7 weeks and ticking...

Motherhood has changed me, like so many mothers who have come before me would say. Change has come upon me in many ways, in both the simple and the profound. Something so simple like the way I sleep has forever been altered; I no longer take long sleeps but instead, sleep in fragmented blocks, to match the sleeping habits of my baby. This has bearing on how I spend the rest of my day, which impacts me on a deeper level because every moment I'm awake has a different significance now than before. I now try to get as much done in my waking hours and am thankful for each un-frazzled moment I have, simply because I don't know when my next peaceful moment will come.

All that being said, I'm slowly falling in love with being a mother. I had fallen in love with my baby early on, when I first held him by my side to nurse and he plaintively rooted for the breast. But it has taken me a while to fall in love with motherhood, with all its weird hours, bleeding nipples, and diaper changes.

My baby is 7 weeks old today. I fear that he will grow out of his babyhood before I even realise it. At just 7 weeks, I'm already feeling the passage of time, and I'm starting to re-think what is truly important to me. I used to be unable to see myself staying at home to raise my children; I'd always fancied myself as a go-getter who derived satisfaction from working and being engaged meaningfully at my job. These mere 7 weeks at home with my baby has made me reconsider this. I've spent so many sleepless nights (which is no mean feat, considering that downtime is so precious to me now!) thinking about my future, and I seem to keep coming back to the same door...

Ever since I had my baby, I haven't been able to put myself back in my old shoes. I now cannot understand why I would ever have a child, only to have another raise him. I can't imagine I used to think it was okay. My children are for me to raise. No, I admit, it's probably not all altruistic. Yes, of course I want the best for my children. But a large part of me wants to raise my children the way I want to raise them. I don't want to be a weekend mother. Of course I realise that many mothers have no choice, they have to work to contribute to the household income, so they do not have the luxury of caring for their children full-time. I do not purport to be able to leave my job without having to think twice or even ten times before handing in that resignation letter, just so I can care for my son. I am thinking, thinking very hard. And will be.

Last night, my precious son almost slept through the night. After nursing him at 8.30pm, he finally fell asleep at 10pm and slept right till 3.30am. That's a good 7 hours between feeds, which I am mighty pleased about. With that, I had actually managed to sleep for 4 hours last night - my first stretch of sleep longer than 3 hours since I gave birth to my son 7 weeks ago. I nursed him back to sleep and he was back in bed at 4.30am, only waking again at 7.30am for his next feed. All too soon, he may be sleeping through the night, a small sign that he is slowly but surely growing up. Before I realise it, he won't need to nurse anymore. I never thought I'd be sad when that day arrives, given my initial battle with breastfeeding. But now that nursing is getting better, largely because my son's mouth is growing bigger so he can latch better, I am starting to somewhat enjoy it. I love that I can nurse my son to sleep, that he can turn to me for the most comforting thing he wants at this point in his life. One day, he won't want to nurse anymore, and I think I may be really sad when that day finally comes.

He's had his first couple of growth spurts and I'm crossing my fingers he's done with his 6 week one. But I do know that with every spurt he goes through, he grows and becomes less and less my newborn son and more and more towards toddler-hood. I still remember him when he was a few hours old, I don't think I'll ever forget that to my dying day. I look at photographs of him when he was just a few days old and I'm cast right back to those moments, in a precious, exhausting haze. He has come so far since then, and although I'm happy for each day he grows with God's grace and my milk, I look back to his first few days of life with wistfulness. If I could relive those hours all over again, I would, if only to reset the clock and have more time with my precious little baby. Every day that passes, every minute that goes by, is time that slips through my hands, propelling me on the trajectory of mortality and the day when I have to let him go for good.

Ahhh, I'm getting emotional just writing this... :')

I've so much to say about motherhood, especially being a young, first time mom who doesn't yet have a place to call her own. But that's worthy of a post of its own, so I'll keep it for the next.

We've got a baby on board!

17 weeks 4 days. That’s (approximately) how much time has passed since a precious little life has taken root in my belly, growing each day. Yes, that’s right, we’re expecting a baby! Given how my previous pregnancy ended way earlier than it should have, my optimism and joy has been tempered somewhat – okay, more like totally dampened.. But as the days have turned into weeks and months, and my baby seems to be growing according to medical charts with each doctor’s appointment, I’ve finally allowed myself to feel a teensy bit joyful at our very own miracle we’ve been a part of :) 

I’ve spent the first trimester in constant worry and fear. The first milestone that we crossed which let me breathe a little easier was the 8 week mark, which was when we had discovered that our beloved first baby’s heart had stopped beating last year. After that, it was the fear that I wouldn’t make it past the first trimester of this pregnancy. And then came the 16 week mark, when we knew that our precious baby had made it for twice the amount of time our beloved first baby had lived and died.

In-between, the days were fraught with frantic trips to the doctor whenever I had a bleed, which happened way too frequently whenever I stepped into the office – which resulted in me arranging to work from home for an entire month just to ride the few weeks out into the beginning of the second trimester when things would supposedly be more stable. I’ve had a bout of food poisoning which saw me throwing up in the office toilet and leaving me in utter misery, seeing as how I’d managed to keep my morning sickness well under control all this while without having to vomit even once no matter how awful I felt..

