weird ways to commit suicide #34

Eat a cat that has eaten a bird with H5N1 virus.

When reporting threatens to drive me crazy

I think up of weird ways to commit suicide >.<

#190

Eat a hard boiled egg in its totality and choke myself to death.

Searching for blue sand

We had just spent two hours in the late afternoon climbing uphill for an overview of Redang. What was in our minds to believe our guides/ new found friends to climb barefooted amidst bugs, twigs, sharp rocks at a 45 degree angle eludes me. Still hurting and still barefooted we climbed over rocks over to another pitch dark beach. They said there was blue sand. They also said climbing the hill was not going to be tough.

Squatting over the sand we starting sifting through it, like gold miners looking for precious flecks. One of them whispered, it's like soap suds, the more you rub, the more it disappears (how that metaphor works I don't know, but it made sense then). They said it comes from the middle of the sea; and on a fully moonlit night the whole beach would be sparkling blue. Then we saw it. A lone sparkle. It was really blue sand. But as we reached forward to hold it in our hands, we lost that elusive sparkle.

Need to go search for places that give me that same sparkle again.

Unphotographable

Always found taking potraits of other people intrusive, in my mind I'm trying to capture abit of their lives, hoping to conjure some story. There are also times where some moments are completely unphotographable. For me it would be those who live on the edges of polite society. The child who sells packets of tissue at the hawker centre; the lady with skin disease with clumps of hair still attached on her scalp begging for money at the corner of xiangyang and shaanxi road; the bow legged boy who gets on cautiously on the train to sell maps with his mother, both from out of town. I cannot meet their eyes, because I feel self-loathing that life is so unequally distributed, and even more so when thoughts of withholding money from them cross my mind as I assume they are from an organization that controlled their livelihoods. What good can I do? The money will not reach them anyway.

***

Photographable....at Shanghai Botanicals.


quiet time


bubble siblings


Lines on her face, stories to tell


pink pride


family time


companionship


stare what stare!

Is there hamster heaven?

Ah Beng has gone to hamster heaven, may his little soul rest in peace. Before concluding there was a hamster heaven, Shanghai friend 3 posed the question if there was actually one. There must be one right? Right? Riiiigggght??? Then again, he had a point, hamsters breed like mad how would hamster heaven be able to handle all the shit and carpet of hamsters running over each other? IT IS AFTER ALL HAMSTER HEAVEN, I countered, they must have some miraculous way of clearing all that shit and feeding them and stopping them from breeding more. With other Shanghai friends coming up with alternative hypothesis that I have to burn a paper house, some hamster hell money (so Ah Beng can buy food himself) and a designated poop clearer. Such troopers these people are, to find amusement in such devastating situations *grin*

We had a small, close goodbye ceremony for Ah Beng beneath a plot of spring flowers at Century Park. With one singing (at my request) amazing grace and others observing a one minute silence while picking other flowers at the side to throw generously on his grave. Most of them did not know Ah Beng well - his grumpy, biting ways; sweet disposition whilst in dreaming hours - despite all that, they all patronized me. It's one of those moments likened to seeing yourself fall clumsily as a third person; finding the funnies overcomes the physical hurt.

1 minute

Checked into Great Dragon hotel in Beijing. Stood dazedly looking upon the immaculate room - perfect white sheets, flat-screen tv, fluffy pillows. Head hurting from flu, irritating coughs, exhausted from flights, complicated work, uncooperative colleagues. In that cumulative minute, tears uncontrollably welled. Blinking, I finally gave in and laid to rest my headstrong nature that always kept all these depressing moments strictly in check; and emptied all the loneliness, helplessness. Only for one minute, the allowance was only for one minute.

There are always days like these. Days that tell you to delight and laugh at smallest details, keep your eyes peeled for perfection in an ordinary day, listen to people beside you like it is your last time with them.

