watery grave

last night i was self-exiled at home thanks to my running nose.

lying in bed, under my skylight, i watched as the rain came down on the glass pane, making circular patterns as they hit the glass and then disperse away. there was an air of surrealism in the twilight: the grey chill accompanied by the drumming of the raindrops on the roof. *tak tak tak*

i drifted deliciously in and out of sleep. feverish dreams merged with my imagination. i dreamt that i was floating off somewhere in the ocean, floating dizzily. i imagined that i was an umbrella, bravely standing up against the rain. i dreamt that i was my cat, who was snuggly sleeping by my feet. i imagined that i was in a submarine, bathed in the watery half-light.

and the rain continued on. *tak tak tak*

the sky had deepened. my stomach rumbled an angry symphony with the rain. even with my blocked nose, i could faintly smell the chicken soup cooking slowly in the kitchen. i stumbled downstairs and slurped up a huge bowl of the soup - prepared just the way mum does it. except that i want my mummy here and now. she knows how to make me feel better. she would vigourously rub vicks vaporub on my back to clear my blocked nose. i don't know if it was the heat produced by the vigourous rubbing or the vaporub, but it works.

but she's at home. i have to cope with breathing through my mouth. slowly.

i watched the news. nothing exciting happened. the usual fighting, stock market upheavels and more bad weather. is the world becoming a dull place or am i becoming blasé about everything?

back to bed. the rain had stopped. the cat was getting restless and wanted to play. i threw a pillow at her and didn't want to get out of the warm bed to retrieve it back.

i fell back to sleep. dreamless in my watery grave.

nekiko

today, i have a nekiko.

or at least something that sounded like that. a nekiko? it was hard to hear my colleagues in a noisy cafe at that time...

days later, when i finally figured out that she had meant a nez qui coule or a running nose, i was feeling a lot better.

like i said, today, i have a nekiko and i think i will takataxi, or take a taxi, home soon.

(takataxi was coined on another day at the same cafe, another mix-up of words... i wonder what was added in their coffee served there?)

hello, it's me

hello... you said with a smile.
it's you! i exclaimed when you introduced yourself.

it's always strange to finally meet the people i know through emails, or hear about, face to face. it's a pleasant feeling to be able to connect a disembodied personality with 3D space.

i like the moment when realisation hits. good to finally meet you! i search your face trying to fit my impression with reality. are you taller? bigger? than in the emails. are you shy? loud? friendly?

... and do you bite?

* * * * * * * * * *
i remember when i first met my penpal a few years back. we had been writing to each other since we were 12, or maybe 13. our letters stopped for some years and then picked up again when we exchanged email addresses. on the day of her arrival, i waited at the arrival lounge, clutching an old photo of her from a few years before. impatient with anticipation. how is she like?

she had blossomed into a beautiful young woman by that time and looked nothing like the smiling teenager in the photo. but our eyes met over the glass partition at the luggage carrousel and we recognised each other immediately. through the glass, i could read her emails and letters in the way she walked, from the way she moved. all the hopes and aspirations shared in our candid letters solidified into reality. we smiled. welcome to singapore!

* * * * * * * * * *
hello i said with a smile.
i've heard much about you you replied when i introduced myself.
all good things, i hope

i didn't know who you were, but decided that we could be friends when you nodded yes, all good things.

but you don't know yet that i sometimes bite...

names

there are bouncing babies everywhere! colleagues and friends all around me have turned into baby-factories all of a sudden. i am happy for them, needless to say. i love children, though i'm not too at ease with babies. and i can't wait for them to grow up so that i can show them the fun side of the world! *wink*

all of a sudden, i'm caught in the mad scampering for names! names! what names to give the little bundles of joy? something that sounds nice, but not this name because there was a this name in my school and nobody liked her. not that name either because i knew a that name who was a bastard. not this because it's too common, while that sounds too kooky.

what hopes, what dreams do parents impart onto their children when choosing their names?