So now, here we are, at 17 weeks and 4 days into our pregnancy, and I’m finally starting to let myself believe that our baby will be coming into this world in about 22 weeks’ time. I still do go through days when I’m convinced something has happened, and I just throw myself into the day and try not to dwell on such thoughts. And each time we see our precious baby’s constant heartbeat on the ultrasound monitor and his/her kicking, turning, rolling, seeing on-screen, I feel like a knot in the pit of my stomach loosens a little and I find myself smiling like I haven’t seen anything more beautiful in the world.

At this point, we still don’t know whether we’re expecting a boy or a girl, just because each time we try to take a peek during our regular routine check-ups, baby refuses to show the goods and then promptly turns the other way, leaving us with nothing but images of his/her behind waggling about. Although I’d like to know, just so we can start looking at some baby clothes or blankets, I’m actually surprisingly not impatient about it. I just know that whatever gender baby turns out to be will make no difference, and finding out will only add to my mounting joy and anticipation and could not subtract from it.

Each day I feel the lingering symptoms of first-trimester pregnancy, like residual morning sickness nausea, a blocked left ear whenever I hurry to get out of the house in the mornings, exhaustion by mid-morning, a gnawing hunger at night before bed, a horrid bloatedness whenever I have my dinner too late at night… I complain with all my heart at my patient, loving husband, who always tries to alleviate my discomfort. But with these, I know that my baby is still growing in me, and I can’t help but remind myself to be thankful for these physical discomforts.

So until my next doctor’s appointment and I get to see my baby frolicking about on the ultrasound screen, I think I can’t help but remain worried that the worst may be just around the corner.

All the choirs in my head say...

I'm spending this weekend putting together my writing playlist. Yes, that's right - a writing playlist. What's it for, you may ask? Well, I've made no secret of wanting to write and publish someday, so when better to kick-start this than now when I've got a little more time and flexibility on my hands? ;)

Here's a little peek into what's in my writing playlist for now. Each of these songs move me on some deep, primal level and evoke a whole rush of emotions - which I need plenty of when I write. I like songs from movies because I'm a visual creature, and listening to these songs bring to mind scenes which have struck me particularly.

Lana Del Rey's Young and Beautiful

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?


Bruno Mars' It Will Rain

Taylor Swift's Safe and Sound

Come morning light - you and I'll be safe and sound.

Rihanna's Stay

Florence and the Machine's Breath of Life

Okay I still have a long way to go in building up that list, which I reckon will keep getting tinkered with as and when my mood changes.. In the meanwhile, happy Saturday everybody!

First peek back in here in a long while

I haven't blogged in what feels like forever! Things have been getting more positive for me, since the last time I checked in here. Which I suppose is inevitable, cos it just couldn't get any worse than that. :)

So I've just started a temporary arrangement where I work from home - but only for a month or so until my situation improves a little.. In the meanwhile, I'm just sitting tight and enjoying the little bit more freedom and flexibility that not having to step into the office affords me.

That also means that I have a lot of unworn, recently bought clothes lying around in my closet. Haha!

All that aside, working from home has been good for me. Prior to this, was on two week medical leave and it was actually a really good, much-needed rest. I've been able to indulge in things I used to love to do. Like reading in bed, exploring the world of Azeroth once more, watching episodes of my favourite TV back-to-back... I reckon if all goes as it should, this part of my life will be over for a while. So I really am enjoying this while it lasts! :)

All this is also making me think about what I really wanna do in the future. One step at a time, I guess.

Thinking, missing, wanting

It's been months and still, sometimes, I surprise myself with the intensity of missing.
Life goes on for sure, I go to work, enjoy spending time with friends, doing things I love like reading, gaming and shopping, and am generally happy.

Lately, I've been forced to face up to the reality of missing more so than ever. Friends and family who are expecting their bundles of joy are all around, and what's worse, I don't know how to react. I don't even know what I'm feeling whenever I hear such happy news. Only after when I'm in the safety of the bathroom under a comforting stream of hot water from my shower, do I finally sort through the tangle of emotions and acknowledge them for what they are. There's a lot of wistfulness for what I could be having now; a bit of jealousy; plenty of joy for my loved ones; and strangely enough, what's most prominent is the rawness of the pain I still feel. It's odd, I'd have thought time would have put some distance between myself and the emotion, but if anything, it's back stronger than ever.

Not a day goes by without me thinking, missing, wanting. I tell myself that there's a time for everything, that there will be time enough for everything, not to be impatient for what the future brings but instead to just concentrate on enjoying the moment for what it is. I tell myself all these, and I try to will myself to believe. But time has not done its work and I'm still left each day wishing that things hadn't turned out the way they had.

The sun will shine

Life has dealt me totally unexpected hands, and before I'd even had time to wonder how I should play it, all seems to have gone back to as it should be.

