Been busy

Gosh, so busy with work and busy loading music in my iPod. And, if by saying that I am incrminating myself and admitting to infringing on copyright laws, go ahead, BOOK ME, DANNY.

Speaking of Danny, or Dannie as I should probably spell it, I am listening to Flame Trees. Yes, by Jimmy Barnes. Yes, I am a fan of Jimmy Barnes and Cold Chisel. And I don't care what anyone thinks (yes, Jude that's you, even if you are rolling around laughin your ass off). I LOVE this song. Brings back sooo many memories including that one fateful night that involved a car, scooter and the police station. For another day, that story.

It's amazing the influence music has on me. It's amazing how it changes my moods and thoughts and the way I write and think. And it's almost like I can tell you the story of my life through songs.

Careless Whisper (urgh!) - First kiss
You Spin Me Right Round - Function days
Mansize love - That damned IJ Girl Guide campfire that I would rather forget eventhough I so laugh about it now
Rhythm of the night - Yeah, you all know what I am talking about
Never Say Goodbye - Eugene, Sketch, Jude, Ralph (remember them?)
Coming Home - All those nights spent at Goodlink Park with the boys and the tong guitar
Crazy/Crying - All those days spent in Geneva and Lausanne pining about M&S (no, not that M&S)
Flame Trees - my first accident and my one of my big loves

it goes on and on....

I have had a really wonderful life so far...I have no doubt I will continue to have a wonderful life...

Now, just need to find a way to get everyone back in one place.

Any suggestions, anyone?

You're Beautiful

Gosh, that damned song is turning around in my head and has been for the last couple of days. Can someone come up with a sadder song please? We really don't have enough despair, desperation and fultility in this world.

What is it about meeting someone who you know is just so right for you but impossible to be with? How come there are so many of these stories in this world? Does everyone go through a point in their life when they actually have to say "in a different life, in a different world, things would be different." It's just so sad.

That song makes me want to cry everytime I hear it.

I have been in a funny mood these days. I know there is something wrong but I have so many things to do that I have managed to push my disturbing thoughts under the carpet "to deal with later". I am kinda torn between what I have and what I want. And being a horrible person.

I saw your face. In a crowded place. But I don't know what to do. Coz I will never be with you.

Met my mum for lunch in town. Dropped a substantial amount of money on clothes.

Still don't feel better.

But it's time to face the truth. I will never be with you.

Oops..I did it again

She sat straddling his lap at the taxi-stand waiting out the 30 mins before those blue lights miraculously appeared on the roads again.

Damned movies. Always ended after 11pm and just before midnight.

She had her arms around his neck and they kissed playfully; biting each others lips and playing "mouth catch". Once ever-so-often, he would cup her face with both hands and kiss her meaningfully, passionately.

Whenever that happened, she was transported to another galaxy. Nothing and certainly noone existed alongside. Her brain turned to the consistency of melted marshmallows and her heart sounded like the hooves of a hundred horses sprinting through open fields.

She sighed when she open her eyes and bit her lower lip in a gesture of both anticipation and frustration.

She looked over her shoulder and noticed that a family had joined the queue. The parents glared at them, while trying at the same to direct their childrens' interest to the pedestrain traffic in the opposite direction.

They shouldn't be out at midnight in any case. Bad parents.

Suddenly she stiffened. A white T-shirt. Khaki bermudas. Birkenstocks.

Classic signs.

A pair of glasses. A shock of jet-black hair.

Can it be? No way.

She strained to look out the corner of her eye not wanting to turn her head.

She noticed his furtive glances in her direction.

Had to be.

Her heart tumbled into her toes.

Surely this was the retribution she deserved.

She turned back to look into the hazel pools but 2 centimetres from her face and was once again was transported back to that galaxy where she spent countless hours in.

***

She quietly inserted the key into the lock. Tiptoed around the dining table hoping that she wouldn't trip over someone's shoe, breifcase or any other incidental debris that lay around the house until the maid came.

She opened the room door, saw that he was still awake and fell into his arms. Asked about his day. He told her that he and some other colleagues managed to negotiate to get off work early. His colleagues went off to watch a movie. He thought they could finally spend some quality time together.

