Mr Silly Blue Floaty

Can someone, anyone, please tell me... why is there this silly blue balloon hovering atop almost every canal on our tiny island???? A silly, shaped-like-water-droplet balloon, with nothing on it except a lazy grin, and skinny flapping "arms" & stick-like "legs" to go along... No emergency hotlines, no well-intentioned precautions, no names of canal, nothing, and I repeat, NOTHING one ounce important printed on it.

So why, do we have that thing suspended above every tweeny weeny crook & crevice where water flows?? So as to help big bad terrorists pinpoint exactly where to drop their deadly bio-weapons?? So as to show murderers yet another venue to dump their victims' bodies?? So as to tell citizens that "hey, we've got many canals over here, so don't worry, you won't ever run out of water you know"? So as to show us that PUB, or ENV, or NEA or whatever govt agency is doing its job?? So as to use up taxpayers monies?? So as to celebrate National Day in blue??

If anyone knows, please tell me.

I believe in a cycle

Have you watched that futuristic action thriller "The Island"? The one where supposedly unfeeling, programmed, human clones are housed in some underground, "uncontaminated" facility, whose sole purpose of existence is to provide “spare parts” for their living, paying, original human counterparts?

Sure, there's a couple of really pretty faces, and lots of wham-bam action, with heart-stopping hiding, running & dodging, but beyond all that explosive glitz, there is really something to think about. The possibility of Man creating, and hence controlling life.

I'm not sure when I started thinking this way (perhaps ever since I become fascinated with bio?), but I have, for a long time, felt that the further and faster Man progresses in terms of technology, and in terms of knowledge, the closer and faster we are to our own death and extinction... I deeply respect Mother Nature. I think She has her own ways of dealing with arrogant & 'powerful' living organisms, be it in the form of natural disasters, pandemics, wars...

Merely 52 yrs ago, Watson & Crick first unveiled to mankind, the double-helical nature of purported molecule of life - DNA, and just half a century later, we are already cloning mice, pigs, sheep, goats & monkeys like nobody's business... and tinkering with stem cells, embryos, gene therapy, & sex selection... By fighting so hard, first to sustain life, then to improve life, and finally to CREATE life, I feel we are becoming increasingly arrogant, and dangerous... we are digging our own graves. Man has never created life, and can never be. It is not our job. Should we persist, and eventually suceed, that day of "success" will likely be the last for mankind.

I'm not sure how the end will come, but I do feel that we are just part of one big perpetual cycle of living, improving, creating & destroying. Ultimately, we never get anywhere. All these advancements are but a facade. Ultimately, it will come to nought, destroyed by our very own haughtiness. And then we will begin the evolution process again, from humble learners to ambitious makers, and then we get destroyed again. Like a tape rewound, and replayed, and rewound, and replayed...This cycle will never stop. We can never be greater than Mother Nature. Or maybe some of you prefer to call her GOD.

Silently Torn

Hey there, if you've always loved Natalie Imbruglia & particularly her song "Torn", then here's a link for you (compliments from IE buddy). It's a mime to that song. For better appreciation of performance, lyrics to song are attached. =)

http://gprime.net/video.php/tornmime

Torn by Natalie Imbruglia

"I thought I saw a man brought to life
He was warm, he came around like he was dignified
He showed me what it was to cry
Well you couldn’t be that man I adored
You don’t seem to know, don’t seem to care what your heart is for
But I don’t know him anymore...

...I don’t care, I have no luck, I don’t miss it all that much
There’s just so many things that I can’t touch, I’m torn

I’m all out of faith, this is how I feel
I’m cold and I am shamed lying naked on the floor
Illusion never changed into something real
I’m wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn
You’re a little late, I’m already torn. Torn."

Of Men & Shakes

Aiyoh aiyoh aiyoh!

Sigh....... How I wish I am Siqi. The Siqi of Channel 8, 9-10pm, drama serial 'Destiny'. AiyoOOOHHHH... so tall, so slim, so bronzely-tanned, so pretty, such radiant smiles, such pearly whites, so strong, so independent, so feet-on-ground, so sociable, live in such nice condo, with such nice car, and best of all, with SO MANY 'GOT ATTITUDE + INTELLECT + LOOKS' HUNKS AFTER HER!! AIYOOOOOHHH. I would give all to share a chocolate mousse with Tay Ping Hui on his couch too! Just a spoonful lah... at most, I'd bring my own plastic spoon loh. Or that cute-accented, Hong Kong chap also can, I can teach him how to cut after-dinner fruits, including the super-duper-hell-on-earth pineapple. For him, I will tahan. While I skin that devilish fruit....