if it's a girl... i want her to be beautiful and talented.
if it's a boy... i want him to be a pillar of strength and intelligent.

it was my grandparents who chose my name.

my grandparents were first generation immigrants who settled in singapore in search of better opportunities at the beginning of the last century. they brought along and held closely on to their beliefs, their culture and their way of life. despite settling in their adopted home country for more than half their lives by the time i arrived in the world, the chinese traditions were still deeply ingrained in them. one of the chinese beliefs is that girls are "useless" to the family. it was deemed that girls do not continue the heritage line as we take on our husbands' family name when we marry. in other words, girls are a liability to the family, brought up only to be given away.

my brothers' names had been set in the family almanac a few generations ahead of time. they belong to a long line of family history and are expected to do their part to continue the family line. their names contain elements of "super" and "hardworking" while at the same time, hints of "humility".

what hopes and dreams did my grandparents have in stall for me when they named me? have i done them proud? have i disappointed them?

given that my name was chosen by grandparents who didn't care much for girls, there were no high aspirations for me. my name signifies neither beauty nor talent. in fact it doesn't signify much... except that i am supposed to be a petite lady. hmmmm... i wonder what they'd say if i tell them that i very much prefer to be a cold tropical fruit or simply as *big smile*.

absence of heat

i woke up feeling cold the last few nights.

this is an unusual occurrence: my body has an internal heating system that kicks in at night. i literally burn in my dreams: my skin glows red and is scalding to the touch.

it is disturbing that i wake up, teeth chattering, a few nights in a row. why does it happen? why do i feel cold? cold... but cold is simply the absence of warmth, just like darkness is the lack of light. so where did the heat go?

heat is the energy that causes the vibration of particles. the hotter it is, the more agitated the vibrations. give them enough energy and the particles break free from their bonds. melting. vapourisation. the particles dance freely, basking in their new found heat energy.

in a vacuum, temperature plunges because there are not enough particles vibrating to retain or transmit the heat.

why do i feel cold all of a sudden? am i in an emotional vacuum?

heart

a friend told me about a person she'd met at a party recently. he illustrates biology books. yes, apparently somebody draws all the anatomically correct sterile bloodless cross-section of bodies. somebody ensures that all the organs are in the right shade of red, all the bones are straight and strong with tendons holding everything in place and the fibers of every muscle are arranged in order.

somebody is responsible for ensuring that at least in biology books, everything is neatly arranged where it should be.

i want to meet this artist. i have a question for him:

how does he draw a broken heart?

flooOOoooOOOooOooooOOOoo

an email from an old friend today. he says his wife is down with flu. influenza. i recall that this had been the theme of his various emails over the years. either he has time for emails only when the wife is ill or she is extremely suceptible to flu bugs. she is carrying their second baby and he is worried about the effects of the arsenal of medication on the unborn child. the flu virus is not to be confused with the common cold, the symptoms develop faster and are more severe: fever, chills, headache, dizziness, tiredness, runny nose, sore throat. even the birds get it these days.

for refineries, flue gas is the gas that comes chugging out out the stack. and the stack is of course the tall chimney spewing out billowy puffy vapour. my professor once commented that flue gases are safe as long as they are white in colour, but start running away if it darkens. thanks to environment regulations, it is mostly steam by that stage of operations. some carbon dioxide CO2. a little carbon monoxide CO and nitrogen gases N2, NO2, N2O and a teeny weeny bit of sulphurous gases SO2, SO3. flue gases should give nothing more than what an old car spews out from its exhaust. in theory, anyway.

flew: the past tense of fly, a flight that has already been accomplished some time ago. if i could, where would i have flown to, this morning? definitely not to the office. maybe to the north pole but it's too cold. they say that it's so cold there that there are no flies. what of a barfly? is a barflew someone who was a barfly and no longer is. i was a barfly; i am a barflew: a has-been barfly. madame butterfly. madame butterflew. flew: the past tense of fly, not a dead bzzzz bzzzz fly. and not a flea either. although "to fly" and "to flee" are sometimes associated together; flies and fleas too are often associated together as the less welcomed members of the insect family.

