I was on the bus 8 today, riding home from town, when I pinched my black stockings, and was surprised to find a flood of dust rising from the fabric upon release from my fingers. There was something poetic about the gentle floating of dust, barely visible, and carried by gusts of air on a bus, swiveling, swirling out of my reach. The only way to catch dust, is when they decide to land on your clothes. It was rather uplifting to watch, even though it was just for a few moments.


Days before, I was on the same route home with Mr Kee. We were apprehensive about the ride, that was headed towards the bus garage, its final stop. I wondered if the lost and found section would still be opened. When we reached, I walked slightly ahead of Mr Kee, as if I have already been there before, strangely aware of my surroundings, whereas he trudged unwittingly behind.

The old man at the counter was helpful. We said we left something there last Friday. An i-pod. His i-pod, in black leather casing. The old man went "Hmmmm, I believe we do have one i-pod. Just let me check" and popped his head into the cupboards.

When he arrived back at the counter with an envelope, our hopes were so high that I felt like I was slightly afloat. Tearing the tape that sealed the enveloped off with shaking hands, and with a quick slide, he revealed a nasty grey looking tape-recorder look-alike, wrapped in leather casing, and asked: "No?"

The disappointment was like a tsunami wave crashing down on us from a height equivalent to the heavens, drowning us through the doors, and out of the office. We then proceeded to walk home to lick our wounds, and gorge ourselves with crisps. You really cannot blame an old man for not knowing what an i-pod looks like, can you?

Even more days before, I had been working so hard trying to look for houses to rent with my friends, and making up hours at work, that I have given in to exhaustion while riding on the bus, listening to his i-pod. I was shocked when the next time I opened my eyes, it was pitched black, and the bus had already made its turn into the garage.

The moment the bus stopped at a parking space in the garage, and the driver got out of his seat to opened the doors, I ran.


That day, I had gone to Borders to do my regular book-editing during lunch time, and was so bored that I picked a book to read. Not wanting to spend any additional money on buying books, I have been reading this one for coming three months already.


Waking up to find that it was almost time to get back to work, I tidied up, put on my coat, and rushed out of Borders. It was only when I was back at the staff office in my workplace, that I noticed that I have walked out with the book in my hand, un-purchased!!

Guilt rushed over me, and I did not have time to feel it. I had to get back to work.

We saw two blokes of the same race (not telling you which), picking up girls in a span of 12 hours.

One while we were in the tube, and the other, when we were on the bus.
"Call me ok?....
Ya, and maybe next time we'll meet here again, who knows?"


Mr Kee came up with something that I just couldn't help laughing:

"That's it. That's how it is....

Try ten and maybe one will talk to you.

Try hundred and maybe one will let you hold her hand.

Try a thousand and maybe one will let you touch her breasts.
And only her breasts.





And you find out that its only because she's fat and ugly.




And then you give up.




Cause you realise you are fat and ugly."


Time to fast track. And go on facebook guys!!!

Cuts the chase by half, and maybe less embarrassing.

After a whirlwind two weeks back in Singapore, to attend a very special wedding, I threw myself immediately back at work. Too immediately in fact. The fatigue from non-stop preparation and meet-ups back home, as well as jet-lag set in, and I almost fainted on my way home from work on the third day back in London.

Today's a lovely Sunday. One of the rare weekend that I was off from work. I am so so happy!

We went to Columbia Flower Market today. As usual, Mr Kee decided to stop-over at our favourite Bricklane for a quick bite. We were looking for a famous bagel shop without knowing exactly where it was, but I guess his radar must be quite strong. Within five minutes of getting off the bus, we found our noses in front of mountains of bagels!

And the queue was irresistible!!! All Singaporeans can recognise a genuine queue. And we know it when we can get satisfy our taste buds at the end of the line. What a looong line!



It curls from the till which is at the front of the shop (near the exit), and goes to where the kitchen is, and out again towards the exit.



SALT BEEF BAGELS..... (Mr Kee shouts: "Like luncheon meat but with the soft texture of beef.... <trembling in excitement>"










I had cream cheese bagel. Lovely... 2 stars for salty bagel... 5 stars for the novelty.
Mr Kee gives his Salty Beef bagel 5 out of 5 stars.

