the way i bite into a too-sweet coconut candy and remember to call my grandma. “Popo buy for you!” exclaims Eih Eih, each time. Not in her native tongue, her words belie the urgency to express another’s love.
i imagine she thinks about her mother, back home, humming a Burmese tune that threads through her string of sisters on a straw-stuffed bed. “She prays every night,” my grandma tells me.
Left unsaid, the ponderance of devotion. My Popo in a bone-wearied gait down the aisle for the right brand of candy; Eih Eih on her knees, palms in a pious convergence; the sweet crunch between my teeth that bids me dial that eight digits i’ve worn into numerous keypads for two decades past.
Are our relationships defined by shared experiences, or by our objective liking for the significant other? Is it possible to tease the two apart?
Here’s a thought experiment:
One day i have an extreme, highly specific case of amnesia. All the memories i have of my S/O are wiped clean, as if he never existed in my life. If we spend some time together, will i fall in love all over again?
Or was the first time i fell in love because of a set of circumstances, happenings, coincidences, that predisposed it?
I want to believe that it’s the former. That i can have amnesia once, twice, more – but in every instance i would fall in love as i did the first time.
Even if we didn’t hit all the highs or weathered shit together, i would love him because he is kind, strong, funny, respectable. I would love him because he’s the one i want to go through the highs and the shit lows with.
Ohey, it’s an hour into Valentine’s Day. An appropriate post for the occasion, for once. Today (yesterday?) caught me in terrible menstrual pain. The late half of the afternoon had me completely incapacitated, curled up fetal-like in bed. I could not stand for more than a minute without feeling bile rising.
Less than an hour later i had menstruheat (it works!), panadol, and a cup of warm water delivered right up to my bed. Thanks HS, although you just spoiled your own market for Vday because no other gesture could be as touching as running several pharmacies to find me pink Panadol.
On this note, sleep i shall. First day of many many that i’ve willingly stayed up this late. My dedication to blog these days is astounding.
1. Caring about things beyond myself and my immediate sphere. Find myself embarrassingly bound by introspection, by issues to do with friends or family. Case in point, right now. My concerns are so contained, so insignificant. On Twitter, Facebook, blogs. Most i do for issues that matter in a larger context is article reading and sharing.
In the wake of GE2015, and taking senior seminar, i’ve been increasingly aware of my apathy. I just don’t care enough to find out – i mean properly find out – what’s wrong or right with this world. It’s not that being politically informed is an obligation, neither do i have to be well-versed in all tenets of social welfare. But. I need to care about something that has to do with the world and not just me, now, here.
Edit: Not just caring, but making the effort to find out about. Not just half-baked ideas, fetal theories. Read up, find some hard evidence to ground myself. Need to recognize the importance of the concrete to bolster the abstract.
2. Donate, and donate consciously. No excuse for this one. Singapore has made it convenient for donations to be made. They are everywhere, and often legitimate. However convenient they are, though, it has become instinctive to brush flaggers and donation boxes aside (something i swore not to do after my experience as a flagger lol).
Yes, so, curb that need to power walk wherever i probably don’t need to rush to. Donate, and donate to causes i believe in.
I have this weird automatic mental mechanism, that makes me extra nice to people I dislike. Specifically, those who annoy me on either a justified or irrational basis, and whom i’d be encountering again. By nice i mean smiling, thanking, indulging, the works. Or whatever I know they’d take well too.
Case-in-point #1:
Black face dessert store woman near my place. She has gotten my order wrong SO MANY TIMES and is consistently unapologetic. Once she even scolded me for not specifying my order earlier. She is absolutely cheerless and stingy with the liao. But i perversely enjoy being excessively polite to her. Like bowing slightly while getting the change. Or using 不好意思 and 谢谢 a shit ton.
