Immigrant Narratives

I recently finished two books that featured the narratives of immigrants in the United States. As an immigrant myself, there were many things that I found myself relating to about my experience here, and I found the two books to be good reads. The books were The Book of Unknown Americans by Cristina Henriquez and The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears by Dinaw Mengestu. I had bought both books at least a year before, and they've been hanging out on my bookshelf since. I picked them both up randomly, and I can't remember if I them back to back, or if there was a random trashy book that I picked up in between. Such is my vociferous consumption of literature during these summer months.

I enjoyed The Book of Unknown Americans a lot because it talked a fair amount about the American education system, and special education. I particularly enjoyed it because I felt like I knew exactly what was being talked about, like a chance to use the knowledge that I've gleaned from my current course at Hunter College. It also tried to incorporate many different voices of Latinx immigrants from different countries, socio-economic backgrounds, and ages, which I found interesting. I finished reading this book within 24 hours, because of how captivating I found the narrative. I give this book 9/10.

The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears is the first published book by Dinaw Mengestu. I read his other book, How to Read the Air several years ago, I think when I was in between relationships. I remember that because of his excruciating depiction of the slow, dying intimacy between the couple in that novel, I felt glad to be single. Because of that memory, I was of course drawn to this novel when I saw it on sale at The Strand, but put off reading it for the longest time because I recalled how depressing the other novel I read was, and reading depressing stuff gets tiring, you know. Anyway this book was about a small group of male African immigrants living in D.C.. Besides the obvious theme of immigration, there was also the theme of gentrification, which has been quite a current topic, especially living in a pricey city like NYC. I give this book 8.5/10. 

Saturday evening, July 2018

Last night Jon and I went out for dinner with his friends. His med school friend Eric came early to hang out with us first, and so we went to a bar opposite Midwinter Kitchen, where we were going to have dinner. Upon reflection, and thinking about how fast the happy hour mimosa hit me ($5!), it was the first time I've drank since a disastrous booze-and-hors-d'oeuvres-only wedding reception I attended a few months ago with Jon (we were told beforehand to drink a lot to help make up the money for the reception rental, and didn't know there was no dinner served until about an hour and a half in; you can use your imagination).

At 6:30pm, we left the bar and went across the road to Midwinter Kitchen to meet the others. I felt a little excited as Jon and I walk past Midwinter Kitchen all the time, but never went in because we were usually en route to somewhere else. So finally after about 2 years of walking past, we were finally entering Midwinter Kitchen. We ended up waiting a little because Nuno had parking issues, and so he and Hannah were delayed. It was fine because the restaurant wasn't crowded at all, which was also nice because we could converse in normal, human, volumes when they finally came. I ordered the chicken, which came out really nice with crisp roasted skin, though it was a little dry on the inside in some parts. Jon and I also ordered a side of roman gnocchi, and when it came out as a slab like a cake, I wasn't super enthusiastic. I had envisioned normal gnocchi, and thought 'roman' was the style of cooking. I tried to hide my disappointment, though of course I probably didn't do a good job with it, and Nuno laughed saying, "She's not happy!". It didn't taste bad, but of course didn't have the texture I was looking forward to with normal gnocchi. Live and learn I suppose.

After dinner we walked over to Momofuku Milk Bar on 2nd Ave and E. 13th, and Jon and I shared a soft serve cereal milk ice cream with cereal topping. It was the first time Eric, Nuno, and Hannah had tried the place, and Nuno looked a little confused and overwhelmed in the packed and tiny store. I vaguely remember my first trip there when I followed Shirin a few years ago, but I don't remember looking at the menu because I didn't want dessert. I probably must have been as confused when I went there with Marina about two years later around 2016. We then started walking up 2nd Avenue, and Eric peeled off around E. 17th to walk to catch the subway at Union Square. Jon and I ended up reaching home around 9pm.

Overall, it was a really enjoyable night. Good conversation, food, and weather.

Perfectionism and procrastination

I'm one of those absurd people who is a closet perfectionist. By this I mean that I typically come across as a very relaxed and chilled out person, especially to people who don't know me that well. This is usually because it's too tiring to care. This also means that for me, the adage, "If you can't do it well, don't do it at all," means I often either end up not attempting to do the aforementioned thing, or  put doing it off as long as possible because it will be tiring/not to my satisfaction and hence eat away at my soul.

Case in point: cleaning the bathroom. It usually takes me ages to do because I really remove every single speck of dust and lost hair follicle, and so I don't do it very often and put it off for a time even when I realize the bathroom is getting dirty. Well, I finally did it today after telling myself several times that I really ought to clean it, and it took me close to 45 minutes and a lot of shed sweat - and the bathroom isn't even that big at all! It's debatable of course whether infrequent cleanings means more effort needs to be exerted during cleaning, but between our combined hair dropping everywhere (and boy do I drop a lot of hair), dust coming in from the open bathroom window, and the inky dark sediment coming from the African Black soap that I've been using for my easily irritated skin, the bathroom gets covered in a light layer of gunk very easily.