i'm feeling healthy today, and i no longer need to watch over waste gas contents. but if i could, where would i have flown to, this morning?

bad habits are hard to break

i usually go cold turkey. it's all indulgence or nothing. when it comes to challenging myself, i like going to extremes.

i did it with smoking. it's been a month and i have not succumbed to the urge. but then again, i seldom have the urge to smoke once i make up my mind. i'm lucky in a way: to quit smoking is easy for me. it was simply a matter of making up my mind to stop. it was never an addiction, just something to do to pass time, to keep my hands busy in a crowded bar.

other habits are a lot harder for me. and i am a creature of habit, not all bad though. i blame it on the stars: pisceans are famous for succumbing to addictions, especially those involving smoking or drinks. and my real weakness...?

drinks.

alcoholic, non-alcoholic. frizzy. flat. i am a creature of the water, 2 fishes swimming in circles, and that makes me fussy about my drink habit. very fussy. i like green tea on weekends. i need coffee on weekdays. i drink milk in the morning, and only in the morning. i enjoy a martini or two on a warm evening but i prefer a strong vodka drink when it gets chilly. beer is always welcome no matter what the temperature outside is, but beware: i can get picky over the type of beer. a look in my kitchen revealed a lot of things. on any day, i have the following containers drying on the draining board: a pint glass, a martini glass, a teapot and teacup, a bialetti moka coffee maker and a tiny expresso cup, a tall glass, a wine glass and a mug. i have stopped trying to put them away now. i crave for something different every day.

someone recently commented that i either have a lot of friends who like very different drinks, or i am a very thirsty person.

i am a very thirsty person.

today, i considered going cold turkey on alcoholic drinks, it would be a challenge to break my indulgent habits one by one. the sadist in me, perhaps. this is especially apt since my drinking partner has gone away.

just the thought is sending me chills though. i need a drink to calm my nerves.

distance

how close is close enough?
at an arm's length. i need the space to breathe, to stretch my arms out when i grow and to sit quietly when i think. there are times when i don't like people at all, when i need to be alone. an arm's length would be perfect: to share our time together and to miss each other when we're apart. it would be close enough.

and how far is too far?
yet i want the comfort of an all-encompassing hug when i need it. and there are times when i will really need it. how long does it take for you to stand in front of me, spread out your arms and hold me tightly? how far do you need to travel to gently kiss the top of my head?

four hours: an hour to the airport, two hours on the plane and finally another hour on the road.

more than half a day: and if it's twelve hours on the plane?
...is that too far?

is physical distance better than if we are seated across the dinner table and know not what the other is thinking? when we are close enough to be too far?

skin

when the chill of january winds swept across the narrow streets of paris, the warm caress of the sun was a distant thing. a memory or a figment of my imagination? how quickly the skin forgets. my parents told me it was raining in singapore, the weather had been unusually cool at 30 degC. cool for singapore, yes, but not for france in winter.

how did it feel like at 30 degC? i could not remember. between 0 and 4 degC, my skin was numb. because the alternative would be to feel the chill.

everything expands in the heat and contracts in the cold. everything except water. between 0 and 4 degC, water stops contracting and instead starts to expand as it arranges itself into rigid orderly crystals. ice floats - it is 10% lighter than water. does it remembers the heady sensation of having once been billowing steam? of floating clouds? or of a singing stream?

according to meteofrance, it is 20 degC here today. how quickly the skin forgets. the balmy winds gently brush against my skin and lift up my spirits. i have a light cotton shirt on and it is perfect for this weather. my parents tell me that it is raining again in singapore, 34 degC and 100% humidity. how does it feel to be walking in the air pregnant with water droplets?

i cannot remember, except that the skin is clammy. there is no alternative. i feel every single trickle of perspiration as it meanders slowly down my back. my skin is alive.

