Fact of Fiction?

1453:

Coffee is introduced to Constantinople by Ottoman Turks.

The world's first coffee shop, Kiva Han, opened there in 1475.

Turkish law makes it legal for a woman to divorce her husband if he fails to provide her with her daily quota of coffee.
-----------------------

Who woulda thunk!? Now if only that were true at present ...

Pieces of everything

In the wake of my angsty blog, a good friend of mine had serendipitously come across an article he thought was probably relevant to me: The Odyssey Years by David Brooks.

Reading it, I felt somewhat less alone than before.

According to Brooks, it so turns out that

"There used to be four common life phases: childhood, adolescence, adulthood and old age. Now, there are at least six: childhood, adolescence, odyssey, adulthood, active retirement and old age. Of the new ones, the least understood is odyssey, the decade of wandering that frequently occurs between adolescence and adulthood. During this decade, 20-somethings go to school and take breaks from school. They live with friends and they live at home. They fall in and out of love. They try one career and then try another. "

Sure sounds familiar, don't it?

He goes on to note:

"Through their work, you can see the spirit of fluidity that now characterizes this stage. Young people grow up in tightly structured childhoods, Wuthnow observes, but then graduate into a world characterized by uncertainty, diversity, searching and tinkering. Old success recipes don’t apply, new norms have not been established and everything seems to give way to a less permanent version of itself."

It's a really short article, but one that's written not really with a point to make, but an observation about -not just how - but WHY lives have changed with the times.

While searching for answers, it's always a welcome to have suggestions, some reasoning behind why we behave the way we do. And the anthropologist in me felt strangely comforted reading the article at the same time that the immature adolescent I am found validation for what was probably construed as bad behaviour by the big mean lady in the office.

For those seeking similar comfort, here's the link to the Brooks article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/09/opinion/09brooks.html?ex=1349668800&en=c55694c6ad19bc63&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink


On a lighter flightier note, I have to comment on how hot the salesmen are in the Hugo Boss store in Takashimaya. It surely is not uncommon to hire goodlooking people as sales representatives, and these are aplenty. But the standards to which the salemen at Boss adhere quite literally stunned me.

The store has hired exceptionally handsome men (think Pierre Png with deep set eyes, but hunkier) and each man is immaculately groomed and attired. From the funky chic hairdos - styled by wax, mind you, not gel - to the little goatees growing on their broad chins, down to the well-pressed suits and square-toed leather shoes, not to mention that each one smells as good as he looks.

Polite, helpful without being overbearing, these men really know how to do their jobs. What was the clincher for me?

They spoke excellent English.

What can I say, occupational hazard?

:)

Part 2: Ennui

I. am. feeling. very. out . of. it.

And have of late, come to realise that I am no more wiser about what I want to do with my life than when I first entered university.

Which sucks - because that essentially renders everything that I've done since graduation (read: the last four years) quite useless and casts a shadow over university days as one that merely delayed the inevitable question of "What do you really want to do when you grow up?" - a question I thought I had already answered.

Fresh out of school, the world was supposed to be our oyster. As recent graduates, we hoped that whatever path explored would lead us to where we eventually want to go. But the excitement of youth lasts only as long as the unknown, and all the pep talks about how much time we have to figure our lives out because we're still young doesn't carry much weight any more, once we realise that in trying to explore, we've lost that same youth which was supposed to carry us through difficult days. But that's the thing about youth isn't it? It doesn't last.

I can even counsel myself as I'm typing this with phrases such as "It's the process, not the product, that counts" or "If you hadn't tried it, you wouldn't have known", which makes me feel even worse because it points to an awareness both of that same hope I had started out with, and the outcome I now face: The path I had chosen to explore has led me nowhere closer to finding my calling in life.

The worst thing is that I had chosen a path that conformed to social stereotype upon returning from a university/ country that celebrates diversity as a culture; and now, in rejecting the conformist choicest I made, I am left with not knowing what I want precisely because I learnt (and subsequently forgot or ignored) that I can be/ do anything I want.

Irony. Ambiguities. Ambivalence.Rejection. Rebellion.