I remember just two months ago, I was so intent on getting into the groove of my new job. Working hard, sinking my teeth into the world of public relations, and learning everything that was thrown at me with great gusto. Oh boy, was I an eager little beaver.

I made a very important discovery about two months back, and then an important but more crucially, utterly devastating, discovery about a month back.

With my first discovery, there went all my aspirations of slogging my guts out for the next few years before I leave to pursue my postgraduate degree, sacrificing time for my career, et cetra. Everything needed to be re-looked at. Heck, I don't even feel like I've grown out of young adulthood properly myself: I've just flown my coop, just starting out with more than a bucket-full of naïveté and wide-eyed wonder, just starting to feel more grown up.

And to top it all off, I was hardly feeling like myself for at least a good month. To my great dismay and misery, eating had become a torturous activity, a painful necessity I did not wish to bother myself with. I couldn't bear the thought of putting anything into my mouth, much less swallow anything.. And the mere suggestion of food was often enough to send me running to the bathroom. I was irritable at work, dead tired by mid-morning, and ready to call it a night by lunch time. My productivity at work had been close to zero. Frustration did not even come close to what I've been feeling.

Just as I was actually starting to feel more like myself as the weeks went on, I made my second discovery. Much as I thought I wasn't ready, that I needed more time, that this was happening at a very inopportune moment in my life and career - what has unfolded broke me in ways I didn't even know was possible to be broken.

I am no stranger to loss and hurt, but this was on a different scale altogether. Unadulterated grief seemed to spring eternal from my entire body, I felt like I was literally radiating pain from every part of me - right down to my fingertips. How do you grieve for the loss of a life that hasn't been lived yet, for one that is so much a part of you that it has become practically the centre of your existence, what you gravitate around, the first thing you are aware of when you wake and when you go to sleep? How do you start to miss one who was an integral part of you but is no longer, the promise of all he or she could be, all the years stretched out in your mind's eye, unfulfilled and stolen cruelly without them having been lived? How?

It took me a while to come to terms with this, I am still learning to come to terms with this each and every day. Most of the time, I feel fine, I feel like everything's normal, I feel happy again. But every so often, the pain of my loss just shoots right through my heart and incapacitates me for a moment; the agony feels as fresh as it was on the first day and I just have to stop whatever I'm doing, wherever I'm walking - and cry.

Tears do not seem enough and yet they are all I have, the only response I can summon, the only bouquet I have for my lost dear heart. A day does not go by that I do not still think about you, of all you would have been , of all you were and still are to me. I know that wherever life takes me, I will carry you in my heart as I could not carry you in my arms. Wait for me, won't you? 

Working for the love of books

I've been in my new job for a month now, and it feels both less and more than that. 

This job is definitely a whole different cup of tea than my previous one, and I'm relishing the learning opportunities. I've learnt so much and still have a-ways to go. One thing I've got to remember is to be more careful. I've made so many mistakes in the short span of time I've been here - I average about one work mistake born out of carelessness. 

To friends who have asked me how I feel about my new job, I always tell them I love the work, but not the hours.

My average work-day is a 9AM to 7.30PM one. It's not exceptionally long like that of a lawyer, doctor, or accountant. But a ten-and-a-half hour work-day is nonetheless grueling. I find that I have so little time to call my own now, that every minute after I knock off is precious. Every minute of my weekend, even more so. Ironically, I have to work some of the weekends away too, and trust me, the irony hasn't been lost on me at all. 

All that being said, I guess it's just a matter of striking a new balance and letting the teething issues of my new schedule grow themselves out. I do know that my previous job afforded me time to myself like almost no other job could, it's just harder that I'm facing this day in, day out, now. Even knowing beforehand doesn't make the living any easier.

But press on I will, for the love of books!

Thoughts on a new start

Yesterday, I woke up early this morning at 6.45AM, as my alarm went off. No snoozing or lazing in bed. I’d wanted to start my new job right. So I went to brush my teeth and headed downstairs to make breakfast for the husband and myself.

Yes, I actually made breakfast. Although it was just oats (for him) and ham sandwiches (for both of us), it is probably already more than what I can say I’ve done in the last 9 months or so as a domesticated wife. Heh.

Well, this just tops off my past few days of domestication at home. Spent the last few days of my holiday frantically catching up on housework and learning – rather belatedly, I might add – recipes and just how to freaking cook from my mother-in-law. This, coming from the girl who is still terrified of raw meat and won’t touch any raw stuff even with gloves on. Looks like husband and I are set for a lifetime of vegetarianism and eggs. :P

Today, I did the same thing - jumped out of bed at 6.45AM with as much energy as I could muster. (Okay, maybe rolled out would have been a more accurate descriptor but I did try jumping.) I'm trying to shed all the slothy habits I picked up at my previous job, just cos it was so damn cushy and comfy. So having a total mental overhaul here, which is tougher than it seems. Mental attitudes stick, so I need to consciously act against what has begun to feel instinctive.
Slothiness aside, the other attitude that has stuck is the thinking that someone else's job is more glamourous, more fun, provides more opportunities, and is just generally all-round better than my own. I don't know if it's some tiny chip on my shoulder or what, but whatever it is, when I found myself starting to think that the International Relations or even the Librarian job sounded a lot better than my current job a mere 24 hours into this new position, I thought to myself oh crap, not again!

