some classics are worth listening to over and over and over again.



even if the music video is so old and cringe-worthy. but hey, Han geng!

it's a little disconcerting to have an almost-annual health scare or at least some problem that sees me visiting the hospital more than I'd like to.

there was the lump in my chest that had to be take out a few years back.

then there was the persistent nose-bleeding for days and the cancer tracker test

followed by the fracture of legends

and now, after a visit to the ENT, I've got to schedule a blood test and there's a visit with the neurologist next week. at that point, I just stared at Dr Mark and wondered if he needed to know about the current pressing headache or the palpitations from the day before.



my insurance company would be so proud of me. I need a hug. T-T

when you’re part of a big fat crazy -and I really mean psychopathic IMH style crazy- family, there’s barely a dull moment.

but no expects to be hit by a series of unfortunate events all over the extended family on all sides within 5 days.

the loss of a taxi license due to stupid acts

the loss of a good man to heart attack

the loss of freedom because the damn maid agency had its license suspended (maid for two months and counting. my evenings now revolve around the laundry and sweeping while my weekends are gone too)

the most dramatic moment being last night close to 10pm where I found myself in the porch of my grandaunt’s pitch dark house with my mom, my sister, Es, and Ade, trying to figure out why the old senile lady was MIA. and I don’t even mean senile in a bad way. the old one has been hit with dementia and is medically senile.

we went round in circles around the outside of the house in the dark and stupid Ade was freaking all of us out by saying she actually heard my grand aunt (her god grandma) call her and say she’d be down in a min. Uncle G and Aunt Joc were called to help think of solutions to find out where she was.

finally, we got the locksmith past 10pm and he started to help us break in. by then, I had time to walk home, shower, dump the laundry in the washer, and head back to my grand aunt’s. Aunt W, who was my grand aunt’s god daughter, had shown up too. by about 10.20pm, we broke into the house. the poor lock smith had bleeding fingers. I brought him to wash his hands and plastered him up while the rest of the family went to hunt the house.

at one point, we were bemoaning how the flashlights from our phones were eating our batteries as we were using them for the locksmith. Aunt W wondered how we were going to find our way around the house. I looked at her.

“are we really all that tired? we can switch on the lights once we’re in.”

there was a pause before tired laughter all around, all clearly drained by this side of the extended family.

thankfully we found the old one in her house quickly. called the ambulance. then avoided her because she was still downright nasty. my mom sent Es back to the wake because Es needed to be there. the man we had lost to heart attack was her father-in-law.

I stayed with Ade and Aunt W. I called my uncle and Aunt W called Aunt Joc to keep them posted. Aunt Joc even asked if she should come down to join us as support and if we wanted anything to eat as she would be coming from Centrepoint. But Aunt Joc stayed far from us so we told her to head home instead and we’d keep her updated. After that, Ade, Aunt W and I came up with theories as to how the old one was found in her current extremely unhygienic state of… well.. hygiene.

Mom came back and Uncle G soon arrived. then the ambulance came at about 11pm. Uncle G followed Aunt W to the hospital. Aunt W chased Ade home as Ade had to be at the church the next day at 7.45am to help with the final touches of the funeral.

by the time Mom, Ade, and I did what we could to keep the house secure and head home, it was almost 11.30 at night. Ade drove back and Mom and I walked. as we trudged upslope in the dead of the night, Mom thanked me for being there. I stared at her.

“That’s what ‘family’ is about, isn’t it? Aunt Joc… Aunt W… you’re all from different mothers… but you all still rallied around each other for Number One (that’s the old one’s nickname). Just like we were all together last night at the wake. We are family. It’s only natural, isn't it.”

there was something unspoken because while we knew our families weren’t perfect, at least we weren’t as torn or as dysfunctional as Number One’s own family whose own child can’t be bothered with her.

 

we continued walking in silence after that. to conclude the night, my younger sister dropped a message in our sibling chatgroup.

“My dear siblings, with the prevalence of dementia in our family, I foresee a future of us having dementia too and possibly lying in our poop one day. but rest assured for as long as I’m alive, I will be there to pick you up from your poop (or at least get someone else to… if I remember to…) T-T”

“This is my family. I found it, all on my own. Is little, and broken, but still good. Ya. Still good.” - Lilo & Stitch (2002)

I’ve said this before and I’ll say this again. I adore my family, even the fun extended relatives who are willing to bring us Macs supper from Centrepoint. we’re not perfect. we’re big and it’s a little crazy. but we’re still good.

yea. still good. 

I've always liked Super Junior M. with vocals like Ryeowook and Kyuhyun, what's there not to like?

thing is, I've never really paid attention to the other members, namely Zhoumi and Henry even though they are the two Chinese members in the group. but with S.M. Ballad, I'm starting to sit up and take notice of Zhoumi. his voice. omg his voice.

prompted by this while talking about packing for my upcoming vacation. pure verbatim of copy and paste.

me: i'm so torn about bringing dongxi

friend: bring la. it hasn't stopped u b4

me: Oh Sehun has a toy that he has to hug to sleep. called Pinku Pinku. and he has two rubber duckies because "showering can be boring"

me: i don't want to be like an Oh Sehun!

friend:  really? u don't want to be like an Oh Sehun?

me: i want an Oh Sehun. not to be like him

friend: maybe your dongxi can attract his pinku pinku.

friend: it sounds so wrong when i typed it out

me: please when i typed out mine.. i was silently laughing and choking to myself

friend: bring la. it's not as if i've not seen u w dongxi

friend: still remember u torn about whether to stuff him into your longchamp bag cos he may not be able to breathe...

friend: ...

me: OMG. WE DO NOT TALK ABOUT THAT ANYMORE

i need help on so many levels.

been ODing on really old songs. and suddenly, they make me feel a little wistful.. a little gray.. a little sad.

that i've forgotten the feeling being connected to a song. that i haven't felt certain emotions for such a long time that lyrics which used to resonate with me now just leave me a little empty. or maybe not empty.. but more of a sense of lingering bittersweetness.