I am, ashamedly, the epitome of teenage-angst right now, caught up in what I find described most aptly by the orginally-French word for boredom: ENNUI because other than being that feeling of utter weariness and discontent due to a lack of interest, ennui actually also refers to a state of existentialist issues, which in my case is unfortunately, a quarter-life crisis.

In trying to sort things out, I have opted to leave (not my job/industry) but the current place where I work in pursuit of what would ideally be a more accomodating environment. This is supposed to narrow down the seeds of my discontent so that by the end of 2008 when my bond runs out, I can make a more informed decision of whether to leave or stay in the job.

Speaking of which, according to my colleague/friend, the best way to resign is to say nothing. When asked for the reason, say: "I'm sorry, but it's personal and I don't want to talk about it." Had I known this, perhaps I would have handled the resignation "inquiry" session better instead of trying to defend and explain myself in so many ways until there was no redeeming myself. The process of resigning, of course, did nothing to make me feel better about myself which is understandable. What I did not expect, however, was to be judged and to have my character questioned simply for feeling that the job might not be for me. Perhaps it was naivety on my part, but I had honestly thought that someone who has worked so long and in such a high position would be able to dissociate and not take employees coming and going so personally. But I was wrong. In any case, the short and long of it is condensed below:

----------------
The LADY's reprimand: We invest in our staff and we expected that you kept to your commitment of at least three years. [Silence follows.]

Her parting slices of wisdom: Let me warn you to save you the disillusionment - you'll never find the kind of perfection you're seeking. There's no such thing as work-life balance, only work-life harmony.

----------------
So where does this leave me now?

All the more disgruntled with the close-mindedness of people who are supposed to be what? Nurturing? Who can actually say: "It's not my job to solve my officers' issues." Who in their ivory towers cannot even see that they have become the antithesis of the very purpose and institution they are supposed to stand for.

I am left feeling all the more convinced that this is not the place I want to be.

Part 1: Where was I ?

Ok so I haven't as intended, been dutifully updating my blog. I'm so far gone I have to back-date my entries, sigh. But in the wee hours of the morning, after spending the whole day catching up with friends (female no less) I have not seen in eons, I thought there was no better way to close my "ME-day" than catching up with my life on my blog. Randomly, one of the more interesting highlights of the year for me (other than getting engaged of course) was getting to go to the National Day Parade '07. In the days leading up to it though - in other words, as National Day neared - it suddenly became very unglam to be patriotic or excited about the country. Being politically apathetic most of the time, I tend to separate the country from its leaders, thankful mostly for the present peace and security I feel. Myopic, I know. But what else is there to be done? Supporters have no need to voice what is already printed evidently in the daily newspapers. Critics retaliate with minimal impact. What needs to be said has been said, blogged even, by so many who concern themselves with the 101 ways this country is going to the dogs.

Still nothing changes.

So instead we complained about the impending wet weather, the hassle, the crowds; we griped about the extravagance, the security, the hoohahs. The fireworks display became a convenient excuse to be part of the celebration charade, a performance attended really more out of curiosity than creed. And by the end of the night, despite the hype of being held for the first time at the Marina Bay, NDP '07 was simply quite a blah-affair, one whose furor was probably better felt watching it live on television to the voice-over from the commentators and in the comfort of home, particularly if you stayed in the east where glimpses of the much awaited fireworks can be seen. Ultimately, it was an experience worth going through but never repeated, much akin to the A-levels actually.

I did, however, get some nice shots:

Perhaps there is a baby pooh in all of us who while waiting for real parents to step up to the task, can in the mean time only be grateful for the nanny state that we are in.

When two become one

Deciding not to blog here while I have the wedding blog up and running was supposed to make things simpler. But I realised the more I tried to separate my life from the wedding life, the harder it was to keep track of things, not to mention that I didn't really just try to separate them. In fact, I made one i.e. my life the lesser priority of the two.


Feeling torn up about which blog I should spend what little time I have updating is probably not something that I should be broadcasting to everyone, seeing as how trivial it does appear once put into words. However, I saw this not as a phenomenon on its own worth mentioning, but as a symptom of something larger, more problematic: It so happens that regardless of whether it's about blogs, convenience, or schedules, I would want to/ do/ will give up things on my end for another because it's easier, an ease extant only because that puts me in control of the situation. I don't always end up the better for it though and given time (just as in the case of blogging) I often find myself fleetingly wondering why I should be the one sacrificing something, anything.