He was going to surprise her by coming home before she did.

But she never came home. Not until now. And it was already past 2am.

She kissed his lips, looked into his charcoal eyes and whispered, "I am sorry".

Too late.

Always.

Too little, too late.

Sickeeeee

Wah...wor-mit ah...woooorrmit!!!

Came back from 2 days in Montreux and came back ILL. Must've eaten something bad coz all I could manage to do when i gout out of my collegues car was to run and kiss Chiara and then run to the toilet where I promptly emptied my stomach of all its contents.

I started feeling sick as soon as I got in the car. Boy, was it a looong 1.5 hour drive back home and boy, was my colleague ever so scared that I would colour his beautiful beige seats in his beautiful Lexus. Poor guy.

Anyway, feeling better today. But not good enough to write another short tale.

And I don't feel like telling any other types of long stories either except to say that being in Montreux made me feel a little bit like being on vacation.

And the Montreux Palace hotel is incredible. Eventhough I got the shittiest room among everyone (although still nice lah), spilled red wine down my pistachio green pants, tripped over the doorway of the conference room TWICE (coming IN no less) and got sick at the end of the trip.

Eventful 2 days, eh?

Famous words

"Baby, I will never leave you. But if you want to end this relationship, I will totally respect your wishes and never bother you again. Even though my heart will ache for you every minute I breathe."

When she heard him utter those words, her heart wrenched with physical pain. Because she loved him so much. And knew that she would never be able to end the relationship. Not truly anyway. She couldn't really fathom living without him.

She looked at him, his azure blue eyes, and felt a feeling of warm comfort and tingling excitement wash over her. Over time, he had grown to become her mentor, her guide, her friend, her lover and her whole reason of being.

The night they had was like every other night they had spent together. She went to sleep nestled in the hollow of his shoulder, his sweat mixed with hers, after 2 hours of passionate, uninhibited love-making. She cried out countless times in the throes of passion while he made her orgasm over and over again.

She smiled and even blushed slightly to herself as she thought about the naughty things he had whispered in her ear while having his way with her.

He knew exactly how to arouse her and sexually delight her using a mix of both unselfish loving and macho-type-you-will-submit-to-my-wishes sex.

"He is my life," she thought to herself. All around the house were pieces of furniture they had bought together, souvenirs from holidays spent in the sun and snow, favourite foods they shared. So many things that spoke of their life together.

He reached out to touch her face and she covered his hand with hers. Something hard got in the way of the caress.

His wedding ring.

Only she didn't have one to match.

The clown

Central Park - taken in January 2004. Brrr

He made a joke this morning. She was putting on a pair of white cotton thong panties and remarked how some of the flowers were falling off.

"It's fall afterall baby..."

So funny.

I guess that's what you call love.

Melancholy

I have decided that melancholy is like jealousy. Waste of time. These two emotions are the most time-wasting emotions ever.

What's the point of being melancholic?

It breeds nothingness.

When one is melancholic one cannot do anything more than one needs to do.

Because one lives in one's head. And heart. And nothing comes out into the real world except maybe in the form of song, dance, art or writing (and of course, all melancholic in nature).

Now if one were talented, then I guess it's good news for one's bank account. Although still annoying. If one is not then it's just plain, SICKENING.

And talent aside, do you know what a pain in the ass it is to be the melancholic one's partner/wife/girlfriend/parent/sibling??

Wah liau. I think I rather put lizards down my bra and see how long they take to struggle out from between my tua nene than hang out with melancholic people.

My Chiara will never be melancholic. Or jealous. Because I will show her that there are better things to do with her time. Like twisting a piece of tissue paper and tickling her nostrils with it until she sneezes.

Some random pictures of a non-melancholic existence.


Godmummy-and-Mummy-to-be at Halloween party in Geneva 2003


Chiara and me - taken end of 2004

Another weekend past

Can't belive it's Monday again. The weekend just flies past these days. I think it has something to do with the fact that this is my first summer as a mum (last summer I had just given birth and Chiara was a newborn so not counted) and my mummy is here and it is summer. So every weekend got so many things to do. Day and night.

