七七，思妻妻

回想起唐朝著名诗人白居易，《长恨歌》里一小段。字字真真切切地形容我现在的心情。
“七月七日长生殿，夜半无人私语时。在天愿作比翼鸟，在地愿为连理枝。天长地久有时尽，此恨绵绵无绝期。”

我也心血来潮，写了一小段：
字字，忆奕奕，依依。
七七，思妻妻，凄凄。

《青玉案·元夕》

辛弃疾《青玉案·元夕》

东风夜放花千树，
更吹落，星如雨。
宝马雕车香满路。
凤箫声动，玉壶光转，
一夜鱼龙舞。

蛾儿雪柳黄金缕，
笑语盈盈暗香去。
众里寻他千百度，
蓦然回首，那人却在，
灯火阑珊处。

突然记得辛弃疾的这首诗，到百度看了看诗的解释。喜欢以下的见解：

这首词的意思是说：元宵佳节的晚上，仿佛一阵东风吹来，催开了树茂花繁，原来是焰火流光，在夜空中绽放千重繁华，又纷纷被风吹落，象一场不期而来的流星雨。
宝贵的名马，华丽的雕车，载着美丽的人儿驶过，香气弥漫了整条街。萧声如歌，明月皎洁，时光悄悄流转，整晚上花灯（鱼灯、龙灯）都在绽放光华，美不胜收。美人如花，仕女如云，她们一路上娇笑俏语，带着若有若无的幽香渐渐远去。可是，她们都不是我心底的那人。夜深了，我千百次寻找、等待的那一个人还没有出现。我的心充满疲惫和失落，不经意一回首，却发现她在那灯火寥落的地方静静地站着。
＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝
第一层意思：表明了感情路上的曲折和峰回路转，是爱情的一种存在方式。
第二层意思：作者借此自喻明志。表达自己和词中的女子一样高洁自持、孤芳自赏、娴静高雅。不肯与当时的世风和黑暗现实同流合污，宁可一个人寂寞站于灯火阑珊处，也不肯屈身降志，去和志向不同的当权者凑热闹。
第三层意思：它表达了人生的一种境界，或者是一种哲理，这种哲理或境界是人生中超越时间、空间的理解，具有永恒性和宇宙性。不会因岁月、际遇、环境的不同而磨灭或忘却。 它是爱情的境界，是治学的境界，是成事的境界，是做人的境界，是人生的境界

江 城 子

《江 城 子》 苏 轼 （字东坡）
乙卯正月二十夜记梦

十年生死两茫茫，不思量，自难忘。
千里孤坟，无处话凄凉。
纵使相逢应不识，尘满面，鬓如霜。
夜来幽梦忽还乡。小轩窗，正梳妆。
相顾无言，惟有泪千行。
料得年年肠断处：明月夜，短松冈。

真巧，苏东坡当年写这首诗时，是乙卯年正月。算了算，当年应该是1075年。九百年后的一天，1975年，我诞生了，也是乙卯年，也生在正月。（注：华人农历，每60年为一轮。如今年是辛卯年，60年后也是辛卯年）

除了这个引起我注意的巧合外，就是它的内容，字字痛彻心扉。这是一首苏东坡所写的悼亡词。作者结合自己十年来政治生涯中的不幸遭遇和无限感慨，形象地反映出对亡妻永难忘怀的真挚情感和深沉的忆念。
＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝
你走了，我时时刻刻都在想你。
有话说，但也还是无语问苍天。
如果有一天我们相见了，你应该认不得我了吧！
因为那时的我也该老了，白发苍苍的老头了吧！
是夜，梦回当年，如梦初醒，见你正在梳发，化妆。
几回，伤心欲绝，无言以对，唯我还在心酸，流泪。
每年的那一天，在你的世界里，月亮会是明亮的。
每天的每一秒，在我的世界里，思念会是永恒的。

Carefree Childhood:)

I've always liked music and envy those with good vocals and can sing really well. I know where I stand in this category. I cannot sing for nuts. And in those days when I was growing up, learning music was a luxury which my family couldn't afford. My mum did let me learn to draw when I was young. I guess she might have thought that, that's the next best thing she could do for me; to at least try to develop the "artistic" side of me (think the simple reason was that learning to draw in the community centre was cheap back then). But then again, it was money down the drain as I still cannot draw for nuts.

So I can't sing, I can't draw..sad right? And I was poor...so so sad right? And so how to satisfy my love for music? No money to buy cassette tapes, so how? Go rent lor. Rent cassette tapes? Where?! Unheard of now right?

Haha, cos in my era, each library had an audio/visual section, where you could rent cassette tapes to listen to, in one of those cubicles as well as shows to watch in the form of video tapes. I used to like to listen to classical music (why? anything wrong with that?) and watch movies, action packed movies such as "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade", "Rocky","Godfather" etc. But interestingly, my all-time favourite then was "The Sound of Music"! Haha shocked right? I have lost count of how many times I have watched this show.

