Trying out a third time

This is my third attempt at growing a plant. The first one was with a genus that I cannot recall. It started off very well for almost a year, but suddenly became very ill and died within a week. Then there was the african violet that grew fine, but started to harbour little larvae and flies that got me so hot and bothered that I threw it away. Now I am trying out the new crystal soil, a modern substitute for soil suitable only for water-loving indoor plants. Hence my new money plant now sits in the crystal soil that took about five hours to absorb water before appearing saturated and pearl-like. Hope my latest attempt at growing this hardy plant will bring some peace and happiness to my room and those who stop to admire it.

Of Stickers and Magic Pens

Photo stickers, slam dunk, felt pens... Those were my precious JC days, with my clique of girlfriends who hung out at the sidelines of the soccer field and passed chips of ice with straws at KAP.

Much has changed since our final teenage years. J has returned after a two-year stint in the desert, Q has been taken ill, YX and myself have been hit by the economic downturn, YL has given birth to a pair of dearies, and WL has opened a new branch in SG. What has been kept well is, other than our schooling memories, our stationery from those years.

Of course, J still has the set of coloured felt pens that she decorated her notes with. YX has some photo stickers of us worthy of making it to the collector's list, and YL has stickers from pre-JC days. I have my magic pens from secondary school art class too.

After two plus hours of harmless squabbling, writer's blocks, teasing the kids and frantic decoration, the card for Q came to completion. Reminisce of our epic effort to fill up YL's wedding giftbook.

What a sweet afternoon spent with my dear friends. Two were missing not by choice, but we were all connected by our little creation, a symbol of our bond that is stronger than I had expected.

Just a Bite - Heroin

Just learnt that heroin is made from opium, a major export of Afghanistan. Opium causes more deaths than any other drugs.

Taken Advantage by a Newbie

I must have become too nice to colleagues lately. Perhaps the loss of office changed me into a lamb. How I used to demand stuff from my juniors and even managers... I must have lost all of that. Good news? Not so sure.

I have become a victim of office taichi. To think that I would fall prey to a newbie, somebody who has never worked before. Me, a veteran of six years, despite being new in the public sector! Pisses me off to think about it.

Originally, I thought it was a good idea to finish up what I have started, so that the newbie could work on the rest of the meeting materials, the agenda, and the matters arising. Afterall, the minuting officer of the previous meeting took time to write me a detailed list of TODOs, so that I could start preparing for the next one. But the newbie apparently took me for granted. Just as I thought my portion was complete, she went on training without a word of warning, and announced that I was helping her with her work. She had no intention of doing her job, and had the cheek to ask me to follow up. I had no choice, as everybody was under the impression that I willingly took on the responsibility. Grief!

Twice she had been told to update the agenda and get inputs for matters arising, but she left with the agenda half-done, and the matters arising unstarted. "You mean there are matters arising?" I almost ate the phone when I saw that SMS. I had to spend time waiting at the door of the supervisor with the action item.

Sending the materials out was no simple business. The dissemination list was extremely long, and the order of names was important. I started getting calls and emails about absentees, replacements, updated materials, missing materials (scroll down further la... too many files!), which pages to print, what order to file the papers in, when the next materials will be sent out... I had to endure all the interruption for something that could have been none of my business.

At the end of the day, I received SMSes asking me whether there was anything else to follow up or prepare for the meeting. No more pampering for the irresponsible newbie! She will have to deal with the actual meeting herself.

I guess I am angrier with myself for letting myself be a pushover, after being a little troublemaker for so many years. But the department is so small, I can't afford to make enemies... :S

Bob Blogs

Ever since I had a drastic new haircut that reduced my shoulder-length tresses to a bob, I have had many interesting conversations with people with varied reactions.

First was my sister-in-law, who envied my new bob, as her hair is too wavy to spot a similar cut, which she considered slick and classic. Then was my mother, who reprimanded me for making myself look childish and unfeminine all over again. My brother suggested that I should go for a highlight so that I do not look too much like a country bum, which I was very against as I enjoy having natural black hair.

Some colleagues asked me if I suffered some setback to take such extreme measures, others found my new look refreshing. My friends were more encouraging, as many of them wear their hair short too.

I personally feel extremely light after the haircut. Even my heart felt lighter, and my footsteps were similarly more springy. The bob brought me to my younger days, where I was truly myself, dashed about alot, and never worried about hairfall and wet pillows.

I smile more readily with my new bob too, and others return the smile more often too. Hmm, I guess a child-like appearance does create more rapport in most cases.

Long hair seemed to restrict me in many ways. It made me feel older, despite making me look more lady-like. It reminded me constantly that I should behave. It moulded me into somebody I should be, but not what I really was.

