the cheek to want to know that badly about my virginity, then you fucking well work up the guts to ask the question directly, you balless freak.

he laughs that lecherous, nervous laugh.

"oh no lah, i'm just sharing." -_-
share your fucking life with the murky river.

cab comes, he continues yakking, couple comes out, i get in and, i even offer to drop him off since he stays in bishan but he is caught unawares and says, oh, er, no need, i'll call you...

WHATEVER.

i go off.

he sms-es me later to apologise if his questions made me feel uncomfortable and, get this, "you are a sensitive and emotional lady".

like i told Snow White, i'll be the first to admit i'm an emotional person, AS WHAT THIS BLOG IS ALL ABOUT!!! and i'll also be the first to admit i'm a sensitive girl.

but in this case, NO WAY. fucking asshole. i hope you drown or contract STD or something and your dick rots away.

go fuck yourself while you still can.

*breathes*

i am glad i got that out. i think this is the most colourful entry on my blog. :P i apologise really but it'll take a lot of effort for me to tone down my language while writing about the Fucker.

but i suppose good can come out of anything. at least now i have a ready answer when i'm asked to "Describe the worst date of your life."

why, oh why, are some men such complete assholes?

Quin-babies

I'll like to get married some day and have children - the fruit of my love with my husband.

One day, I go for a scan and the doctor congratulates my husband and I, maybe a little too joyously, and then hesitates for a brief second that would have passed if I hadn't been watching him intently, and he says, "Congratulations. You are expecting quadruplets."

WHAT!!!

My love and I falter for a moment but it is a very short moment. At the end of it, we hug each other and try to reassure each other that everything will be alright. We'll make it, even as worries about finances start piling up on our minds. We'll be good parents, and we'll provide our babies with the best of our love, even as we wonder to ourselves how we can manage four babies when we aren't even sure we can handle one.

"But it'll be alright. With God, everything is possible," we whisper to each other.

I've always thought I'll be the kind of woman who will sink into depression at some point with all the nausea I feel and the aroma of foods I had loved but which now turn me off. I thought I would feel unsexy, big and heavy.

Amazingly, none of that comes my way. After the initial panic attacks about carrying four babies, the reality sinks in and I realise (and it gives me four times the joy!!!) that I am carrying four lives within me. Four lives as a result of our love. Life is amazing. God is amazing.

I can't wait for them to arrive.

Finally, the day of the delivery is here. I am freaked out! Though I am ecstatic. Ok, I feel pain. But... (breathe), ok, I am going to do this. I can do this.

Then the doctor says, "Er... you said you were expecting quadruplets?"

"Yes....." I reply warily, a sudden urge to chew his head off rising from within me. Now, where did that come from? As suddenly as it had come, it disappears and is replaced by an emotion of love so great I feel like weeping.

"Well, Ma'am," he grins. "You're going to have quins!"

Quins??? QUINS!?!?!

+++++

"The fifth came as a surprise, but we took it in our stride," Mr Quin-Daddy said. "It's good news!"

The Quin-parents were sharing their story of how their five children came to them and how they accepted this gift and manage them, even till now.

I wonder how I would have felt if I was Mrs Quin-Mummy. I probably would have freaked out. But I hope and pray that I will accept this gift if it comes to me one day, with the same strength and grace, and to be able to recognise that in spite of looming challenges and adversity, the God who bestows such a gift is capable of gently guiding me through the obstacles as well.

I suddenly remember an old friend who has four children. He had shared that when he and his wife learnt they were going to have their fourth child, it came more as a burden and worry than as a pleasant surprise. They had contemplated not having the child but thankfully, they must have heard God's soft, encouraging reassurances.

That baby is my favourite among his four children. He is a big and strong boy. Even when he was a baby, he was heavy because he was so big! What would have happened if they had ignored God's voice? Each time I look at that boy, I say a little prayer of thanks, as I am sure my friend and his wife do too, that this gift of life had not been rejected.

One day, it may be my turn. I want to know the taste of that courage that these parents have - wonderful parents, the best parents... the best just because they had said 'yes'.

I hope to remember Mr Quin-Daddy's words when my time arrives, "Just let the blessings come."

30 Angels

I counted about 30 angels this morning.

They didn’t look like angels though. Some of them were old and infirmed; there were a few hunched ones and well, yes, some were prettier than others. There were males and females, fat and thin.