the icy winds forgotten.

how quickly the skin forgets. will i remember you still, when it is 28 degC in june? are you a memory or a figment of my imagination?

take me to your leader

scene from a typical sci-fi movies from the 70s:

a tinfoil flying saucer whirls into view. creepy whiny music with random beeps floats into awareness. the flying saucer spins out of sight. moments later, green men with enormous eyes and scaly leathery skin appear. clearly, they are the extraterrestrial pilots of the spacecraft.

are they friends... or foe?

take me to your leader, they demand.


fast-forward to today, 6 may 2007.

if indeed a tinfoil flying saucer lands on france, and at 8.01pm tonight demand that they be brought to meet the leader of the country, who will they meet? who would the french people want to represent them for the next 5 years? the ambitious nicolas sarkozy who wants to rejuvenate the economy with tough economic policies, or gentler segolene royal who has not yet convinced her fellow countrymen that she can run the country?

election day today. vote wisely, dear french people, and take me to your leader tonight.

sea of imagination

this morning, i kept thinking of the sea. of the thousands of fishes swimming as one. flitting around and around in the warm tropical waters. *swish* as they change direction in unison. *swish* a brilliant flash of colour as they catch the rays of sunlight filtering through. a crazy kadeidoscope of colours.

in the evening, i was caught in a rather violent thunderstorm. as i stood at the sheltered foyer of a building, i tried to picture the coral fishes darting merrily in between the fat raindrops. perhaps there was a shy little stingray lurking in the oily puddle underneath that parked car. yes, i could almost see it. the green plastic bag of the rubbish bin became soft corals gently dancing in the breeze. buses looming in the grey rain were the rock formations with armoured crustaceans peering out from its windows. a silver car braked suddenly in front of a jaywalker, horns blaring. that had to be a shark, though it was a harmless nurse shark pretending to be one of its more feared cousins. i could feel a tentacle tickling me at the back of my neck. an octopus, perhaps? but it was only my hair stirring in the wind.

the underwater world exists wherever the imagination allows it to. what wouldn't i give to be diving this very minute! for now, though, i'll have to satisfy my yearning through other means: i had a huge sashimi platter for dinner. not as fulfilling but still rather satisfying. *burp*

plain sailing language

after a long weekend course in sailing, at the northeastern tip of france, i am now fluent in the the language of sailing. in french. i have no idea what a point de drisse is called in english, all i know is that it is the hole at the top of the sail. similarly, i know that when i lofe the bateau boat, i am moving it into the axis of the vent wind. and when i abat, the boat moves away from the wind direction. so if i ever attempt to sail in another language, i would be completely lost. stranded.

besides learning to sail in the beautiful french language, i also found out 2 things about myself. first is that i love being at sea. and second, is that i would like to be in warmer waters. throughout the weekend in brittany, i had layers and layers of waterproof, windproof, fun-proof, everything-proof gear on. i felt like an astronaut without the round helmet! imagine my dismay when we were shrouded in fog most mornings. how depressingly grey!

being at sea is not supposed to be like this!

at the tropical seas around singapore, we wear the skimpiest of swimwear and slather SPF15 sunblock for the minimum obligatory protection. we have sporty reflective sunglasses to protect against the relentless blue skies and the reflective seawaters. we drink lots of water to avoid dehydration and when we need to use the toilet, we simply jump into the waters for our moment of privacy.

all weekend long, while we navigate through strong currents and cold winds, all i could think about was that i want, no, need to go sailing at the equator.

imagine: sailing all morning and the scuba diving from the boat in the afternoon. plunge under the gentle sea to swim with the coral fishes! complete the day by climbing back up to the deck and drying in the sun. wouldn't that be absolute paradise?

no fog, no cold, no rain, no clumsy waterproof-windproof-funproof gear. just sun*shiny* fun.

only problem is that they sail in english, i think, around the equator...