Last Post of 2016

Today's the last day of 2016, and every year around this time I try to take a moment to settle down and think about the year that has passed. Unfortunately this year because of a combination of down-ed wifi (the cat likes sitting on the router, turning off the wifi, and it took me a while to figure that out), a present heightened stage of agitation (Jon and I just finished playing 3 rounds of 7 Wonders Duel, where I won the last game but felt throughout that I was constantly losing and so felt defeated even though I eventually won) and time pressure (we need to leave to go have an early dinner with his friend soon), I find myself unable to fully sum up my thoughts about this year.

Overall, I have sat down and written much less. Although by count not the year where I've written the least, it's the year where I have written the second-least. Before I blamed this on being busy, but this year, especially the second half, I haven't been busy at all. In fact, I find myself melting away from boredom, but I suppose that in itself is a deterrent to writing. I find my life and myself boring, and ponder how things ended up this way. Alternatively I find myself panicking - what if this is all I'll ever amount to be? What if I really am a good-for-nothing? So then that's when I try to stop thinking altogether and distract myself. So in this case, my idle mind has really become the devil's workshop. And I feel much less optimistic about my future prospects, though in reality they remain the same as ever. All this from 6 months of being at home because I can't find work.

The most important thing that happened this year of course was that I got married, albeit in a civil ceremony. It means I have made the decision, together with someone else, to remain committed to this person and relationship for the rest of my life, which is of course no small potatoes. We attended a pre-cana session as a requirement of the Catholic Church a few weeks ago, and it was enlightening. It reminded me at least of the commitment I have made to Jon, and that we are in this journey called life together.

The last main thing about this year is of course that Saffron came into our lives. From waking me up at 7am in the morning meowing pitifully because he's hungry to using me as a scratching post (WHYY?! He has actual scratching posts that he doesn't want to use), having Saffron in our lives has made it that much more well-rounded, meaningful and hilarious. Just over a month into this, I'm still woefully bad at cleaning up cat puke, but now every time I hear the Knights of Cydonia by Muse, I always think of Saffron, because for some reason every time he sits on my laptop, that song plays on itunes even though I haven't listened to it in ages before.

So to end of this year's last post, 3 pictures of Saffron. who is such a crazily good-looking cat:

Carrie Fisher and Star Wars

Feeling slightly sad now at the news that Carrie Fisher has passed away. I'm not one to typically mourn or feel sad at celebrities dying, but Carrier Fisher remains particularly fresh in my mind I suppose, because Jon and I watched Star Wars Rogue One just last week when he was off work and having a week-long vacation. We saw it at the Union Square Regal cinema, and our immense enjoyment of the movie was not the least dampened by the fact that it was easily of the the crappiest cinemas I have ever been to.

As everyone surely knows by now *SPOILER ALERT*, all the main characters die at the end of Rogue One when the Death Star aims at the planet they're on. The surprise appearance of Princess Leia right at the end before the movie cuts to the credits is the scene that reminds the audience that the movie does end on a hopeful note, to be continued in Episodes 4, 5 and 6. And seeing her, as I was feeling terribly sad (and horrified!) about the characters all dying, made me feel somewhat better. It also made me want to watch Episodes 4, 5 and 6 again, though of course it's always a question of when Jon will be free enough to watch the movie together.

In the mean time, I shall feel that little bit sadder.

Swing Time

Earlier today I went for a reading of Swing Time by Zadie Smith at the 92Y with Shirin. It felt pretty awesome to see an author that I respected in person and to be able to listen to her read her work in her voice. Although I haven't always been a fan of all her books (felt disappointed by NW especially when contrasted with Penelope Lively's How It All Began), I have been an admirer since I first picked up a pirated copy of White Teeth in a tiny bookstore in Sapa, Vietnam, when I was backpacking in South East Asia with my Dad in 2011. So of course I jumped at the chance to listen to her speak and do a reader for her latest book, Swing Time. I was also excited because I thought the book explicitly involved swing dance, but I think it just involves regular dance.

Anyway as much as I enjoyed the evening, there was a part of her conversation with the moderator, Rachel Kaadzi Ghansah, where she mentioned that she wrote the book with black women in mind, and that made me feel awfully put out. It made me feel excluded, which of course would make anyone feel not-very-good, but it also made me feel sad because there really wasn't any one writer out there that would write for me in the same ethnic-trying-to-traverse-the-Western-World-sense way. There is no author out there that I know of that has written anything close to what I feel, think, and experience as I navigate the world, and so I rely on the writings of outsider-like figures to echo my inner voice. And of course that makes me sad, as I feel alone in the things I feel and worry about.

Growing up I always wanted to be a writer, not as a main occupation, but as something in addition to my regular work. I wanted to pour out my embellished experiences and deep emotions, for inside me I knew I could write about universal themes that linked human experience. As I grew older however the strings of words, coherent introspective thoughts and universal ideas have become even more fleeting and scanty. They have been crowded out by other things like worries, mental to-do lists and thoughts on more prosaic things. And so slowly, year by year, I find myself less able to feel like I can write, and at the same time am less inspired at length to sit down and write. It is a combination that can, and most probably will, mark the end of my teenage dream to write the novel. But of course for every time I am reminded that I am an outsider, the spark to write reignites, and it is only something time can tell whether I will be able to successfully follow through.