Case-in-point #2:
Someone in class who just has a kiampah face/demeanor. Yes i admittedly am extremely prone to finding others KP without good reason. I remain unapologetic about my strong evolutionary instincts towards charming individuals. Anyway, it follows that i’ll be overtly indulgent to whoever this is. Maybe so much that it seems fake idk i can’t help it. Say i know this KP person enjoys having their ego fed – i’d make lots of references to what they said in discussion, agree, compliment, listen intently, shit as such. It’s not deliberate either.
So what’s going on amirite? I’ve thought of several explanations for my bizarre behavior.
Extreme niceness to mask or offset my otherwise repulsion. As a non-confrontational person who also wishes to be liked (even by people i don’t particularly fancy), i’m unwilling to openly dislike someone if it would lead to future conflict. Plausibility: Very, since i’m obviously capable of showing contempt, as any nose-digger on the train who’s been subject to my glares can tell you.
As a strange version of the Benjamin Franklin effect, i’m psychologically forcing myself to dislike a person less. By acting nice, i’m essentially creating cognitive dissonance that propels me to like the person so it’ll match my action, thus reducing dissonance. Plausibility: Not very, because how would i benefit from disliking the person any less? Ok so perhaps it makes me a better person – but that’s great for the rest of the world not me. Adaptation screams bullshit.
This is an attempt at getting the other person to believe I like them, thus lowering their guard against any hostile acts on my part, also/or so they’d grow to reciprocate my seeming good feelings towards them. And then when they’re all unwitting and vulnerable with their trust in me I’D CRUSH THEM. Plausibility: Diabolical, but probably true.
My dad is truly amazing. He works hard for us, never complains, is incredibly easy-going and kind. Over the years i’ve gotten hints of it – his students sharing on social media about what a good instructor he is, him being the confidante of troubled friends, his readiness to give to charity – but because he’s my dad it’s difficult to tell if he’s a great guy or just, yknw, being a dad.
Recently our apartment underwent a huge upgrading renovation and the house was an absolute mess after. Dad, who once told me that cleaning was therapeutic for him, took a day off just to clear the overwhelming filth and clutter. He did it all in good cheer.
Older now, i’ve come to know him more as a person than a father. We go out, have long talks like adults, about everything. He never judges, always shows interest, and usually has a wise word for me. If we knew each other in another context, at the same age, we’d definitely make close friends. So lucky to have him. He inspires me to be the best parent to my child in the future.
Right at the heart of the pool yesterday, a gripping numbness seized my lungs.
Some background might be useful. Months ago, i attempted to swim with a budding cold. I kicked off a few times, but was struck with a giddying breathlessness each time. Admittedly, this is where i should have quit. But hey, i was already there – and a tough swim seemed more appealing than shaking on the windy benches waiting for J. So i gave it one good go, ignoring the pressure expanding against my chest, threatening to burst.
In a disorientating moment i lost the easy movement of cutting across water and started grappling aimlessly, sputtering chlorine, my throat narrowing to reed-thin. What ensued was almost comical: a well-meaning but untrained tattoo-ed uncle coming to my rescue, succumbing to my frantic flails and ending up pushing my head underwater; stunned lifeguards sluggish from long periods of disuse; a very confused Justin finding his girlfriend dragged ashore like a dishonored, wilting seaweed.
Since then i’ve gone to the pool once more. Much of the time was spent toe-ing the water warily. I finally found comfort in trailing by the length-wise edge, my toes scraping the wall in each stroke for luck; for safety. It worked: i could pretty much swim full laps across the deep with my pal, the pool edge.
Alright, here’s where my foolhardy (more fool than hardy) made it’s determined entrance again. Eager to find my independence from safe walls, i ventured to Lane 2. I gave one solid push, tingling with awareness that sole against tile was the last concrete contact i’d have before i was alone, water all around me: man is now an island.
I trained my eyes on the tiles below me, exhaled to the saturation of blue. For awhile, it worked. My mind ran through flip-cards of distracting thought: school tomorrow, food later, punctuated with ok keep calm, ok. By then, a seeping, hollowed-out darkness was taking over my body. Believe me when i say this is not hyperbolic: the phobia was thoroughly physical. My heart went so quickly it was a negligible buzz, my muscles resigned and went slack – and that horrid, horrid consuming emptiness.