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens. Brown paper packages, tied up with strings, these are a few of my favourite things"

"I am sixteen going on seventeen...."

"Doe a deer a female deer, ray a drop of golden sun, me a name I call myself, far a long long way to run. Sew a needle pulling thread. La a note to follow so. Tea, a drink with jam and bread, that will bring us back to do (oh oh oh). Do re mi fa so la tee.."

And so I used to go to Queenstown Library a lot, during my primary school days. I was quite independent back then and would go to the library by myself. Now that I recall, my dad and mum had never accompanied me to the library! (Dad was busy for obvious reasons and mum had to stay at home to sew to earn extra bucks)

I spent most of my free time in that old double storey building. Boring childhood, you might say. But to me, some of my happiest childhood days were spent there. I could borrow my favourite books, books on war/history, the Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys series. Books by Enid Blyton, Roald Dahl etc. I could listen to my favourite music and I could watch my favourite movies.

On top of that, especially on weekends, Mum would give me extra pocket money to buy snacks or treats for myself from shops around the library. (I guess she was glad that I was going to the library instead of wilding my time away playing at the void deck with kids from the neighbourhood). I still remember that one of my favourite snacks was this chicken burger from a confectionary near the library.

Life was simple but very fulfilling back then, when policeman was just starting to wear long pants, when we were still sucking "ice tube"/ "冰包” , when we were playing block catching and when we were using student bus stamps which allowed unlimited bus rides around Singapore.

Looking back, though the distance from my home in West Coast to Queenstown was quite far apart, I always enjoyed the bus rides to and back from the library; especially on my way back home, happily chomping away on my favourite chicken burger.. life was really really simple and carefree back then:)

梦醒了

又听到了一首很好听的歌。。《梦醒了》。

听到这段，我笑了，想起你的微笑：
我想起你描述梦想天堂的样子,
手指着远方画出一栋一栋房子,
你傻笑的表情又那么诚实,
所有的信任是从那一刻开始。

听到这段，我。。神伤。。：
你给我一个到那边天空的地址,
只因为太高摔得我血流不止,
带着伤口回到当初背叛的城市,
唯一收容我的却是自己的影子

听到这段，我多么希望我有选择：
想跟着你一辈子,
至少这样的世界没有现实,
想赖着你一辈子,
做你感情里最后一个天使.
如果梦醒时还在一起,
请容许我们相依为命,
绚烂也许一时,
平淡走完一世

听到这段，我想对你说，“如果你这样问我的话，我的答案是。。。（你知道的）”：
就怕梦醒时已分两地,
谁也挽不回这场分离,
爱恨可以不分,
责任可以不问,
天亮了我还是不是你的女人.

我多么希望我能从这恶梦醒来，再看看你甜睡的样子。

＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝
《梦醒了》 － 王菲版本

我想起你描述梦想天堂的样子,
手指着远方画出一栋一栋房子,
你傻笑的表情又那么诚实,
所有的信任是从那一刻开始,
你给我一个到那边天空的地址,
只因为太高摔得我血流不止,
带着伤口回到当初背叛的城市,
唯一收容我的却是自己的影子,
想跟着你一辈子,
至少这样的世界没有现实,
想赖着你一辈子,
做你感情里最后一个天使.
如果梦醒时还在一起,
请容许我们相依为命,
绚烂也许一时,
平淡走完一世,
是我选择你这样的男子,
就怕梦醒时已分两地,
谁也挽不回这场分离,
爱恨可以不分,
责任可以不问,
天亮了我还是不是你的女人.

Ocean Deep

Nothing beats a long quiet drive in my most beloved car; one that I am proud of, one that I worked really hard for.

And once in a while, the radio will play a beautiful song or 2 to surprise you. iPhone Soundhound application is on hand to recognise the song and voila.. here you are... Ocean Deep:)

Oh just realised that the lyrics is quite sad...
"Love can't you see I'm alone
Can't you give this fool a chance
A little love is all I ask - a little kindness
In the night
Please don't leave me behind
No - don't tell me love is blind
A little love is all I ask and that is all"

=============================
Ocean Deep by Cliff Richard

Love can't you see I'm alone
Can't you give this fool a chance
A little love is all I ask - a little kindness
In the night
Please don't leave me behind
No - don't tell me love is blind
A little love is all I ask and that is all

oh Love i've been searching so long
I've been searching high'n'low
A little love is all I ask - a little sadness
When you're gone
Maybe you need a friend
Only please don't let's pretend
A little love is all I ask and that is all

I wanna spread my wings - but I just can't fly
As a string of pearls and pretty girls go sailing by