Kitty Litter and Floors

Since acquiring Saffron my floors, aside from the bits of kitty litter, have never been cleaner. This is because I find myself constantly wiping them down in order to get rid of the kitty litter, which while not in itself dirty, is incredibly annoying to walk on. It doesn't help that Saffron, as a male cat, is large for a cat and the constraints of our apartment mean that we only have a small space to put his litter box. This means of course that he kicks the kitty litter all around the area. URGH. Stupid cat.

The Revenant

I just finished reading The Revenant by Michael Punke in slightly over 24 hours. I can't think of the last time I've finished a novel this quickly. This is of course in part due to not really having anything else pressing to do, and in part to the lovely way the novel has been written and narrated. It reminded me quite a bit of both Robinson Crusoe and The Swiss Family Robinson, books that I loved and read over and over again when I was a kid for its tales of human ingenuity. The Revenant of course is significantly more bloodier, but made me feel the same similar sense of wonder and intrigue I felt when I was reading those two books just under two decades ago. Oh how time flies!

Tutoring at 1960 First Ave

I've been tutoring twice a week in East Harlem at an after school program for Middle School students since late August, working with about ten Grade 7 boys and fifteen Grade 7 girls, and after a tough first few weeks I'm starting to become more and more used to the students and how the centre functions. Besides that I've also got my schedule for those days timed nicely too; for example it takes me about 10 mins to walk from the 103rd St subway to the centre, and so I must leave home by 3:15pm to be there by 4pm. In other words my Mondays and Wednesdays, other than any strange new behaviours by the students, has become rather routine - which I quite like.

Today however, as I walked to and fro from the centre, two strange things happened: a young adult walking along 103rd randomly decided to declare that he was in love with me and to marry him, and as I walked by Metropolitan Hospital I came across a middle-aged/elderly man openly urinating onto the sidewalk, apologising and turning away from me when he spotted me walking. It was, all in all, bizarre for an otherwise normal day, but still within the realm of normality for life in New York City.

Saffron the Cat

Last Tuesday (15th Nov) I went to the ASPCA on a bit of a whim and ended up going home with a cat named Saffron. Jon and I had been talking about adopting a cat for a while now, but with me having no job, the extra cost of needing to support another living being seemed a little too high for us to afford. That being said though, it's moot now since Saffron came home almost a week ago (oops!).

During the taxi ride home from the ASPCA, Saffron kept meowing so pitifully in his hard carrier, that the taxi driver and I felt so bad for it and I thought about him as the poorest thing in the world. When we got home and the carrier was finally opened however, out came the boldest cat that I've ever met. He spent literally 0 seconds in the carrier and practically sprang out when we opened the door, and proceeded to investigate every single square inch of our tiny flat, jumping up and down all our tables and counters. That first night, we also began to realise that we would have trouble shooing him off our bed as he would snarl at us at us when we tried to get him off. So since then we've resorted to keeping the door closed, much to Saffron's chagrin.

Jon and I have quickly fallen in love with Saffron. He's an old boy at 14 years old, and spends most of his time sleeping. When he's awake however, he still likes running around the flat at top speeds and climbing all over things. He loves being scratched under the chin and has a particularly violent and strong angry tail wag that makes thudding noises. He also has no problems showing his displeasure by snarling. Yesterday he went into the bathroom when I was trying to clean up the mess made from all the kitty litter and proceeded to roll around and freak out on the litter that was on the ground, and when I tried to wipe him down with pet wipes afterwards he got upset with me. So we ended up spending the remainder of last night displeased with each other.

Adopting Saffron has brought up a whole barrage of other questions for Jon and me, and another dimension to our relationship. We now talk about things entailing shared responsibilities and differences in approaches towards taking care of the cat. We wonder what this means for us, when we become parents one day.

In the mean time however, we enjoy our time with Saffron as much as we can. He could live for another year or even another five years, either way because of his age, we know that we should treasure every moment with this persnickety fellow. 

US Elections 2016

I sincerely hope that this election is the most depressing US election the world has and ever will see, because it has been so unbelievably terrible that I can't fantom a worse election between two more unlikeable candidates, one who of course is an absolute insane asshole and the other a definite career politician. I feel very bogged down emotionally about all of this, and am praying that Hillary comes out a winner tomorrow.

Engagement Photography

This last Sat Jon and I met with our photographer, Robert Carlo, to take engagement photos in Brooklyn DUMBO.

It felt a little weird being back there again after several months away (used to be in that area twice a week for my internships earlier this year) and noticing the several small changes. I was worried that Jon and I would be awkward and weird in front of the camera after the issue with our earlier photography session during our civil marriage, but we were lots more relaxed and comfortable this time, and as a result the pictures came out great. Hooray! 

AC Jumpy

A pigeon landed on the AC window unit facing the street and its sounds almost gave me a heart attack.

I turned around when I heard the strange clicking sounds of its feet on the metal body of the AC, and my thought before I saw the pigeon was "oh my God is that thing going to fall?!?!" and worrying about 1. killing someone, 2. the cost of the AC, which $200.

Miliseconds after I turned to look at the AC and noise, the pigeon flew off.

But I still feel worried that the AC, which is supported by an AC support bracket as per NYC regulations, is going to fall and kill someone/be destroyed.

Christmas in Sept

Today I became one of those people that buys christmas wrapping paper in Sept (see: above). I know I have probably paid too much for something that is essentially meant to be destroyed, but I really couldn't resist especially given that christmas 2016 will be my first christmas celebrated with the Tius.