Last Friday, Mr Kee told me some news.

His company was retrenching. And they are not sure how many they were going to let off. We will only know it when Monday comes. Because my visa is tagged to his, if he loses his job, we will be sent packing back home. As if this wasn't the worst thing, our room-mate told us last month that he would be moving back to Singapore, and so the sound of having to afford the rent of a thousand over pounds came crashing into our heads, like a huge bronze bell ringing from ear to ear. 

We lived in fear for the next few days, licking our wounds, and feeling as if every worry was like a cut in our skin, exposed to this cold weather. With the impending financial pressure, the economic crisis looming in, we really weren't sure of our future here in this strange land.

For the last few weeks, I have made many of my friends wonder why I seldom came online. Perhaps Grace Lee is trying to vanish from the world. But really, I knew I was just hiding. Pushed by fear, I dove into endless digging, hunting the internet...

I tried hard to find a job, sending my resumes to every single online job-search website that I could find; walking the streets in the cold, wondering if I could find something to do, someplace to work; looked into pubs and restaurants; sitting hours in the library trying to calm my mind, while finding it hard to focus on the stories that I've read. Days I spent on end, filling up job application forms, again and again and again, with the same answers, my job history, my education and qualifications, and conjuring up cover letters.

I wandered into recruitment agencies, aimlessly, and a lady who shook my hand said: "Wow, your hands are cold."

And the thought that ran in my mind was: "Hell yeah, if you spent the whole morning walking the streets already, and no other agencies want my resume because they are flooded with too many CVs and too little jobs on hand. What do you think?"

I wanted to be rude. But I couldn't. I pulled my hand away, and apologised for being too cold for her heater-baked hands, her face flushed from the warmth of her cubicle.

And when I told her about my problems about finding a job or an agency that could help, she just smiled sympathetically, and told me to mail her my resume, which I knew would be lying dead in her computer amongst the thousands of many other corpses known as "references".

Back home, when I went online, I wanted to tell everyone that things are ok. But they are not.
And if I said they are not ok, then there is a whole barrage of well wishes, suggestions, or simply saying that in Singapore they are not doing good as well.

But I don't really want to listen to pity. I don't want their sympathy. And I don't want to listen to the comparisons. Doesn't mean that Singapore is not doing well too, will make me feel better. Doesn't mean that I don't have to work for now, I can relax. Nothing they said made me feel better and I knew it.

This long weekend, I faced my innermost devils.

They are... Lack of SELF-WORTH, PITY, LOST, and FEAR.

Mr Kee and I tried to joke about it.
"Perhaps we might end up going home for Christmas after all. Haha..." We told our friends.

We tried to analyse and rationalise it.
"It can't be you, you know. You belong to part of the business unit that is making profit." I told him.
"Is it because they think I'm Chinese so I don't speak good english?" I asked myself.

We practised giving Thanks.
"Lucky I did WBG, still had some residual income from there."

We doubted choosing to come here now.
"Back home we have lots of lobang here and there hor?" He said.

We thought about Plan B.
"Worse comes to worse, we can head back and do what we used to do."

But did we really want to?
Did I really want to go back to that life, of endless chasing the wheels? Buy a flat, get married, and settle down? I am not simply talking about a paycheck here. What I am talking about is admitting that I am a victim of circumstances.

Sunday night, we sat down and I looked at him straight into the eyes. What do we really want out of this experience? Do we really want to go back to where we came from? All the frustration, expectation and stress melted into tears as I spoke.

This is really just a trap. We are allowing ourselves to be cheated, to be fooled by our  circumstances. Doesn't mean that his friends who got retrenched back in Singapore, or anyone here over in London for that matter...

"NONE of them, is refering to you." I told him. It doesn't mean that we are any weaker or stronger than them, just different circumstances, different stories. Perhaps I really wanted myself to listen to these words.

I came here to explore all I can about possibilities. A new career, maybe. A new life, maybe. But above all, I know that it is for the better. Deep down, we both knew that turning back was not an option. I don't want to be a sales rep all my life, sitting in doctor's office wondering what it would have been like if I were to just persist on here.

