"So what did you do?"

"I wait for it to pass. There's not much I can do about it. It's like rain. You get caught in it along a shelterless stretch of road and you can only wait for the clouds to stop pissing."

"Use an umbrella"

"Umbrella's aren't a whole lot of good when it's a fucking thunderstorm."

Note to self

Dear Christine, 

Fernet and beer.

No go.

When in doubt, 

Go with dihydrogen monoxide.

Regards, 

Christine 

Working from home

"Going out? What's that?"
- me, when this pandemic blows over

12 days of working from home thus far and...I'm embracing this far more readily than I'd admit. Most glad about not having the Mental Load of Being Out. Also secretly pleased with social obligations dropping to an absolute zero (potentially a short term kind of secretly pleased; we'll see).

So many plans to finally execute. All the things to read, bake, fold, watch, make, and try.
Definitely living my best life as a homebody right now.

Snippets of mum

I told my mum that I met someone, he starts, told her that I like this person very much. She looks at me in that concerned way only mums do and asks, well does she like you too.

Leaning against the table, he takes a measured sip of wine, and stares at the liquid's surface for a second before chuckling to himself. I said I think so. Another chuckle. She smiles and she laughs a lot when she's with me, I like to think so, mum. 

He has a bashful grin when he turns. Without waiting for a response he continues, my mum smiles and all she says is "Be careful" before promptly going off to sleep. His body starts shaking as wheezing laughter punctuates his recounting of the tale. Be careful? Mum, what do you mean "Be careful"? He exaggeratedly mimics shaking a person awake. Mum?? Mum, don't sleep! Explain yourself!! Mummm!! He is promptly dismissed with a wave of her hand.

And she's there, chortling at the anecdote but more at him - facial expressions, gestures, comicality and all. He's right, she does smile and laugh a lot when she's with him.

Level up

You know you've achieved Regular status when the cheery teh tarik uncle at the hawker centre sees you and immediately rattles off your order. Either that or I'm really the sole depleter of their masala tea mix. 

Small thrills 😊

Toast set loyalties

New stall. Kaya toast set.
Give it a chance, my stomach implored.
So I did, against my better judgement of the crew obviously struggling with the ten orders before mine.

Cue, 10 minutes later: Hot tea all over hand, eggs rare, toast wrong.

Thank you for reaffirming that Yakun will always be my number one.

A Toast

To absent friends
lost loves
old gods

To stories
To dreams
To the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness

Heterochromia

That was the word that eluded my grasp the day I properly stared you in the eye. Gold-flecked blue eyes with hints of green that darken when the sun sets. You, my charmer with a swagger and that damn accent.

You with the uncertain smile during the impromptu visit to Bar Stories. You're quiet, you murmur, I can't tell if you like this place or hate it. Quiet's good, I reply, I like it. The drinks are great and the music could do with some tweaking but who's caring. I tried to find a place I thought you'd like, you beam, looking very pleased with yourself.

You're quite my opposite.

You try to paint conversation onto the cool walls of silence. Lulls discomfort you; I see it in the way your eyes flit from drink to bartender to ceiling to me, how your leg bounces sporadically, and your fingers play an occasional staccato on the bar top. Quickly the void of quietness overwhelms you and you turn to me with an apologetic grin. I'm all out of things to say Chris, you confess. I shrug, your company speaks for itself.

You'd take the livelier bar downstairs in a heartbeat; the one with people, chatter, and music spilling into the narrow streets surrounding it.

I found a place I know you'd like, I declare two drinks later. Then we're downstairs meandering through a convoluted maze of bodies, booze, smoke, and music. You fucking loved it.

Til now it's the one street name you remember and your voice warms when you recall it.

Work in progress

Am convinced that the heights of Being A Proper Adult will be reached when I last a day with smudge-free glasses.

Caffeine

Your various forms
of fragrant regret
(most recently,
matcha latte housed in
a future hideout)
is keeping me up
all. night.

Literally.

Flesh tiring just the slightest
but mind
on a rambling walk
building parallel thought universes
upon the foundation of
a mistake acknowledged.

For future reference,
when you're witless
in the face of tea lattes:
Drink only
the freshly brewed aroma.
Leave the poison
to the pros.

Aaaand cut.

Nothing like overestimating one's abilities and the resulting scraped knees to bring much anticipated activities to a screeching halt.

As per the Mothership, "I don't think you've ever hurt yourself this badly..." (left unsaid being "Since the time you cracked your skull while tripping over air")

Can I please outsource the kneecap recovery.

A breather

Despite the many forms of entertainment that this day provides, nothing brings me more contentment than a book. On a rainy day. In a quiet house. With salted caramel ice cream and pretzel sticks. And the rest of the weekend with nothing on the agenda. Sunday, stay this way a little longer.

Sub-universes

From the journals

New York doesn't sleep. One cannot go to New York and expect to sleep. The first three days were overwhelming. I dived straight into its wild beating heart and it took a while for me to comprehend which way I was going. Too much, too noisy, too chaotic. It's so vastly different from Singapore, and for the first time I understood Singapore's smallness. We read about it all the time in textbooks and newspaper articles; the cosmopolitan, odds-defying little red dot. Always an emphasis on the littleness. I never fully comprehended it until New York happened.