And I'm like "... wait a minute, how did I get from blogging to here??"


Glimpses of such resentment makes me feel uncomfortable because I believe that like Rome, it is not built in a day. After letting it simmer for a while (the thoughts, not the resentment) I was beginning to sweepingly conclude that this was another one of my self--inflicted neurosis, a bitter emotion borne of feelings akin to trying to be a martyr and not receiving the gratification expected for the act.


But I had read from a magazine once that people in abusive relationships often remain stuck because they think that their situation will be different from the last one, that they are the only ones who can change their disturbed partner and thereby save him from himself - what pop psychology calls the "saviour complex". Seemingly irrelevant - the abuse issue, I mean - I googled "savior complex" wondering if it had anything at all to do with this self-styled martyrdom notion of mine.

What I found was even more perturbing because familiar:

People who are codependent care a lot; they devote their lives to saving others who are in trouble. Sounds wonderful! But that isn't the full story. Codependency is caring run amok. Melody Beattie (1987) describes codependents as angry, controlling, preachy, blaming, hard to talk to, subtly manipulative, amorphous non-persons, and generally miserable. Not exactly angels of mercy. They have tried so hard to manage someone else's life--to "save" them--but they fail, and sooner or later their life crumbles into bitterness, despair, guilt, and hopelessness. They become martyrs, tyrants, people-pleasers, clinging vines, distraught parents, 24-hour-a-day caretakers, etc. They have lost control of their lives.Naturally, these "rescuers" are attracted to people who certainly need lots of help, such as alcoholics, drug
users, con artists, habitual criminals, sex addicts, mentally ill, physically ill, and, perhaps, most unsuspectingly, selfish, irresponsible, troubled children or ambitious workaholics who need someone to support them while they "do their thing." - From Scioto-Paint Valley Mental Health Center

Am I codependent???

I started off trying to rectify what I thought was just a simple case of learning to let go of things - perhaps that should have been a clue since denial is afterall the most commonly cited symptom of addiction - only to find that I'm actually worse off than when I began.

My only consolation, I guess, is that at least I'm self-aware... and admission as they say, is the first step to recovery.

What does age have to do with anything?

A student whom I consider to be as close to a mini-me as I can get gave me this card on our last lesson together. It is as much a statement about her way of doing things - which I kept pointing out to her - as it is mine.

Still, we get each other and the kind of unspoken rapport (read: the reticent one in the group who chose only to hand me the card after chasing everyone else away and then proceeding to give me instructions on how to read it before dismissing me, yes the teacher) is something I hope I'll find in more students to come... but she is indeed different.

Hear ye ! Hear ye!

Dear friends,

Vincent and I are engaged!

For more info (present and in the future) do refer to the following blog site as all entries will now be made in our wedding blog at www.walkinghandinhand.blogspot.com.

You can find the link also under Other Echoes on the Web by the side i.e. We are getting married!

Stay tuned ...

Another wonder of creation

My awol terrapin is back!

I had discovered that one of my two shell-pets was missing a while ago when the stench of their keep-area became unbearable. At first I had thought, wow - the water in the bowl is so dirty I can't even find my turtles. But after emptying the bowl and scouring the area, I concluded I was a terrapin short for good.

But it has turned up again, amazingly having survived 1.5mths of no water and food (dust?), on the steps just beyond the patio albeit a mite smaller than its contemporary. Daddy decided it must have been hiding in the shady area underneath the cabinet in the corner.

Are they like camels, these creatures? Whatever the case may be, they have earned my respect and wonderment.

Welcome home shelly (new name? alas, I have not named either due to my inability to determine their gender...)

Surcease success

So. Where to start?

With my ever increasingly infrequent entries to this little space on the infinite web I can call me own, I can only start where I suppose I last left off though it is nowhere near an accurate reflection of the time that has passed nor the events that have occurred, much less of how important some of these events have been.