Speaking of fruits, today I had a durian milkshake at Alexander Market. Yes, it was superbly sinful. Absolutely thick & creamy & sweet. Mr Cholestrol is already on Code Orange, but heck, I have a feeling I'd be downing a couple more durian shakes in the days ahead... coz... that fruitjuice seller is such a mysterious, brooding young man in his late 20s... clean-cut in his full-black ensemble, with nice black specs framing his angular face, and such quiet, composed demeanor as he observed his surroundings during a rare puff break. There is something striking about him I can't quite pinpoint. Maybe a few more durian shakes would solve that.

Cheers.

Some Wise Words...

Said Also Don't Listen
Listen Also Don't Understand
Not Understand Also Don't Ask
Ask Also Don't Do
Do Also Do Wrong
Wrong Also Don't Admit
Admit Also Don't Correct
Correct Also Not Happy
Not Happy Also Don't Say...

Back to Pei Tong Primary Part II

For those of you Pei Tong-ers/-sians out there, in case you haven't heard, they are tearing down our primary school this year end. Total destruction. Then total re-synthesis. A brand new spanking one in 2 years time, same spot, same name! Hahaha. =)

Hey mates, it sure was good to take that walk down memory lane with you all last sat. To touch those familiar red bricks, rock on those tiny lab stools, bicker over who sat where and which canteen stall sold what. For many of us, it's at least 16 donkey yrs since our paths first crossed eh? I'm so super ultraman glad we still meet faithfully, & enjoy thoroughly our twice-a-yr dinners/BBQs. Such a mosaic of personalities, yet such a delicious rojak. Yum.

Hey, if you too are a product of PTPS, here's a short virtual tour for you if you like (no sign-in required, just click & run slideshow):

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=3m4xhge1.43lryzmt&x=0&y=mw8cyp

p.s. there's an farewell/alumni dinner end nov, $45, school hall. Interested souls, register with sch directly. Bon appetit!

After watching the news...

Nowhere is safe. If it is not natural disasters, it is disease outbreaks, or wars, or terrorist bombings. Man. Prepare to say your last goodbye.

2 days ago, yet another round of 4 spontaneous bomb explosions in London. Today, a string of 7 explosions in Egypt. Also today, a 5.7 magnitude earthquake in Tokyo, hot on the heels of typhoon Hai Tang in Taiwan. Wonderful. Then murders, murders and more murders. Maids kill employers. Friends kill friends' daughters. Husbands kill wives. Sons kill mothers. Mothers kill newborns. Amazing.

The world is going crazzzzy. And we are still in it. Do you fear what is to come? Or are you already immune? There is this motivational poster I once saw that said "Even if the world is coming to an end tomorrow, I'd still plant my apple tree". So, do you still have hope, would you still plant your apple tree?

Back to good old Pei Tong Primary!

Tell you more about it soon. =)

Weird Club!

U like Coffee Club??

Go ahead & indulge. BUT AVOID the Marina Square branch at ALL COST!!

Unless you wanna be like me and my IE's buddies, who got spooked there yesterday night... by a really really weird waiter (i'm sorry mister, but you are really one of a kind). He is the ultimate. I thank Buddha he didn't follow us home, or appear in my dreams last night.

He looks like he's in early 30s. Stands ramrod straight, max 1.7m. STARES right at (or through?) you with big dilated pupils. STERNLY CORRECTS you when you misread the closing time. Stands within an arm's length, silently & intensely observing you the whole time you flip the menu. Speaks in one monotonous, continuous, unintelligible drawl. WARNS you that the kitchen is closing, like a mother disciplining some wayward kid. Offers UNSOLICITED lame-est jokes with nary an expression. OBSERVES & TIMES how long you take to finish your food. SHOVES the door open to move you out. And actually made another unsolicited comment when my buddy nearly sllipped on his way out. He is the most 'intense' and weird waiter we have ever come across, and we actually felt THREATENED by him. Tortured in a non-physical sense. We shuddered whenever he approaches our table, worried about what he'd say or do each time.