It boggles my mind how people with larger families and larger houses keep them clean. I'd probably need to hire a weekly cleaner to help me :/

A summer cold

Since last week Monday, I've been down with a nasty cold that lingered until now - almost one and a half weeks total. Between the cold and the crazy heat from summer, I not only feel quite out of it mentally, but also feel very lethargic and achey, despite my best efforts to go walking for a few hours since I've been getting better. It's not a very nice feeling at all, both physically and mentally, the recognition that not only has my ability to do things been hampered, but so has my enjoyment.

On another note, for the last week, I finished 3 books: The Waking Land by Callie Bates (7/10), The Relic Master by Christopher Buckley (8.5/10 - I really enjoyed all the historical medieval bits, which I could easily liken to all the historical coursework I've done), and The Magicians by Lev Grossman (7.5/10). I always like to try and read books regularly, to try and counteract the rate at which I acquire them. As it is, my bookshelf is overflowing. Sometimes I deliberately try and start books that I know will have no permanent place in my bookshelf, just so I can make space. The end result however, is that the books that I think I will really enjoy and find meaty are left unread, in favour of fodder that I know I will donate after I've finished reading them.

I've really got to stop buying books - but goodness knows that's my number one weakness.

Beasts of Burden

I've been a longtime fan of comics ever since I discovered Archie comics at a young age, thanks to my Uncle KL. This love has since evolved into a love of graphic novels and other types of more 'mature' comics, and one of my favourite stops in NYC is the Forbidden Planet store by Union Square to browse through the comic titles available there.

Last Saturday after a sashimi/chirashi dinner with Jon at Kotobuki, we ended up at Forbidden Planet on our meandering walk home, and I picked up Beasts of Burden: Animal Rites by Evan Dorkin and Jill Thompson. Yesterday I finished the entire comic during the course of the afternoon, and I am now lamenting that I finished the volume and don't have any more of it to read. The book married two of my favourite things: animals, and weird things occurring. The art too is also on point (at least in my opinion - even though I might really like the concept of a comic, the art can kill my enjoyment).

Tomorrow I need to sit for the Educating All Students test, as part of my teaching certification for NY State (officially the long acronym of NYSTCE, something I've mangled multiple times in my memory). I am definitely not prepared at all, mainly because I've been procrastinating and also spoiled by other classmates who say that the test isn't really studiable, because everything is so subjective. This of course gives my kiasu Singaporean ass a type of anxiety, but one that has been tempered by the fact that I seem to have acquired a 'head cold' (as the Americans say), and am feeling at 75% of my usual functioning. I hope I feel better at least during the test tomorrow.

Books on the Subway

Whenever I see someone reading a book in the subway, I always like to take a little glance at the cover to see if I recognise it. I'm sure that I'm not the only one who does this, and so on Friday when Jon and I were on the 6 and headed up to Pelham Bay Park station around rush hour and I saw a middle aged man crane his neck to glance at the book I was reading, I paused my reading and flipped the book upwards to show him the cover. We then had a brief conversation - he had initially thought the book I was reading, May We Be Forgiven by A. M. Holmes, was a non-fiction book about forgiveness, and remarked that it was a rather heavy topic. I told him that it was a fiction book, and that I hadn't yet reached the 'forgiveness' part of the story. I also handed the book over to him for him to browse through. He got off a stop later at 51st St, so the interaction couldn't have actually lasted more than a few minutes, but it was more than memorable for its substance.

Anyway I finally finished the book last night. Clocking in at 496 pages, it is a really fat volume, but worth enough the 496 pages. May We Be Forgiven reminded me of a more manic and bizarro version of The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen, and one that ended on a far more optimistic note. It was an enjoyable read, though I'm not sure how memorable it'll be in the long run; I give it a 4/5. 

Barnes and Noble

When I was younger I used to write blog posts about all the books that I'd buy whenever I went on a book shopping spree. As I got older and had less time, I started writing much less, and posting about  books much less too. I've also started consuming books that are far less literary, books that require less mental input. As of a few years ago I really got into the whole new female driven crime thrillers genre, ala Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train - females who are unreliable narrators and not professional investigators - real page turner fluffs that I can plow through in a few days. In contrast, I spent about two weeks reading A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, and found it utterly overwrought and unrealistic. At the end, I wished I had spent the two weeks reading enjoyable nonsense instead. Recently, I've also really started getting into fantasy novels, particularly those with female protagonists. Also enjoyable fluff that has larger ideas, if you feel inclined to use your brain.

Anyway yesterday I was babysitting, and Rudo's Dad came home early, so I unexpectedly had an 'extra' two hours to my day. Instead of dutifully going home and working on things for my horrid Summer Class (very badly taught and run), I went to Barnes and Noble at Union Square instead, since I'd have had to change from the 5 train at Union Square anyway. Happily, the Union Square market was in operation, and as I walked through to get to B&N I stopped to buy chocolate chip cookies and apples for $1.60 a pound.

At B&N I headed straight for my usual section - the discounted books on the 3rd Floor - and after browsing around I picked up a few nonsense novels and one slim looking literary book that had "10 Best Books - The New York Times Book Review 2014" on its front cover. I then went to the 4th Floor to look at the Sci Fi and Fantasy section, but couldn't really find anything new that I wanted to sink my teeth into. I ended up picking up a nonsense book from an overflow cart that someone had left by the Sci Fi and Fantasy section, and decided to get it since it was a mass market paperback at $9.99.

