Love Language

I racked up ‘Quality Time’ as my love language on the bite-sized fb quiz. The result seemed accurate, given my penchant for basking in my loved ones’ warm company and my strive to be present for them, combined with doing what’s conceivable and appropriate, I hope.

And my, oh my, that quiz result was definitely a projection of my conscious mind and not of my unguarded self.

Words really get me. Toss a kind word my way and I’ll be gnawing on it. All yappy and contented. And puppyish. Whisper about yearnings to me and I’ll drink them without a pause. A vessel for your outpourings. Miming expansive arcs with outstretched arms; Love in heart-stopping motion. I watch myself tripping over words. Everyone else’s and mine. Gems of stock advice implode, turning into a shower of paper confetti. Slippery pearls of wisdom in mint-condition, lob towards these clumsy hands. Weigh down by what you said and everything that you wouldn’t. Sidestepping your rules, I walk into who I am. Your words in my birthday card.

Yes, you love me and yes, you can’t.

Time Wastes Too Fast

“time wastes too fast: every letter I trace tells me with what rapidity Life follows my pen. the days and hours of it are flying over our heads like clouds of windy day – never to return – more everything presses on – and every time I kiss thy hand to bid adieu, every absence which follows it, are preludes to the eternal separation which we are shortly to make!” – ‘Tristram Shandy’ by Laurence Sterne.

Chanced upon the above at this site – http://kalman.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/06/25/time-wastes-too-fast/?em

I feel as if there is too little time in my life. Too little time to love to the extend that I wish to love. The peoples, the places, the preoccupations. Truly too much left to love and accomplish. And hours I want to spend holding your child in my arms, lifting and swinging the little ones before these muscles are worn. Hearing you tell me about the past week/month/year in your life. Pressing my fingertips into your shoulders in friendship or bear-hugging, rough housing you. Pressing my lips against your ears and telling you what I want to hear. “Besos linda!” you taught.

The times I want to be left alone with the sunrises, sunsets, the good books, the hot teas. All the inanimates, intangibles that I love. Travelling with the wind in my hair. I left my hair growing longer and longer these past years. My trademark hair joke is that I left it long to ensnare the boys, but something more honest, would be that I left it long to catch the breeze in these waves.

And then, there’s the future and that rainy day I’m suppose to prepare for. I’m expected to stockpile assets, money and accolades and scale to greater heights in my heels. I want all these too, because I keep wanting to do this, that and that in my life. To travel, to gift, to have the money spend on bettering something, pampering someone. To leave a certain legacy.

Time does waste too fast and I want this brief lifetime of mine wasted on you.

Light pollution

“We came spinning out of nothingness, scattering stars like dust.”                                                                       – 13th century Persian poet, Rumi

It’s been this long since I was held spellbound by the sight of stars.

I’ve been gazing at stars for the past 4 nights from the park bench. There’s been a good number of stars on display these recent nights. Clearish star-speckled nights with fast-moving fluff clouds;  some shy twinklers fading in and out of view and a handful of steady pulsating pinpoint of white light.

Looking up at the distant stars, I’m reconnected to the sense of infinity, possibilities and the dream of heading into vast uncharted, unconquered territories. I’m reconnected to my memories of star-filled nights.

It’s a biting cold moonless night in Dubbo, New South Wales. I’m 22. I’m standing in the middle of the austere Dubbo Observatory’s field, peering through the telescope at the ‘Jewel Box’, a bewitching cluster of red, blue, green and white stars. I’m shivering and stamping my feet and listening to the guide remarking “yesterday was a lovely night to stargaze but tonight is perfect”. I’m tilting my head back to take in the sight of the sky ablaze with stars. The almost bone white night.

It’s May 2002 . I’m on a recce trip at the Berkelah Falls, Pahang, with the Students Care Service. It’s too hot to be in the tent as I’m running a fever. I drag my sleeping bag onto a boulder next to the relentless stream. Lying on my back, I’m facing the midnight blue dome with the laced edge of black leaves. The thought that these many stars could be sardined into the sky never crossed my mind before.