Growing up, same difference: Unabridged version

kitty says:
i always think of u, u know. even though we never talk
kitty says:
i always wonder how you are and am always so glad you're so brave and happy to do what u want
Dian says:
but we've been talking less and less as the yrs pass...
Dian says:
i wish i was brave...but i'm not
Dian says:
you're the high flyer...sometimes i wish i was one too...just like you
Dian says:
that is until the dust settles and i realise that's just not me
Dian says:
i've never been a high flyer...never will...and i don't regret it
Dian says:
but how are you in China now?
kitty says:
what about us talking less?
Dian says:
what do you mean?
kitty says:
how do u feel about it?
Dian says:
it's something that I wish wasn't so but sometimes things like that just happen
Dian says:
the impt thing is that we don't lose the friendship and totally lose each other
Dian says:
even if we manage to touch the other in some way once in a while, at least that's something, don't you think?..cos with things the way they are now...it's difficult to maintain the same relationship we had...
Dian says:
our lives have veered so far from each other, sometimes it's difficult
kitty says:
u really think so?
kitty says:
sometimes i think superficially it did...me in shanghai and u in thailand
kitty says:
but i feel when we do touch base. we're still the same people. and all those years hanging out paid off ahahahah
Dian says:
yah i totally agree...and i'm so glad that essentially we're the same ppl still
Dian says:
haven't totally changed you know
Dian says:
the ridiculouslessness hasn't stopped!
Dian says:
haha
Dian says:
so are there lots of expats where you work?
Dian says:
singaporeans too?
kitty says:
my ex-boss was singaporean...and a couple more here and there
kitty says:
my core group of friends here are singaporeans
kitty says:
but also trying to meet more people. though not the easiest thing since i travel
kitty says:
and i maintain , this is not a high flying lifestyle ahahahah...it's just flying and tiring one
kitty says:
but jobs change, people get retrenched. life still has to go on. without knowing what your dreams are or having other passions...how to live?
Dian says:
it's true what you say...
Dian says:
but right now for me, i know what i want to do, i'm just not sure if it's the right thing to do?
Dian says:
how will I ever know if it's the right thing right?..hai...
kitty says:
let me tell u...you're wonderful and you have a personality bigger than anything
kitty says:
u will know it's right because u have also gone through the 'other route' that other silliporeans would never consider
kitty says:
so if anyone knows what's right, it's u
kitty says:
so what issit u want to do?
Dian says:
well, you may find it funny...but i don't want a career...
Dian says:
of cos i want a job i like but not a career..
Dian says:
and i want to marry him and leave Sg...but i'm not sure if that is the right or the best thing
Dian says:
you know me, i'm always 2nd guessing myself...
kitty says:
nothing wrong in not wanting a career
Dian says:
yea..but of cos i don't want to get married now..
Dian says:
tho i do know who i want to marry
Dian says:
hai...and my mum is nagging as always...always bitching away
Dian says:
but you know, i keep making things so difficult for him
Dian says:
i'm glad that i came to phuket to work though...
Dian says:
grew up a lot here...i had to
Dian says:
and i changed quite a bit...not so timid and shy anymore
Dian says:
luckily i'm still the same at the core...hee hee...clumsy, silly, always late...hee hee
Dian says:
are you still always late?
Dian says:
hehe
kitty says:
life is too short to follow the singapore plan
kitty says:
ahahhaah...yes am still late
kitty says:
except for work meetings now
kitty says:
and when my boss is in town
kitty says:
am also silly still.....laughing at bad jokes, trying to do spontaneously with anyone who would entertain me and humming tomyself
kitty says:
am also less timid and shy as well...so that's the part i'm really glad to grow out of...so ageing isn't so bad too
Dian says:
yea i know...me too...

We haven't spoken since a year ago. Since clearing things up it hasn't been the same since we don't hang out as much.

I miss our usual midnight walks and chats that typically last from 10pm to 6am the next day and trudging home (usually me and you had to side me away from relatively fast moving objects); with the humid sheen of the morning dew on our skin. As well as stuffing our faces full of cheap, tasty vermicelli at queenstown market or over koptiam teh-C.

Tonight, we went back to the way we were before I left.

lone ranger: i've always been having trouble finding ppl who can understand me...or who even try

kitty: lustful for wandering: you have me

lone ranger: yeah

lone ranger: but ur a bit far now

kitty: lustful for wandering: we can still talk and i can still listen mah

lone ranger: yeah

lone ranger: i'm grateful for that at least

Retracing steps

Circa 2000. Was watching Oprah as she introduced "Tuesdays with Morrie" on her regular book club show. Usual books introduced were soppy, sometimes biographies are just plain hard to read and always meant to be angsty. I caught sight of a thin book which she adamantly proclaimed was a 'life-altering' book in her big voice and big hair. And she was right.