One time he actually said 'So... how... did... you... enjoy... your... 15min... meal...?' We got freaked out! He timed us!! Then he continued 'This... is... fast... food... in... a... hurry... for... you...". DUH???????

When my friend almost slipped on his way out, he said 'That... is... how... it... is... when... you... have... a... wet... floor..." *FAINT*

Please, spend your money elsewhere, don't get spooked like we did. (And this is without telling you about them misplacing our warm waters, not replacing our dropped fork, and yadder yadder yadder...)

*SHUDDER*

the holy ones.

For the first time yesterday, I checked out other peoples' blogs. Yah, amazing as it sounds, I do not usually surf for leisure. I almost always do it for a reason, to find information, to book tickets, to locate someone/place... to DO something. Focused lady, boring boring SUPER BORING.

Anyway, I digress. Well, yesterday I checked out some of the hottest blogs by fellow citizens - the rockson-brown-miyagi-yadder-yadder... just to see how, and what they write about. Well, to each his own. Definitely, they are in a different league. With such cult following, they can probably live off their hits even if it's priced at a mere 1cent/strike. Their supporters do not care if swear words rain down in unstoppable torrents, or that punctuation & grammer are non-existent, or if each entry is a mere, curt 3-liner... they simply worship the space that their idols blog on. *Clap Clap* An achievement indeed.

Sunnytears? Hers is just one boring big fat blog, properly grammer-ed & punctuated, all prim & proper with no swear words, no CBs, no talk about horse & rock. Hers is repetitively non-titillating & minimally controversial. In short, hers is BORING, & since blogs document the blogger's life & reflects the blogger's personality, sunnytears is, by deduction, BORING, with a big fat oily capital B. Bee Bee Bumble Bee. Irritating Bumble Bee. A post-70s lady, hung up over her passed-on mama, smelly durians & overpriced dinners with artery-choking munchies, who despite having buddies standing by her, still whines big time, & occasionally sinks into self-pity. Irritatingly boring bumble bee.

Hail Rockson! Hail Mr Brown! Hail Mr Miyagi! Hail you holy kings.

One day, I too hope to write bee-sense & yet see the soaring counter plead for life.

Rain

It's such a wet, wet, wet, wet, WET morning. I'm now sitting in my cubicle, typing this as I munch on my chicken bao & sip my kopi, trousers ends all icy wet & stuck to ankles.

The drains outside were way overflowing, and I think those soiled brownish rapids are going to invade the tarred roads soon. Someone should call town council and get those drains deepened, before the nation announces a state of emergency when stormy nov/dec hits. Everywhere, motorists were busy piling on their outercoats, admist a mix of curses, prayers & resignation. Unacquainted commuters were squeezed under common shelters, personal space grudgingly exchanged for dry clothes & feet. Cars of all shapes & sizes jammed up the narrow entranceways, engines idling as they waited in line for their next millimeter crawl...

I love the rain. As long as I am under my blankets when it comes.

Have a happy, rainy day my dears.

Hairy Talk

Hair-cutting is almost always therapeutic. That masterful snip-snip process that leaves you with a literally lighter head is a joy, but only of course if you trust your hairdresser enough to leave your head in his hands.

I'd better make an appointment with mine soon. The hair is growing so well, you can at best mistake me for an abandoned shaggy doggie, or at worst an unruly bougainvillea bush lining the side of overhead bridge.

Believe it or not, I had once thought of becoming a hairdresser... Perhaps, I can be my first customer. Afterall, there is such a thing called a wig.

Of Food & Escape

Still at a super-duper-battery-low. This current millisecond, I'd exchange my all for a magic broomstick that'd take me to Hong Kong for dim sum, or Thailand for tom yum, or Taiwan for dumplings, or just KL for soggy hokkien mee... anywhere for anything, as long as it's away from rainy-sunny red dot. I'm going bonkus, prancing about in my empty, newly-mopped, pine-scented flat like some desperate goldfish in an irritatingly-spacious aquarium. Sigh. A sign of growing discontent and impatience with myself (&/or my work?). I better ride through this asap. Quick, dial my cerebral stimulant hotline. And better still, get my most unlikely buddy here too - the willowly, ultra soft-spoken, ever-patient, highly-analytical, rational & super peace-loving, married MLL... I can't wait for her to talk some sense into my whimsy goat brain.