Ocean Deep - I'm so afraid to show my feelings
I have sailed a million ceilings - in my -
Solitary Room
Ocean Deep - will I ever find a lover
Maybe she has found another
And as I cry myself to sleep
I know this love of mine I'll keep - Ocean Deep

Love can't you hear when I call
Can't you hear a word I say
A little love is all I ask
a little feeling When we touch
Why am I still alone?
I've got a heart without a home
A little love is all I ask - and that is all

I wanna spread my wings - but I just can't fly
As a string of pearls and pretty girls go sailing by

Ocean Deep - I'm so afraid to show my feelings
I have sailed a million ceilings - in my -
Solitary Room
Ocean Deep - will I ever find a lover
Maybe she has found another
And as I cry myself to sleep
I know this love of mine I'll keep - Ocean Deep

I'm so lonely lonely lonely...
maybe..

A Man's Requirements

Remember this beautiful poem "A Man's Requirements" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning? My very impression of this poem is that it must have been written by a man, but later realized that it was written by a woman... what an irony. Pardon me for not making the effort to read, understand and find out more about this poem.

Until one day.. I showed it to one of my friends who with the slightest ease, enlightened me and pointed out to me the "twist" and sarcasm presented in the very last stanza.

Always respect those who enjoy, appreciate and understand good poems.. may I present this poem to all who appreciates it:)

Saw this analysis posted by someone in the Internet: The ironic wit evident in the final stanza cannot just be dismissed, without any discussion whatsoever. It is the point of the poem. The love described is certainly beautiful but only made more effective by the sarcastic, playfully scornful comment in the final four lines.

A Man's Requirements
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I
Love me Sweet, with all thou art,
Feeling, thinking, seeing;
Love me in the lightest part,
Love me in full being.

II
Love me with thine open youth
In its frank surrender;
With the vowing of thy mouth,
With its silence tender.

III
Love me with thine azure eyes,
Made for earnest grantings;
Taking colour from the skies,
Can Heaven's truth be wanting?

IV
Love me with their lids, that fall
Snow-like at first meeting;
Love me with thine heart, that all
Neighbours then see beating.

V
Love me with thine hand stretched out
Freely -- open-minded:
Love me with thy loitering foot, --
Hearing one behind it.

VI
Love me with thy voice, that turns
Sudden faint above me;
Love me with thy blush that burns
When I murmur 'Love me!'

VII
Love me with thy thinking soul,
Break it to love-sighing;
Love me with thy thoughts that roll
On through living -- dying.

VIII
Love me in thy gorgeous airs,
When the world has crowned thee;
Love me, kneeling at thy prayers,
With the angels round thee.

IX
Love me pure, as muses do,
Up the woodlands shady:
Love me gaily, fast and true,
As a winsome lady.

X
Through all hopes that keep us brave,
Farther off or nigher,
Love me for the house and grave,
And for something higher.

XI
Thus, if thou wilt prove me, Dear,
Woman's love no fable,
I will love thee -- half a year --
As a man is able.

退一步天高地阔

今天同事让我看了以下这段：
≪须交有道之人，莫结无义之友。饮清静之茶，莫贪花色之酒。开方便之门，闲是非之口。静坐常思己过，闲谈莫论人非，能受苦乃为志士，肯吃亏不是痴人，敬君子方显有德，怕小人不算无能，退一步天高地阔，让三分心平气和，欲进步需思退步，若着手先虑放手，如得意不宜重往，凡做事应有余步。≫

我感触良多。简单的处事之道，应当时时提醒自己，常常自律己言与行。

知其不可为而为之

不知不可为而为之，愚人也；
知其不可为而不为，贤人也；
知其不可为而为之，圣人也。

一个人不知道一件事该不该做，而糊里糊涂地做了，是愚人。
一个人知道一件事是不该做的，而就不去做那件事，是贤人。
一个人明知道一件事是不该做的，但必须做而去做，是圣人。

我乃愚人，贤人也。
圣人？不敢当哟！

浪子心声

不知几时才能真正悟到“命里有时终需有，命里无时莫强求”的道理。

Sundays.. never the same again

Really miss those sundays when we go to the supermarket in the afternoon to buy ingredients for our dinner. Spending a few hours preparing dinner on a lazy sunday is simple fun and joy...Lost the passion for it now but hope to rekindle it one day...

When it comes to cooking, the most important ingredient is "the heart" to cook for your loved ones.. then whatever you cook will taste good no matter what:)

And I always remember every single meal that you'd cooked for me. This is one of them "爱心chicken porridge ” （you cooked it the way that I'd taught you, constantly stirring it with love) , "Chai Po Egg" and "Braised pork with onion and potatoes".