Though the big 30 looms large, I have not felt more pressured than I did before. A girlfriend just reminded me, how upset I was years ago, telling her about how girls are like christmas log cakes, when I turned 25. Now, we are laughing about our singlehood and enjoying the freedom that it entails.

Couplehood is still a pretty nice idea, but singlehood should not be too revolting when one does not attach self-worth to a number that the society imposes on women, in particular. Similarly, bobs should not be linked with poor style or juvenileness. If it makes one feel younger, it is due to the reduced attachment to something that is transient (goodness, why cry during a haircut? Hair grows!), and the understanding that beauty may be skin-deep, but a spiritual glow comes from within.
Comfort for those who think I look worse now and are worried sick over it: Hair grows. In no time, it will be long again.

Whether I will ever cut it short again? No promises. :)

Too Busy to Work

That's a term I just coined to explain my situation this weekend. I intended to complete a task, but the long weekend spoiled it for me.

Firstly, my JC pals got together for a Friday dinner. On Saturday, I rushed down to BC for a quick evaluation, then met with my new art enthusiast friend for a day at the museum, after which I developed a craving for laksa, and managed to find a delicious bowl of the sinful Singaporean delicacy. Then there was the karaoke and pool sessions on Sunday, which ended with my travelmate and me listening to a half-baked performance at Esplanade concourse and eventually combing the supermarket for baking ingredients.

Tomorrow will be another busy working day, but I chose to spend the day with my buddy, watching the new Quentin Tarantino movie and lazing at the mall for long chit-chats. Yes, I wanted to exercise at the gym, but I woke up with a frightful red eye, and resolved to staying indoors till the swell subsided.

Now, another holiday is over, and work will start piling up again. I would have cleared some emails if I had the time, but was simply too busy catching up with friends and making merry to achieve anything of value, other than checking out the company benefits and reimbursement scheme.

What a pity that I was too busy to work, as the long weekend spoiled my plan of diligence. And am I sorry? Not really ;).

Doorkeepers of the Living Galleries

New statues have been placed at the Living Galleries of the National Museum. They represent fashion, music and technology, I think :). Most amusing is the ancient beauty with her notebook.

Chopin's Nocturne in E flat major Op. 9 No. 2

It must be at least the hundredth time I have heard this piece. Lately, it has crept into my iPod again through a free piano podcast. One morning I came across it again while walking to the MRT station. Then I started smiling unconsciously. Who else but me would ever be perked up in the morning by a piece meant to be played at night?

Google for it - it is a world-famous covered by thousands of artistes and amateurs. It starts off with a theme, which is harmlessly quiet and fragile. Then the same theme is repeated again with embellishments. A second section sounding pensive and uncertain follows, and leads back to the main theme yet again, with even more decorations. All these are repeated, before an extension brings the piece to a climax, ending with a resolution to peace once again. In short, a repetitive piece, which I enjoy listening to repetitively.

I guess this common piece strikes a chord in me because it goes in circles, with a little twist in every cycle. I love the little runaway ornaments which always return to the main melody. In a sense, it is like life. New beginnings occur periodically, then the excitement settles back into everyday life, and a new cycle starts, with exhilarating but tiny differences, which people would call surprises, but all eventually return to main theme after a while. All climaxes will subside to a plateau.

Perhaps I should learn to play this piece one day. Though the rises to climaxes are welcomed outlets, the falls from the the climaxes to pp are really what I look forward to. Familiarity is indeed comforting. :)

Our Musical Neighbourhood

I have previously written about the pianist, the flutist, the lone player of the pipes, and the many singers in my neighbourhood.

This morning, after my piano class, I strolled home and discovered yet another musical instrument in my block. Someone was learning the violin! I am sure it was live, not recorded, as there were slight tuning issues, which did not affect the playing as a whole. Whoever it was, that was a rather well-played passage. String instruments are infamously tough to keep in-tune.

I have been wondering if anybody plays the harp. I have never seen one live, and wouldn't mind a chance to flick a few strings. :)

Morning at the Raffles Country Club

While waiting for my boss to arrive for this morning's meeting, I strolled around at the lobby of the Raffles Country Club at Tuas.

I have not felt a sense of joy in the morning since the KimuTaku busstop poster was removed. But today, I was greeted by a shimmering body of water as I entered the club, with a cool inviting breeze blowing in my hair. What a great view.

I would have ventured to the greens if it were not restricted to members. Ah, but at least the carps in the pond were sweet enough to swim over to say a brief hello.

No wonder people pay so much to enter such clubs. I could just sit and meditate all day at the cafe. Now, this is exactly what a holiday would be for me!