But begin I shall:

I do not (thankfully) have a stomach ulcer. I do, however, now have mild gastric according to that much-sought-after doctor in Ang Mo Kio (which has left me with heartburns if I eat meals late). I believe it to be an occupational hazard because there are really some days when I have absolutely no time to even sit at my desk for more than a few minutes before running off somewhere else, much less have time to feel hungry. But in my defense, I argued with the doctor that I love food and eat A LOT (all those who agree, say 'aye'). He calmly pointed out that eating the equivalent of two meals in one at irregular hours does not a gastric-immune person make. So what do I have to avoid?

1. Smoking.
2. Chilli/ spicy food
3. Tea
4. Coffee
5. Stress

Erm, hello? That's 3 out of 5 things that my life cannot do without. Nevertheless, I held out for a week (during medication and regular meals) before succumbing to the lure of Starbucks' mocha yet again. It was only a week I know, but it was a sad caffeine-free week no less.

And when the doctor found out which school I was teaching at, he looked at me and said, "Don't expect too much from yourself. You need a break. MC tomorrow." Nice old man, the doc.

His MC while it lasted, proved useful for a week of lesson planning, which was promptly disrupted by more unforeseen circumstances arising.

While I had opted to be in a function committee for an event to be held in March, and was really prepared for the crunch in the beginning of this year, in addition to being subject level co-ordinator, planning for a new level, writing proposals for school awards and preparing for dialogues, everything came to a halt when one my students passed away due to complications from surgery.

Sadly, before I could even register what that meant, the administrative work and delegation that sprung from the accidental death overshadowed everything. An efficiency of standard operating procedure (or lack thereof), the unfeelingness of which disturbed and pissed me off without my realising it.

Four days (including the weekend) of phone calls and smses, of colleagues screening calls to avoid extra work, emails and coordination, attending the wake, the service, the cremation, counselling students, being vigilant and sensitive, proferring hope and support, being composed while watching people cry and hug, parents crumble and collapse, wondering about life and death and God, worrying about where children go when they die, seeing a wax doll of a body in an open casket with yellowing fingertips and a bruise on the wrist where an IV tube had been...where a spritely cheerful girl had been.

The dead do not grieve.

Grieving is for the living, for the pain that memory brings. All the rituals of burial and mourning - earthly processes for earthly beings.

But it is hard to grieve for someone so young, who until the end respected her parents' wishes so much she hung on until they told her she could go; someone who at 14 never complained about feeling ill and always had a joke to tell and a smile to give, who would apologise for giving a parent's letter that was crumpled and ask for permission to eat a sweet to help her get by when none was needed. She was so strong that she gave strength to those she left behind, who knew she wouldn't want them to be sad because she was happy. Happy in heaven.

According to the bible, "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." All those who knew her well knew the strength of her faith in Christ. Her life retold itself in the days after her passing, and with it the meaning of faith to everyone who heard, including me.

I know and believe God exists. But I've never felt what this meant, what it really is to have a God-common-factor among all believers, the consequences of those who don't share and love the same God, what happens when we really go Home to the Father. I did not know just how comforting it could be, the promise that "we'll meet again some day".

It all sounded trite, and still does. Nevertheless, its meaning runs deep and particulary poignant for those who feel the devastation of loss profoundly i.e. me.

I don't profess to know the significance of religion and faith in all its entirety, but if it has anything at all to do with the guarantee that we will meet the people we love again, then maybe we need to take it more seriously.

Time. Faith. Grieving. Deadlines. Living.

I need to catch up.

I need to catch myself.

A splice of life

Took this picture while I was stuck in a jam on the AYE going home after work, which interestingly enough gave me time to pause for what I consider to be a "creative moment".

Only January of 2007, but life is well underway already. It's been a hectic start to the new year, what with new roles in the domestic domain and increasing responsibilities on the job front. Can't really complain because in my field of work, tremendous work loads are indicators of recognition unlike in the real world, where effort translates into cold hard cash.

Anyway, I wanted to blog about so many things over the weeks but have put em off til now. And the only reason why I have the time to do so at the moment is because I've been incapacitated by crippling bouts of abdominal pains (definition of abdomen being anywhere between the chest area to the groin according to one web site hm) and am currently waiting to see the doctor - yes - at home because this doctor is apparently so good that there was a line to see him even before the clinic was open at 9am, and I've been scheduled for an appointment TWO hours later at 11am. Like, seriously?