"Any company who hires me, will be finding that they have the best employee they've ever had. I am efficient, highly skilled and trained, self-motivated and passionate. It is their loss for turning me down. And I know that I will have to keep moving forward and the right path will come. The right job will come."

He nodded. "Like Johnny Walker's ad. Just Keep Walking." In the rarity of his words, they truly boiled down to this one statement.

And we set forth to do something I would never have imagined to happen.
I took out my pen, grabbed a Macdonald's serviette on the table, and started writing the months from November 08, to Dec 2009. And wrote the word "JZ and Grace Wishlist" in bold.

There and then, we sat for about a good 30mins, uninterrupted from even our own worries, and just wrote down what we wished, for the best things in life to happen within the next one year.

After we have finished, I folded the piece of paper, and put it into my bag.

Monday came, and Monday went. That was our longest weekend.
22 people were retrenched, but he was not one of them. (Thank God!)
And Obama was elected president, the first black man to achieve this status. Another miracle to celebrate. This moment, when I'm finished penning down my thoughts, I knew had been one of peace, and enjoyment.

I am awaiting another weekend to come.

And yes!!!
After the teary good byes, and the huge party, and the binge-ing farewells, I am finally here with Chubby Hubby...

Saying cheese for the first time after more than 13 hrs of non-stop sitting position on the plane.

And almost two hours queuing at immigrations...




My first proper meal of the day. Jap curry rice. LARGE Bowl...

Rating... 2 out of 5 stars...

zzz..


His was a beef bowl.
To add extra rice....

FOC.

                   
                   They must think Asians are all pigs who eat a lot.

                                               But they are right!!! hahaha






After dinner, it is nice to have a walk, and we escape the sudden drizzle by walking into this indoor shopping centre. where they have outdoor music.

Dance anyone?
Lovely SEXtet!
heh heh...

Jo, no puns on the words pls!!! hahahha





Take picture = FOC!!!

















Mind you, this is the so-called morning "sun".

I am a computer idiot so I don't know how to adjust lighting on the pic, so u can see...

it is really GLOOM-SHROOM!

Somemore still got flies!!!


Mr Kee frantically waving them off before sucking in his tummy.

As of normal London standards...

I experience Gloomy, Sunny, Gloomy, Cloudy, Rainy, Cold, all in the same day.

I was very garang...! Choosing only a very light jacket to walk the streets with Mr Kee for dinner. But i REGRETTED like he**!!

Cos in that four hours out, it was as if four "elements" of London dripped over us, the sun, the clouds, the rain, the winds, brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
The sun is an unusual friend here, we welcome it, but it goes away always so soon...

Well... I will catch up on blogging my friends! I know you guys are missing it! Heh heh... And finally, as my sis has said before... I have all the time in the world...

Love,
grace

I was sending my friend off to work today at Ang Mo Kio hub, around lunch time.

At the taxi stand, a taxi was stopped halfway, blocking the way of oncoming traffic. The taxi uncle was apparently having a tug-o-war with his passenger.

I thought I caught a smile on his face. I thought he was having fun.

And the next moment, as if I was reading a cartoon strip, he started punching into his passenger's face!!!
I covered my mouth in shock and horror, while my friend was literally gasping for breath.
What was happening!!!

He punched a few more times, before he managed to drag the passenger out.

And he kicked into the passenger's face, twice.

I cried, picked up my phone and dialled 999.
It was so SCARY!!!!
Never have I experienced this before.

I got some horns blasting behind me because he was holding up the traffic. After getting off the call with the police, I came out of my car, and told the driver behind me, about what was happening. The kind uncle came out and tried to confront the taxi driver, and asked him to move his car then at least the traffic can flow.

But the taxi uncle turned his anger on him, and wanted to punch him too.

By then, there were more than 5 security guards on the scene.

Grudgingly, with other taxi uncles coming behind us, he decided to pull over his car, and then park it properly in front. My friend got off for work, and I left.

As I turned out of the taxi drop-off stand, I saw an ambulance coming, and immediately felt relived that the police had also notified the ambulance.
What happened after that, I really do not know.

Till now, I am still puzzled.