Don't wake up, won't wake up, can't wake up, no, don't wake me up - Mika's "By the Time"

there's a dull ache where certain emotions once were. but yet with it comes no regret. there's a strange unexplainable pang in missing how the lyrics made me feel once, for it to now be replaced with a little more understanding. where tender joy and longing once used to be now leaves behind a comforting sadness and acceptance.

It's plain to see that, baby, you're beautiful and it's nothing wrong with you. It's me, I'm a freak - Adam Lambert "What Do You Want From Me"


perhaps this is what it means to be 30 years old. it's not about what you do or say. it's not about how you look or dress. but it's about what words now mean to you. how songs you used to have on repeat are still on repeat after years, but with very very different meanings to you now.


I could get used to this. :)

was on the bus today when I overheard a little kid from an international school telling his friend that Samsung copied Apple. and because his friend was using a Samsung, it meant that his friend was a copycat.

then he proceeded to ask his Samsung using friend why he couldn't afford an Apple.

i was probably one comment away from an assault and child abuse charge.


the Samsung using kid is a little Korean boy that I usually see on the bus. he's the cutest little thing when he talks to his older sister and goes into full-aegyo mode. Apple boy was a tinier fella who kept talking about travelling. after a while, i turned my music up to block out his boasting.

i blame the kid's parents. i'm serious. i think my parents would have hit me if they heard me talking like that. but then again, there was no chance of me doing that. i never had branded stuff unless i saved up for it. but all my money was put to buying CDs and Glory Glory Man Utd. I carried a backpack that was a freebie from a petrol station from secondary school up to my second year in JC when I finally saved up enough money to get myself a deuter.

while people were drinking Starbucks weekly, it was a quarterly treat for me. but I don't know. it never really affected me back then. I couldn't be bothered about carrying a mambo-brand bag or wearing roxy slippers. $4.90 Trail slippers from army market were good enough.

probably why people think I'm a HDB-girl even though I grew up thinking that majority of Singaporeans stayed in landed, having seen landed property for most of my life, and going to my friends' private houses. and I'm thankful for that. that I never took anything for granted.


and may I never ever take anything for granted. and also that I won't ever hear little Apple boy boasting. seriously.

finally getting back on my feet and checking out schools for classes. there's so much I want to do. I want to sweat it out while pounding the gravel or punching the sandbag. I want to complete a barista course. and right now, there's nothing more I want than to spin and slide across the dance floor once more.

at an age where my friends are settling down and having kids, I just want to run away from the usual route that people walk. there's so much to learn. so much to see. so much still for me to do. skydiving in Switzerland. be more proficient in Spanish and Korean. pick up lyrical jazz. swing around in aerial yoga. perfect the spinning technique finally. be a certified barista. kiss a stranger in a club.. ok, scratch the last one. been there, done that, never again.

but there's so much I feel I need to do. I asked a friend earlier what it meant to be a 30-yo. How is a 30-yo supposed to act? go on dates and find that one to settle down? wear more serious clothes? do an eat-pray-love thing in Bali? visit all the avant garde hipster watering holes. hunt down industrial coffee joints?

I still want to go out and shop and watch movies alone. I want to wear my T-shirts and jeans/skirts. I want to lose my way in Korea and scour the night markets in Taiwan to eat, shop, and laugh. I want to enjoy 1-for-1 drinks at Wine Bar or have pancakes with beer at Overeasy. ok, I would totally hunt down coffee joints anywhere and everywhere. I mean, come on, it's coffee.

and at the end of the day, I want to dance. to remember what it means to lose all inhibitions and express myself through music and movement.

been listening to Gaga again, or at least her old songs. not a fan of her newer stuff but her older songs from Born This Way and earlier have always had an almost permanent place in my hearts. I love her beats and the occasional lyrics that make me pause to smile. stupid lines like "I live to be model thin" or "I'm gonna lace up my boots, throw on some leather and cruise down the the street that I love, in my fishnet gloves, I'm a sinner."

and she makes me want to dance all over again.

)


"some girls won't dance to the beat of the track." this one happens to be one of them. please, foot, please heal faster. please.

While I do not miss the giddy restless moments from being drunk, I miss the amazing freedom from the demons that haunt me during my sober moments.

Something's got to give.

Reminded by a friend that it will forever be futile. Hopefully a puppy will at least fit in my fat trex arms.

Been listening to my older CDs lately when I hit my Japanese songs. a familiar soothing voice started to take over my playlist and I remembered why I loved all the vocal training that I used to go through as a kid. all the voice projection and enunciation and how my choir teacher used to tell me that the voice is an incredible instrument for me to manipulate.. where I could choose to sing the way I spoke, or be operatically vocal... or even lend a Southern drawl to it.. all depending on the songs that we were singing.

simply because we were practising for a musical which was different from our usual performances.

when I was listening to my favorite Japanese male vocal, her words came back to me. Ken Hirai speaks so differently from the way he sings and it's simply beautiful.



strangely (or maybe not strangely) enough, I don't miss vocal training. I remember those days fondly but I'll never put myself through all that again.

dance has that same effect. different styles of dance command different expressions of engaging the audience. waltz... hip hop... latin... been there, done it.. and they are all different. how i'm reminded  to smile, seduce, or smirk depending on the style.

and I miss dance. oh goodness, I miss dance so much.

let's hope the check-up on 5 March will be the final one and I can return to the studio or gym to go back and wage war on the dance floor and sandbag again. *fingers crossed*

I really really love tumblr. I really do.