A child's wisdom

Scratching Post, Weekender, The Star

For the full text, please click here.

There are some articles I keep out of my folks' radar.

Sexually charged ones (my column may focus on fluffy feelgood stuff but rabbits are not conventionally associated with Lily White ok :P), and articles like these.

It'd only worry them silly, and then they'd worry me sick with questions I have no answers to like: "Girl, are you making enough? Don't worry about mum and dad. We have more than enough to spend from our pension."

... the point is, I come from a very traditional family, with a firm set of values that includes the automatic expectation that after your folks have raised you and put you through university, it's now your turn to give back.

I miss that part of my corporate life. BAD. I miss sending them on holidays, giving them healthy doses of pocket money, surprising them with an expensive meal or two.

Right. Time to actually actualize that best-seller novel huh?

Bitch as I might about the sucky customers and ridiculous demands, I would never go back to my desk job. Still, it's only normal, I suppose, to have the odd dark moment of doubt ...

This article sprung from one of those dark moments. I had another more chipper piece already drafted but somehow, it felt disengenuous to send off a piece that didn't mirror my mood of the moment. As my deadline drew nearer, I started to panic. How? I don't have anything else that reflected the conflict that was percolating inside. And I didn't want Navel Gazer to deviate from my original vision of what it was: an honest, unvarnished reflection of my feelings of the moment.

Luckily, my meeting with Fenny came along and saved the day, phew!

On unrelated matters, may I have your indulgence, ladies and gentleman:

I just started a new fashion diary blog at http://frockout.blogspot.com

I originally intended it to be an online blogshop to sell off my pre-loved baju but I'm having so much fun recording my sartorial musings so, as the wise sages say, que sera sera!

Naughty pupils make good teachers

Scratching Post, Weekender, 26th September 2009

To read the full article, please click here

In school, I was known as the goody-two-shoes. The geek. The (cringe) teacher's pet.

Little did everybody know, I longed to be anything BUT. I harboured a burning desire to be the coolest girl in school, a girl like Sharmila.

Some (misguided) teachers might have labelled her naughty, but to me, she was a heroine. A tad rebellious. Witty as hell. But always brave. All the qualities I aspired to.

Obviously I couldn't be her. So what was the next best thing?

To be with her, of course. Form 2 and 3, the two years I spent a lot of time with her and the ZOPFAN gang (you know who you are) were two of my happiest.

Judging from the responses I received, this story struck quite a few chords, though the only person's response that I was worried about was the story's heroine - Sharmila.

I've written about heaps of people in the past. The difference is, they knew of my intentions. I usually forewarned them at least a day before the article was due to come out.

In Sharmila's case, I wanted to surprise her. Consider it a revenge for calling me "Dangerous."

"She's going to freak out," my ex-colleague Poh See hooted with laughter.

I send Sharmila an sms first thing in the morning. No reply. At 8-ish am, an hour I deem suitably decent, I call her. "Have you read?"

"Dei," she growls in a sleep-slurred voice. "I got your earlier sms already. I am not so fast wei. I just got up lah. You think I'm superhero ah dei."

10am. 11am. 12 noon. Already, five readers have written to me. Not a word from her.

I text Chang. "Could she be angry? So long also no response one."

"She is probably busy at her husband's clinic. Remember, teacher by day, clerk by night, and sexy wife at midnight."

"Cannot be. Today is Saturday and a holiday. "

"Holiday means data entry girl the whole day. What I see is only praises. She might be crying her heart now, touched by your magic words." (I have always maintained that I'm not smart or witty in the least; I am merely fortunate to have smart and witty friends, who have a propensity for poking gentle fun at me)

I am not convinced, so I sms Sharmila again. "Are you angry?" I ask timidly.

"No. How can I be angry at a bunny?"

Her cryptic reply plants the first seeds of suspicion. Maybe ... she... hadn't... read it?

At noon-ish, she texts me. "My husband read already. I just got the paper. Will read after lunch. Reaction at 1400 hour.

1400 hour?????