I pray for Jeff Allen to give me some answers.
O my god!!!

Thank you for telling me, that it is possible to realise your dreams at a young age.
                                                                             www.michaelphelps.com









Thank you for telling me that you were not there on the track to break the record, because you have already broken it.

It is for the FUN.


"I told you I was going to be World No. 1..." "and I did just that."




Thank you for telling me, that Discipline is the key to your success, from what time you get up in the morning, how many laps you swim, right down to how you take off your shoes before your meet, left foot first, right foot next, and your warm-up suit before you take off the stands.

(phelp's routine: http://sports.espn.go.com/espnmag/story?id=3508530)



Thank you for telling me, that because others have done so, you can do BETTER.




Thank you for telling me that, despite having a left shoe untied, goggles coming loose, you still get your gold.















Thank you for telling me that, after getting your Gold medal, the first thing you do, is to hug your mum and your sisters.
And you will be at the pool tomorrow again, training for your next meet.

Thank you for telling me, that you need vision, to break world records.





Thank you for telling me, that the best race, is the race against yourself.










My new religion makes me feel proud to be so alive, and to witness history in the making.

It is not everyday, that you watch moments of glory unfold before you, and marvel at the spirit in each and every one of us.

It has been more than a month since I wrote.

And I do realise how much I missed my "pen".

This morning I was inspired again to begin writing.

I was out having breakfast with my mum, sis, and brother-in-law. And my mum was at her usual best, telling us how difficult it was to raise us.
How I was difficult in particular, that she had to spend sleepless nights trying to explain to me about me being more grown-up already, and that my younger brother was very young, so she really had to take care of him more.
How she tried very hard to communicate with us, by making us all sleep with her when my dad was away on business, how she cared and nursed me when I was sick with fever.

And somehow, throughout all her conversation with us, I felt myself judging her!! I actually found myself saying:

"Is it:? O look how I turned out..."

And when she mentioned about communication, saying that she knew us all so well, because she slept with us till we were so much older, until we were all grown up, that this was the BEST form of communication between mother and child. Yadder yadder yadder....
The first thing that popped into my mind was:

"Yeah right... you really knew us meh? You hardly listened to us talk."

At this moment in my life, just before I moved on to another stage, I was glad I am there. I realised how much more work have to be done in forgiving my parents. Yes, logically I knew that it was ridiculous for me to feel any sort of contempt for my mother who had really tried her best shot at being our parent.

But I also realised that it was only because the child-mind in me, was the one rebelling, pointing the finger at her, and saying:

"Yes, you did your job. BUT You did not do your job well enough!!"

And to add to the joke, I realised that it was already too painful for my sister and brother-in-law to continue listening to what she said. They started talking to themselves, even while we were sitting on the same table. Throughout the entire "conversation", my mother was talking to herself!

Nobody was actually listening.
I was not really listening.
I was judging.
I was punishing her.
oooooo what fun!

Guilty of that, I suddenly thought, would I be like my mum when I grow older?
Talking to my children about how difficult it was to raise them up?
 
Worst of all, I feared, what if one day, my kids will have to listen to their grandma talking about us????
And how we should raise our kids? Rules rules rules....


Arrrrggghhhh...

I can't stand this. The more I thought about this, the more angry I realised I was. Feeling all this injustice and pain while my mother went on and on and on.

Fortunately when we left, she told us one last story that inspired this little insert.

When my sister was younger, she used to think that babies came out from mums belly-buttons. After all, it was the more apparent hole for exit.

Where did I used to think we all came out from?












The ear.








I remember that was the most devastating fact I learnt during my first trip to the Science Centre. There was a skeletal picture of a baby in its mother's womb.

Babies were borned out of the womb??
How was that possible???!!?!?!!?
There are no holes there!!!
Where is the point of exit?????

Hahahhahahaha!!!! And I insisted to my mum, that it was the ear!!!

It must be! For it was the biggest hole I imagined apart from our mouths!!



And for all that, I really understood how differently a child understands the truth.
How it was easy for a child to come to the wrong conclusions.
And why was the morning's conversation so uncomfortable for me.

