I am not really sure?

Singaporeans have a real problem with giving definitive answers.

Example:
Me, asking a sales rep who has no customer to sell anything to: Would you know where the nearest mail drop is?

Sales Rep, index finger and thumb rubbing shiny chin, looking thoughtful before telling me after careful consideration: I am not really sure.

Which makes me want to push the point - go ahead, young man, make a wild stab and tell me where you think it might just be, possibly. Go left, right, cross the road in front, behind?

It's just so hard for him to say he doesn't know? I had to point out to him that he does not know rather than he's not really sure, before moving on to another shop to ask another blur Singaporean.

There are no strangers here

There was a time when I was heavily involved with programmes that helped newly arrived foreign families to settle in. It was a personally satisfying and rewarding thing to do, and I remember how happy I'd be when I hear from the wives months/years later how much the initial contact had helped them.

I don't have much to do with newly arrived foreign families in recent years. Certainly not in any formal capacity. The last one I put in touch with her community was a couple of years ago and I did it because she is from one of the lesser represented groups here.

I recently met a woman from this under-represented group. I hesitated about getting involved because setting up the initial contact takes effort and time. Then there is the early hand-holding her through the different social/cultural events till she is comfortable with the group.

But I never forgot the kindness of strangers who came forward to help me integrate into my new environment. Although it is much easier now to get in touch with newcomers groups via the internet, making that first contact can be still daunting for some people.

So, I decided to step in again. I introduced the newly arrived to a few of her country folks over coffee. The women were thrilled to meet each other and before long, they were exchanging phone numbers and email contact with promises to include the new girl at their next get together.

The new arrival will do fine living here. Her compatriots will do everything to make her adjustment easier.

There are no strangers here;
Only friends you haven't yet met.

William Butler Yeats

As I recall those words, I smiled; I know I have done the right thing for a new friend :)

One evening with her

Mostly, I have a good measure of control over my social life. Mostly, I can decide who I see, when, where and why.

Then there are the rare occasions when I know I will totally detest the company but am somewhat obliged to humour the host and tolerate her choice of friends.

So I mentally prepared for the inevitably l-o-n-g evening when I will be trapped with her under the same roof, in the same room, at the same table, dangerously within spitting distance of each other.

I was surprisingly unruffled as I listened to her boast and brag about various aspects of her life:
- she has blackberry, iphone, huge telco bills, all paid for by her employer.
- her two near grown sons are in Australia. One working as a tax something, the other finishing uni.
- she looks to "activate" her Australian PR sometime in the next 5 years because Australia is ultimately the place to retire in.
- her near grown adopted daughter (still living at home) she describes as stupid and promiscuous. Her sons agree with her assessment and gleefully joins her in tormenting the girl with vicious name calling.
- her partying weekends in Singapore which starts with drinks and karaoke on Friday night, and ends at 7 am on Saturday at a dive that has open mike. Sleeps through Saturday and starts over Saturday night. Leaves for Bangkok sometime on Sunday to be there to start the workweek.
- her life chock-a-block with travel and holidays with friends, friends, friends!

I did ask early in the evening where's the husband. She played like she never heard me, and started on her tales of her life according to her.

Sigh. Alright. I was only curious about what happened, not concerned or saddened. I certainly wasn't interested in everything else she spilled out that evening.

And, at the end of the evening, we said our goodbyes, and went our separate ways.

Afterwards, I realised how strange that I felt nothing upon seeing her again. Really, truly, nothing. Followed by a fleeting vague sense of feeling sorry I could feel nothing for her. Then - nothing again.

Men who hate Women

This is not a deep psychological study. But it's a sober, grown-up film. It has action, but not the hyperkinetic activity that passes for action in too many American movies. It has sex, but not eroticism. Its male lead is brave and capable, but not macho. Its female lead is sexy in the abstract, perhaps, but not seductive or alluring. This is a movie about characters who have more important things to do than be characters in an action thriller.

Roger Ebert

I first saw the book two years ago, and passed on it. The cover and title led me to think that it'd be one of those artless books about farangs and their cheap girlfriends written by none other than the star semi-literate farang himself.