Upon closer reflection, I think the problem may not lie with my job per se, or wrong job fit.
The problem may be myself.

See, I'm only attracted to certain aspects of those other jobs, whereas the all-round job scope of my current position appeals to me immensely. For example, International Relations appealed to me because it seems like it would afford me travel opportunities to places I wouldn't ordinarily have the luxury of time or money to visit. The Librarian role appealed to me because I would get to physically handle and be surrounded by books (squeeeee!!), and also give me opportunities to write book reviews for publication.

Having reflected a bit, I realized that there's nothing stopping me from doing all these, even if it's not part of my salaried work. I can write book reviews - it's not like I haven't already been attempting to do so, anyway - and publish them on my blog. I can make a trip to the library to surround myself with books one lunchtime a week or so. The travelling to exotic places bit, I'll have to think a bit more on. Hee.

So here's to doing what I love, both on and off the job, always.

Where your treasure is, there your heart will be

I've left my job at the Ministry of Defence. So the last two weeks have been days of rest and relaxation for me, spent with loved ones and doing things that are important to me, along with the redefinition of what is important. After all, where my treasure is, there my heart will be also.

I'm both excited and apprehensive about my next job. It would most probably require a lot from me work-wise, a lot more than I've been putting in the last year and a half, for sure. But my main reason for switching jobs was actually to ensure that I don't stagnate, both mentally and career-wise. My deep interest in learning has and always be a great asset of mine, and I didn't want to get too comfortable where I was. Yes, life was definitely good at my previous job, affording me awesome work-life balance and a more than decent take-home salary. I loved my colleagues and genuinely enjoyed passing the time of each work day with them. Many people could not understand my decision to leave my job. Why walk away from a good thing? But I believe that there are good things, and then there are good things.

I've made my choice to expand my knowledge and learning opportunities, so here I am, waiting.
In the meantime, I've spent a lot of my time expanding my mind, reading and reading and then reading some more.

One of my favourite reads this break has got to be Erin Morgenstern's The Night Circus.



It is immensely magical and beautiful, and her prose has painted such an exquisite circus, replete with the burnt taste of caramel popcorn and the wonder of a room full of clouds. I loved every minute I spent in her circus, relished the time I spent wandering among the fantastical tents of each act and wondering at how all my senses took flight, and I never wanted it to leave. But leave, it must, for the book had to come to an end, and it left me wanting yet more. It has been a long time since my imagination has been so captured by a read, so much so that even my soul felt gripped by the subtle undercurrent melancholy. I loved that the way the plot was weaved into the tapestry of the details; I'm personally a fan of books high on lyricism and exquisite style, probably because that's how I like to write.

How I can tell when a book touches me particularly is when I feel moved to pick up my own pen and write again - and I felt stirred to write days and days after I'd finished the book. Something in me just wants to recreate the magic in my own way.



Anyhow. Other than reading my eyeballs out, I've been trying to become more financially literate in earnest. It's been tough going, that has. Reading up on concepts and financial products aside, this journey has made me come face to face with all my bad habits, and forced me to acknowledge them for what they are. It's made me a whole lot more self-aware. While I'm on one hand still reeling from the magnitude of my ignorance, I am also very grateful that I've started now rather than later.

Clem and I have also started running again in a bigger way. Longer distances, a bit more frequently (trying to up our frequency from twice a week to thrice, but it's not easy to find the time!), more exciting and beautiful running locales... All in our bid to be more healthy all-round.

Tomorrow is my last real day of holiday, since the weekend doesn't really count! I shall try to be as productive and savour every single minute of tomorrow. I will try to be back again with a picture post from last week, but I'm really not too hopeful, given my lousy track record!

Bumming rights need to be earned, not given

'Tis been long, since I last checked into this space.

That's not to say that nothing has been happening - on the contrary! I've been so immensely busy, that I've hardly had time to myself, to do any me things. And with all that's transpired, I believe I'm gonna get a lot busier once August comes round.

Part of me savours the intermittent freedom I have now, to do what I like to do. But a bigger part of me wants to do so much more with my waking hours, life is just too short to waste away wishing for the weekend to come.

I am not naïve; I do not think it's always possible to change the system you're in, to right all the wrongs you see staring blatantly back at you. (Believe me, as much as I would like to, à la Katniss from The Hunger Games, to tear down the existing system that breeds inequality, stand as a symbol of rebellion, etc... This just doesn't happen in real life. True story.) There's a time and place to do all that, now's just not my time to attempt that. Maybe one day, when I've done enough to back my views.

Hence, I find that I have no choice but to walk away. Maybe not to someplace better, that much I will never know, I admit. But at least, I know what doesn't work here, and I've given it a fair enough chance, I think.

Maybe I'm talking in circles a bit here, but all will be clearer in a few weeks, when my hands and tongue are no longer tied.