Many a times I have bought this book for friends' birthdays, quoted it in letters and picked a lesson out from it. These few days have been no exception.

Detachment doesn't mean you don't let the experience penetrate you fully. That's how you are able to leave it.

Take any emotion: love for a woman, or grief for a loved one, or what I'm going through, fear and pain from a deadly illness. If you hold back on the emotions - if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them - you can never get detached, you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief, you're afraid of the vulnerability that loving entails.

But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head even, you experience them fully and completely. You know what pain is. You know what love is. You know what grief is. And only then can you say, "All right. I have experienced that emotion. I recognize that emotion. Now I need to detach from that emotion for a moment".

***

Circa 2006. Been bouncing like a metronome, I'm so tired of the assumptions and trying and believing. Wanting to hold back, detach; yet still trying to feel 19 years old again.

The age when I promised myself that I will truly live and feel. Cry, laugh, dance, get angry and learn to say 'no'. Since then I have learnt to do all those but reality also dropped in and became the irritating neighbour that would not move away. After three years of him, memories were deliberately forgotten; cruelly and ruthlessly dumping naivete.

Trying to detach after the drama this weekend. While I'm at it, will someone please lead me back to where the streets of "free spirit" and "childlike-ness" converge so that I won't fully detach as well?

Spring haiku

Dancing sparrows blithe,
the allegro of notes - joy.
Flux stopped, time erased.


Haven't been inspired to write haiku for the longest time. It has been two years.
Glad to be back.

%%%%

We went to Shanghai Art Museum today. There was a China born artist with her whimsical oil paints of birds, fruits which were also metaphors for women. How they were metaphors, I dunno. Her whimsical paintings were meant to draw one's mind to the present; as a contrast to the constant motion of society - how we were constantly thinking of whether to move forward or backward.

Funny coincidence, because today I was really late for brunch (what's new). Some sparrows skipping on the pavement and trees leading towards the restaurant caught my eye. Singing their secret happy songs. Melodies of the late morning rewound my steps, staring and trying to count how many sparrows there were in that chior. Two, three, five, seven... maybe more.

I wish the sparrows would teach me those songs.

Unsolicited, regular advice from a friend

Some of you have on occasion asked me how one can ever know that one loves someone - meaning someone one is considering as a partner for life until death or until the first divorce, whichever is sooner. Others among you have not asked me, but may have been wondering about this most important question.

I came across this really neat piece of writing of how one Lord Dawlish, masquerading as Bill Chalmers, came to the conclusion about what to look for in an ideal partner. At this point of the story (page 119 in the paperback Penguin editio of Uneasy Money by P G Wodehouse, the twentieth century's unparalleled (well, mebbe Woody Allen and Seinfeld came close) master of funny writing), Bill has just found out the really devious reason why his ex-fiancee, Claire, handed him back his ring that night. And then he sets about thinking about life and love, on a long walk heading nowhere in particular.

It's a great piece of writing and thinking - and also, for those who took Consumer Behaviour, offers a great insight into how we sometimes make decisions on the most important things of our life - not using a Fishbein model, but a sudden spark of clarity.

Here goes:

"He found himself thinking of Claire as of someone he had known long ago, someone who had never touched his life. She seemed so far away that he wondered how she could ever have affected him for pain or pleasure. He looked at her across a chasm. This is the real difference between love and infatuation, that infatuation can be slain cleanly with a single blow. In the hour of clear vision which had come to him, Bill saw that he had never loved Claire. It was her beauty that had held him, that and the appeal which her circumstances had made to his pity. Their minds had not run smoothly together. Always there had been something that jarred, a subtle antagonism. And she was crooked.

Almost unconsciously his mind began to build up an image of the ideal girl, the girl he would have liked Claire to be, the girl who would conform to all that he demanded of woman. She would be brave. He realized now that, even though it had moved his pity, Claire's querulousness had offended something in him.

He had made allowances for her, but the ideal girl would have had no need of allowances. The ideal girl would be plucky, cheerfully valiant, a fighter. She would not admit the existence of hard luck.