The subway runs 24/7 like the veins and arteries keeping the city moving, pulsing, streaming even at the oddest hour. Broadway plays whisk you away to Utah, to prohibition-era Chicago, to Africa. Grand Central with the light and shadows and constant movement hypnotises. Elsewhere, behind nondescript doors and in dirty shop houses, endorphins and alcohol run deep. It's an ironic culture of speakeasies being trendy; everyone loves a good secret even if everyone else already knows about it. Tucked in the cosy basements of Greenwich Village, renowned jazz musicians let their hair down and jam to an appreciative audience limited only by the size of the room and the generosity of the laid-back bouncer.

Everywhere you turn, there is a hive of activity. People who keep on keeping on. Food trucks setting up their fare; the smell of hotdogs and shwarma wafting in the breeze. Dog-walkers resisting the pull of five dogs , florists setting up, people queuing for coffee, Wall Streeters power-walking to salads and yoghurt, tourists obstructing the way for their photos, office workers with their arms full of goods from the place of wonder that is Trader Joe's after work.

And the subways, the subways are a world of their own. On the subways, teens slouch in their seats and chatter with little care, massive well-behaved dogs eye curious children warily, girls with amazing hairdos giggle among themselves, and a clan of Orthodox Jews in their distinctive outfits crowd into a carriage as quickly as they alight like an almost blur of black fabric and beards and Hebrew. The sartorial touch is evident in most carriages - the stark red lips, the perfectly drawn cat eye, the sleek fall coat, the blacker than black bowler hat sitting atop picture perfect coiffure, the Instagram hipster with glasses he was born to wear. And people read. They tote their books around and whip it out once the doors close. It's so easy to get lost in a book while on the subway, and even easier to fall for place so perfectly chaotic.

Headspace

My new favourite word. It feels more holistic than point of view or mentality, which suggests a certain rigidity. Headspace is that formless, fluid state of mind that fills the contextual vase against the backdrop of The Big Everything.

319/366 Sick day observations

1. Cough syrup still tastes like slow death sweetened with a tonne of sugar
2. To be exact, slow sweetened death that knocks me out and extends a 30 minute nap to a 120 minute nap one dose at a time 
3. Mini coughing-fit-induced abs have developed over two days and three nights
4. Taking an MC provides this handful of time...to do things like record sick day observations
5. Picking appropriate food to eat is a chore

318/366 Validating cookies

Validation is when the Mothership praises your home-made cookies and the Dad asks where you bought them. Mixing in a dose of smugness with the dose of childish pride (i.e. hahh!). ^^

275/366 Brunch by proxy and remote joy

After realising that F was on his merry way to Paris for a brunch with V this morning, I immediately extended the brunch invite to my sister and had them meet up. Turns out, E was in town for brunch too! And so we brunched in Paris by proxy and through the wonders of video-calls. How do I even begin to describe my elation when I connect people I love with other people I love?? Amazingly, it's already been three years since meeting E, V, and F. Catching up with them for a bit today fills me with so much joy (: With some good scheduling, and accommodation options, meeting V might happen soon too!

240/366 Wisdom from perspective

Listened to Lim Siong Guan give his thoughts on Christianity in the workplace last night. Despite my initial reluctance to attend (audience was mid-40s and above; mingling with aunties and uncles require a special kind of energy), I'm glad I turned up. Reminded of how much insight experience provides and the value of learning from those who have gone before you. So easy to get caught up in trying to understand things from a narrow perspective instead of taking the optimal option that is the 'wisdom of the ancients'. Many issues are about perspective, some better than others. (Note to self: Keep that in mind). That man is a titan and one heck of a civil servant. In an hour, he touched on anthropology, a country's success, the fate of empires (John Glubb), the duty of government, honour, changes in a cultural landscape, and reframed it in the Singaporean context (SG100), along with a brief lesson on Singapore's history - all with great aplomb. For all the cynicism I have about the government, there's no doubt that this guy's heart is definitely for the country.

197/366 #Adultgoals

Several weeks ago, I had the pleasure of attending a housewarming. The host was a charming, eloquent, and cultured fellow. Adorning his walls were art pieces procured from all over the world. In front of the state-of-the-art speakers, there was a varied music collection. His study had a designated corner for his music stand and instruments. He even designed the living room lights himself. There was no dinner - just a selection of cheese, chocolate, fruits, and wine.

Very enjoyable, absolutely delightful affair. What impressed me most was how conversation was the focus of the evening instead of food being the highlight and the conversation on the periphery. Rather easily overlooked distinction - 'Let's have dinner' vs 'Let's catch up'. #Adultgoals indeed; I'd love to do something similar ten years from now.

155/366 Practicing Farewells

I received an invitation for farewell drinks a couple of weeks back. What followed immediately after reading the invite was a hollowness that remained for the next hour. It's the feeling best described as free-falling with your heart lurching in your chest except that the adrenaline-fueled heart is not there but the lurching is amplified and your limbs feel curiously foreign. I later identified it as a (dramatic) physical manifestation of loss and momentary disorientation. That reaction caught this generally unsentimental person by surprise.

I remember having three emotional farewells in a span of five hours with three people I met under very different circumstances. Talk about not knowing one's limit. It was more than my heart could take. As the bus started up and pulled away from Marseille, I became that cliche staring out of the window with unfocused eyes welling up with unwilling tears while trying not to involve the unfortunate fella across the aisle in an awkward moment dance.

As much as practice makes perfect, I hope I don't get too many opportunities to do so.