In an episode of Adventure Time, Finn developed a fear of the ocean after a drowning incident. His fear is personified as an inky, intimidating cloud sprouting from belly — the Fear Feaster. I never quite did appreciate the uncanny accuracy of this depiction until yesterday. Also reaffirming Adventure Time as an amazing show.
Remember trashy talk shows (alright, Maury) when participants face their phobias of the most innocuous objects and they yell like they’re skinned sans anesthesia? I used to scoff and think, uh yeah i believe you’re scared but your reaction is so fake. Now i get that fear is different from phobia. Phobia is irrational, is tangible, is all-consuming. Mine – a specific, baby-level phobia – had already such power over my primal instincts.
Back to the pool.
I ran out of distracting flip-cards, and the Fear Feaster took root in my brain. It was like an full-on adrenaline rush, except one that ran contrary to survival. I just barely managed to snatch at remaining scraps of courage/rationality, dragged myself across lanes back to the edge (was in reality just two strokes haha).
Having survived, i found my mild phobia a source of morbid fascination. Almost immediately after, i latched on to the nuances of fear, squirreled it away for later dissection. Maladaptive as it is, i’m almost pleased this happened. Not as a source of self-pity, but to quench a curiosity for the multiplicity of human experiences.
That aside, i really hope i’d be able to swim freely of my bff, the wall again.
Feeling poops today – the heat, the noise, the PMS. Pretty much every thing was overwhelming. After the fifth child shrieked incessantly in public i felt like pelting a wad of paper at him. Zen zen arimasen. That’s my peace chant, literally plucked it off a weird dream i had. Had a busy week (nothing school-related, lol) and will have another busy one ahead… in a good way.
Did some retail therapy: bought peripera cushion blusher and Berrisome lip tint from Korea. At least the package is something i can look forward to getting!
Some things to pull me out of the dumps.
My darling baby cousin!!! She was so tiny and precious and warm and… alive! so amazing to have a squirming vulnerable thing in your arms! was so, so afraid of hurting her. she slept really well when i was over, have yet to see her scream-y side (hopefully she doesn’t have one). I’m so ready to shower her with cousin-ly love and gifts.
Candy from J! They came in nice clear jars. These were some pretty good confectionary too, like the best gummi bears ever made, and liquorice softs which i love. I don’t know who Victoria is, but thank you! This is from a french bakery in Gardens where J is a regular.
Celine on her birthday. <3
Found a reaaaally good salad place. It’s a BUCKET filled to the brim with fresh veg, and you can choose an assortment of great topping + sauce. Best part? ONLY $5!!! Usually salad can’t fill me, and i HATE lettuce-based salad cause i feel pathetic eating it. But this one is genuinely delicious and cheap and moderately filling if you get heavier toppings.
Speaking of yummy finds……
Greek yogurt x raspberry popsicle from Momolato @ SMU one VERY HOT afternoon. Starbucks has also rolled out amazing greek yogurt parfait with granola and compote.
Nat + Vanessa one night for Thai food and talk, like the old times.
My b, who can’t keep his face natural when the camera’s out. But anyway he does that face a lot when i get weird – which can be often depending on caffeine intake and hunger.
In one, we were in a group viewing a series of contestants, somewhat like a beauty contest. As a joke, one of their photos were fixed so that her abdomen and legs weren’t hers. I first noticed that she had an uncannily hairy belly below the bikini, notified the others and started giggling.
Then it escalated. I could not stop laughing, and the dream was consumed with the sensation of my laughter: how my stomach seized together, how hearty my lungs felt before the cathartic expulsion of air, how full it sounded, and how i enjoyed every moment of it. I just let myself go with that one. It felt good.