So this is my book haul from yesterday:
Family Life - Akhil Sharma
Last Train to Babylon - Charlee Fam
The Silent Wife - A. S. A. Harrison
The Other Widow - Susan Crawford
And an Archie Giant comics book, for bathroom reading.

In addition last night, I also purchased Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi on my kindle. I had heard about it for a while but felt reluctant to purchase a YA book. Last night I decided to bite the bullet and finally get it, as I think the inclusion of African folklore in a fantasy background would make it worth my while.

Very much a change from the books I would have purchased 10 years ago.

Confused Days

Today is Tuesday, but it really feels like a Wednesday. Yesterday was a Monday, but it really felt like a Tuesday instead. This is because on Sunday, Jon was working and I spent the day doing quite a lot of school work - it felt far more like a weekday than a weekend. And so now I feel psychologically confused, and need to think a little bit before I know what day it is. This in itself is a little disconcerting, but I suppose it must happen to a lot of people, for instance stay at home parents with newborns/babies, or someone retired. Either way, I don't quite like feeling so disoriented. 

Union Strike

Today while walking back home from another early morning babysitting session, I crossed paths with a grand total of three (3) striking workers. They were walking along E. 23rd St, and had that were tied to their necks with thin pieces of string. Their signs said that they were from AFL-CIO, and were electrical workers that were on strike. They seemed to be joking with each other a little, as they shuffled along the street.

I couldn't help but think that this was the saddest strike I've ever seen, not that I've seen a ton to begin with, mind you. But this is what unions apparently look like nowadays, almost 50 years after they had their teeth taken out of them from legislation.

Celebrity

For the past few months I've been intermittently babysitting a baby called Rudo. My babysitting gig is a little unusual in that I'm not with him at his place. Instead, we hang out outside the studios where his mum, Nefertiti, teaches. I also only babysit for about 2-3 hours each time, so not for long durations. I initially had hoped for longer hours (and of course earning correspondingly more money), but I soon realised that even just 2 hours of looking after a baby is super tiring - which of course makes me wonder how I'll cope when Jon and I eventually decide to have kids. Anyway overall, save for the early start times, I'm happy with taking care of Rudo once in a while. It's interesting watching him slowly grow up and learn, plus Nefertiti is a really cool and chilled out person too.

Today was interesting however because while babysitting, I saw a celebrity! Not exactly a huge celebrity, but rather one whose work I know and respect, which makes it better of course. While cuddling Rudo and trying to get him to calm down (he was very fussy today), I saw one of the doors of one of the many trailers lining the street open, and saw Keegan-Michael Key step out on a puffy black jacket with brown furry trim. At first I was thinking "Oh my! It's the guy from Key and Peele!", and then I thought, "No way, can't be. I must be mistaken." But the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced. Still, I was afraid to say anything without verifying what I saw, but in the end I decided I was right and told Victoria, who was working at the reception, and she got all excited with me.

Anyway long story short, I told Nefertiti too when she came out from her class, and she got all excited too. Shortly after Nefertiti finished teaching her second class, Keegan-Michael Key came out of the trailer again, and I told both her and Nefertiti, and they ran to the window to wave at him like maniacs and he waved back with a big smile before returning to his trailer. I feel happy that they got to see him too, and that I wasn't mistaken, hah.

Just last week when Sindhu was here, I was having lunch with her and Shirin at Big Daddy's when she told us that she saw Janelle Monae at a Pastafina near Hell's Kitchen, and I was telling them that I had never seen a celebrity before. I attributed it to the fact that I don't go to ~trendy~ places, and don't exactly pay attention to the people around me. Well, I can no longer claim that I have never seen a celebrity in person.

Valentine's Day

The best Valentine's Day present thus far has been a clear nose. For the past weeks I've been taking various antihistamines to try and deal with a nose that has been alternatively so stuffy that I can't breathe, or flowing non-stop. At several instances where I've laughed over the past week, snot has come out. Things were getting worse too - it was starting to adversely affect my sleep.

Finally yesterday after much complaining on my end, and me feeling like I'm at the end of my rope, Jon came home with Sudafed. I ended up waking up at 7am today with my nose completely stuffed and feeling unable to breathe, and took the Sudafed before returning to bed. I woke up at 10am, to two completely clear nostrils. The realisation was exhilarating. I'd forgotten what it's like to breathe completely unhindered.

Tonight we'll get Mexican takeout for dinner, and I'll probably buy some macarons from the corner bakery. Happy Valentine's Day 2018.

First Day of 2018

The first day of 2018 was spent partly in a car ride from Fort Salonga to Manhattan via Sheepshead Bay, in an old teal Sienna filled almost to the brim with groceries and luggage, and a cat of unknown vintage in a black harness with attached leash. This was the first time Saffron was out in a harness and leash combo, albeit within the confines of a vehicle, because he had meowed so pitifully the last few times he had been kept in a carrier during a car trip, and it was fast apparent that he enjoyed being on a leash more than being in a carrier. He was largely well behaved except for wanting to hop onto Jon and explore the driver's seat, but was kept away by Serafin-Dad holding onto his harness and me holding onto his leash in the back seat.