=================================================
Yesterday night, after an intensive, marathon 6hr work meeting, me & some of my 'used-to-stick-like-glue, now-dispersed-like-sand' comrades finally had our 1st-in-3-mths dinner gathering. An attempt, no matter how feeble, at recovering our past camaraderie. Went to CRUSTACEAN @ Holland V, and between us 4 famished maidens, we swiped quite a chunk off our credit limit. Our accomplishment yesterday:

Soups: Seafood bisque, Cappucino of wild mushrooms

Appetizers: Seafood combo, Portobello mushrooms

Main courses: Seafood pasta, Grilled black cod fillet, Baked cod fillet, Grilled pork chop

Desserts: Warm chocolate cake, Lychee freeze, Camomile honey

You should check out this place. All our dishes were really yummy, with special mention going to the warm chocolate cake - we had to keep a dinner companion from licking off her plate! Great food, nice ambience (abeit a little tight on space), and with a real hot, solo, sensual guitarist belting out live dinner jazz to boot. Even if our dying buddy-ship was not entirely revived yesterday, this accidental gastronomic outing had been worth it. I just have to live on maggi mee for the next few days.

Happy Sunday. And if you are driving over to JB for a getaway, can you stuff me in your boot?

Low... energy

I think I'm finally starting to empathize a little more with my kid-clients... Some of them are on such a perpetual blood-glucose low, eternally lethargic & ever ready to zonk out sitting, standing, eating, or even shitting the minute intelligent brain food is placed in their field of vision... you wonder if your future's going to be safe in their hands.

Embarassingly, these 2 weeks, I see much of them in me. Desperate to clear the Everests of paperwork, but the minute the mountains come into sight, fairy godmother magically appears and transforms me into some low energy, low productivity & low motivation procrastinator. Sorry Boss, I have sinned.. but at least I did not install any $990 taps, or demand some 8 chauffeur-driven mercs, or use my lunch-hr entitlement to upgrade to some weekday leave...

Anyway, yeah... before I get smoothered and buried alive under those sinister-looking piles of text, I better bring my clients some diabetes-inducing sweets and treat them a little nicer.

That is, at least until I get myself back into the all-efficient, Superwoman mode again.

If you'd like to donate to my fund so that I can go buy some cerebral stimulants, pls dial "1900-give-me-energy". Thank you for your kind donation, peanuts or not.

Hello & Goodbye

Finally, my compaq baby is reborn! Spanking new and un-burdened, with zero files & pictures, it is ready to be contaminated by yours truly once more... Thank you big taurus wong, for so patiently spending that 3 grueling hours with me, in front of baby desktop, gently coaxing it back to life... such focused concentration in the midst of all that painful reformating & installation! Thanks techno-buddy, I owe you one yet again. Too bad you are taken. =)

Okies, now that I'm reunited with my own online machine, it's time to join that list of 10,000+ (& counting) citizens who had signed the online petition asking dear Mr TT Durai to pack his bag & disappear with his gold tap... & the 3800+ (& also still counting) donors who have decided to stop financing his ridiculous 12-mths bonus... This is such a massive, nationwide joke I thought it surely deserved a special feature on Ripley's Believe It Or Not. What blatant & guiltless exploitation, followed by equally repulsive & evasive denials!! Never underestimate the ability of mankind indeed. I am almost embarassed to belong to the same species. But then again, there are still some old faithfuls like dear Mrs Goh who professed her 'complete trust' in the association & its CEO in Straits Times today... oh well, what can I say??

I pity the patients. They are the real victims of this whole brouhaha. I promise, if and when NKF's funds run out after 6.9yrs of FULL subsidy for them, I will start digging into my pockets & contribute that (measly to Mr TT) $2/mth again.

Till then, Mr TT, I think it's definitely time to say GOODBYE. Goodbye, and may we never meet again.

would you move?

If you were standing out in the open, right at attention, in the middle of lustily singing 'Majulah Singapura', and it suddenly started to drizzle... those big, fat raindrops pelting down faster & faster... would you move?? would you run and seek for shelter?? or would you continue to stand at attention and complete the entire anthemn? afterall, respect, honour and patriotism are at stake... or are they not?