And your simple and super yummy salad:


And the most memorable meal that you'd cooked for me was when I visited you in Sydney while you were studying there. I had just touched down from Singapore and was very cold and hungry, You cooked a bowl of tomyum instant noodles for me. It is still the best tomyum noodles that I've eaten in my entire life... cos it warmed my heart instantly.

你快乐所以我快乐

你快乐所以我快乐

＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝
王菲《你快乐所以我快乐》

你眉头开了
所以我笑了
你眼睛红了
我的天灰了
啊 天晓得既然说
你快乐于是我快乐
玫瑰都开了
我还想怎么呢
求之不得求不得
天造地设一样的难得
喜怒和哀乐
有我来重蹈你覆辙
你头发湿了
所以我热了
你觉得累了
所以我睡了
天晓得
天晓得既然说
你快乐于是我快乐
玫瑰都开了
我还想怎么呢
求之不得求不得
天造地设一样的难得
喜怒和哀乐
有我来重蹈你覆辙
啦~~~~~~~
不管为什么心安理得
天晓得既然说
你快乐于是我快乐
玫瑰都开了
我还想怎么呢
求之不得求不得
天造地设一样的难得
喜怒和哀乐
有我来重蹈你覆辙

写一首歌

昨夜，驾车回家途中，听到了这首旋律幽美的歌。

想把所有烦恼都忘掉做不做得到

＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝
《写一首歌》顺子

月亮在你的眼睛太阳在我心
现在我唱这首歌 ohh 只为你
想把所有烦恼都忘掉做不做得到
你明白我心在燃烧因为你因为你
oh 为你

你心中的话我全都想听能不能相信
所有的梦里全都是你会不会停息
和你一起是否不会再放弃你的心里有没有秘密
我分不清不要在意只想为想为你写一首歌
写一首歌都是你 ooh
月亮在你的眼睛太阳在我心
现在我唱这首歌 oh 只为你
想把所有烦恼都忘掉做不做得到
你明白我心在燃烧因为你因为你
为你为你 ooh

oh, love's in the air it's everywhere
everyone can see everyone can feel
that love's in the air
it doesn't matter where
everyone agrees love is all we need

when the moon falls in your eyes
i know the sun has set
the fire still burns within me
since the day we met
i know my heaven would be so complete
you could make it real
i won't let this chance go by i can see,
i can feel you
when the moon falls in your eyes
i know the sun has set
the fire still burns within me, within me

月亮在你的眼睛太阳在我的心
现在我唱这首歌只为你

Lil' Sister's Wedding

Hi Dear,

Sunday was a special day for all of us. On that day, we witnessed the union of our lil' sister Huifang and Weihao as husband and wife. It was a joyous day and everything went on smoothly.

Was just reading through Huibin's blog. She extracted part of your blog written on 29 June 2009. It contained your well wishes for Huifang. It has all come true, my dear. I can imagine seeing your familiar hearty smile:)

**Fang**
Later in the evening we had a chat with Fang when she came home. It has been quite a long time since we had a good (read 'serious') chat with her. We talked mostly of her work ( bitchy bosses and management) and her relationship ( very nice bf...and...) I hoped we managed to give her some sound advice though I am most certain that what she needed more was a listening ear and an outlet to "vent".

She had been really busy with her work ( and dating?) and we had fewer chances of meeting up as compared to Lowie and I who have a more flexible schedule. But no matter what, she will always be our kid sister. I do hope we will be able to spend more time with her too. She been been through some difficult moments and we are happy that things are looking so much better for her now. We certainly hope that she will also find her marital happiness and settles down soon. That is certainly mum's and dad's biggest wish.

It will be wonderful if she can settle down in a year or two. Marriage is really a partnership and both parties must learn to compromise, forgive and forget. So easily said but so much more harder to achieve in real life. But I supposed everything will taste sweeter if we work hard for it.

Being the youngest child, and with all the stereotypes of the youngest child, she has certainly come a long way.

Most importantly, the family will always stay as one no matter what happens.

Here're some photos that I have taken the liberty to repost from Huibin's blog (Huibin, hope that you don't mind)


Your beloved family, Pa, Ma, BinBin and Xiaofang


Weihao & Huifang lighting the unity candle:)


Peili & Alden..赌神！哈哈！


Father, Mother & Me

So here're the photos of your most beloved family members. Like what you said "most importantly, the family will always stay as one no matter what happens."

小妹出嫁

慧琳呀！你疼爱的小妹慧芳明天就要出嫁了，我想你也和她一样的紧张吧！所谓的待嫁女儿心，你也还记得吧！


我们俩衷心地祝福慧芳与为浩白头到老，永结同心！

Emotion

Come home to me, darling
Don't you know there's nobody left in this world to hold me tight
Nobody left in this world to kiss goodnight
Goodnight, goodnight

===========================
Emotion by Destiny Child
It's over and done
but the heartache lives on inside
And who's the one you're clinging to
instead of me tonight?