The success of the leash was far more than we could have hoped for given that earlier in the day, Saffron was very upset and resistant. I put the harness on him and he got upset, and when I emerged from the bathroom I was met by Jon telling me that Saffron was currently hiding inside the sofa in his parent's room (according to Daisy-Mum) because he was angry and had trying to escape the noise of the vacuum. This cued Serafin-Dad, Jon and me to try and coax him out of the sofa by closing the doors and alternating between using a hair dryer and treats. While this was going on, Mona, the ancient matriarch cat was sitting on top of the bed, watching us with little interest. Annoyed at seeing little progress in coaxing Saffron out, I went over to Mona and flopped onto the bed, when I realised I saw a darker coloured patch on the air bed next to the main bed. Taking another look, I saw Saffron looking at me, sitting in plain sight on top of the air bed. All this time, he hadn't been inside the sofa at all, but instead must have been wondering what the commotion was.

Now that we had found him, we then tried to feed him a mixture of cat treat and cat melatonin to calm him down for the car ride. He ate a little bit, and then started running around the room wildly. When he realised he was trapped because we had closed all of the doors earlier, he started pushing against the door and trying to scratch his way out. We finally let him out after about a minute, in hope that he would calm down.

About 20 mins later, when the car was fully packed, we were left with the task of grabbing Saffron and putting him in the carrier. Given that he already felt very aggrieved from recent egregious human acts, getting him to go in was difficult. Usually I get him into the carrier by putting treats inside, and he complies with little complaint, but yesterday he was pissed and in between the carrier sliding away from me as I held Saffron and the door closing as Saffron struggled, I had to grab him another time and force him into the carrier. He meowed in an upset fashion as he was carried into the car.

On the way to Manhattan, we stopped by Sheepshead Bay to drop things off at Uncle Jimmy, Uncle Bum, Uncle Boy and Aunt Lulu's houses. I didn't leave the car cause I was holding onto Saffron leash, but we opened the doors to let Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Bum see Saffron. He looked at them and then went to the other side of the car, not the least bit interested in the outside because it was also exceptionally freezing yesterday (as has been the whole of last week, and continuing onto this week).

When we got him, he was the first thing we unloaded. I put him back in the carrier for the trip from the car to the apartment, and he was compliant. The first thing he did after I took off the harness and leash was use the litter box, then drink water. As Jon and I unpacked all the things we had brought to the apartment, Saffron ran about re-exploring. Then for the rest of the afternoon, he lay on our bed and slept.

And this is how our first day of 2018 went. 

Final Paper

I have a final paper due in a week that I haven't started writing yet. Two years ago this would have been behaviour that is completely unheard of from me - I'd be so stressed out I wouldn't be able to sleep and all - but I recently realised that as the priorities in my life have shifted, so does my focus and the things that cause me stress. What would have been extremely stressful before is now more of a thing of more minor grief and irritation.

And on another note, I just had a thought related to my paper topic: Has there been a refugee crisis in the past two decades that has not be caused by the legacy of colonialism?

Life and Death

Yesterday I felt like the proudest and happiest person on earth, because my niece finally entered the world. After wondering day after day when she would come, we finally received a text on Sunday night at 11pm that my brother-in-law and sister-in-law were headed to the hospital. When I was finished with my fieldwork at about 1:30pm, I got a text just as I was leaving the school with a picture of the baby. I felt so proud that I wanted to go up to random people on the street to show off the picture - look at her, isn't that hair amazing? And I felt slightly amazed at my reaction, cause I didn't expect to feel so overjoyed and proud. I always thought newborns looked like aliens, but this one seemed perfect to me.

Today however the mood I have is one that is considerably more sombre, because of the terrorist attack that happened near my fieldwork school. It's the first time that I've really been in the vicinity of a terrorist attack that took lives, and I suppose it's been down to sheer luck that this experience has only happened to me now at the ripe old age of 27. Considering that I came into age during the era of religious-based terrorism, and have lived in big cities that have experienced major terrorist attacks either before or after my residence there, it's been a strange sort of blessing that I've never had to text or call people to tell them that I'm safe until today. It feels a little unnerving, to be honest. On my walk back home, I also found myself regarding the streets with a keener eye and a more heightened attention than before, and that's when I realised the extent to which I felt impacted by this event. Sort of a delayed reaction, if you will.

Well, only time will tell about the extent to which this event and future others will affect life as we know it.

Sick again

Last night I had a nightmare where I dreamed Jon and I had to plan yet another wedding related thing, and I was super stressed and upset. In my dream I spent a lot of time trying to actually run away from events and hide because I felt so horrid about things, and people kept chasing me to get me to return. Urgh.

In other news, I am sick again. So far since July, I've been sick every two months, and it's driving me crazy. It's frustrating waking up with the sickening realisation that goddamn it, my nose is running and has been back-dripping into my throat all night long. Also now my throat is sore because of the back drip.