Also, Barnes and Noble had 50% markdowns on clearance items, so I scooped some things up for gifts. Hooray for cheap-ness!

But on a very extravagant and unnecessary note, I also ended up buying a whole pile of bridal magazines in a stress induced rage. Zzzzzt.

Weddings Suck (Especially When You're Unemployed)

Last week I went on a holiday with Jon to Olympic National Park, Portland and Seattle from Sunday to Friday. It was a nice (albeit tiring, cause we tried to cram so many things in + Jon apparently likes to wake up early even on holidays) trip, and a great break from trying to plan and organise things like the wedding ceremony (how can something more than a year away cause so much stress?!). Today however (and Sunday is a very close tie), I am sick to death of dealing with wedding associated stress, the chief reasons being: 1) the crazy amount of money it requires 2) wanting to please as many people as possible (with Jon and I of course being included in this).

On Saturday, hot off the heels of our night flight back to NYC, Jon and I saw 3 places with his parents. The first, the Metropolitan, we loved, but his parents thought was too grunge-y and not formal enough. The cost was also very do-able. The second, we all loved, but I had worries about the excessive cost (to which the other 3 had a myriad of different responses). The third, Housing Works Bookstore in SoHo, mum and dad Tiu outright said 'NO'. Housing Works Bookstore was of course, also another affordable option.

Since then, and with long spreadsheets from Tim and Sona's wedding plans for Nov 2014, Jon and I (ok, mostly me) have been scrambling to look for more places that are unique and interesting enough to us, and would be more acceptable to his parents, and are cheap. I basically feel right now an impossible task is being asked of me, and I am super motherfucking frustrated.

I also feel very alone in all of these frustrations and worries (juggling both sets of parents - each with their own agendas and lack of giving-a-shit-about-the-other-side, worrying about money, worrying about having no job, worrying about needing to fork out more school fees for teacher certification, worrying about how his parents perceive me as a wife, worrying about the fact the BHLDN seems to have messed up my wedding dress order, worrying about available Saturday dates for Oct/Nov 2017 running out...).

Despite a kindly Doc telling me that the only thing I should worry about for a wedding is whether an earthquake will happen/whether the planes people are travelling on will be hijacked (the Doc that's doing my health assessment for the green card application), and that you can never please everyone, I feel crazily burdened by these things that are all completely out of my control. Most irritatingly however is that some of these things seem like things that are completely in my control to someone else, and I feel like I'm failing in some critical area by not being able to solve the situation.

I just really really hate feeling helpless, and more than anything else, HATE THE IDEA OF HAVING TO PLAN A FUCKING WEDDING WHEN I HAVE NO JOB. But no, the parents (all 4 of them! + my Mama) insist we have the church ceremony and reception next year, because they're convinced if we don't have it next year, we'll never do a church ceremony and reception. And by that definition, we will never actually be married in their eyes.

Good grief. Legally we're already married. Jon and I found out in Seattle that that means we don't have to pay to add me as an additional driver for the rental car. See, we're already reaping the best benefits from our marriage, and without a costly and extreme-stress-inducing wedding. 

Say Yes To The Dress

On a budget, it should be called "Say Yes to the Suitably-Cheap/Flattering-Enough/Fits-Personality Dress". Between looking for cheap dresses online and thinking of money saving methods, and blasting my eyes full of different Save the Date and Wedding Invite designs, I am feeling fairly bridal-ed out and longing for more intellectual stimulation.

In other news, Jon and I spent almost the whole of yesterday out with his friend and his wife visiting from Philadelphia. It also happened to be the Saturday that vied for "most hot, humid and miserable" of the Summer, or maybe it was just because I felt that I couldn't cop-out and go "BYE FOOLS, I'M OFF TO GO HOME AND HIDE IN AC". I did that today anyway, after lunch and a walk in Central Park, while the 3 of them went to do goodness-knows-what.

Thankfully, as of tomorrow, the weather drops in temperature again.

S'more

Last week I went with the Tius and their cousins to Gyukaku in Midtown to have Japanese BBQ. The marinated meats were quite salty for my taste, and the sheer amount of meat was overwhelming. I wish we had ordered more seafood or vegetables, but the beef came in a set. Still I enjoyed myself immensely, as Tim and I argued over when the meat was done (Tim likes his meat burnt to a crisp, I like mine still bleeding), and I liked the opportunity to meet Jon's extended family. The best part of the meal however came at the end, when I finally got to try a really American item that I never had before: s'mores.

I had heard about s'mores before as a very outdoor-sy camping kind of meal. Marshmallows would be roasted over an open fire, and then somehow manoeuvred into a sandwich form with chocolate. It sounded dreamy to me, but not something where I would make myself without experience (graham crackers? What were graham crackers?). Plus, I'm not the world's largest fan of sweets.

It turned out that Sona loved s'mores, and was excited to see them on the menu, and I wanted to try them. It was settled then - for dessert we would all have s'mores. When the s'mores came, Sona led the way by instructing everyone on how to best melt the marshmallow (turned out I wasn't the only one at the table who didn't have s'mores before), by turning it rapidly on the skewer just at the top of the flame. However when everyone's marshmallow had melted adequately, mine was still pure white, and I impatiently decided to plunge it into the flame, while remembering at the back of my mind that the internet once told me that marshmallows make great fire starters. Sure enough, my marshmallow caught fire.