Self-awareness is one of my strengths, and I usually know when I've had enough. I've also always prided myself on doing what is necessary, and more recently, not letting myself languish and wallow in extended bouts of self-pity. That was a tough lesson to learn, but I think I've learnt it well enough, thank you. So now, I'm all too aware that I'm slowly but surely losing my lustre, becoming increasingly dull and bitter with things I cannot change, and indelibly restless in spite of all the free time to pursure my personal interests.

Ultimately, maybe I just need to feel like I've earned my bumming rights, not have it handed to me on a silver platter every day whether I need it or not.

So, full steam ahead for the next leg of my journey!

Keep your feet ready
Heartbeat steady
Keep your eyes open
Keep your aim locked
The night goes dark
Keep your eyes open

Honeymoon Part 1.1: On stranger, sun-drenched tides.

What wouldn't I give to be back in Phi Phi or Hong Kong, on my honeymoon, with no care in the world except "What shall I eat for dinner?" or "Should I take a nap out by the beach in the hammock or in my bed in case it rains in the afternoon?"

It truly was good for the soul, being so away from everything with my love for sole company and nothing else to distract me except the big wide world and everything it held.

Walking on the beach hand-in-hand, tasting the salty sea breeze on my tongue and brushing off the crystallized salt on my arms from sea spray, hearing the howling sea wind rip through the coconut trees at night, the waves lapping up against the top steps at high tide and feeling just that tiny bit deliciously scared of the awesomeness of nature and how powerless I really am, taking those private boat rides out across the choppy sea to snorkel among the curious fishies, eating some simple but delicious noodles at night accopanied by my favourite chili sauce (sugared fish sauce with sliced red chili).... The four days I spent on Phi Phi made me know what it's like for people who keep going from beautiful beach to beautiful beach, all in search of their version of paradise. Because really, everyone's paradise will be different.  

Recounting all that makes my heart literally ache with yearning to be free to travel once more, with the husband alongside, no less.

I'm really looking forward to our next getaway, whenever it is.

I wonder if other people feel it too - this constant wanderlust that seems to grow in its appetite with each trip I take.

So, part 1.1 of my honeymoon in pictures which I don't think do justice to the entire experience of Phi Phi island, which was like a little slice of paradise for me - but it's all I have to look back and remember, and know that it was real.

Really hot and sunny that morning when we set off from Krabi to our little spot on Phi Phi island.

Loved my hot pink bikini :D

The water was such a pretty shade of blue-green, I had a lot of trouble capturing it on film. This is the closest I could reach, but it's really a hundred times more beautiful in real life.

And the rocks that tower over the lagoons and beaches are absolutely majestic and so lush!

  

Washing my feet before entering our villa and after traipsing around on the sand was really nice.

  

We hired one of these private long tail boats for our island-hopping instead of going with the hotel's. It was nice cos we got to choose which islands in particular we could visit and it was probably about half the price of the hotel's boat tours for the same amount of time spent and islands visited. :)

Really good Thai massage in the main town centre on Phi Phi that we went back to two days in a row!

 We would not have survived our 4 nights on Phi Phi if it were not for Jasmin Restaurant, which served up some decent, simple Thai food for reasonable prices. The Holiday Inn Resort restaurants were really disappointing in terms of food quality.

My staple noodle dish almost every night, with no carrots :P

And the really breathtaking sunsets. Gorgeous dusk colours in the sky as we sipped on our drinks.

"Not all those who wander are lost."

J. R. R. Tolkein

Divisible by only 1 and by myself

"Prime numbers are divisible only by 1 and by themselves. They hold their place in the infinite series of natural numbers, squashed, like all numbers, between two others, but one step further than the rest. They are suspicious, solitary numbers, which is why Mattia thought they were wonderful. Sometimes, he thought that they had ended up in that sequence by mistake, that they'd been trapped, like pearls strung on a necklace. Other times, he suspected that they too would have preferred to be like all the others, just ordinary numbers, but for some reason they couldn't do it.

Among prime numbers, there are some that are even more special. Mathematicians call them twin primes: pairs of prime numbers that are close to each other, almost neighbours, but between them there is always an even number that prevents them from truly touching. Numbers like 11 and 13, like 17 and 19, 41 and 43. If you have the patience to go on counting, you discover that these pairs gradually become rarer. You encounter increasingly isolated primes, lost in that silent, measured space made up only of ciphers, and you develop a distressing presentiment that the pairs encountered up until that point were accidental, that solitude is the true destiny. Then, when you're about to surrender, when you no longer have the desire to go on counting, you come across another pair of twins, clutching each other tightly. There is a common conviction among mathematicians that however far you go, there will always be another two, even if no one can say where exactly, until they are discovered."

The Solitude of Prime Numbers, Paolo Giordano

Once in a while, when reading, I come across something really poignant like this, some passage that is so steeped in melancholy, that truly tugs at my heart and makes me think really hard about the fundamental condition of my existence. These are the moments for which I've been reading all my life for, reading reading reading so voraciously, almost like I'm looking for something I'm not even quite sure of myself.