Monday of this week was the first time I worked since G- summer camp ended in early August, and although I enjoyed it, I profoundly regret having worked now because in addition to being really tired right before I fell sick, the house is a huge mess and I've got a backlog of school work that I need to deal with. Every day Jon and I get back to the house past 7pm, and we need to leave early in the morning. This means that all the things that need to be done, like cooking and cleaning, have steadily been building up as the week progressed. It's overwhelming especially when you're already so tired. I really have no idea how families with two working parents do it. It already feels like Jon and I are barely holding on to things, and I can't imagining a newborn into the mix. Grargh. 

The Monday After

Last Saturday (7 Oct 2017), I finally got married again in the big religious ceremony + wedding reception. Today, I'm back at work again and struggling to find the words to best represent my thoughts on the topic of my history comprehensive exam. A part of me relishes the joy that comes from productive academia, but another part of me just wants to go back to sleep and play computer games all day after a thoroughly emotionally and physically exhausting day.

Although getting married with a big hullabaloo and seeing my friends again was very nice, DEAR GOD - weddings are a terrible business. I just hope I remember enough of the stuff to make things easier for my friends and my children when the time comes for their weddings, cause I never want anyone else to have to go through the bullshit Jon and I did at the expense of actually getting to thoroughly enjoy our 'big day'.

Avery Labels

One of the most amazing things I learnt from my internship at A- in Spring 2016 was the existence of Avery labels, and that Microsoft Word came pre-programmed (ok maybe not the right word) with layouts where you could easily print directly onto the labels. This blew my mind because I never thought it was that easy to print things onto labels, or that Microsoft Word has such capabilities.

Anyway I'm thinking about this again because I'm trying to get labels ready for wedding favours. I even ordered a dinosaur stamp with "J & M" on it to stamp onto the bottom part of the labels. 

Mighty Exhausted

For the past two months I've either been so busy or so sick that I've barely had time to stop and collect myself and my thoughts. July and the first half of August were all non-stop busy and stress-filled as I tried to maximise my time like never before, and the second half of August was spent battling a cold so nasty that no precedent appears in memory (thank goodness it's not a common occurrence at least). I foolishly thought that with the end of my summer class and summer job on 4th Aug, I could relax when I returned to Singapore for two and a half weeks, but instead it felt like a rush to get wedding related stuff done and to show Jon as much of Singapore as I could. A sample day (Thursday, 17 Aug in this instance) was:
- Bring one half of Filipino-side to Little India, while my Dad brought the other half
- Walk throughout Little India
- Take MRT from Farrer Park to Bugis
- Walk around Kampong Glam area
- Wait with Lola and Jon at Starbucks while the rest of the family went to see the Rochor area, because Lola felt way too tired from the walking
- Take MRT to Tanjong Pagar to meet Mum at the tailor's
- Fitting at the tailor's
- Shopping for a longer chain for the pendant my grandma wanted to give me as a wedding present, as it was way too short and choked me
- Taxi to the jewelry shop
- Buy chain, that is usefully also adjustable
- Taxi to Far East Plaza
- Fitting at the alteration shop (more like booth, because of how tiny the place was)
- Get manicure and pedicure
- Taxi home to eat dinner

Another day (Monday, 21 Aug) was:
- Wake up early to have breakfast with Dad
- Take public transport to the zoo
- Sort of rush through the zoo because it was really hot and humid
- Eat KFC for lunch
- Go to the river safari and enjoy the panda exhibit because it was air-conditioned
- Take a taxi to Lucky Plaza
- Eat halo-halo 
- Visit Takashimaya and Kinokuniya, see Ion briefly
- Take public transport to Star Vista to meet Uncle KL and family for dinner
- Have dinner and desert, shop for a bit
- Get fetched home by Uncle

On the way to Newark from San Francisco, I ended up sleeping throughout almost the entire flight. When I got back to Fort Salonga, I pretty much spent only 4 hours of the next day awake because I just felt so incredibly exhausted. The following day, Saturday, I felt much better and we all headed off from Fort Salonga to NJ for Sona and Tim's baby shower. At the baby shower however the husband of Sona's best friend was sick, and I think just by being near him I picked up a nasty virus, because by Sunday night I started to feel a little ill and by Monday evening my body was aching all over. 

So the past week, incidentally also the first week of my second semester at Hunter, has been a miserable and snotty blur. Here's to hoping I fully regain my footing soon.

Headless Chicken

Things I do not recommend doing simultaneously:
1) Working full time
2) Earning minimum wage
3) Attending university courses
4) Maintaining and running a household (incl. cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc)
5) Taking care of a furry four-legged creature that has a propensity for vomiting

I feel like I've been running around like a chicken with my head chopped off the past month or so. I had some respite in between my two jobs (a two and a half week stint at a charter school in Harlem, and a four and a half week stint as a teaching assistant at a summer program located in Greenwich Village), but now I'm back to running around like an over-extended mad woman, particularly because Jon has been on night float (night shift) the past week, and hence has been unable to help much at home.

As I type this, I currently have laundry being dried at the laundromat, and have just come back from doing grocery shopping at two different supermarkets (Trader Joe's and Fairway) and dropping off several packages at UPS. I am also about to partake in some chicken breasts that have been hanging out in the fridge for the past week + 1 day, and sincerely hope I don't get food poisoning, but am too tired and broke to eat something else. Later I still need to deal with the laundry, prepare food for the rest of the week, and finish reading the book due for class tomorrow and write the corresponding response paper.