As I yelped in panic and the table got excited and laughed, I waved my marshmallow around rapidly trying to put the flame out (I heard Sona saying: "Don't do that! Blow on it!", but it didn't quite register through my panic). By the time the flame was out (I don't remember how, maybe Jon did something?), I was sad because my marshmallow was charred and didn't look pretty anymore. So like a good husband, Jon gave me his.

And then the same thing happened again. I got impatient, and my marshmallow caught fire again. I think I blew on it this time, and reacted faster (I guess I was completely expecting this one to catch fire too), and so the second one was less charred. I made the s'more, and utterly loved the taste when I bit into it.

Over the weekend, Jon and I went to Trader Joe's. As I tried to look for chocolate and hazelnut cookies, I saw a boxes of graham crackers, with bags of marshmallows conveniently shelved underneath them. I grabbed them, and a few pre-packed bars of milk chocolate. I've been eating a s'more every second night since for dessert, heeeee.

The Day Before My Wedding I...

- Sat in Times Square and played Pokemon Go
- Had lunch with Tiffany at Gotham West Market
- Tried on wedding dresses at RK Bridal
- Did laundry
- Made Basque style lamb and beef piperade from a Blue Apron kit
- Finished watching The Master's Sun with Jon
- Looked at Cats That Look like Pin-Up Girls with Jon
- Watched episodes of La Esclava Blanca
- Made Jon's lunch for the next day (a turkey sandwich on sourdough bread, with salad and relish)

Last Min Wedding

Planning a last min wedding is anything but fun, especially when you perpetually feel as disorganised as I am and are still recovering from a cold (hello phlegmy coughs!) Finally thought to create a FB event today to coordinate things, and Deni even created a banner for the event:

Here's to honouring her work, and a good wedding!

White T-Shirts

I am feeling slightly perturbed now because I have just finished doing the laundry, and it has confirmed my suspicion that three of my white t-shirts have gone missing. Two of them, simple crewnecks from Uniqlo, I've had for more than two years and they were starting to go slightly yellow under the armpits (ew, I know). The other one was probably around a year old, and was a v-neck with a pocket, that my Mum said she disliked because it made me look flat. They were my go-to summer shirts, and now for the life of me, I can't find them anywhere. This makes me feel a little like I'm going nuts, especially since I'm the only one that does the laundry and puts them away, and hence should've been able to keep track of them.

I guess I need to go buy more white t-shirts.

Reality

I haven't been able to find a job, and it's been not only disappointing but also self-esteem killing. At the same time, it's also meant extra worries regarding my visa status and staying in the US legally. Last week Jon and I finally remember to get our act together and contact an immigration lawyer, and today I finally spoke to her. Originally I had planned to go home for about a month or so when my visa expired and re-enter the US on a tourist visa, but the lawyer tells me that this is a bad idea and could be perceived as fraud. She also tells me that we should get married (yes, married!) in Sept rather than Oct, even though Oct is when my parents are available to fly to the US to attend.

At this new (and probably wise) information, I feel myself hit with an unbearable sense of sadness. I had foolishly thought that even if my path diverged from my place of birth, I could at least go home and enjoy its comforts before embarking on this stage. As much as I have always been wandering and running away from Singapore, I feel like I have never missed it and my family and friends as much as I am at this very moment. That I can't even go back home to visit fills me with a great feeling of loss, that yes, I am giving all of this up for this other future that I've chosen with Jon. That I cannot have my cake and have even the tiniest nibble of it too.

I miss Singapore, and had been looking forward to going back and seeing my loved ones. I had even started building a small stockpile of gifts, shoving them messily at the bottom of the small coat cupboard. Knowing now that I cannot even go home for a visit in this very significant period of my life makes me feel at a loss.

Bums and Bodies

I've just come back from Fairway after buying items to make for lunch (hello egg salad sandwich), and felt the need to write down the thoughts I had while lining up to pay, which make me feel slightly uncomfortable (hello modern female-feminist-Asian-teacher postionality).

The context: when I was lining up to pay, I noticed there was a large group of people (at least 8) clustered around a single Fairway check out counter. What made me feel disturbed was that among the group of people were a young female teens (seemingly aged from 12 to 15) dressed in tight crop tops and denim hot pants that revealed the bottoms of their bums. My innate reaction was to study their bodies, because after all, so much skin was on show and they were very sexily dressed. Then I caught myself as I realised holy shit, they're so young. This made me feel very disturbed because:

1) If I, a straight female, could so easily and with little imagination scrutinise every single curve of their bodies, other people were definitely doing it too - this I felt was the most disturbing thing of the lot
2) They were with parental/adult figures, and they were obviously OK with this display of flesh - I made a mental note that no child of mine will dare dress like that in front of me, because it seems disrespectful to flaunt your sexuality in front of your elders (they can do whatever they like when they're old enough to go to uni)
3) As an adult female that dresses conservatively, I already get stupid comments and attention from males when I walk by, what more kind of negative attention will these girls get?
4) Were these girls old enough to understand the kind of issues linked to women's bodies and open displays of sexuality (probably not)
5) But, what right do we have to govern the bodies and clothing choices of other people? (I never liked the idea, but this makes me think we should at least exercise a degree of control over the clothing choices of children and adolescents)

So perhaps my takeaway from this isn't necessarily a change in the idea that women should be allowed to wear whatever they wish, but that the word women should be emphasised. Women, implying the age and maturity to go along with the consequences (warranted or not) of what we chose to wear. If a woman in her twenties decided to wear tight crop tops and denim hot pants, I have zero problem with that. When a tween decides to wear tight crop tops and denim hot pants, I cannot help but feel incredibly disturbed out of some misplaced worrying.