And where are you now, now that I need you?
Tears on my pillow wherever you go
I'll cry me a river that leads to your ocean
You never see me fall apart

In the words of a broken heart
it's just emotion taking me over
Caught up in sorrow
lost in the song
but if you don't come back
Come home to me, darling
don't you know there's nobody left in this world to hold me tight
nobody left in this world to kiss goodnight
Goodnight, goodnight

I'm there at your side,
I'm part of all the things you are
But you've got a part of someone else
You've got to find your shining star

And where are you now, now that I need you?
Tears on my pillow wherever you go
I'll cry me a river that leads to your ocean
You never see me fall apart

In the words of a broken heart
it's just emotion taking me over
Caught up in sorrow
lost in the song
but if you don't come back
Come home to me, darling
don't you know there's nobody left in this world tohold me tight
nobody left in this world to kiss goodnight
Goodnight, goodnight

And where are you now, now that I need you?
Tears on my pillow wherever you go
I'll cry me a river that leads to your ocean
You never see me fall apart

In the words of a broken heart
it's just emotion taking me over
Caught up in sorrow
lost in the song
but if you don't come back
Come home to me, darling
don't you know there's nobody left in this world tohold me tight
nobody left in this world to kiss goodnight
Goodnight, goodnight

Healthy Living

Sigh, got my health check-up report this afternoon. Cholesterol on high side, 246. Got to do something about it.

1.) Exercise more
- Came back home; swam for 10 laps. Water is freaking cold, but worth it. Feel refreshed.



2.) Eat Healthy
- Bought apples, bananas for breakfast and lunch tomorrow. (apples?! no choice)


- Already prepared the main ingredient for my pasta tomorrow: Plum sauce, chilli chicken breast strips with onion and garlic. Taste Good!
- Wake up early to stir fry the chicken breast strips with pasta.

3.) Sleep early
Gonna sleep by 11.30pm.

Hope I can persevere.. let's see..

端午节，吃粽子

农历五月初五，阳历六月初六。五五六六吃粽子！端午节快乐！

A Good Read #2: What the Modern Woman Wants

Another good article, another first prize in the Commonwealth Essay Competition.. both young ladies have done Singapore proud:)

By AMANDA CHONG WEI-ZHEN

RAFFLES GIRL’S SECONDARY SCHOOL
SINGAPORE

FIRST PRIZE, CLASS A
IN THE 2004 COMMONWEALTH ESSAY COMPETITION

WHAT THE MODERN WOMAN WANTS

The old woman sat in the backseat of the magenta convertible as it careened down the highway, clutching tightly to the plastic bag on her lap, afraid it may be kidnapped by the wind. She was not used to such speed, with trembling hands she pulled the seatbelt tighter but was careful not to touch the patent leather seats with her callused fingers, her daughter had warned her not to dirty it, 'Fingerprints show very clearly on white, Ma.'

Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek silver mobile phone using big words the old woman could barely understand. 'Finance', 'Liquidation' 'Assets' 'Investments'... Her voice was crisp and important and had an unfamiliar lilt to it. Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those foreign girls on television. She was speaking in an American accent. The old lady clucked her tongue in disapproval.

'I absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!' Her daughter exclaimed agitatedly as she stepped on the accelerator; her perfectly manicured fingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation.

'I can't DEAL with this anymore!' she yelled as she clicked the phone shut and hurled it angrily toward the backseat. The mobile phone hit the old woman on the forehead and nestled soundlessly into her lap. She calmly picked it up and handed it to her daughter.

'Sorry, Ma,' she said, losing the American pretence and switching to Mandarin. 'I have a big client in America. There have been a lot of problems.' The old lady nodded knowingly. Her daughter was big and important. Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view window, wondering what she was thinking.

Her mother's wrinkled countenance always carried the same cryptic look. The phone began to ring again, an artificially cheerful digital tune, which broke the awkward silence.

'Hello, Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine.' Elaine. The old woman cringed. I didn't name her Elaine. She remembered her daughter telling her, how an English name was very important for 'networking', Chinese ones being easily forgotten.

'Oh no, I can't see you for lunch today. I have to take the ancient relic to the temple for her weird daily prayer ritual.' Ancient Relic. The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to her. Her daughter always assumed that her mother's silence meant she did not comprehend.

'Yes, I know! My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!' The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bag in defence.

The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard. It looked almost garish next to the dull sheen of the ageing temple's roof. The old woman got out of the back seat, and made her unhurried way to the main hall. Her daughter stepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos and reapplied her lipstick as she made her brisk way to her mother's side.