This turned out to be the classic case of erroneously judging a book by its cover.

In my defence, I am positive that I would not have ignored the book if it had retained its original title: Män som hatar kvinnor.

Men who hate Women. They live among us in authority figure roles - as protectors, mentors, guardians.

I recommend the book and the movie for women who are willing to examine the pervasive phenomenon of man-on-woman violence.

Paul Ropp on Fashion TV

I love every outfit in this show!

About old people and a door

Old people.

They can be a font of wisdom, the road map to life's precious secrets.

Or they can be a pain in the proverbial.

There is this nice small neighbourhood shopping mall. There is a bench facing the exit door to the multi-storey car park and a nearby elevator. A resting area for weary shoppers and bored husbands.

Three old people plonk their fossilized asses on this bench to pass the day, every day. Never mind that they deprive weary shoppers and bored husbands of a rest area. What is unacceptable is that they find the fully air-conditioned mall too cold for their comfort, and have taken to wedging the exit door open so they get a mix of cold and warm air!

One day, I decided that this wasteful practice shall cease. That day, I walked past the fossils and closed the door. One old codger immediately and huffily got up, walked past me, and wedged the door open again. I said as politely as I could manage that the door should not be left open because airconditioned air is being sucked out. He waved his arthritic gnarled fingers in my face and angrily said the door should be left open because old people have problem opening the door with their hands full of grocery. I said he could get up and open the door when old people with groceries needed to walk out that door. He berated me about talking to him with no respect. (Hey, I only suggested he should open the door for hapless old people.)

I have filed a complaint with the management office of the building about these cranky old people and the open door. The somebody-in-charge mumbled something about looking into it.

I have been back in that building many times since. The fossils are still parked in their favourite seat in the house, staring blankly in front of them, as the cold air rushes out the open door.

Old people. Mostly they are a pain in the proverbial.

The pair of them

The pair of them. They live in KL. They blow into town every 2 months to sort out various matters - banking, business, medical - and leave in 24 to 48 hours.

They would look us up and insist on seeing us for lunch or dinner. Mostly we would accommodate them.

The pair of them. One a Malaysian Chinese man, an anglophile, a pitiable throwback to the days when anything British was admirable. The other. an Englishman who fancies himself to be the paragon of everything admirably British, a pathetic hangover from the colonial days.

The pair of them, always impressing upon everybody every chance they get that they are pillars of their social, business and church communities. The pair of them, shamelessly name dropping all the time, perpetually bending our ears with the most laborious and boring of gossip and rumour about the rich and infamous.

For years, we put up with the pair of them. We rationalize away their inexplicable and unpleasant behaviour by convincing ourselves that they just had a rough day, or they were in a quirky mood.

But painful experiences accumulate, and eventually exact a heavy toll.

The pair of them. They blew into town last weekend. They wanted dinner. We suggested they eat at our place, because we thought it'd be a mess to try going anywhere on the night of National Day.

The pair of them. They neighed, brayed, snorted and scoffed at any- and every-thing. They do this all the time, but this time, for many reasons, deep resentment awoke in us.

We did the best we could to end the evening graciously. We called them a cab. We said our goodnight's and goodbye's. We put them into the cab. We stood around long enough to see the tail-lights of the cab disappear into the night.

We looked at each other.

The pair of them. We decided that's the last time we would see them. We can do things like that. Something the pair of them seemed to have forgotten.

Still a birthday dinner

It was a small birthday dinner for the man at home with a handful of people who "grew up" with him. These days we are looking at "growing old" together.

Anyway.

Because it was very low-key, there was none of the rah rah hoopla paraphernalia of a birthday dinner.

Because some courses were cooked the day before, I totally forgot about the side of potatoes. (Thankfully the meal was saved by serving up home made bread to take the place of carbs).

Because the man wanted apple crumble pie instead of cake there was no cake decoration or candle to remind me of the occasion.

And so when the woman guest pointedly announced that she and husband had to be leaving soon (i.e. could we finish the evening quickly by trotting out the dessert pronto) I totally forgot what all the other lovely people were there for besides dinner.