Earlier this morning, i nearly had to make such a hair-tearing decision. Luckily the pelting began just 3 seconds before the 'stand-at-attention' command was given. If it were to really happen, say during this year's National Day Celebration @ Padang (*touch big wood*), how many do you think will not move a milli-inch?

And my computer chose to die...

Damn it. My compaq desktop died on me... & it's barely a baby! Yet a yr old man... Is this called the Infant Sudden Death Syndrome?? Pueii.

It passed away over the weekend. And now, I have to wait for the A&E ppl to come resuscitate it, reformat everything, and reload all the programmes & application files... Sigh. All data gone. I'm starting from Ground Zero again.

Moral of the story - if you are a big techno dummy, please don't attempt to eliminate viruses on your own. I was trying desperately to remove some sneaky Trojan virus when death bell tolled... I must have overloaded my computer with too 'chim' a command, and it decided to go bonkus, kept rebooting like some ghostly tape on continuous replay... Gone case.

And the timing is superb. It had to go at such a super-peak period, just when I needed it to save my perky ass... thankfully, dad's around and I could steal his laptop to do the slides.

Compaq + Trojan + Techno Dummy = Rest In Peace

I hope you do not have the same magic formula.

The Wedding March

The bride looked resplendent in her bare-back, peachy-gold gown, and the groom dashing in his well-cut, double-breasted suit. Fair lady with charming gentleman, they are rightly tonight's golden couple.

The 5* ballroom was decked out with flower-stands of white lilies and pink roses, with tealight candles adorning the sides, and the stage transformed into fairyland with backdrop streamers of white silk and bulb-vines. Throughout the night, red wine flowed and a live jazz band played as wedding fare was served. Two eloquent and quick-witted emcees entertained as the couple 'yam-seng(ed)' and made their rounds, taking pictures and exchanging handshakes & hugs with families, friends and colleagues. It was a romantic night of wedded bliss. I hereby wish them 'forever bathed in love's river' (trust me, this sounds better in chinese).

For me, I think I'd pass this kinda formal ballroom dinner, 5*, 6* or 7*. I'd like to hold my reception somewhere near the sea, and better still, on it if possible. A 2D1N cruise to nowhere would be ideal. And my guests can come in their favorite bikinis. We can count the stars together on the deck after all the yam-sengs too. And if anyone had a drink too many, the puke-bin is simply right overboard, immediately happily recycled by our ocean friends. How environmental-friendly! But of course, if my future hubby is allergic to the waves, then I guess we'd have to return to land. But maybe then, I can still negotiate/beg/threaten a BBQ wedding by the beach, under big white tentage, with roast pits by the sides, buffet-style... And we can still count stars together after yam-sengs!

I guess I must be in la-la land now... utter dream-talk. But big projects need way advanced preparation eh. Unless of course, you are like my good JC buddy who has already decided to forego all these and simply.... elope. =)

IOC (In Our Country)

The past few days had been a hectic mess of generating endless pages of reports for my 100+ kid-clients and clearing the perpetually never-ending, nitty-gritty administrative grime. And I'm not done yet, there's still more wars to fight ahead. May I see the end of the tunnel soon.

But I'm glad I took a breather and went down to Raffles City yesterday night for a dinner-cum-gawking session. You should have been there. Then you'd know where your tax monies went. There were simply endless squadrons of men-in-blue patrolling that IOC area, with stationary figures of stony-faced, hat-wearing gurkhas lending strength, all brandishing their semi-automatic machine babies... at the concourse, the shops, the ATMs, even the toilets... There were so many of them (and not counting the plainclothes), it seemed like i'm in some maximum-security prison.

It was heart-thumping to get our car boot thoroughly searched as we attempted to enter the Swissotel carpark (by the way, there were also so many traffic police on the road directing traffic, I thought they were almost causing the jam themselves), and exhilarating when we spotted IOC cars ferrying foreign dignitaries next to ours as they sped towards unknown destinations.

We are too small a red dot to ever host the Olympics games, but to have all the VVVVIPs fly here for their decision-making starter course is good enough a consolation prize to me. At least... they get to listen to our Singlish.