GRRR!!!!

What kind of a human being can be so cool and clinical while her friend is practically apoplectic with anxiety???

At five minutes past five, my phone lights up.

"Now my husband thinks I put frogs in people's pockets..." she says before dissolving into laughter.

"Didn't you? Hmmm. Maybe old already, foggy memory."

We speak for a while before putting down the phone. A text comes in. "Thanks mate. I hope others read and make a difference."

So do I, Sharmila, so do I.

Papa the storyteller

Navel Gazer, The Weekender, 29th August 2009

To read the full article, please click here

"Wah. Now I know why your mother fell for him. Your father looks so handsome and smart."

Chang's probably just joshing me, but isn't that what all starry-eyed little girls feel about their father? And woe betide any unfortunate suitor who falls short of her daddy's lofty standards, ahem :)

Dad is one of those rare beings the Chinese call hoe sin sang. In Chinese, being an onomatopeic language, the phrase could mean one of two things: 1) Good man 2) Good teacher. As if all the forces of fate conspire to converge, my dad fits both the bills :)

He is legendary among my good friends for storytelling skills. On the eve of my gall bladder operation, he pinned my two besties Chang and Wendy to the hospital canteen chairs with horrific high-drama (his painful encounters with kidney stones) and feelgood fables (more Chinese fairy tales with an uplifting moral). Even I, who'd heard it all before, couldn't help grimacing when he recalled, with a relish he could afford on hindsight, the gruesome pain of kidney stones.

We were sitting in the hospital canteen when a faraway look entered Dad's eyes. He recalled, "The worst kind of pain is kidney stone pain."

I looked at mum. "How did Dad get it?"

"He grew up in Pangkalan, where there were a lot of tin mines. I guess it could be the minerals in the water they drank..."

"The stone is passing through your urethra, a tube so slender.." he shuddered. "It was so painful that my entire body broke out in sweat."

Mum nodded gravely. "He was bellowing like a cow. I drove him to the clinic and he couldn't even climb out of the car. The doctor had to come to the car and administer the jab..."

Suffice to say, Dad wasn't the only one who shuddered.

"I used to think, gallstones, kidney failure, back pain, all these things only happen to old people like our parents..." I said ruefully. "Guess what, we got old too. Or at least, are getting older.

"Yeah look in the mirror woman, face the facts staring right at you," Chang chipped in.

Indeed. Like it or not, I've got to deal with the fact that my body isn't an invincible machine anymore, able to withstand the vagaries of an unhealthy lifefstyle with no wear and tear.

"Can't sing that song by Corrs anymore...how does the refrain go, "We are so young, so young, so young now," Chang continued.

"No more fatty food. OMG." I facepalmed melodramatically.

"Look on the bright side," Chang quipped, "at least you save on liposuction."

What was that again ... Sai Ung Sat Ma? :)

The tomato queen

Scratching Post, Weekender, The Star
For the full story, please click here

How can I not be proud of this woman?

Her gung-ho, her resourcefulness, her never-say-die attitude: these are but the tip of the iceberg. Damn. Should I have suggested "My mum the wonderwoman" as the headline? Oklah, I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to get away with it :P

As I write this, she's outside, pottering in the garden and humming to herself. I guess she's, umm, pleased? :)

You might be surprised to know that I've never been really close to my mum until recent years, after I quit my job and had more time to spend with her, and learn from her, and enjoy her. Every day, I'm peeling off new layers and finding out that she's got so much more in her bag of tricks and ideas.

Friends who read the article would probably be nodding in agreement all the way. I may be her daughter and proud as hell about her, but I'm not exaggerating one whit.

Because my mum, incredible as it may seem when you lay eyes on her perky, petite frame for the first time, really is larger than life.

What boys want

The Star, Weekender, Cupid Connection, 23 June 2007
Click here to read the full article

Dumpling girl

The Star, Weekend, Cupid Connection, 3 March 2007
Click here to read article

Let's talk about sex!

Bangkok Post, My Two Cents, 23 April 2006