NEET Summer

Since become a NEET (not in employment, education or training), my days are mostly unexciting and punctuated with meetings with friends. I feel like I'm coasting along waiting for the next thing that makes my life a complete one (ie: a job), and in the meanwhile am constantly looking for ways to fill my days. The most exciting thing that happened recently was Jon's friend, Scott, visiting us two weekends ago. The Friday night he came, we went to a udon place called Raku in the East Village and had drinks. The next day we visited the Met Bruer for the Diane Arbus exhibition, and the Met to visit some special exhibits, and had the crepe cake at Lady M. Monday night the three of us met with their old uni friends Richa and Sean in K-Town for Korean BBQ and Spot Dessert.

Other than Scott's visit, my week days are almost routine-like in their aimlessness. I wake up, go out for a bit either to run errands or to just walk around, and come back in time to make dinner for Jon and me. During meal prep time, Jon usually studies. Lately we've taken to watching The Master's Sun while we eat dinner. As a result, our little unstained wood side/coffee table has now become seemingly irreparably stained with various food stuff. I look forward to the weekends, because it usually means Jon is around and we can do something different.

Last weekend, Ted Kin was in NYC, and the three of us had lunch at Saravana Bhavan. We had thosai and uttapam. Then I hung around for a bit with Ted Kin while Jon went home. At night, Jon's friend Steven dropped by the visit, then the two of them went out to see an old friend. On Sunday Jon and I went to Brooklyn to go to Target, and we had lunch in Bedouin Tent, a nice little Middle Eastern Restaurant along Atlantic Ave.

It's also been unbearably hot recently, and I've been getting heat headaches almost everyday. NYC at large has christened these few days the "heat dome" and the larger period as a heat wave. When it rains, it's usually a crazy heavy thunderstorm, like the one I was caught in a few weeks ago, and offers little respite from the heat. Going out, as a result, isn't nearly as enjoyable as normal. Yesterday I was out in Flushing with Shirin and Carlos, and my happiest (or at least most comfortable) time was probably when we re-entered the subway and I felt the rush of cold AC air.

I wonder how long this situation will last.

July Showers

Today for the first time in a long time (since the disastrous Mt Snowden climb with Tiff, Jingkai and a girl called Rong Xin in circa 2011) I got utterly drenched by the rain. I had just gotten off the subway after visiting the Bronx Museum of the Arts when I noticed that the sky was really dark and foreboding, and wondered if it was going to rain. I walked about 5m before feeling drops on my head, and started rushing. Just as I was trying to manoeuvre past this guy with a weird hat ("tourist!" I remember thinking to myself), I noticed him looking backwards, towards the West, and laughing.

"Look!" he said, with the glee of someone who knows everything is fruitless. And so I looked, and HO BOY, you could see that just ~50 meters behind us, the entire area was engulfed in a ferocious storm. I think at about this time I said "Run!" and started running myself. I could have easily ducked into a small store or waiting by the side of tiny awning, but I was afraid that the rain would last for too long and that I had better odds making it home.

I ended up running past hordes of people huddling under awnings, some who laughed and said "keep running!" to me and the few other people I saw running. I almost collided with a guy that was running too. It wasn't until I reached 28th and 2nd Ave that I realised I had been running so mindlessly that I had taken a slightly longer route home, partly because that rain had been so fierce that my visibility decreased significantly.

By the time I got home, I was sopping wet. I peeled off all my clothes and instantly headed for the shower. The exertion from running in the rain made me feel sick, my body not having run for two months since my Columbia gym membership expired.

I guess this means I should sign up for a gym again.

White Bread

In what must be a symptom of my growing age and general awareness of healthy living (and/or living and being together with someone who always scrutinises the nutrition labels), I now feel guilty when I buy white sliced bread vs whole wheat sliced bread, or another more fibre-packed alternative. I feel slightly bad that I'm consuming empty calories and endangering my colonic health. At the same time however as a Singaporean person, there is no way in hell that I'm eating kaya toast (which I haven't made yet, cause this is the first time I've bought white bread in a while) on whole wheat or any other sort of bread.

Anyway I just ate a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich on white bread. It was tasty, and I feel happy, especially because its exactly the sort of sandwich I used to eat every Sunday night when I watched Law and Order episodes on Channel i in 2003/2004. Except of course I had a toaster oven then and didn't have to awkwardly keep flipping bread in a pan over the stove. Still, that can be easily rectified. 

Gua-ma

My gua-ma just passed away. Last time I saw her in person was just under a year ago, when I was back in Singapore for the Summer. My main memory of her is of holding her hands, and feeling how papery thin her skin felt in its many folds over her knuckles. I feel sad that I cannot be home, and am reminded of the sacrifices I have had to make (mainly becoming more estranged from the family and friends I love the most) in choosing this path in life.

Downtown

Moved into the new place just over a week ago, and the house is still in a sorry mess despite my best efforts (hello having no furniture until yesterday!).

All I got to say is: every time I move I wonder how the hell I've acquired so many clothes. 