No, they didn’t look like angels at all.

But they were there to pave the way for some Christmas spirit to descend upon some mere mortals in the lobby I was at. So I decided to keep an open mind and observe them for a bit.

Suddenly, the main door swung open and in dashed three people carrying a huge, green bush and a pot of dirty soil. Upon more careful inspection, it is revealed that the huge, green bush is actually in the shape of an inverted cone. I decided it was meant to be a Christmas tree.

The busy three set the huge, green bush-tree down but it wouldn’t stand because it had no legs. So they stuffed it into the pot of dirty soil and proceeded to tie the base around a wall so the huge, green bush-tree would stand. It did after many failed attempts.

While this was happening, the rest of the angels were preparing what looked like bags after bags of Christmas goodies. They kept them at bay, and I thought they might be preparing them in this Advent season, but holding them back from everyone, to build the atmosphere of anticipating the arrival of Baby Jesus. Perhaps that is why they were merely preparing the gifts and letting them sit on their own, with no apparent move to hand them out.

In the meantime, the busy three and some of the 30 angels had begun to decorate the huge, green bush-tree. And boy was it badly done! So they started again. And again. And again. The decorations did improve and eventually, they all agreed that the huge, green bush-tree was prettified enough.

The angels dashed around, fleeting from one place to another. Some were milling around with the mortals in that room while others exchanged thoughts and ideas with one another. Truly, they were busy!

Then more angels came and almost by instinct, or through a deeper calling from within, they started to move towards one another and organised themselves into a few neat rows. They moved without thought, prompted and encouraged by one another’s look, word and deed.

And then, it began.

The first note struck and the angels, in one unison, burst into song. It filled the entire room and while the mere mortals had been lazing on couches in that room before, they now gradually turned their attention to the life of the music being sung in one accord and seemingly in one voice.

That one voice was hardly perfect. They didn’t look like angels and neither did they sound like angels. Still, it was with one voice that the songs were sung.

The spirit that had already been hovering around descended quickly, with no hesitation. It was as if it had been there all along – well, I suppose it had – and the very first note sung was its cue to come on in and down upon all!

About 20 or more angels were singing. The rest grabbed the presents that I had thought they were holding back till Christmas.

When the families of the inmates at Changi Prison Link walked through the door into the lobby where we were after their visit to their loved ones, these remaining angels handed each family one bag – of food stuff, and an additional gift or the children present.

I watched as the families smiled broadly, some openly laughing. Some of them were taken aback and said they were not Christians. Others offered to pay for the presents.

The angels reassured them that none of this mattered. They were there to bring some Christmas cheer into their lives. They were there as witnesses of those who are anticipating Baby Jesus’ arrival during this Christmas season and to bear witness of His love for all.

The patron angel slowly made his way over to me. With his kindly eyes that contained a love and wisdom that only age can provide turned towards me, he said, it may just be a little we can do to promote harmony… it could just be a drop in the ocean, but nevertheless, the ocean is made of many drops. Perhaps we should all offer our little drops of love to remember there is more to life than just grabbing and grasping. It also includes a little caring and little touches to bear witness to our faith.

On this day, I counted about 30 angels, who may not look or sound like angels, but most definitely, were angels, from the Roman Catholic Prison Ministry who brought some of their little drops of love to the families of the inmates. For some of these families, I know, I saw a vast ocean of love welling up in their eyes.

NYE 2002

It's NYE 2002.

We are back together - again, after having spent a month or two apart, when we had gone our separate ways. I can't say that either is the best decision. I felt it wasn't right when we split up. But I don't think it is very smart to get back together while I am still scarred.

But then, I'm just so relieved that the pain in my heart is being soothed that I don't want to acknowledge any other emotion.

And Christmas has just passed, my favourite time of the year.

He had agreed to come with me to my annual Christmas gathering with my friends at Snow White's house.

We are having lots and lots of drinks. It isn't an alcoholic feasting but the spirit (pardon the pun) of the festivities is in the air. There is much booze around and with all this love and joy in the air, we are all having one too many drinks.

I will remember dancing to the Ketchup song. I will remember him dancing to it too. We are all just letting loose and acting all silly and dumb. But it is great.

He and I are now sitting on Snow White's couch, me intoxicated, him barely, and we are singing "Somebody". My friends groan and laugh but we sing, from the first word to the last. It may have been romantic if I am sober but I'm not. I'm not drunk - not yet - but just so intoxicatedly high and happy.