It was only this morning that I realized there was no mention of the man's birthday at the dinner table last night.

It was still a lovely birthday dinner with good friends.

And there will be a few more get-togethers with the others who couldn't join us last night.

We will have our chance to make the proper Happy Birthday noises yet :)

Dance props galore

My collection of accoutrement from different dance forms keep growing.

I have hip scarves, veils, zills, saidi canes, petal skirts, harem pants for bellydance.

I have pau skirts, leis, flower crowns and wristlets for Hawaiian hula.

I have top hat, waist coat, tails, bow ties and cane for Broadway jazz.

I have boas, masks, headress, showgirl costumes, vinyl suits etc etc.

Of course I saw it all coming when I took up folk dance, but I put off the inevitable for as long as I could. I really really have a mind-block about this prop. But the day of reckoning has arrived.

I now add - to my already huge collection of dance accoutrement - the Chinese silk fan! *cringe*

p.s. does it make it any better if I tell you my fan is "watermelon" with the green rind, red meat and black seeds? *double cringe*

This is damn stupid

As perverse as it may sound, I do appreciate the skill and intelligence that go into crafting a good con job. I admire a superb con job where artful deceit is used to draw in the mark by appealing to his/her sense of vanity, avarice, self importance...

But this?? In ungrammatical English no less? Oh puhleeze! This is so stupid I dare say the Nigerians and Lottery Sweepstakes give a better spiel:

Sender: Google Affiliation Center nerogemailserveusdatafier000@gmail.com

date Sat, Jul 31, 2010 at 9:32 PM
subject Important: Avoid your account from being deleted.
mailed-by gmail.com
signed-by gmail.com

The Rebranding of Affiliate Google Web Browser has been much talk about how affiliate software fits into the overall Google advertising and marketing industry. Google will be deleting some account so as to reduce the number of registered Account on the New Affiliated Google Web Browser.

Please help us with the affiliation process by filling out the details below so as to make a correspondence with the saved data on our system.

Login Name:
Password:
Country:
Thanks for your support. Google Affiliation center

Whatever happened to...

We stopped seeing some people because of their circle of friends. There didn't seem any point in spending an evening keeping company with boors and bores, listening to their inanities.

But friends being friends, they continue to invite us over and we cannot just never see them again. Having steered clear of them for several months now, we were feeling more or less recovered from past violations to the soul and spirit. We braved going to one such dinner over the weekend.

Yes the boors and bores were all there. Yes, they talked too loudly and guffawed long, hard and frequently at their unfunny jokes. I did my best to tune them out.

Until.

The hostess turned to me and gaily flapped her hands, "Oh, oh, I mean to tell you but keep forgetting. Good thing I remember now. Have you heard what happened?"

You know this is going to be neither boring or inane. This is going to be unadulterated malicious gossip of someone we all detest.

Me: "No...who? what?"
She: "The sao loh (skinny man) is divorcing the feh por (fat woman)!"
Me: "No!"
She: "Yes, I tell you! I just saw the sao loh. He not so quiet and not so stressed anymore."

She went on to speculate on the reasons for the breakup - can't stand it anymore, can't stand her anymore, his son can't stand her anymore, who can stand her anyway...

Call me mean. Call me bitchy. Call me anything. But I must confess that the bit of rancid unhappy news made the evening actually, hmmm, worthwhile. Heh.

July

was the month
that whizzed by me while I was distracted by Brisbane, dinners, dance and bread making. It probably has to do with the various activities and occasions being so unconnected.

Whatever. It was a good month.

I had plenty of quality time with people who matter very much to me. Many of them will now be away for their extended annual holidays and I expect to regroup with them only in September.

I got back to wearing more colourful clothes and putting on a more made-up face. The dance mates have been telling me how beautiful I look and asking why I was wearing mostly black all this time. I don't know why, but it feels good to break out of the black phase and live in colours again. I wonder now how bad or drab I must have looked to everyone all this while.

I feel I am finally "back". And it's a good feeling.