Moab and Moving

I got back from a trip to Moab, Utah with my parents early yesterday morning. The flight was a red-eye, and I arrived at JFK feeling very spent. I can't imagine how much worse my parents must have felt, given that they were collecting their bags and boarding their next flight back home to Singapore (via Guangzhou) just a few hours after we landed from Utah. As for myself, I spent most of the ride home on the A train drifting in and out of consciousness.

I am genuinely glad that I managed to go on a trip with my parents. Although they were driving me nuts in NYC with incessant questions about my graduation and other things, I knew the tone of their visit would shift when we were away from NYC, and I was right. I had a great trip with them. We went trekking, rafting, horse-back riding and even skydiving. We ate tons, and I got to drive them around Moab.

It felt weird however, realising that as I was having fun with my parents that this was probably one of the last times I would get to travel with them. The trip really hammered in the idea that with the choices I have made in my life thus far, my bond with Singapore and my parents would continue to weaken over time, while my emotional bonds for other things would continue to grow. At this moment it feels like I am right in the middle of this monumental transitionary stage, and if I start thinking too much I'll start to feel overwhelmed.

On a related note, I realised earlier today that I have not lived in the same space for more than 2 years since 2009.

Commencement

Today was Columbia Commencement, and Ban Ki Moon gave the opening address. It was a pretty good speech, and completely unexpected because he called out climate change deniers and politicians that played on hatred in order to get votes (hello Trump!) I felt quite impressed, especially given that earlier I had commented that Ban Ki Moon had a rep for not actually saying anything substantial to a bunch of my classmates. Today was also overall a lot more fun compared to yesterday's TC Convocation, as it was a less solemn affair, although I saw comparatively less friends around. Overall, it feels funny to think that my Columbia experience has now ended, but at least it ended on a very meaningful and high note for me.

Begin, End, Begin

On the way to the United States, I visited Romania with my parents in Summer 2014. Romania was unexpectedly cold, and so I found myself in need of socks. This pair of socks, stripy purple and weirdly hitting just above the ankle, was one of those socks that I took from my Mum and obviously didn't return. Every time I see it, I am reminded of the fact that it's an article of clothing that belonged to my Mum (though of course I doubt she noticed it went missing), which makes it feel particularly significant to me. It makes me think of how I was and how I felt when I first acquired these socks (shucks, this really makes me think of Dobby), when I was about to start a new life in a new country and simultaneously afraid and excited by the things that lay ahead.

Today as I did my laundry and started to begin packing up my apartment, I couldn't help think that this would be one of the last times I would do such a thing in this place. For example, these socks: I don't think I'll be wearing these socks now as the weather gets warmer, which means I probably won't be washing them in this same laundromat when I do my laundry for one last time in a few weeks. Whenever and wherever I wash my socks next, it will be me in another yet-unknown place and in a different stage of my life. This is because I'll soon be moving out of my lovely place with Marina on Broadway Terrace, and moving into a place in Gramercy with Jonathan.

At the same time, my life as a Masters student will officially end next week with graduation, and a new phase of my life will begin. A physical uprooting mirroring an internal change in status. So now when I walk around my usual haunts of Washington Heights/Inwood, Norwood, Upper West Side and Morningside Heights, I cannot help but think that this could very well be the last time in my life that I would ever walk on a particular street. Mundane things have now become imbued with an odd and sentimental significance. But such is life and the human condition, that we arbitrarily romanticise the world around us as we attempt to make senses of things. 

Teaching

I have decided to return to teaching, but in a foreign land. I cannot help but feel extremely anxious at all the unknowns that lie ahead of me, fear that I won't be able to do a job as good as I would want to in a school culture that is foreign to me. I also think of the times I have walked away from a lesson and felt like a utter failure, or felt so exasperated. At the same time however I also feel optimistic and hopeful, because I remember all the good parts of teaching and the love I felt for my students. This decision to return to teaching feels strange because I over the past 2 years, I have undergone a whole tumult of emotions and changed mindsets about teaching as a career for myself, and worried personally about the future trajectory of my life.

At the end of the day however, I cannot deny that even though teaching might not feel like the number one best career I could and want to do (number one in Development Aid being out of my reach because of job conditions and timing), it is number two. Number two above many, many other things that one can realistically work at in this life, and perhaps that is good enough. Now, fingers crossed as I go through the whole job application process. 

Disconnection

I have spent the last few days of waking consciousness with thoughts interspersed with memorises of a recently deceased friend. Part of a problem why I feel it's so hard to grapple with my feelings towards this is because I haven't seen the guy in about 5 years, and that I am no longer part of that friends circle that we used to be in. If I haven't really seen someone in 5 years or even spoken to them in that long, am I even entitled to feel sad that they are gone? Yet when old memorises rise the surface as I do mundane things, it's startling to realise that oh gosh, he was there too, and I cannot help but feel weighed down.

If only life was easier on everyone.

Human Misery

There is a massive jam building up on the Southbound lane of Broadway, from 200th St onwards down, probably towards the GW Bridge. Earlier when I set out with my laundry, two firetrucks went by. Then, the traffic was still flowing. After putting in my laundry and going to Key Food, I came out to see a massive jam as far as the eye could see. I counted 6 Bx7s and 4 M100s stuck along the stretch from Key Food to the Dollar Tree.

I feel slightly bad for the people stuck in traffic now, but I am sure as hell glad that it's not me.