'Ma, I'll wait outside. I have an important phone call to make,' she said, not bothering to hide her disgust at the pungent fumes of incense. The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick, she knelt down solemnly and whispered her now familiar daily prayer to the Gods. Thank you God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these years. Everything I prayed for, you have given her. She has everything a young woman in this world could possibly want. She has a big house with a swimming pool, a maid to help her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook. Her love life has been blessed; she is engaged to a rich and handsome angmoh man. Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen to what she says. She lives the perfect life. You have given her everything except happiness. I ask that the gods be merciful to her even if she has lost her roots while reaping the harvest of success. What you see is not true -she is a filial daughter to me. She gives me a room in her big house and provides well for me. She is rude to me only because I affect her happiness. A young woman does not want to be hindered by her old mother. It is my fault. The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in her eyes. Finally, with her head bowed in reverence she planted the half-burnt joss stick into an urn of smouldering ashes. She bowed once more. The old woman had been praying for her daughter for thirty-two years. When her stomach was round like a melon, she came to the temple and prayed that it was a son.

Then the time was ripe and the baby slipped out of her womb, bawling and adorable with fat thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably, a girl. Her husband had kicked and punched her for producing a useless baby who could not work or carry the family name. Still, the woman returned to the temple with her new-born girl tied to her waist in a sarong and prayed that her daughter would grow up and have everything she ever wanted. Her husband left her and she prayed that her daughter would never have to depend on a man. She prayed every day that her daughter would be a great woman, the woman that she, meek and uneducated, could never become. A woman with nengkan; the ability to do anything she set her mind to A woman who commanded respect in the hearts of men. When she opened her mouth to speak, precious pearls would fall out and men would listen.

She will not be like me, the woman prayed as she watched her daughter grow up and drift away from her, speaking a language she scarcely understood. She watched her daughter transform from a quiet girl, to one who openly defied her, calling her laotu; old-fashioned. She wanted her mother to be 'modern', a word so new there was no Chinese word for it. Now her daughter was too clever for her and the old woman wondered why she had prayed like that.

The gods had been faithful to her persistent prayer, but the wealth and success that poured forth so richly had buried the girl's roots and now she stood, faceless, with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors by only a string of origami banknotes. Her daughter had forgotten her mother's values. Her wants were so ephemeral; that of a modern woman. Power, Wealth, access to the best fashion boutiques, and yet her daughter had not found true happiness.

The old woman knew that you could find happiness with much less. When her daughter left the earth everything. She had would count for nothing. People would look to her legacy and say that she was a great woman, but she would be forgotten once the wind blows over, like the ashes of burnt paper convertibles and mansions.

The old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes and prayers for her daughter; now she had only one want: That her daughter be happy. She looked out of the temple gate. She saw her daughter speaking on the phone, her brow furrowed with anger and worry. Being at the top is not good, the woman thought, there is only one way to go from there -down.

The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and spread out a packet of bee hoon in front of the altar. Her daughter often mocked her for worshipping porcelain Gods. How could she pray to them so faithfully and expect pieces of ceramic to fly to her aid? But her daughter had her own gods too, idols of wealth, success and power that she was enslaved to and worshipped every day of her life. Every day was a quest for the idols, and the idols she worshipped counted for nothing in eternity. All the wants her daughter had would slowly suck the life out of her and leave her, an empty soulless shell at the altar. The old lady watched her joss tick. The dull heat had left a teetering grey stem that was on the danger of collapsing. Modern woman nowadays, the old lady sighed in resignation, as she bowed to the east one final time to end her ritual. Modern woman nowadays want so much that they lose their souls and wonder why they cannot find it.

Her joss stick disintegrated into a soft grey powder. She met her daughter outside the temple, the same look of worry and frustration was etched on her daughter's face. An empty expression, as if she was ploughing through the soil of her wants looking for the one thing that would sow the seeds of happiness. They climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove along the highway,
this time not as fast as she had done before.

'Ma,' Bee Choo finally said. 'I don't know how to put this. Mark and I have been talking about it and we plan to move out of the big house. The property market is good now, and we managed to get a buyer willing to pay seven million for it. We decided we'd prefer a cosier penthouse apartment instead. We found a perfect one in Orchard Road . Once we move in to our apartment we plan to get rid of the maid, so we can have more space to ourselves...'

The old woman nodded knowingly. Bee Choo swallowed hard. 'We'd get someone to come in to do the housework and we can eat out-but once the maid is gone, there won't be anyone to look after you. You will be awfully lonely at home and, besides that, the apartment is rather small. There won't be space. We thought about it for a long time, and we decided the best thing for you is if you moved to a Home. There's one near Hougang -it's a Christian home, a very nice one.