In a later part of my dream, an old man who was presumably very loving, wise, and respected, passed away. I had a fondness for him, but then was told that before he died he had been listening in to a personal conversation of my friend and i. Although in IRL standards this qualifies as creepy, in the dream i construed it as him having watched over us. Went to his altar of sorts and placed in it something i had stolen but intended to return (from an electronics store).
And then i started to cry. And by cry i mean CRY. Gut wrenching, full pressure against brain, howling wailing cry. Cried for a long time, with a disturbingly tight knot in my chest i couldn’t heave out. Everyone around me looked really concerned and sympathetic. In a way it was very cathartic as well. Woke up with wet eyes.
So my dreams last night were about relief i guess! To just get all that pressure out of my system.
one integral characteristic of mine that remains relatively hidden is my obsessiveness. to most i appear laid-back (i think), but that’s mostly because my obsessions don’t translate into productive action. in fact i think a lot of time, my passivity is a result of exhaustion just dealing with minor worries in everyday life.
so instead of acting on my problems, i spend most of my time squirreling away its knots and dents deep into my mind. when i was younger there weren’t enough significant problems to deal with, but as my problems start to take on long-term consequences at this age, they turn me into an inactive, stressed mess.
by nature i’m quite a happy person, but i’ve learnt that happiness doesn’t preclude stress – and i am almost always stressed. diagrammatically, i’d describe my default state as a smooth sheet of happiness, creased where there are waves of stress. increasingly, with age, stress has taken on a bigger role: the sheet is essentially crumpled.
because it’s such an automatic cognitive process – my tendency to latch on and aggressively deconstruct problems ceaselessly – it’s difficult to stop. i’d say unless i were distracted (by people, tasks, daydreaming), i’m stressing out.
it’s taking a toll on my health (quite badly) and my action plan to life, which is in itself worrying. except instead of doing something about it, i let the worry wash over my brain… worrying about worrying. there’s a desperate need to exert control over all aspects of my life, and the thought of doing (and possibly failing) paralyzes me.
for 2015 i want to make a conscious decision to just… relax. to just let go and do things. to be more fearless and not let the need to control control me. not sure how i’d get to doing this yet, but as always i believe that awareness is a decent first step towards change.
The year started out well, as it always is when friends are featured.
Tail end of 2014 spent having a simple Ya Kun breakfast with Ben, Cat and Cleo. Missed Gee a lot, because YK is her thing. Being emotionally dysfunctional we expressed this by cruelly sending her photos of YK. Poor girl. Lazy morning meet-ups are my favorite, before anything begins, when we have nowhere to rush too.
Spent the stretch of Christmas and New Year with the extended family (including J’s), which i haven’t done for awhile. It has been friends or J for the past several years. Made a conscious choice to stay home this year.
Also managed to catch up with Ben with Daf before Ben leaves. She’s always been the one constant always popping up whenever the Mugs meet, without her around i’m not sure if we’ll even get the chance to… :-(
On the other hand: i have a class with Shereen Keng, AGAIN, after 6 years! So at least ONE mug would have her face around mine. SMU days are nice, because TWO! DAY! WORK! WEEK! And having to see all my pretty A16 boys and girls – the familiarity is so comforting. Envy them for having this throughout uni.
Yesterday, met up with LPS and Debs. Spent 4 hours chatting, with these 2 there’s really no end to conversations. LPS will be away this semester, but already i’ve seen her face more than i did since Uni.
Discovered new places with J. One day we decided to go somewhere we haven’t been to, and found an open place with good food and kitschy trinkets to browse – pretty much our only two criteria for a good place.
Cutesy old school things. I love just walking around being amused with J. It’s a very grassroots activity, admittedly, but the trite proverb of simplicity as best proves itself rather true.
Went to Trick Eye with my family. Tbh it was pretty underwhelming. We agreed that if my dad hadn’t gotten complimentary tickets, it wouldn’t have been worth paying for. Most of the exhibits were under construction; the lighting was bad for photo taking, and the exhibits just… weren’t very well thought out.
Q 