Acquisitive Behaviour

When I am stressed I buy things.

Now as I look at my bookshelf - exactly one day after I have submitted my thesis in final, hard copy form to the department office - I find myself amazed at the sheer number of books that fill its shelves. I don't think I've ever bought so many books within a single year of my life before. Amazon simply makes buying books far too easy, but leaves the problem of where to store them afterwards especially when one is done reading the book.

I need to find a place to give away the books I no longer want before I move.

26

I am 26. Or rather 26 + 1 week, because I neglected to post anything earlier. It is funny to think of myself as 26, because sometimes when I don't think about it, I still think I am 18 or something. Anyway I had the best birthday I've had in a long time last weekend. My lovely roommate Marina, and Jon helped organise a birthday dinner as a 3/4 surprise. 3/4 because they slowly told me about it, but not until it had been organised, and then not where it was until the day itself and who had been invited. Then Shirin brought Jerrine along and it was a proper 100% surprise. I haven't felt quite so special and pampered in a long time, and I guess I can't think of when I last felt that way.

In other news my tendonitis in my left foot has been giving me trouble since last weekend. It has prevented me from running, which I find aggravating because I've slowly been building up my stamina and hoping to do a 5k race in 30 mins sometime during the Summer.

I am also suffering from extreme procrastinitis on the second draft of my thesis. Fun stuff.

The Final Day of Writing

Today is the last day I have left to submit this draft to my lovely stand-in academic advisor, and I'm so tired that I no longer know what I can and can't do in academic writing. Nonetheless, I am also slightly past the point of caring what is kosher and what is not, and have put my faith into the idea that my advisor will hopefully catch whatever is not quite acceptable for academic work at her stage of checking:

A Song

The first draft is the hardest,

Baby I know,

The first draft is the hardest,

When it comes to being lucky she's cursed,

When it comes to finishing on time, she's worst.

Hello to postponing the first draft of my IP for 398398492 days, and finally being super mentally committed to finishing it by the end of this upcoming Sunday.

Sheryl Crow song link for the clueless

Haircuts and Dismay

Last week I went for a haircut across the street from TC. To my delight, my hairdresser turned out to be a Malaysian and told me that a PappaRich outlet had just opened in Flushing and she had loved it. However towards the end of my haircut I started worrying about my fringe, and thought maybe it didn't look very good. She then trimmed it a little bit more. This turned out to be a mistake, because later when I looked at my hair in the bathrooms in TC (not sure why I didn't notice it on the spot at the hair salon), I realised my fringe now looked really wonky. It was now quite short, with some parts at the farther end of my head shorter than the other bits. This annoys me incredibly especially since I have a conference to attend next week in Vancouver, where I'll be presenting a paper for the first time. Talk about nerve-wracking in itself, daft haircut that makes me look like and feel like a child not withstanding. 

Running

Decided to go for a run today after feeling simultaneously lethargic, bored, and unmotivated, and managed to spend at least 15 minutes running (or jogging) at 5.7 mph. I feel better now, although I also now realise that there is a certain sort of ache in my tailbone area from sitting on my arse too often for too long, and that I can smell all sorts of weird things in the air because my sinuses have cleared/opened up.

Since the start of this academic year I've managed to run (mostly) at least once a week, if not twice, which I think has been quite helpful for my overall well-being. I've never regretted going for a run, although it does take a fair amount of time. For instance today it took me about 2 hours in total because of the time needed to travel to the campus gym and to visit M2M to buy a drink afterwards. During times where I'm stationed at Jon's place in the Bronx, it takes me at least 50 minutes to travel to campus, if not longer.

Still I suppose this is a luxury I enjoy as a person who is not yet working. Although my time is limited, its not as limited as the people who have to work 9-to-5 jobs. In fact since I've started working at my internship on Mondays and Wednesdays, I've found my ability to conduct daytime errands like visits to the Post Office severely limited, which is annoying. Can't say how I'll be able to do things when I get a full time job.

Waugh and Maugham

Over the past few weeks (2? 3?) I read Vile Bodies by Evelyn Waugh and Of Human Bondage by Somerset Maugham, one right after the other. By sheer coincidence, both books turned out to be semi-autobiographical and dealt with similar themes, though of course through vastly different ways. Vile Bodies was meant to be scathing and humorous, an absurd parody, while Of Human Bondage was meant to be more serious and an examination of sorts into the things someone does out of emotion. The effect reading those two books, one right on the heels of another, made me feel slightly strange because it transported me to turn of the century England, replete with things I've only seen in movies and words I've only seen in other books. It was, and is, a whole world away from the reality I live in. And I'm not too sure how I feel about that.

Firsts

Today, on the 15th of February, for the first time ever in my life, I sat down on a Ferrero Rocher and squished it flat. I was trying to wriggle new bed sheets out of its packaging, and must have knocked over the heart-shaped box they were resting in during my struggle with the sheets. When I finally wrestled the sheets out of the plastic cover, I sat down from my squatting position and immediately felt the weird sensation of having sat on something. When I moved and looked, I saw the saddest sight known to mankind: an ignominiously squished Ferrero Rocher.

I put the sheets into the washing hamper and then ate the Ferrero Rocher.