This passage in particular struck me, because I'd always believed myself a loner at heart. A prime number, in the words of Giordano. Sometimes, in spite of all the human contact and relationships I've built up around me like a warm, safe cocoon, I'm still invariably hit by a sense that I am, actually, in the truth of truths, deeply and unavoidably alone. Alone in the sense that all the relationships I have in the world will not make my departure from this earth an iota less lonesome.

I like the idea of two prime twins clutching on to each other tightly in the midst of the chaos of all other divisible numbers. I strongly identify with the concept of a prime number, feeling inexplicably indivisible by factors of the world. Nothing I do or say can be easily simplified into any one category, although very oftentime, I wish they would. I've always been a little bit of an oddball, having to either try too hard or not bother at all to fit in. Nothing I do ever comes easy to me, and I've envied too many people for the ease at which some things come naturally to them. Sports, for instance, and academic subjects. Personal style, music, public speaking, meeting new people and making friends. Even making sound financial decisions or being a salaried worker. The only thing that ever came to me as naturally as breathing was reading and writing, and even that has left me bitter because I'm unable to do that for a living, as much as I yearn to, because I'm not good enough. As much as writing comes easy to me, it comes even easier to thousands of other people.

I'm still struggling hard to find my place in this world, and I think I'm starting to feel a little fatigued.

All the plans I have feel like they're not going to happen, the obstacles I thought I would scale no matter what are starting to daunt me a little, beginning to feel insurmoutable.

I thought I'd relish finally being a grown up, with no one breathing down my neck to tell me if the choices I'd made were wrong. Back in my childhood home over a quiet Sunday morning, lying in my bed and curled up in my blankets, I thought to myself how much I missed being a child.

The child I was was fearless, optimistic, oblivious to loneliness as a condition, wrapped up and buoyed up in the hopes and dreams of my parents. The adult I am is deeply fearful of more than just things that go bump at night, more than periodically pessimistic, too aware of inexorable loneliness and primeness of my existence, dragged down by an increasingly warped society that enables the rich to get obscenely richer and just eats away at hope, heaping on more and more burdens to my already stooped mind.

Picture credits: http://www.pxleyes.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/solitude/72.jpg

Forever Can Never Be Long Enough For Me - Part Un

It's been almost five months since we got married, since Clem and I became husband and wife.

I haven't been overly effusive over what we share between us, here on this blog. Nor have I been expressive about our relationship on any other platform, on or off-line.

I have come to the conclusion that even though I believe that I'm an expressive person, I'm actually not, at all.

Once upon a time, I was. I was meticulous about writing down everything I saw, thought, felt, experienced. Anything that moved me, I wrote about in my diary. I can't pin-point the exact point in time when I stopped, when my modes of self-expression dried up and left me with a tide of emotions threatening to burst through the floodgates at any time. But I learnt tough lessons on keeping my tongue and my pen in check, and not always writing down every single thing that came to mind.

So, here I am now.
Blogging about the inane more often than not, even though what I really want to say is more hmmmmm than la-dee-da.

Friends and family alike have been asking me what marriage life has been like.
While on one hand, it feels "same-same, but different", it also feels like I'm a totally different person. Where once I was merely my parent's spoilt daughter, my sister's spendthrift older sister, my friend's friend - now, I am Clement's wife, and a (seemingly irresponsible) daughter-in-law with mixed up priorities. You may think "but they're just labels - they don't mean much by themselves"...
Au contraire!

Marriage is hard work. I'm not going to sugar coat it and pretend that marriage is about just "me and my darling husband". Far from it.
It's now "me and my darling husband AND our careers AND our respective parents AND our dreams and ambitions AND our friends". I would be trivializing everything marriage is about if I were to claim that all these other people and things don't matter as much after getting married. As much as we become one body from two when we marry in the eyes of God and the Church, we have our pre-existing responsiblities and hopes and dreams as individuals, and they are not easily chucked aside at the slipping on of a ring.

That being said, there's much to savour about being married as well.
I love coming back to mon bien-aimé every evening after work, curling up in bed together after a long day to wind down, waking up each morning to his face and voice, and the whole general idea of facing the world and everything that it throws at us together, hand-in-hand... And most recently, the prospect of seeing the wide world with him by my side.

Without further a-do, here are some pictures of the day that marked the start of forever together, the start of the rest of my life.

Photography credits to AbsolutResolution.

Getting ready in the morning in my new kimono-print dress robe!
Love the prints :)


Close-up of my full lace gown, which I'm very proud of still cos I think it's gorgeous!








Guest-book and reception table decor done by my very talented pal, Chelsa.


Baby sis, you look radiant!


My bouquet was rather wild, as you can see from that stubborn stalk of calla lily. But I loved the mix of colours and flowers :)








First picture with both sets of parents.


The wedding party, decked out in my decreed colour scheme of dusty peach pink, pistachio green, and cream.




Starting our new life against the backdrop of our beloved parish.


So, highlights from the church wedding in the morning!
I may or may not do another one for the dinner at night, depending on my mood.
But next up, I'll be working on a honeymoon holiday post, so stay tuned for that.
Happy Monday!