I am so high now but I have been dancing the whole night, or rather, jumping. He jumps a lot. I don't know why but that influences me and I have started jumping a lot too. I haven't stopped since. Sometimes, it's because there's this joy bubbling within or the realization that I'm alive and the happiness that courses through me bursts forth in little spurts that I have to jump!

In any case, I jump a lot tonight and because I am getting from high to drunk, I have little motor control so I fall a lot too. I jump and fall, on my bruised knees and at one point, I am so tired I decide not to get up. So I just fall on the floor. He comes over and he picks me up and we stand there, holding each other.

Tonight is the first night that I will pass out before the NYE countdown. I fall asleep on the couch. This feeling is nice. I don't feel pukey nor ill. i am just happy and tired from all the excitement.

+++++

Finally, we get up to go home. I wake up, stagger to the gate, wearing only one slipper. I step out onto the road. I am conscious of what I'm doing and I know fully well, at this point even, that this is dangerous. But there is a feeling of invincibility. Not that I cannot die. But because I feel so good and there is so much love surrounding me that it's ok even if I am to die.

Snow White exclaims from the door, "Come back! Why are you standing on the road!!!"

In the next few minutes, he dashes out. I don't know what happened, except suddenly, I am in his embrace and his strong arms are holding on tightly to me. He helps me in.

We walk home to my house arm in arm, laughing, staggering, complaining, happy.

+++++

That was 4 years ago. Almost a whole 4 years.

This morning, as I stepped out of my bathroom, I noticed this white pouch sitting on my table. It has always been there but I had forgotten about it. So I opened it to see if I can fit some pens into it.

I found a little silver foldable, compact photo frame that Collie and Harbinger had given me for Christmas the year before. My heart leapt. I knew what was inside though I had forgotten.

Opening it, I smiled. A photo of us on that NYE night. He had sat in one of Snow White's chair in the living room, resting from the endless dancing and I had hopped around and collapsed into his lap at one point. Somebody took a photo of us like that. I was on his lap, with one arm around his shoulders. He was trying to keep the both of us from toppling over.

We were both laughing merrily away! That shot was captured perfectly.

Perfectly. I remember that night. It was a happy time.

this is MY blog

it has been such a long time since i got on this blog.
mostly because i usually blog during the lull periods at work since i get on my second shift of work when i'm home. usually.

else i'm just watching TV. =)

although i haven't been blogging, i have been writing so much lately that i seem to be unable to stop.

but now i'm back. seems as if blogger just updated some of its functions, not that i see any difference here.

and this is still MY blog.

mine. my pride and joy.

here, i can write what i want and i WILL write what i want.
to those who don't like that, or who disapprove of what i write, please, just back off. you are not obliged to read.
to those who like what i write, i thank you for your words of encouragement and i like to thank you also for not trying to influence me. so far, i am deeply pleased that i still write heartfelt words, not anything to suit anyone.

i'm being neither arrogant nor proud.

but when i started this blog, it was meant to be my personal space, where i can ventilate if i need to. above all, this is meant to be my private space where i am able to let out my innermost feelings, reflections, thoughts, fears and dreams. it's an online journal. MY online journal.

when you share something that intimate, and it gets thrown back into your face with careless remarks, accusations and criticisms, it actually hurts. it's like sharing your journal with a trusted friend and having that person turn around, snarl at you and tell you to your face that what you write is bullshit and thoughtless. so what if it is? it's MY journal.

i didn't give this address out to many people, as you guys know. simply because you are my trusted friends. you are here because i have invited you to share a piece of me. you remain here because you are my friend and you wish to continue sharing in that piece. if you choose to leave, i don't hold you back but if you choose to stay, i hope there is mutual respect and love between you and i.

i have enjoyed being here for the last year. for that, i thank you for not trying to limit me with boundaries, or locking me up in a confined space, but allowing me to write what i will.

i suppose i sound angry here. i don't think i am. perhaps i'm still carrying remnants of some betrayal i felt. justified or not, i don't know. i suppose there'll always be two sides to a story. but it still hurts from time to time though generally, i think God has been excellent in the subtle ways He's healed me. but while i'm feeling like this, this deeply affected, i just want to let it out.

here.

my space.