Was I 19 when I went to Batam on a church retreat? It was a dinner of fried rice with abc soup cooked by a couple of godfearing men, followed by a stroll by the quiet beach. I’m standing near the waves and I know the tide is coming in. I’m reluctant to return to the house of worship while the many stars and the waning moon are hung so low in the horizon.

Why am I this fascinated by stars?

As a 12 year old with an ugly bob cut and uglier gold rimmed glasses, I would head to the Geylang East library just about every school day. I was done with Enid Blyton and Nancy Drew. On my reading list were books by Richard Llewellyn, Ruth Park, Arthur C Clarke and Isaac Asimov and I came across these lines in Asimov’s 1951 novel The Stars, Like Dust -

“The stars, like dust, encircle me
In living mists of light;
And all of space I seem to see
In one vast burst of sight. “

It’s been more than 15 years since I committed the lines to memory and in a week’s time, I mark the passing of another birthday. On the 28th, I turn 28, but I won’t be asking the existentialist’s questions. I’ll be getting my hair tenderly treated by Lawrence, have meals with my loved ones and bounce the little ones and be merry and remember the sight of stars these past nights.

For what it’s worth

When you’ve hung around for long enough, you might get around to asking what’s in it for you and I fear you’ll find me lacking because I have little to proffer.  My baggage, my bitterness.

The New Year

It’s drawing to the close of the 2-week long Chinese New Year period and I ought to scribble notes about the year in passing.

I’ve hugely thankful for the events and opportunities  that have transpired in 2008, in particular for the smooth transitioning into a new industry, the abiltity to walk in heels without pains in my joints and the chance to be fairy godma and Auntie to my godchildren and nephew.

There were of cos the low-lights in the year, but even those events have been bleached out in the company of good folks.

It’s inevitably a tough year ahead. Will put a bit more in the following post.

The sweetest sounding names of 2008

b. 20 Aug 2008 – David(meaning: beloved)

b. 15 Oct 2008 – Kaysan (meaning: wise)

b. 17 Oct 2008 – Raeann (meaning: ewe + gracious, merciful)

[to be continued... ]

Table #10

When I say that my wish is for you to be happy, I mean it. Maybe I’ll reek a little of embarrassed envy & insecure spite. I can’t help that. But all the nice bits of me truly want you to be happy. I’ll figure out how to toss out the coils that have intertwine us in the past. We both have diverging paths now. Soon, it will be a skein of spider silk that links us and this skein, a conduit for dewdrops of good will & kind thoughts, will be sufficient.

You said

That day, you glanced in my direction and said simply, “I’ve thought about it and decided that I would take care of you till we both are old. I’ll always have a place for you.”

I knew my response that day was muted, perhaps even wary.

But I’ve mulled over your deeds and words and I can appreciate the warmth of your intentions. And I’m pretty amazed that you’ve been this generous and this tolerant with me even though I’ve been the skittish colt. In fact, I think I’m starting to get used to being treated this well and warming up to the privileged of being the more loved one. (man… I so wanna roflol now…^^)

So, happy v-day dear! I hope you’ll like your pressie!

And Happy Valentine’s Day to all you eyeballers too! ^^

R.I.P Tommy the Terrapin

Dear All,

I wish to announce the demise of our office terrapin Tommy.

He crawled into our lives on 28 Jan 2008 and brought the sunshine with him as we had to open up the office windows for him to bask in the sun.

He was found floating in the tank with his head tucked into his shell this morning. No amount of shaking, tapping or coaxing would revive him. He was wrapped with tissue and laid to rest  at the grass patch just outside our centre.

Rest in peace, Tommy. You are loved and missed.

p.s. Sorry for all the turtle soup jokes buddy. T.T

The sight of lights

within your home sends a jolt of warmth to my crusty old heart as I huff and puff around the housing estate.