This weekend was no exception. The funniest things is, on Friday night, Fred, my mum and I were all downstairs in the TV/play/pao-ka-liao room and my mum suddenly exclaimed,"Eh, it's Friday night, how come you both not going out? Got baby already that means no need to go out on Friday nights already is eeet?"

Waaaah. When my mother starts to say things like that to me means I am on the fast track to becoming loser extraodinaire. (I still clearly rememeber those days when she used to lament not seeing me at all coz I was either at work or out with friends). But I had gone out for a while on Thursday night and I was sooo tired and I was on night-feed duty so I really couldn't be arsed to go out. So Fred and I kinda grunted and he continued playing with his stupid Google Earth (this is a Mars vs Venus thing I am sure - it's not even bloody LIVE) and I shamelessly continued to watch crappy French TV.

Anyway, Saturday was packed with so many things to do. Shopping for new shoes for Chiara because....Dang dang daaaang - SHE HAS STARTED TO WALK!!!! Waaahhahahaaa!!! Yippeee yay yay! Unlike most people, I have been impatient for my poochoo to start walking. No need to worry about her crawling on dirty floors and in the grass anymore!

Then after that had to go for kids birthday party and after that my very first National Day do at the Singapore Ambassadors' residence in Geneva. It was really nice I must say. Had some reservations about spening an evening with Singaporeans in a foreign land, but I went with no expectations and no pre-judgements and I must say I had a really nice time. The ambassador is really young so it was kinda like having a lawn party at your mates'. We had to sing the National Anthem you know. HAHAHAAA!!! (I had visions of Mrs EE in my head while singing, i kid you not!)

Funnily enough, there was alot of talk about the Singaporean culture and Singlish when you are outside of Singapore. A couple of people actually told me that they refrain from speaking Singlish when speaking with foreigners and only reserve that "privelege" when speaking with fellow countrymen and women.

I have to say that I have influenced my fair share of Swiss people to include "lah" in their vocabulary in these last 5 years.

And I hope Chiara learns some Singlish too. Of course along with normal English. And French. Currently her nanny and I speak to her in English, while her paternal grandparents speak to her in French (they live next door to us by the way). Her dad speaks to her in English and French. I have no doubt that she will grow up to be effectively bilingual and I guess the German, Spanish, Italian, Chinese (her dad wants her to be ready for the China world domination phenomenon) can come later when school starts. In any case, at the minimum I just hope that she is able to speak at least ONE language really well. And seeing how she lives in Geneva, I hope that language is French. If it happens that she is fluent in 2,3,5,10 languages then fantastic. But I refuse to get caught up in this whole "my daughter can speak all the languages of the world" thing just because of the circumstances of her life.

I will certainly help her learn at least French and English simply because I think it's firstly easier for a child to pick up different languages at a young age, but secondly, she should be able to converse with both parents and both sets of grandparents coherently.

I am also not worried about Chiara losing her Asian heritage and becoming a bonafide yodeller (albeit with a Singaporean passport). I spent 28 years in Singapore before leaving which means that the Singaporean culture is pretty damned well ingrained in me. My sis on the other hand, left Singapore when she was 20 and has been here 16 years already. I think a large part of her is Swiss now and as a result, her children might be Asian influenced but certainly not Singaporean. Does that make any sense? It does to me.

So no worries. My daughter will grow up to be a true blue, half-Indian-Singaporean-half-Swiss-french-english-speaking-raclette-fondue-char kway teow-laksa-eating-snowboard-wakeboarding girl.

And I hope she gets her godmother's fashion sense and boxing skills as well.

Sunday was my birthday. I turned 33. So old already ah? Went for brunch in a nice restaurant in the Old Town and Ir eceived cool pressies from everyone. Fred and his parents gave me a lovely bicycle (Glo laughed her ass off saying I will never learn to drive now), Fred also gave a a beautiful PINK mini iPod, Mummy gave me a necklace and sis gave me a voucher from LV. Chiara of course gave me the bestest bday present - she started to walk!! Happy Happy Happy bday to me.