She would be honest. Here, too, she would have no need of allowances. No temptation would be strong enough to make her do a mean act or think a mean thought, for her courage would give her strength, and her strength would make her proof against temptation. She would be kind. That was because she would also be extremely intelligent, and, being extremely intelligent, would have need of kindness to enable her to bear with a not very intelligent man like himself. For the rest, she would be small and alert and pretty, and fair haired – and brown-eyed – and she would keep a bee farm and her name would be Elizabeth Boyd.

Having arrived with a sense of mild astonishment at this conclusion, Bill found, also to his surprise, that he had walked ten miles without knowing it and that he was turning in at the farm gate."

Ingredients of a rock band

Apparently someone has written a dummies handbook on rock/ indie/ pop-rock bands and the moves/ people they need as a synergy to be qualified as a band.

1. Someone needs sunglasses

2. Longish or big hair. (Longish hair defined as anything below the ears and fringe has to be same length as said hair)

3. Propping one leg on any stereo/ platform at the front of the stage while strumming electric guitar

4. Have to look fairly scruffy. Wearing sandals with socks, obviously signifying one's sacrifice for music that shoes don't matter at all! What else to exemplify struggling musician?

5. There has to be a botak* (it is a must in the dummies handbook for aspiring bands). Only botaks look grungy/ cool.

*botak - bald or skinhead

and last, but not least....

6. Force your friends to be your groupies. It's not so embarrassing that way to sing to a empty bar

TGIF?

You know everyday I clean abit of my house now. That sounds good right?

But I have a secret vicious cycle. Weekends I go out to play and leave all the chores undone; which I have clean during the weekdays. So I dunno how true this TGIF thing is bwahahaha...

Totally riled....

*GROWL* I love men ok....my daddy is da best!
but but... this is just bloody generalization! I wonder who her references are....
And simi cash cow??!!!! I always pay for my own stuff ok!!!
And I only give doe eyes only after I'm caught doing something fairly illegal/ get out of trouble pass...but...but... any person would do that toooo!!!!! *faint*

%%%%%%%%%


ask not what you can get from your man ...
Frances Ong Hock Lin

Today is International Women's Day and women's groups around the world usually use it to draw attention to decades of struggle by women for equality, justice, peace and development.

While acknowledging that women still have a long way to go towards achieving this goal, perhaps it is time for them to reflect on the process used to achieve this.

In ancient Greece, Lysistrata started a sex strike against men in order to end a war. In 2001, the women of the Turkish village of Sirt followed Lysistrata's example, and went on a sex strike to demand a decent water supply.

Luckily for the men, most women's groups have taken Lysistrata's idea of the "women's strike" less literally.

For example, The International Women's Day movement, does sponsor a Global Women's Strike but in a different modus operandi.

Although women are encouraged to follow the Lysistrata model to gain attention, the strike includes time off from paid or unpaid work, accompanied by different kinds of activism. The goal of the strike was to highlight women's contributions to the world.

I have never felt at ease when women use any form of blackmail, extortion, coercion or strike to get what they want.

Especially vile is a woman's use of tears. It ends all discussions for most rational gentlemen. They give in as most of them have been trained not to make a woman cry. Even if we achieve our goal, it will leave a bitter aftertaste for the men concerned.

Maybe we should approach this year's International Women's Day from another angle. We could reflect on the way we have been treating our male colleagues, husbands, brothers and sons.

Did we enrich their lives? Or did we treat them like a cash cow? Did we treat them as a partner and co-worker or did we treat them as a competitor? Did we show them respect or did we demand respect from them?

We could also reflect on their needs as they try their best to work in this new and challenging environment where women have their careers and are not afraid to articulate their needs, wants and desires clearly to men. We could give them a pat on the back when they make the effort to look after the baby or when they do the housework after a hard day's work in the office.

We could reassure them that even as we climb higher up the career ladder, we still need them, at times, to hold the ladder steady for us.

We need to learn to appreciate man, for living with a woman in the 21st century is not easy. Should they open the door for women? Should they be strong yet offer a shoulder for women to cry on? Should they be a Sensitive New Age Gentlemen or a metrosexual?

In this age of in-vitro fertilisation do women need men? Are they just sperm banks or do they have rights as a biological father?

Maybe as a sign of maturity, we could start an International Man's Day where we can take the initiative to create activities to improve men's health, promote fathers' active participation in the family or to prevent men abusing women.