I feel like this is quite beyond the realm of 'burning the candle at both ends', but more like 'burning the candle at triple/quadruple ends'. I laugh when I think of how both sets of parents are urging us to have children soon, because at this point of life with our meager time and money, the thought of having children seems like a prospect far past ridicule.

Two Concussions in a Day

Today I half witnessed two concussions. And my half witnessed, I mean that I witnessed the immediate aftermath, but not the actual concussions itself, because I happened to be meters away from the incidents - though I heard the loud accompanying thumps. Prior to today, I don't think I witnessed anything remotely close to concussions before, and it's strange to think of two of them happening in my vicinity within a span of 6 hours.

The first concussion was when I was at work. Today I had an in-school suspension assignment, and I was sitting in a room with my student during class transition time when I heard a loud thunk and yelling. I commented to student that it sounded like something was being murdered outside. When the crazy sounds still persisted for about a minute, I opened the door to look and saw a bunch of students gathered outside excitedly, and saw that the source of the commotion was a really violent fight between two female students. A teacher was already there, but the girls still persisted.

I didn't know what to do, and when I turned back I saw my student craning his head out of the door trying to look, but he didn't manage to see anything as it was around the corner. We went back in the room and I closed the door, but when the yelling was still there a minute later, I went out to try and disperse the watching students and a student told me, "hell no, I ain't missing this." The status of the fight looked exactly the same as it had earlier, and the same female teacher was still trying to break it up, while more teachers came. I went back to the room, and after about another minute the chaos died down, and I opened the door to see one of the students still agitated and shouting as she was led away.

Later the teachers in the staff room were talking about the fight. Apparently one of the students said "fight me" to another student she already had problems with, and the other student dutifully grabbed her head and slammed it against the wall. Obviously the student who had her head slammed into the wall was fine, because she was well enough to continue the fight.

The second concussion happened when I was taking the M15-SBS bus home. I boarded at 57th Street, and at 50th Street when the bus was stopped to let passengers get on and off, we heard a loud thunk and noises of a commotion. A kid standing next to me said, "Is it a fight? Sounds like a punch." This set off the old ladies near us as they got confused and somehow word got relayed that someone had fallen. An old lady then said, "that sounded more like a head hitting something." Then a few passengers ran to the front and told the bus driver, "Someone fell, don't move the bus," and I wondered if someone had fallen under the bus.

Again I didn't know what to do in the situation. I felt bad for whoever had fallen, but I didn't want to be a rubber-necking bystander as it wasn't like I had any medical training and could help. Also I wanted to go home, and felt bad for thinking that. I didn't know whether I should get off the bus and stand around or stay on. Either way was equally useless, but I figured at least by staying on the bus I wouldn't be blocking help or gawking. After about a minute word spread on the bus that it was being taken out of service cause of the accident, and we all got off. Outside, I saw a white-haired lady on the ground, her grey handbag propped up under her head as people tried asking her questions, but no one seemed medically trained.

Just as another M15-SBS appeared in the horizon, a woman in scrubs and with a stethoscope around her neck came running from the South and identified herself as someone who worked nearby. This was comforting, and around 80% of the passengers on the bus I was on got on this other M15-SBS, as about 10% stayed behind with the lady and 10% for some reason were still on the old bus. And so off we went, crammed into this other bus, with some passengers telling the passengers on this bus about what had happened.

It has been a very peculiar day, and one in which I wished I could do more instead of standing by helplessly. But I guess everyone has their own niche in life, and mine isn't being big enough to pull apart students (which I'm sure is against the law) or knowing what to do when someone gets injured.

Ceiling

On Sunday after coming back from a night in NJ with my Aunt and Uncle, Jon and I were greeted with a huge mess when we opened the front door. My first thought was that Saffron had destroyed something, but then it immediately went to "what kind of white paper do we have so much off that he would destroy it like this?"

It turned out of course, to be something far beyond Saffron. The floor was wet and our clothes in the cupboard were wet too. The ceiling light looked like it was filled with dirty brown water that threatened to spill out. The bathroom floor had dirt all over it, like there was a flood that had subsided and left silt in its place, but the tiles were still wet. The toilet seat was covered with droplets of dirty water, and the Archie comics that were on top of the toilet cistern were wet too.

When we called the Superintendent, he said, "Oh yes, the kitchen pipe of the apartment above yours burst."

So Jon and I ended up spending the better half of the rest of the day, from noon when we came home till bed time, cleaning up the mess and feeling frustrated. I tried my best, but the two pairs of shoes I left out that got caught up in the mess were ruined. Jon tossed the pair of shoes that he left out that had gotten drenched too. As fate obviously still has it out for us (to an extent: our material losses were less than $150), Sunday, Monday and today have been humid days filled with rain. The apartment has a funky smell to it, and the floor is still damp and cold to the touch. Online it says that you need to hire a professional drying crew when this happens, but I highly doubt my avaricious landlord will do anything about it. Sigh.

Meanwhile, every few hours, another piece of the ceiling falls off and the floor becomes coated in a powdery substance that is invisible to the eye.