No pictures with this entry. More later I promise. I guess I better stop rambling on now. By the way, Rome trip has to be cancelled or postponed to a later date. Forgot I have a 3-bloody-day offsite meeting in bloody Montreaux the week I wanted to go. Chee bye lah. Never mind. Now I can go cycling already. YAY!!! (Yeah, right)

Suffocating

I went to town today to get my eyebrows done. I normally do them at the beauty salon around the corner from my office. But since it's August and the whole Euro world and their dog are on holiday, I had to go to a spa in town instead. Luckily they had a slot free. You see in yodel-land you need to plan these things days in advance. No such thing as calling in the morning for an appointment that afternoon. Anyway, because I was in town, I naturally indulged in some retail therapy and ended up buying 2 pairs of pants and 4 tops. And I received the Baby Einstein DVD's I got for Amazon today as well as the 2 pairs of shoes I bought from e-Bay.

All in all a good fullfilling day.

I am also officially broke now.

What about work? Yes, what about work. I am so bored I can't even read through a 1 page document without falling asleep. I think I need to go on holiday too. Want to go to Rome for 2 days. Mid August. Hopefully I can swing it.

Too tired and feeling a little burnt out. Need to get away form all these people around me.

I guess the loner in me is rearing its head for some air. Need to get my space. Need to get away.

I want to get away, I want to fly awaaay....

heheheeee.

Navel Gazing

Apparently Singaporean bloggers navel gaze too much (source: mr brown's blog). That's according to the dumbass journos at The New Paper. Like anyone cares what they think. When they finally have something credible to say about something more important than the rising prices of chicken rice and mee siam in Singapore, maybe people will start to care. I certainly don't care. In fact I don't give a flying fuck about what anyone thinks. EVER.

It's not always been like that you know. When I was younger I cared alot about what people thought. Then as I grew older life became too complicated to live by other people's opinions. So I threw caution to the wind and dared to live by my rules. Then I hit the big 3-0 and I truly emancipated myself. Money helped do that of course. In fact, money helped me do MANY things. Have no illusions - Money buys pretty much almost everything in life.

Now I do what want, when I want and how I want. The only things that tether me to some confines of conformism are Chiara, Cosmo/Glamour and Gloria-the-fashionista extraodinare.

Back to navel gazing then.

Despite the shitty Friday I had, this weekend was pretty action-packed and fun-filled. It was long weekend here in yodel-land - yodellers celebrated National Day on August 1. Everyone please take note of the date. I once picked up a verrry hamsum boy in Elvis bar many years ago all thanks to this precious piece of knowledge about the 1st of August. His name was Patrick and boy was he a cutie. For you youngun's reading this, Elvis was a really funny bar in some building near the Plaza Hotel on Beach Road. They played retro music and people used to dance on the bars all night long. Drinking. Picking up. Taking off clothes. My kind of place. Back in the mid 90's. Wah, machiam sooo long ago.

Anyway, back to this weekend. I did family things all day long (swimming, mountains, park, walking, La Reserve) and went out partying at night. By Monday night was so exhausted I couldn't make it to the big outdoor party by the lakeside. But it was really nice. And I think Chiara enjoyed herself immensely depsite having a disorganized Mum who brings too many changes of clothes and zero toys for her to play with on a day out.

Have begun smoking in front of MY mum. I know, very shocking right? But guess what? I DON'T CARE, REMEMBER? 33 years old, haven't lived at home since 1995, 39 hours of labour and now a working mum, you think I have earned the right to smoke whenever I damn well please. And if you think I haven't, well, guess what? (SAY IT WITH ME EVERYONE) ... I STILL DON'T FUCKING CARE!

On that note, I am feeling better about my life, because over the weekend I counted my blessings (something that I normally do regularly but been slack about of late). And put things back in perspective. I could have worse problems, like this poor sod below:



You see what I mean?

So, fuck him (the cause of my heartache lah, not the unnamed uncle above) and his sorry little life. My life is beautiful, Chiara is beautiful and I am beautiful. That's all I give a shit about.

(okaaaaay, you all dun start jumping up and down - of course I also give a shit about my family, friends, char kway teow and the next couple of episodes of Lost...)

HMPH!!!!