The 5 year old Grace Lee could not understand. The 28 yr old does.
And she knows her mother had done her best.
When it comes to my turn, I can help my child understand, and I forgave myself for judging my mum, and also forgave her.

No wonder the pov masters always said, that it was a lifetime commitment to forgive your parents, every single day.

If you don't believe, try hanging out with your mum or dad.

And listen to them talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk...........................
What is your response to all that nagging, all those words, all the pain?


Have a good laugh!

I just finished reading a blog that has this word "Dreams" splattered all over it.

And I don't know why this person kept saying she is in search of her dreams. But never bothering to take a closer look at what has been pointing out to her for so long.

Are we all blind?

I guess I am. I've been wondering what my purpose is too, for so long, until I spoke to my friend Bez. She did a little reading for me, and gave me some visions.

I am tied by many horses running and leading me into my world right now, and I have to loosen the reins in order to travel the distance.

What an image to ponder upon.

Another draw of a card revealed, "You have been asking us what you should do, but it is us who has been waiting for you to choose!! You are the painter facing an empty canvas, you decide the theme, background, colours.

What you want in your life right now, you can get. You just have to decide." And the spotlights are upon me.

Bez later told me that maybe I was borned to not do just one thing, but maybe do many things.
Hence, the horses... And she can see that they perhaps represent different areas in my life.

I told Bez I am appalled, and yes, she told me I am in full charge of my life right now!!! Loosen the reins, and throw the fears aside, and follow the flow.

I love her!

And she is going to get married in August, our National Day, and I can't be in Sydney then. Maybe I can...

Maybe I will send an sms now to the universe for a free ticket to go! I've been to Sydney once when I was very young, and I don't mind travelling alone again.
Everytime when I travel, my search within deepens.

Am reading The Pilgrimage by Paulo Coelho now, and it is mind-blowing.

Such random thoughts on a Saturday afternoon.

 

My trip down to water heavens on a saturday morning was great!

I have always wanted to do this, and I thank my thai friend for giving me the opportunity to look touristy in my own country.

 

 

There were families everywhere.

 

 

 

Cable cars in the background.

 

 

 

I wished I was that young again to wade in the waters.

Suddenly, it dawned on me that now as an adult,

the only way you are allowed to act like a kid again is when you have your own kids.

 

 

Reflections, and a cloudy day.

Worse lighting to whip out my camera.

But I was really happy and relaxed.

I was just getting started. And I didn't want to stop!

I am so alive at this moment. Clicking away...

 

 

And more fun was revealed to me!

 

What happy moments!

Moment after moment!

Do you remember when you were so young?

 

 

 

Nothing else really mattered.

Even our....

 

 

 

And our....

 

 

 

Their toys are always so colourful.

It never moves, but the kids run around them as if they were alive. LIke gentle giants watching over them as they played.

We adults love gadgets that move around with us.

 

 

But nevertheless,

everyone has fun.

 

 

 

And the laughter and the squeals!

 

 

 

 

 

 

The only time when mum won't mind my wet pants is NOW.

hee hee hee...

 

 

 

We are floating on water!

 

What fun!

 

 

Daddy look at this!

Waiting for the water to come out and play!

 

 

 

Here it is!

YEAH!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are fire-fighters!!!

 

Our world only goes round.

Anyone can come aboard.

Anyone can go off.

We still have fun.

 

 

 

 

Dizzy dizzy....!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

And up and down...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mum, I want to stay here longer.

 

                         

 

 

My pony won't move.

 

Maybe Mr Giraffe would.

 

 

 

 

 

What a happy day!!!       

 

I am the Balloon, floating in the sky.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When so many said:" Wow! Look at the balloon up above!"

I am happy.

"Wow! Look at that car down below!!"

Look at those trees.

I am hiding sometimes, floating sometimes.

Catching the winds.

 

 

I wanted to feel what it is like to be in one of those cars or buses.

And so I sailed down a little lower.

"Do they feel trapped in their little machines?

Or are they as free as me?

Free to catch the winds..."

 

 

 

 

But I am not free.

I am bounded by my string, tied to earth. Bound by duty to ferry the next batch of humans to view what they have spent money for.

And I am bored.

I don't know why I exist.