Wedding Nightmare

I had a nightmare last night about my wedding. I dreamt for some reason that it was less than 24 hours away, and that I had neglected to check my wedding outfit and in fact only had a veil, and no wedding dress. Then I realised that I had forgotten to order the dresses for my bridesmaids, so they had nothing to wear (this part might be realistic, I'm still procrastinating on ordering their dresses). Of course I felt very stressed in my dream from all the running about, and even when I woke up and realised it wasn't real I still feel the physiological signs of stress.

This dream has made me feel annoyed because: 1) since when am I so unprepared for an event of that sort? 2) I don't like feeling stressed 3) I don't think I'm the sort of person to stress out over a wedding.

In other news I am still working on a paper that is due for my last class of the semester. I have found it considerably harder to juggle part-time work (as a sub nonetheless) and school, and have found myself slightly clueless at the deadlines (so ok, maybe point 1 is becoming true). So after today, my first semester at Hunter College will be over, and I'll have a break of about a week before Summer classes start - joy.

Spills and Thrills

Yesterday after lamenting about my adolescence, I made a fool out of myself while at school and ended up feeling very much like a youth again. It was a very strange and startling feeling, and one obviously not very welcome.

On my way to the subway, I stopped by Dunkin Donuts for an iced tea for class. The last time I had bought an iced tea, I ordered the sweetened version and found that it was far too sweet for my liking, and so this time I tried asking for 'half sweet and half unsweet', to the confusion of the cashier (I assumed the iced teas had been pre-mixed in some sort of dispensing cooler). The medium-sized iced tea I received this time however was not sweet at all, and had the slightest hint of bitterness. I felt disappointed and wanted more sugar.

When I got to campus, I headed straight to the cafeteria as I wanted to eat chicken fingers as a snack before class. After obtaining said chicken fingers I was headed to pay when I noticed the sugar, so I stopped and popped open the cup cover and poured some sugar in, before continuing to the cashiers. I must not have fixed the cup cover back tightly however because after setting the cup down on the counter for the condiments and utensils, I accidentally knocked against the cup and sent the entire contents spilling all over the counter.

The first thing I did to react to the situation was to go, "oh shite." The girls next to me who were taking their utensils looked and then moved away quickly. It was a very New York sort of reaction. I frantically leaned over to grab as many napkins as I could, and while I was between grabbing napkins and soaking/scooping up the icy mess, a sort of good samaritan appeared and threw a bunch of napkins on top of the spilled mass before getting utensils for himself and moving away.

As I stood there trying to clean up the mess, I felt like such an unspeakable idiot again. Not only had I made a mess for everyone, but I had done it in an extremely high volume area. Everyone passing though the cafeteria would stop at that counter to pick up items. I felt like I wanted to sink through the floor and disappear. Instead, I spent what must have been the longest few minutes of my life cleaning up that mess, feeling myself go hot all over from the shame and embarrassment. The emotions and experience felt exactly like what I remember in bits and pieces from my adolescence. And boy was there ALOT of liquid to clear, as medium-sized anything in the US really makes large in all other parts of the world.

I think next time I'll just deal with either an unsweet tea or a super sweet tea.

Adolescent Development

I'm taking a course in Adolescent Development this term, and the instructor assigned Adolescence by John Santrock as the textbook. Reading the book makes me feel kind of weird inside as it makes me recall all the relationships, emotions and experiences I felt during my adolescence, and it invariably (also perhaps coloured through my pessimistic adult lens) makes me feel a knot of something negative in the pit of my stomach. It makes me think of how unhappy I felt in my adolescence, especially with regards to my wild feelings and emotions, and how sad I just felt most of the time. And how on some bad days, how those experiences and feelings have probably leeched over into my adulthood and manifested in similarly negative ways.

A few years ago when I was teaching, one of my students asked me if I ever wanted to be a teenager again, and I replied that you couldn't pay me a million dollars to go through it all again. Yet here I am, reliving through all the emotions again as I pore over this silly textbook that has way too much text (I could dedicate a whole rant to the deficiencies I see in American textbooks), with all sorts of thoughts churning repeatedly in my mind and my heart to no real conclusion. Was there really any way I could have escaped these outcomes? Or was it predetermined by the genes in me, and buoyed by my inevitable environment? Who knows. All I know is the way I feel when I think about this topic and the overarching emotion I recall from my adolescence.

Blizz-Not

There was supposed to be a whopper of a Blizzard today, and school was cancelled all around as a precaution. Last night when it rolled back 10:30pm, then 11pm, and finally 12am when I decided to go to bed, I saw no flakes and felt a sinking feeling in my heart. Sure enough, I wake up this morning to find this Blizzard is more of a Blizz-Not, BOOO!

Needless to say I'm disappointed. The best Blizzard title still goes to the one in Jan 2016, when I was in the Bronx with Jon. 

Skills

Bah, I think when I have a child I'll really need to stress the importance of marketable and transferable skills. The job market isn't a very nice place at all.

Shit Show

I'm not sure there ever has been another country on earth in recorded history, that has ever gone downhill so fast, save for being invaded by a vastly technologically superior country. Things are all going to hell in a handbasket, and its still just the first month of the year. Ho boy. Damn do I dislike this country more and more, day by day. 