-----

Yesterday Jonathan and I went on a mini-adventure to visit Mitsuwa Supermarket in Edgewater, NJ, on what was apparently the coldest Valentine's Day in 100 years. It was a crazy idea and we were frozen to the bone, but exhilarated by the idea. We ended up walking from his place to the 1 train at 238th, because the buses didn't appear to be coming and standing still at the bus stop in -15 degree Celcius weather didn't seem a nice option, and then walking from the 181st stop to the George Washington Bus Terminal. After waiting about 30 minutes, we got onto a 188 NJ Transit bus which brought us directly to Mitsuwa.

At Mistuwa we had a really nice lunch of pork katsu curry and beef bbq, then wandered around some of the nearby shops like Kinokuniya (unfortunately it has nothing on the one back home in Ngee Ann Plaza) before going grocery shopping. Getting back was more of a pain though, because the 188 bus was running in 1 hr 30 min intervals, and so we ended up walking around Michael's for more than an hour, killing time and staying warm.

By the time we got back to the Bronx, I felt throughly exhausted.

We went to bed around 9:45pm last night, and aside from the hour I was awake with Jon in the morning as he got ready from work, I slept soundly until 12:30pm today. I haven't slept so much like the dead in a long time.

Cat Carcass

On Sunday Jon and I had a very domestic day. We took the Bx10 to Kingsbridge to eat in a diner, visit T.J. Maxx and Aldi. This was in contrast to the night before when we went to the lower east side to watch Anomalisa at Sunshine Cinema, and had a the length of a wooden bridge's worth of sushi and sashimi (it was the platter they used) at a place called Hana.

What stood out about that weekend though was the sight that greeted us when we walked out of his apartment to take the bus on Sunday. Sitting on the asphalt lay an erie sight: a stripped, still red, mammalian carcass. We stood right in front of it, gaping for a few moments while someone throwing away their trash eyed us across the street. What struck me as weirder than the fact that I'd never seen such fresh-looking skeletal remains so near to me before, was the fact that the person who was throwing the trash away seemed to be more curious about Jon and I looking at the remains more than the remains itself. As if it was completely normal to see such large skeletons hanging about the streets in the Bronx.

Well, what do we know.

It was really gross. We guessed it was probably a cat. It looked cat-sized. We speculated that the raccoons had probably stripped it. We wondered how long the carcass had lain there, perhaps it had been hidden under a vehicle.

When we came back from our jaunt in Kingsbridge, the carcass lay half covered under a jeep.

SPSS: 2005 - 2015

I decided to run SPSS on the descriptive statistics of my blog posts:

It appears for some reason that I tend to write the most in April, and the least in July, and the difference over ten and a half years equates to almost a hundred instances. The next month with the least number of posts in August, so maybe something should be said about how the Summer months promote laziness.

I'm not sure what other tricks I can do with SPSS. 

Value(s)

When I was younger, I used to tie ideas of my self-worth according to things like how I looked, how well I was liked by my peers, and how well I performed in tests and examinations. Now I realise I tie my self-worth to working, and feeling like I have a productive role in society. Which also explains why I've not been feeling too good lately, as I wait and wait for responses to the internship applications that I've sent in (and receive one or two rejections). I feel anchor-less, and the idea of working on my thesis, (which seemed like such a valuable piece of knowledge building for society at large!) no longer as captivating. I need to find my self-worth again.

News News

Was reading the news on my phone this morning after Jonathan left for work, and learnt of the disturbing news of the Mass Sexual Assaults in Cologne, which saddens me to no end. For starters, it's no stretch to imagine that this is part of the refugee migration crisis that dominated most of the news of 2015 (and the news seem to hint at such, alongside allegations that the major news outlets are trying to quash the story because it's un-PC), and secondly it's terrible to imagine such terrible things happening to women who should otherwise be able to feel safe outdoors. For me, learning about such news makes me feel like two things that I feel most passionately about are at odds with each other, and this troubles me to the depths of my being.

I once experienced something similar to those reported mobs in Cologne while walking with my friends around the crowded square of Djemaa El-Fna in Marrakesh, Morocco. The square was really crowded, and I briefly got separated from my friend by a surge of people although I could still see them about a metre away. Suddenly I realised I was surrounded by a group of male Moroccan youths, and they started grabbing at my hair, pulling it and touching it. I was really shocked and didn't know how to react, and just as I was about to scream for one of my friends to help, the group dispersed and melted back into the heady sea of people. I later noticed that the bottom pocket of my backpack was unzipped, although whether this was done by the same group of boys remains unknown. Either way, I felt quite shaken by my experience, knowing that it could've been a lot worse. 

What felt immensely worrisome to me about this experience was that it flew in the face of ideas that people traditionally have when it comes to women's safety: be in a public area with lots of people around, be with friends, be vigilant, be conservatively dressed. I fulfilled all of this criteria and yet I was this assaulted (although thankfully not sexually). I still wonder to this day though, if I acted as some sort of practice for those boys. That they have now (some 4 years later) moved on to further targets and with more horrendous goals. 

That womens right's are now threatened in the Western world, that we can no longer ignore all the sexual assaults that happens in the other areas of the world. That we must at the same time walk a fine line between the universal human rights to a safe home and free practice of religion, while also fighting for the quashing of barbaric cultural practices (like FGM) that have been erroneously intertwined with religious ideas. That we must also fight against people who share similar views as us, but who choose to write off an entire culture or adherents of a religion.

Dear World, we have a formidable problem ahead of us. But it's one worth fighting for.