STOMPing Their Way Here

Hang on to your seat. The banging, crashing, bashing, smashing, swishing and kicking is about to arrive... STOMP IS COMING!! From Broadway and West End, an explosive extravaganza of dance, theatre and percussion, using garbage bins, brooms, newspapers and even matchboxes, all combined into one rhythmic performance. What are you waiting for?!

I am definitely game. But man, the tickets are selling like super hot honey-pancakes. It should be a highly energetic, wildly innovative, world-class noisy show. I can't wait for September to come!

Perhaps then, I could ask if they need an extra tea-lady on their traveling set. I can make hellava noise you know.

STOMP - a Surely Terrific Overwhelming Musical Performance

Round 4... (Be Warned. Depressing Stuff Ahead. Unsuitable For The Gay)

Barely recovered, I'm shoved right back into the ring again. For yet another round of emotional bashing.

This time, it's my mum's brother checking in. Organs almost drowned out by the copious amounts of accumulated phlegm-fluids, stomach bloated sheltering his failing kidneys and pancreas, arms pricked sore and swollen from all the needle jabs and drips, he is a shuddering figure, writhing beneath his layers of white, sanitized blankets, coughing and wheezing... wheezing and coughing...

This must be some kind of big joke. We must have offended the heavens big time. One after another after another. Perhaps I'm the next in line. I wouldn't be suprised anyway, since between my maternal and paternal families, we've got 99.999% of all the diseases covered. You name it, someone somewhere down our family line has got it. Scary eh. Alrights, I know... I've just frightened off my last potential suitor.

From feeling strong, hopeful and trusting (when we first began fighting), to getting a little frustrated and doubtful (when in the midst of fighting), to experiencing disbelief, anger, confusion and helplessness (when it became clear we were losing the fight), to a final sense of great loss, pain and resignation (when the fight was eventually lost), it had been a highly-charged, unbearably emotional roller-coaster ride, many times over. Only that, I hate roller coasters.

I know... this is an utterly selfish thought with nary a grain of consideration to my surviving loves, but I'm starting to think it's not too bad an idea to pass on while still relatively young and healthy. I would hate to be old, bedridden and disease-savaged and still lie alone in that awful clinical bed, having myself disdainfully scrutinized by mechanical nurses and houseman docs, breathing in recycled disinfected air occasionally contaminated with superbugs, hooked up 24/7 to bulging bags of saline/milk/antibiotics/blood, and burning away precious dollars and cents, all while waiting for Mr Death to come claim his bounty...

Retracing the steps down those jinxed alleys tonight has again been overwhelming, no matter how much one tries to mentally prepare beforehand.

Dear friends, in case I get stricken, and if dad is still around, please tell him I prefer SGH. Thanks, in advance.

In reply...

Dear blue moon,

Whether or not you are just a stranger, an acquaintance, a colleague, a good friend or a super 'gam' buddy, thank you for responding for the first time.

I guess, there are some points I'd like to make, lest you think I'm dead set on setting up a Come-Pity-Sunnytears Fan Club. There are many questions you've thrown up in your comment, and perhaps I shall try to address some of them here.

First, I've never thought I am the ONLY one feeling all the misery and isolation in life! I know I am just a watermelon seed on the face of this Earth, which is currently bursting with 6,446,534,062 (and still counting) people at its seams. Definitely my loss and sorrow is peanut bits compared to what others like the african malnourished, the tsunami orphans, the war-crippled, the physically/mentally/visually-challenged, the disease-strickened, the old-abandoned, the young-dying etc etc and etc are going through. Through blogging my pain, I've never, for a millisecond, intended to undermine others'.

Second, what actually am I expecting from people? How long do I still expect them to shower all their attention on me? Do we need to show others our deepest hurt so that we can in return get the comfort and reassurance from them? If you'd kindly allow me to sum up your string of similar-genre questions, you are basically asking me why, exactly 2 mths + 2 days ago I chose to start this blog? Believe it or not, sunnytears was set up to replace my traditional-styled, hard-copy, pen-paper diary. That book was just too painful to be opened, so I thought I'd switched to an online version, as an avenue to document my recovery and my new phase of life, and as a message board to some of my closer pals. It was never set out to be some kind of 'come-sympathise-me' platform, nor a 'rank-my-buddies-depending-on-how-much-they-encourage-me' tool. It was just a personal blog documenting a personal life... just so happens it was started during a period of gloom (but not doom). Simple as that. Period. If people (stranger/friend/buddy) choose to weep along, advise and/or encourage, why say no? You can bet your last dime, I'm also truly hoping that the day when all/most of my blog entries would be real sunshine cheery pieces would come soon.

