I think I will always remember how when my sister left for London again, and dad & I said good bye - even though I'd see her soon my heart broke as I watched dad hold her and without dropping a single tear I cried.
This Christmas I went shopping with a policy that gifts had to be expendable - eatable, drinkable or useable. I did most of my Christmas shopping at Watson's & Cold Storage and got presents like assorted lube packs and Robovites and Stop-Snore. I was quite pleased with myself whilst on this mission until I started receiving nice gifts and hardly anybody saw the humour in my cheap token gifts and I started to get that feeling of social mis-fit all over again.
Guilt is horrible... someone once told me that feeling guilty about needing to reciprocate the gift ruins the purity of spirit with which the original gift is given in the first place.
Another lovely theory I have yet to get a grip on.
It was a beautiful morning today, all sunny and blue, the air still cool just after eight. As I rolled out of the driveway past a sweaty jogger, I started to miss the calm of the big old house a little. Its going to be tough leaving it...taking apart each piece of everything I've owned that's been hoarded here for 25 years.
Its been the main topic of discussion with dad and a huge point of contention with mum.
"It'd be best just to divest everything... let go of all our material attachments. Be free."
"uh huh."
"What are you going to do with your motorbike?"
I've had this little bike since 1988. It's a Yamaha "Mini Mini" scrambler that's about 3' high with a little 50cc motor. I spent endless evenings tearing around the neighbourhood on it and flinging mud around the garden as I'd try to climb impossibly steep slopes.
"Maybe you can restore it - polish it, chrome it. Make it nice. Then you can showcase it in the living room."
I was wondering what living room dad was talking about. Then I realized he was thinking about the one we'd have when I could rennovate the house with the 5 million dollars that I'm supposed to make in the next few years so we can all move back into the house like a big happy family again.
"It's going to go, dad."
Its thoroughly flattening how physical possessions can take on so much emotional value... and with an entire household to let go, dad's gotta endure an awful lot to let me grow.
Is it harder to build a new life or to tear down an old one?
I am developing a new ritual at my new (again) office... Viva la Panaderia of the Paragon Market Place! Best of all, they have oh-so-lovely red bean buns in 2 sizes even! Big ones and little ones to suit my daily breakfast needs. And its PREMIUM red bean... Japanese style, mashed up and only semi-sweet. Hmmmmm... And the supermarket sells fresh fruit too! Oh the new possibilities for breakfast...
Apparently bananas are a good source of iron *yawn*, and iron is good for *yawn* energy, which should help keep me *yawn* awake at work.
The other cool thing about bananas is their intrinsic humour value. It's loaded - the catchy sequence of rhyming na-na sounds... the delightfully phallic shape... the unwary yellow hue. Notice how people have a hard time talking about / looking at / munching down bananas without laughing? What a great fruit.
Learnt the real meaning of a word today.
cordial n : strong highly flavored sweet liquor usually drunk after a meal
And I always used to think cordial was either lime or orange.
It's pretty hard to find bongo players (bongoceros) in Singapore, and not a whole lot of bongos to choose from if you're going to buy one either. But after very little deliberation at Yamaha, I got this LP Aspire Santana Bongo. This, of course, after watching & listening to this bloke Budi beat his bongo off to an electronic mix at km8 last saturday.
They're not as soft to touch as her...but they're HOT nevertheless. And red. And should make a good distraction.
I beg to differ because it isn't just a drug... and I say that because I believe that love is the substance that everything is made of. Sometimes when we fall in love, we're just opened to realizing it for a while.
Romance, on the other hand - and let's lump into one collective all sexual pleasures and other mishy mushy feelings as well - isn't just a drug.... its the greatest fooking vice ever known to humanity.