So in between my hypochondriacal thoughts that I might have a stomach ulcer (because it feels like I've been having a perpetual heart burn for the last 12 hours, whose waves of sharp pains and intermissions of dull aches akin to gastric symptoms were not alleviated by a glass of milk in the middle of the night) and ignoring my workaholic guilt, I've decided to steal some time to myself to blog:

Jan 2007 has already seen me attend two weddings (back to back on a weekend no less) belonging to contemporaries, one of which was a luncheon where I was struck by how I was the only female who was in jeans at the function other than the photographers... Was I dressed understatedly or was I just under-dressed? Such concerns plague the airhead in me I admit.

Jan 2007, I am also again driven to frustration by my run-in with nature. Two days ago, just as I got into my car during one of them heavy monsoon rains, something crashed onto my car freaking me out (I thought I was being attacked by students :P). A minute later, I saw another large branch come falling onto my car and snapping into half. Upon examination, there're scratches and a slight dent on the roof. My more optimistic colleague tells me it could've been worse - it could've fallen on me. My mom simply laughs, remembering that exactly one year ago, two days after getting my suzuki swift, a random huge-ass branch had fallen on my side mirror while I was driving, the impact of which was enough to knock off the tinier mirror I had stuck on and scratch the paint... I am almost amused by the symmetry of my misfortunes.

Jan 2007, work is piling up as the eye bags grow heavier, and time still plays hide and seek with me. Unable to keep up with myself, I have decided to quit yoga because if I did have time to visit the gym, I'd rather visit my under-used bed. To make up for it though, have invested in an AIBI side-stepper complete with arm extensions. Looking forward to its arrival next Saturday and simply trying to stay hopeful about time and will to put aside work and do what I like/ want.

I suppose if I had to have a theme or a resolution for the year, it would never be one so luxurious as "make time for myself" - one which is impossible to keep.

Better to just settle for catching fragments along the road.

A very brunch idea

For when you're in the mood over a full-bodied cup of Earl Grey,

try undressing your muffin from its paper-ed livery and

unfolding the furls of a vulnerable crepe
a nonchalant flick of a fork to
unveil its savoury insides.



~ The art of seduction is actually the art of delayed gratification. It can take place anywhere.~

Love's expressions

Today's course focused on King Lear and his daughters, specifically on Gonerill whose verbosity bespeaks a love stronger "than word can wield matter [...] A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable" and Cordelia, who does not know what she shall say, only that she will "Love, and be silent."

In today's world of gadgets and bling bling, would you be a Gonerill or a Cordelia?

Stark impressions

After 2 days of a Friends with Shakespeare course:

"My naked weapon is out."


(from Romeo & Juliet)

I heart Singapore

View of Singapore from The Oasis Taiwan Porridge Restaurant...

... watching the sun set.

A quiet late afternoon at Changi Beach Park, waiting for the rains to come.

The Botanical Gardens: home to many giants.

The mother of all trees...

My favorite spot at East Coast Park...

(As you can see, I like trees.)

Remember when I stabbed my palm on a cactus?

In the span of time that I have not blogged, I ...

- strained my neck at a judo session not even half hour into it

- strained my neck again a week later after falling on my head twice trying to do a hand stand in yoga class (purely because, as the instructor put it, I was so excited when my legs actually managed to get up against the wall that I forgot I had to use my hands to support myself...)

- managed to scrape my shin when I fell from my hand stand because my body/legs collapsed onto the floor and onto that little contraption used to pull the hem of my yoga pants tight so that it becomes a pantaloon gathered around the knees (yes, because I'm vain and because it's way cooler than track pants)

- could even cut my thumb on the edge of a tube of NIVEA Hand Fresh Moisture Cream - a really good product by the way - trying to squeeze the last bit out and not realise that I had sliced it open til I suddenly noticed red droplets peppering the tube.

So. My life summed up at a glance suggests that were I to be unemployed and leading a vaguely vagrant carefree life (it being school holidays and all), I will most likely end up accidentaly kiling myself through sheer clumsiness.