The old woman did not raise an eyebrow. 'I've been there, the matron is willing to take you in. It's beautiful with gardens and lots of old people to keep you company! I hardly have time for you, you'd be happier there.' 'You'd be happier there, really.' Her daughter repeated as if to affirm herself.

This time the old woman had no plastic bag of food offerings to cling tightly to; she bit her lip and fastened her seat belt, as if it would protect her from a daughter who did not want her anymore. She sunk deep into the leather seat, letting her shoulders sag, and her fingers trace the white seat.

'Ma?' her daughter asked, searching the rear view window for her mother. 'Is everything okay?'

What had to be done, had to be done. 'Yes,' she said firmly, louder than she intended, 'if it will make you happy,' she added more quietly.

'It's for you, Ma! You'll be happier there. You can move there tomorrow, I already got the maid to pack your things.' Elaine said triumphantly, mentally ticking yet another item off her agenda.

'I knew everything would be fine.' Elaine smiled widely; she felt liberated. Perhaps getting rid of her mother would make her happier. She had thought about it. It seemed the only hindrance in her pursuit of happiness. She was happy now. She had everything a modern woman ever wanted; Money, Status, Career, Love, Power and now, Freedom, without her mother and her old-fashioned ways to weigh her down... Yes, she was free.

Her phone buzzed urgently, she picked it up and read the message, still beaming from ear to ear. 'Stocks 10% increase!' Yes, things were definitely beginning to look up for her... And while searching for the meaning of life in the luminance of her hand phone screen, the old woman in the backseat became invisible, and she did not see the tears.

A Good Read#1: Unlikely Friends

When I first read this article, I was impressed by its quality as well as its originality. Here you go:

By CHEW CHIA SHAO WEI

RAFFLES GIRL’S SECONDARY SCHOOL
SINGAPORE

FIRST PRIZE, CLASS A
IN THE 2009 COMMONWEALTH ESSAY COMPETITION

UNLIKELY FRIENDS

There was something vaguely sad about the rock. It was as old as it
looked, standing weathered and lonely amidst the stretch of sand,
and its thoughts were quiet as it listened to the waves.

The wide unconquerable sea touched the edges of the land like a
curious animal in the way it rolled forward eagerly onto the shore.
It left the land unwillingly, pulling as it went, grasping for what it
could. The sand in the shallow water swirled.

The sea was no stranger to the rock on the beach. The sea came
often to the rock, rushing up wetly against its warm grey, and
always as it swept away it took an infinitesimal part of the rock with
it. The rock had known the waves for a long time, and learned it
was in is nature to erode.

One day, the sunlight on the rock was interrupted by a brief
darkness in the blurred shape of a bird. The rock, interested,
observed the bird winging its way uncertainly about the sky, then
landing, presently, on the very rock that wondered about it.

“Where am I?” said the bird, largely to itself, as it gripped the
surface of the dark grey rock with its feet and peered out at the
sea.

“What are you?” countered the rock.

“I am a bird,” said the bird in surprise.

“You are a rather rude sort of bird,” the rock pointed our calmly. “I
was enjoying the sun when you came and blocked some of it from
me.”

Birds exist for a very short while in comparison to rocks, and have
less time to develop the exceptional serenity that rocks possess.
The bird hopped from one foot to another, flapping its white
wings in annoyance.

“You are a big, stupid rock!” the bird cried, its beak clicking
irately. “Funny you should feel so important, when one of these
days you will have been reduced by the sea to a tiny grain of
sand!”

“Yes,” agreed the rock, surprising the bird yet again, “I shall feel
rather sad when that day comes.”

“Wait, no – you are confusing me – we are in the middle of an
argument!”

“I made a comment, and you responded rather explosively, after
which I shared with you a private thought in concurrence with
something you had said. That was not an argument at all.”

The bird paused mid-hop, disgruntled. “Well, you are a very well-
spoken rock,” it conceded, “and not at all stupid; I’m sorry.”

The rock hummed peaceably in response and returned to its own
thoughts. The bird, feeling wholly ignored, allowed itself to settle
down on its newfound perch, and examined mentally the
conversation that had just taken place.

Some time passed before the bird spoke again, hesitantly, as if
now remembering its manners and unwilling to intrude upon the
rock again.

“Rock, will you truly end up one day as nothing more than a grain
of sand?”

“I expect so,” the rock rumbled. “The sea works at me constantly,
you know.”

“Is that awfully sad?” asked the passionate bird, who, while given
to tempers, was intrinsically kind hearted.

“Only to those who care,” the rock admitted, “only to me.”

The bird was deeply moved by this, by the loneliness of the rock
and the seeming inevitability of its fate. The bird considered the
situation, and felt it must do something to aid the rock. Although
their acquaintance had gotten off to a bad start, the bird found it
rather liked the warm, rough rock, and was unwilling to leave it
alone to the hunger of the sea.