"Malaya was never a country stripped and raped and imprisoned upon its own soil. Singapore was a mangrove swamp, a pirates' den, when Raffles set foot upon it. The British took nothing from Malaya; instead they created opportunity here for anyone who sought it. Singapore is a transient place; it has no ancient culture; it is nobody's homeland. People come to make money, and then return home."

Meira Chand, A Different Sky

I'd never thought much about colonialism, being so far removed from those times when there were British "masters" intent on expanding the British Empire. Sure, I've done classes while pursuing my Literature degree about Post-Colonialism - but it's never been more than mostly academic for me. The Post-Colonial subject was always interesting to me, but never me.

Being away in Canada on exchange back in 2010 dredged up all those texts and essays read about living in the shadow of the white man, the perpetual coloured Other trapped in a subaltern existence. There, I was literally living that way - the yellow-skinned Chinese girl with slitty eyes who spoke English perfectly with an unplaceable, uncomfortable accent. Truth be told, I'd never been made to feel so completely inferior and strange, ever. In Singapore, I'd always been among people like myself, who looked like me and talked like me. I'd never given much thought to concepts like race or ethnicity, they'd always been argued over and discussed at a purely academic level with logical interest - I'd taken it all for granted. Perhaps it would have been different for me had I been born in a minority race in Singapore, instead of in the Chinese majority. Perhaps I wouldn't have felt so Othered, wouldn't have felt so out of place.

But being there among predominantly white people made me re-look my hitherto academic interest in the topic of Post-Colonialism and probe deeper into my own psyche about perpetually being in the Post-Colonial moment.

Coming back to the familiarity of Singapore made me put all that I had tussled over aside, and truth be told, I got lost in the whirlwind of normalcy of my life. Where all the little things matter too damn much and bigger things that probably have a greater impact on my sense of identity as a person are swept under the carpet. Life has a way of placing undue importance on the mundane and stripping the crucial to unimportance and banality.

Reading Chand's A Different Sky has brought back so many of these thoughts that have to do with my national and ethnic identity, and has given me much to chew upon. These are especially pertinent now, as I contemplate my future, both as an individual and as a potential parent.

I've never kept my desire to pursue my postgraduate education overseas a secret. While my reasons for wanting that are one-part practical, the other part of me wonders if I still naively believe that it would be my ticket to the proverbial better life. I have been wanting to go out, see the world, live, for as long as I can remember. Somewhere, along the way, my life here has become a mere pit-stop. But as to where my finish line is, I cannot say with any amount of certainty at all. Is Singapore my homeland? It has to be, since I can call no other place home. But I am torn: how can I perceive my current situation as totally transient and yet believe in my heart of hearts that this is my home?

How do I now feel about being caught in the perpetual Post-Colonial moment, seeing that I am back and safely ensconced amongst other Post-Colonial subjects much like myself instead of among the race of my forefathers' previous "masters"? Looks like I have much to think on. And, happily enough, time is not scarce for me at the present. :)

So think I shall, and I shall share my thoughts here when I've come up with a coherent line of thought.

13 days into 2012...

New year, new resolutions - or so goes the common practice.

Me? I like to make my shiny, unwrapped resolutions too, just waiting to be shred into tatters upon the unrelenting march of the days of 2012. I make my resolutions year after year in spite of never managing to keep even half of them. Why? Probably because I'm a tenacious creature of habit.

For some reason or the other, I've been feeling all sorts of BLAH since coming back from my honeymoon a month ago. I thought about it, and I think it's mostly to do with the fact that I was looking forward to it for such a long time, that now it's over, I'm a bit lost and aimless. :( Plus, work has been exceptionally mundane lately, even more so than at the beginning. Sigh, and I didn't think it could get worse..!

Ah well. I shall try to be optimistic so I don't end up jinxing my whole year with my own negativity.

I will endeavour to be a lot more optimistic, a lot more determined, a lot more industrious, and a lot less lazy - that about sums up my list of resolutions!

I'm in the midst of doing up a post on my wedding, but it's been taking me much longer than I anticipated. Somehow, I find myself at a loss for words at the biggest party of my life. Nothing I say seems to be enough, and yet everything word I type seems like one word too many. I feel both compelled to envelope the occasion with text rife with significance upon significance, and also to just leave the pictures uncaptioned with minimal commentary because nothing I write seems enough.

Anyhoot.
I promise a wedding post and honeymoon post within the next month or so!

Long may this continue, yes to the end of our lives!

"I briefly contemplated my issues with words like fiance, wedding, husband, etc. I just couldn't put it together in my head. On the one hand, I had been raised to cringe at the very thought of poofy white dresses and bouquets. But more than that, I just couldn't reconcile a staid, respectable, dull concept like husband with my concept of Edward. It was like casting an archangel as an accountant; I couldn't visualize him in any commonplace role."

Bella Swan thought the above just before she married Edward.