School Anxiety

Today's the first day of my classes at Hunter and I feel anxious. One is that I haven't had anything remotely resembling a schedule since May last year and feel worried about time management, and the other is that I'm starting a program that (appears to me at least) to be removed from the usual purely academic and international setting and instead one is that is very local and in a culture I'm not fully familiar or comfortable with. For instance today, the first class, will be held at the campus school rather than the main Hunter campus itself. The idea of attending a lesson in a location like that makes me feel a whole bunch of irrational worries, beyond the usual "what if I turn up and no one else is there?"

Urgh.

Nutella Blondie Brownies

The last time I remember baking was more than 10 years ago [Though as I continued writing I remembered baking blueberry pie when I was 17-18 years old]. It was when I was still attending church in Singapore as a teenager, and I wanted to impress the people in my Sunday School class with my baking skills. I was probably 15 years old. I was going to make muffins from a recipe in my Home Economics textbook, a recipe that I had actually made a few times before to tasty perfection. 

Problem was this time, I had forgotten to get fresh milk. Instead I used powdered milk as a substitute and hoped for the best. When the muffins came out, they were rock hard. I don't know why I didn't abandon the idea after that, but still persisted and brought them to church. Sure they were hard, but they still tasted good to me, and so I naively thought that was good enough, They're like crunchy cookies, I thought. 

Boys being boys of course, they made fun of my muffins and talked about how they were as hard as rocks. Although they were my friends and I knew it was good-natured ribbing, I still felt hurt. I felt like I had failed and had embarrassed myself in front of the people I most wanted to impress (ah, I never want to be a teen again). 

I never made that recipe again. And for that matter stopped baking completely for the next few years until a friend went gaga over blueberry pie and I made it for her when I realised it couldn't be found anywhere for purchase in Singapore. The second time I made the pie for some other friends, it was so goopy it collapsed, and I lamented my baking skills once more.

Flash forward to this week, when I was stretching in the gym after a run and looking at reddit as I cooled down. Someone had posted a photo of brownies he had made and someone else attached a link to the recipe. My first thought when I saw it was "Hah! Baking! Never going to do that again." and I looked at the recipe out of curiosity, and I realised it didn't look very hard at all and I already had half of the ingredients on the list. I realised I could actually make it, and that this might be one of the last times where I had the chance to be able to spontaneously bake anything on a weekday. 

And so when I went grocery shopping afterwards (a planned trip), I started gathering the items on the list. Things like soft brown sugar (never heard of this before this recipe), vanilla essence and baking powder. When I got home I realised I didn't even have a whisk, so I instead used a wooden spatula. The recipe called for piping out the dough and nutella, and I instead used my (very clean!) hands and the back of a spoon. 

When the baking was done, I anxiously pulled the tray out of the over and sliced into it. Then I popped it into my mouth, and it was good. I felt happy and relieved. And then I sliced it and distributed it into 3 containers, and told Jon to bring 2 containers to work the next day when he got home from work. Because in baking it, I had seen exactly how much sugar and butter went into it, and felt slightly sick at the thought of how unhealthy it was, and wanted to spread the unhealthiness around, hahaha.

So here is my tale of baking again, after several years.

News News

Just read a news report that a tailor, who runs a shop on a street parallel to the one I'm living on, was stabbed several times and robbed of $80 (!!!) just yesterday around noon. I remember hearing a lot of sirens around that time and wondered what was happening.

Reading about it just makes me feel really disappointed as a whole about the state of the world. 

A Rare Religious Post

After an emotionally trying week (wedding prep + MIL), stepping into church this week felt like a welcome breath of fresh air. For the past few months I've been dropping by Madison Avenue Baptist Church whenever Jon is unavailable on Sunday mornings (it is also conveniently a brisk 10 min walk from my current place), and have so far found the church extremely agreeable with my existing notions of Christianity (acceptance of LGBTQ+, political and social activism). The Rev in charge, Susan Sparks, typically delivers hilarious and heartfelt sermons that I love and enjoy, and today I was looking particularly forward to seeing her and listening to her sermon.

This week however, the Rev was nowhere to be seen. Instead it was the Associate Pastor Rev Hutto who was going to lead the entire service, and I felt the slightest twinge of disappointment. Either way, I was still happy to have made it to service this weekend. The sermon Rev Hutto delivered this week however, was beautiful and amazing, and very befitting of the whole political situation swirling around the presidential inauguration.

Rev Hutto started off by saying that he originally had another sermon planned, but had decided that he need to address the events over the last 48 hours: namely the inauguration, counter-protests, and most prominently, the Women's March. The scripture reading was Exodus 1:8 to 2:10, and Rev Hutto's sermon spoke about how biblical society, or even society at large today, constantly ignores, undervalues and underestimates women, but that God uses this underestimation to still carry out his plans. It was a beautiful sermon. And I'm the type that usually nods off during sermons (though admittedly that hasn't yet happened since I've started attending this church).

So here it is: my first religiously themed blogpost since I've started writing this thing.

A podcast of the sermon can be found here. Look for the sermon on 22nd Jan, 2017. 

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.