Third, do I know about other people's hurt? Do I know about their innermost feelings? How do I know that while they are laughing together in a group, a dark corner of their heart is not weeping? How do I know that while I have lost a dear one, another friend of mine have not lost anything? The answer to all the above is, I would not, if they would not want me to. You know, sometimes I see sunnytears as an avenue for me to be weak, to take a rest from the outwardly strong, confident and competent self. This is where I come to terms with my own wounds, hurt, fears, and preoccupations. This is where I remind myself (albeit somewhat feebly) that although I'm currently a lost soul, I need to work to re-establish some direction in life. I started out sharing this blog with a few closer pals, not to overwhelm them with my tiny-storm-in-teacup nor to force them to read and reply to my weepy draggy sob stories, but because I thought they'd like to be given a chance to choose if they wish to be involved and share in my recovery...

Dear blue moon, pardon me but I thought at some points in your comment, you sound like a badly-wounded/misunderstood soul yourself. I used to keep everything to myself too. But I've come to realise that if you do not give yourself a chance to share your hurt, to tell others that you have lost something/someone and that a corner of your heart is now weeping away, then no one will know... and you probably shan't blame them for not knowing what you won't tell. On the same note, it probably isn't quite fair to reproach those who have chosen to do the alternative, and taken the first big scary step to expressing their innermost feelings, abeit through a rather public platform.

Or perhaps... maybe Homo sapiens are indeed wired to only prefer listening to the happy and cheery... Like you said, time will heal all wounds... Would you wait with me?

Then again, if the overwhelming majority do feel, like you, saddled/burdened and agonizingly force-fed with sunnytears' entries, perhaps she should only return when she has overcome her personal, featherweight, sesame seed-like struggle... by herself.

A Good Night

I feel almost apologetic to say... but I had a great night yesterday. It had been quite some time since I enjoyed a night with nary a hint of negative thought, and yesterday was a nicely-balanced night where all things fit in mysteriously well, and I got all that I wanted, without a sweat, and without a plan.

Earlier in the evening, me and several not-my-usual-clique-but-still-friendly-and-older colleagues spontaneously pigged out at Swensens, leisurely polishing away a buffet of deliciously creamy & generously topped ice-cream... Then I explored a vibrant and innovative work-related exhibition in town, and got myself pretty inspired... Next came an unhurried 1.5hr browse-try-buy workout as I indulged in some retail therapy, gleefully leaving with some desirable buys... After that, a late dinner-supper with dad at a cosy Viet restaurant at the new Marina Square shopping mall, followed by a leisurely stroll by the Esplanade, with the night lights and river breeze, and ice-lollies in our hands... I couldn't have asked for more.

Dad is a homebody and no night owl, but yesterday, I could see he enjoyed his late night outing. Yesterday had been great. And as a reward, tonight I shall bring him and my aunts out for a reunion with the Prickly King.

Hope you'd have a good night too.

Attack of the King!

The KING of KINGS has invaded our tiny red dot!! It is again THE season of the prickly King! The oh-so-out-of-the-world, so-aromatic, so-creamy, so-bitter-sweet, & so-totally-heavenly Durian King! It Has Finally Arrived. Hallelujah!

Everywhere, you'd see truckloads overladen with wobbling baskets of green pricklies, makeshift stalls stacked high with thorny pyramids, & gleeful families lugging bulging, spike-pierced bags. The atmosphere is electrifying.

I wonder... if there is a DAS (Durian Anonymous Society) that'd offer some kind of comprehensive cold-turkey package for die-hards. You see, there is basically nothing sensibly good about this sinful fruit. It is high in calories, high in cholestrol, high in sugar content, induces gout, causes 'heatiness', may cause bankruptcy if one goes for high-quality D24/X0 types, and to some people, extremely offending in smell. But heck, love is blind, and all-encompassing.

Your Excellency, I adore you. And it definitely ain't time to check into DAS... yet.