(I've been re-reading Twilight 'cos I'm a secret sucker for the love story between Bella and Edward, and also 'cos I think almost every girl can relate to the seemingly too-ordinary, clumsy, awkward, two-left-feet and ungraceful Bella. There's a bit of Bella in every girl, and I think that's what makes her so special.)

I'm borrowing her words for now, because I feel the same way. My life has been one big whirl of wedding-related activities and thoughts; I've been breathing and eating wedding preparation for what feels like the longest time ever. Now that everything's over and I have time to sit and re-collect.. I think about what concepts like the above mean.

Surely, they cannot even begin to encapsulate anything about what Clement is to me. He is a husband, yes. He is also a friend, a companion, a warm hand to hold, a shoulder to cry and lie on, my personal cook; he is the world to me. And the wedding, it is the day I celebrate the start of my happy union with Clement. But it is also a day that marks the end of my parents' care for me, the day that my grandparents are proud of how big their granddaughter has grown and how she's turned out, the day that I leave home for a new one, the day I become a wife.

Wife.
Wow.

Anyhoot.

It's been a season of much joy and happiness, and I have been blessed tremendously. There is so much that has happened in the short span of time since I aged one more year; I barely know where to begin my tales!

I will start at the chronological start (although time sometimes make more sense when one thinks of it cyclically instead of linearly..): my Bachelorette's Party, a.k.a. my hen's night - where a bride is supposed to be mourning the loss of her singlehood. Traditional hen's nights usually involve a stripper (or two), plenty of booze, and girls getting all high and cackly (hence the term "hen's night", I think.)

Well, mine wasn't quite so wild, but it was one of the best nights of my life.
With my most precious girl friends taking their Saturday off to spend it with me, how else could it have turned out? :) Cheryl Anne was my party planner, and she did such a fabulous job bringing all my girl friends together for a night of good, clean fun at the Fairmont hotel.

Trina, Carol, Audrey, Chelsa, Cheryl Sarah, Cheryl Anne - you girls are my life, and long may that continue!



This was the sight that greeted me when I returned to the room.
I was wondering if I should bash my way through, or slowly undo the scotch-tape for each piece hurhur!

  

After bashing my way through.... These were what I saw!
Pretty helium balloons, a mystery box, and a table very nicely laid out with my favourite gula melaka pandan chiffon cake from Cedele and bottles of Moscato :)





My girls were hilarious - they sang me a song to the "Happy Birthday" tune, but didn't know what to replace the "birthday" with. Somehow, seeing a cake with lit up candles always makes us wanna burst into a "Happy Birthday", eh?

  
The aftermath of my entrance. Haha!

 
Close-up of said mystery box... And its contents. ;)


Everyone trying to help me decide which of the pretty baubles to put on..

 
Okay, just two pictures of me be-decked. I do look a little crazed, but because they put so much effort in decorating me... These are for you, darlings. :D


After a change of dresses, off we went to dinner!
While at dinner... We were busy bequeathing each other with gifts.
I think I got super skills in bed, extra powers with the broom and mop, and lifelong happiness, among many other lovely, happy things. :)

I, on the other hand, gave my friends useful gifts like 20 bouncing babies, 1 million dollars (in a million years), lifelong company in the form of 20 cats, and most importantly... the gift of Punctuality (for Cheryl Sarah Lee, especially. Haha!) Hehehe.

See! Everyone looks so happy with what I gave them. :P





I think they almost managed to nail the mafia shot, if I hadn't yelled "One, two, three, SCOWL!!"









I think that's all of the pictures I can show. The rest are just... Let's say that in the interest of protecting the dignity of myself and my intelligent, beautiful, genteel friends - I will stop my picture post here.


Okay, so I have pictures of honour with each of my lovely girls.
And little messages for each of them.


To Chelsa:
We've been through and grown much together.
We both learnt what it means to love and hurt at about the same time, and we've both made it through since. We've definitely come a long long way!
You've been a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, the perfect study pal.
I'd never have made it through university without you, in more ways than one.



To Audrey:
You've been my voice of reason more often than you know, and for that I am nothing but grateful.
You are one of the strongest, bravest, kindest souls I know, and you don't know this but I've always looked up to you. Long may that continue, my dearest pal!



To Cheryl Sarah Lee:
I'm never ever bored around you, you rarest of girl friends, you pal, you!
I'm so glad you managed to come for my party in spite of your crazy busy schedule and working the Saturday away. It wouldn't have been complete without you.



To Cheryl Anne:
Childhood friend, we are so similar in so many ways, almost like a reflection of myself.
It's taken us a while to love ourselves, and now that we do, I cherish the me I see in you even more.
Thank you, for being you. Thank you, for seeing me for who I am, and loving me nonetheless.
And, you are one mean party planner! :)



To darling little sister Carol:
I never meant to sit on you when you were a mere baby... We've grown through our differences and learnt to accept each other, and boy has it been a long 22 years of that.
Do know that I miss you even more now that we're no longer a corridor apart.
MLM, forever and ever! :9:9


To BFF Trina:
You've never judged me for anything I've done, and in you I've always had full acceptance of all I was, am, and will be.
There is little in life that is more precious than that; than you.


I love all of you very much.