“I care,” volunteered the bird, “I will do something to help you,
rock, if you will let me.”

“No,” said the rock, laughing in a way that did not mock the bird.
“Don’t waste you time.” But the bird had found a cause.

“I am your friend now, rock,” it said, and the rock was touched.

“You are just a bird,” the rock said, “and you will be able to do
nothing.”

The bird did not disagree. “I will try.”

Over the next few days, the bird tried a variety of ways to get the
rock out of harm’s way. It started with simple pushing, which had
proved futile, and progressed to increasingly creative ideas. On
the eighth day, the bird had looped several lengths of seaweed
around its friend, in the hopes of being able to pull it further up
the shore.

The rock had never observed with much significance the passing
of the days, and entire years blurred in its long memory, but this
had been a week that would stand out forever. The frustration, the
laughter, and the gratitude that the rock had experienced along
with the bird would be preserved as colour images amidst a wash
of sepia recollections.

The time had come, however, to begin to dissuade the bird of its
altruistic notions, lest it exhaust itself with the efforts of the fruitless
undertaking.

Bird was picking the rope of seaweed up in its mouth for the
seventh time that day when the rock addressed it.

“I do thank you for your efforts,” it began, “but I am beginning to
feel that this was a hopeless enterprise. I know you have expended
much energy over it, and it has not gone unappreciated, but
perhaps we must stop here.”

The bird dropped the end of the seaweed and made to protest,
but the rock would not allow it.

“You have been a faithful friend, but it seems that here I am and
here I will remain. The sea works slowly, and I have much time left
yet. One day, I will be sand on the beach, but the idea does not
bother me so much now.”

The rock did not add that through getting to know the bird, it had
realized exactly how much more ephemeral was the life of the bird,
and begun to feel selfish for being unsatisfied with the idea of
eventually ending up a small grain of sand.

“Let us abandon this pursuit, and instead look to happier things,”
the rock ended, hoping to mollify the bird. In truth, it was unsure
that the bird, now robbed of his cause, would stick around for
much longer, and the thought made it feel a shiver of
unhappiness.

The bird, wordlessly, began the task of unwrapping the seaweed it
had covered the rock in. There was resignation in its wingtips.
When it had finished, it glanced at the rock with which it had spent
eight sun-drenched days, then flapped slowly into the distant sky.

The rock watched it go.

The beach was blanketed by night when the rock once again felt
the feet of the bird sharp against its surface.

“I am sticking around,” the bird told the rock, “so you won’t forget
me, even when you are just a grain of sand.”

The rock said nothing, but it was happy.

The years moved on, then, like they always had. The rock stayed in
the same place even as the world changed around the little beach,
and the bird, going off frequently on expeditions to see the world,
returned always to the rock it had met so long ago.

“Tell me a story,” the rock asked once, attention to the bird as it
landed lightly.

“But you are so old and wise, no story would interest you,” teased
the bird. It was older now, and it knew ever so much more about
the world.

The rock chuckled, and the bird complied. “I will tell you about the
strange things I saw the last time I flew past these cliffs…”

Sometimes, it was the gird that asked for the story.

“The earth was young once,” the rock would begin, in a vivid story
of the colours of the wind. And always, imperceptibly, the years
moved on-like they always had.

One morning, a long, long time from the day the bird and rock
had first met, the rock was abruptly aware of a different quality to
the day. There was something in the air, maybe, or something
about the sea, or the sand – the rock was uncertain, but something
was different and wrong. The colours felt wrong, for instance, the
sky felt green and the sand was turning white, and the sea when it
touched the rock felt hot and cold and hot again.

“Bird"

That was a strange thing for the rock to do, for it never spoke
aloud when it was alone. But it called out anyway, tentatively, “Bird…”

The word was snatched away by the wing, but it seemed to echo in
the dark beach. The rock was very still, and began to feel
something it had never before felt: fear. It spread slowly and coldly
like the pink sun rising softly over the horizon, and the rock found
that it knew that its friend the bird had died.

“How and why,” the rock murmured numbly to itself, to the sand,
to the sea. “How and why and how and why and why. Goodbye,
goodbye, oh, goodbye.” So saying, it slipped gently asleep.

The bird never returned, just as the rock never again expected it
to. The rock became silent once more, unused to conversation as
it had once been. Its thoughts were numerous but never aired
now, and frequently, it thought of its dearest friend, the bird.

As for the years, they moved on like they always had, and the
world changed around the rock, just like the world was wont to.

Centuries passed, and there was something vaguely sad about the
rock that was as old as it looked, standing weathered and lonely
amidst the stretch of sand. And as it listed to the waves, it thought
of the sun on its surface, and the bird-shaped shadow that fell just
so across the warmth, warmer than the sun itself.