For a start we could stop asking what we can get from men and begin to reflect on what we can give them.

Only then could we finally say that we have been liberated from the shackles of inequality and injustice and truly celebrate International Women's Day as women ought and should.

The writer is an educator and a mother of six children.

Contemplative

Tossing and turning in bed, it was silent, dark, unmoving. Eyelids were already screaming to close and get some rest, but none such reprieve. As I fumbled for the tv remote control, I realised for n-th night since coming back to Shanghai, sleep would evade me unless I heard some voices from some random dvd played; conversing in their Americanish lilt, while it ushered Mr. Sandman into my dreams.

This strange sleeplessness that has come over me, where did it come from? Was it all the talk about plans and dreams that has made me willingly seduced by wanderlust? Was it all the worrying about other people lives, hoping they don't choose something that will make them unhappy? Was it just procrastinating the protesting, unwashed dishes in the sink? Or quite simply, bloody PMS?

Don't get me wrong, am neither unhappy nor discontented. Far from that. Just not feeling as lighthearted as I normally am. A little listless, a little missing something. I just wish I knew what.

小小甜蜜

周末的时候, 好像和一个朋友起了一点儿小别扭. 可能是自己太敏感了吧, 但不知不觉地把它挂在心上.

今天早上, 在聊话当中, 我把内心世界的小窗打开了一个逢, 让他瞧一瞧. 让他看见我寂寞又一丝脆弱.
虽然他很困, 但却很耐心地听我倾诉. 聆听着.

和以往遇见不快时一样, 叹气过后就说, "算了, 我想一定是 monday blues 搞的鬼, 明天会感觉好多". 接着谈话就飘漫到其他话题...

就在彼此说完再见时, 他插了这段话, "Hey, it will be better tomorrow". 给我刚才自我安慰的那些话戴上新的 conviction. 原来他真的有聆听我音色中带着的烦忧. 仿佛在我打开窗的刹那间，他从外面看透了我。

you can take the girl out of SINgapore, but not the SINgapore out of the girl

At a oh-so refined, tranquil setting of Ctizen Cafe, three twenty-somethings were discussing what to have for lunch. All whilst practising for leisurely sophistication; as all fabulous Silliporean twenty-somethings do.

KF: "Eh, what is penne ar?"
WL: "Err...they look like tubes loh..."

KF: "Then fettucini leh?"
WL (straight faced, in a matter of fact tone): "Look like mee pok* loh...then spaghetti is mee kia**. Listen to the daughter of a noodle seller ok..."

Only Silliporeans can make such tok kong (Meaning: superb or top of the line) comparisons succintly.

Note: Mee pok* is flat, fattish looking and mee kia** is it's youngest brother being a lot skinniest. Seik mee (熟面）is middle brother, looks like linguini, mostly overlooked, like all middle children are. Used in many Singapore noodle based dishes.

Comparing snot

Since last year, there was this pressing mystery that had to be solved.


Where does all my snot come from? I mean the increase is simply mindboggling!


So at lunch yesterday, I decided this would be the day that all my suspicions would be come to a rest.

"Hey, did you realise that errrmmm...your snot has increased since you came to Shanghai?"

Series of furious nods with agreement. Oh yes, there was consensus! Not only had they increased, they were alot darker. We were definitely on to something.

After many rounds of discussions (ok I exaggerate), we concluded that Shanghai air is polluted with a capital P. Even more sad to say, Premier Wen's speech yesterday did not mention any other additional measures to measure economic impact of environmental degradation other than commitments to increase energy efficiency. Gawd, summer is coming, can I really live without air-conditioning?

Who would you be?

Shanghai friend 2 sent me this yesterday and asked me who would I be in this mini-story. Water, said I, without hesitation.

水爱着鱼，但鱼却爱上在天空自由飞翔的鸟。鱼对水说，你看不见我的眼泪因为我在水里。水对鱼说，其实我看得见你的眼泪因为你一直在我心里。他们都没有跟鸟说什么，因为早已明白他是听不到的...

While water loves fish, fish loved bird that was flying free in the skies. One day, fish told water, "you can't see my tears because I'm in the water." Quietly water replied, "In truth, I see your tears more clearly because you're always in my heart. I don't need to see it." They did not mention this to bird, because they knew, bird would not have understood this exchange that only they could...