Hence, I have decided to make a working wishlist of all the things I want/would like to have achieved/ would like to do - both short term and long term goals - by the end of my predicted short life ahead. I find it particularly apt too, seeing as it is the end of another year and time to take stock of what I'm doing with myself because in the process of fighting political battles at work in the staffroom and facing up to snide g.e.p.ers in the class I forget the things I genuinely want out of life and for my future.

Hopefully, it does not only serve as a reminder pessimistically of all the things that I probably can never have, but also keeps track of the things I can aspire to and strike off as they are slowly but surely met.

Thus, after much ado about html coding, I finally present a very simple but nevertheless functional green box of dreams to the right of this blog space. Yay.

Nurture or nature?

Found this old picture of my brother and I sitting on the monorail in Sentosa when we were kids.

Looks like some things don't change even when we grow older: My brother still does not like to smile in cameras and I'm still, well ... pensive.

For lazy readers around the world

I am so gonna hunt me down one of these...

Paranoia Central

According to an article in this month's Reader's Digest, psychopathy can exist in dimensions depending on the level of conscience the individual has, and that one in 100 people have no conscience. That is to say, at some point in your life you will meet a psycho if you have not already. However, just as not all killers are pyschopaths, not all psychopaths are killers.

This I believe is what makes them all the more insidious. They could be anywhere, anyone...

Here are some key indicators to clue you in (as provided by 2 Psychology professors from Harvard):

1) The Liar

The more you get to know a psychopath, the more things don't add up. One day she tells you she owns a beach resort in Langkawi, the next month it's Phuket. He makes a six-figure salary but can't fix a broken car window. It's not uncommon for poeple to tell little white lies to protect themselves, but psychopaths enjoy dramatic lying for its own sake.

2) The Charmer

Be wary of the glib and superficially charming person. Sociopaths often have a kind of glow or charisma that makes them more interesting than other people. They're more spontaneous, more intense, more complex, or even sexier than anyone else making them tricky to identify and leaving us easily seduced. To overcome this "wow factor" be suspicious of excessive flattery and beware the pity play - the 'wealthy' charmer who just happens to be down on his luck, or the sex kitten who 'just needs a place to crash.' Another red flag: If someone makes you feel alternately good and lousy about yourself, watch out.


Any of this sound familiar? Or are you one yourself hmmmm

Debunking The Friendship Ladder Theory

In one conversation, my wise friend a.k.a Deeply Disturbed (computer science-philosopher-lawyer) managed to topple the ladder that was a decade old in being deeply entrenched. And this he did not without wit or quick humour. So indubitably I was impressed and here (in this space) give to him due tribute:

--------------------------------------------------
Deeply Disturbed says: can't believe i'm building an argument about this... geez... i should write a self help book and make a quick buck. Need a catchy title e.g. "So you like your friend huh?"

imeg says: hahahaha eh i think that mite work!

Deeply Disturbed says: or... 20 reasons why gals limit their search pool

imeg says: touche

Deeply Disturbed says: i'm a cynic

imeg says: so wats the logical fallacy?

Deeply Disturbed says: Lovey dovey things are lovey dovey becos of the traditional cult perceptions that we are born into, but what constitutes a loving gesture/ activity does not arise out of the perception but from the activity itself e.g kissing a friend is gross. But that's putting the conclusion before the reasoning. Instead
1. kissing is a sign of affection
2. you kiss the person you feel affectionate towards
3. you don't feel that kind of affection to your friend. Ergo you don't kiss your friend.

However, if you like someone who happens to be your friend, that supercedes proposition 3, ergo it's ok to kiss the person you once considered your friend becos this person isn't really your friend in the relevant sense anymore.

In other words, the rule is a case of the conclusion driving the reasoning as opposed to the reasoning driving the rule. If it's raining I bring my umbrella, rather than I bring my umbrella therefore it's raining.
-----------------------------------------------

This, ladies and gentlemen, is my friend's impeccable logic. (Ladies, feel free to ask me for his number.)

Turning the Temperature Up

Omg:

Just did yoga in a heated room.

It is the most intense one-hour workout I've ever had.

Hot Yoga is the shit, I kid you not.