haato

Sometimes, following one’s heart feels like the most horrible thing to do.

Love, I hope thou art entertained by the tragicomedy that is me. Sigh.

WWW i seek you love

On a Friday morning not too long ago, I felt like I died and went to heaven. This particular heaven was Far East Flora’s refrigerated warehouse in Thompson Road. Fresh flowers of all types, colours and beauty filled the rooms, rows and rows of them… After an initial brainfreeze (hey, we were in a fridge!), we collected ourselves and the shopping begun! Irene was right, all a guy ever had to do to melt a girl’s heart is to bring her here and tell her to choose flowers to her heart’s desire. Forget the expensive bouquets with fancy wrappings, long-stemmed roses in plain plastic or brown corrugated cardboard are simple heart-stealers! Plus, they’re really cheap too! Later in the afternoon, production of the wedding favours went full swing - Huiling, Irene and I made 150 carrot (cup)cakes with Tiffany blue cream cheese icing! With red sugar hearts and flowers to fit Wendy’s wedding colour scheme, the yummy little beauties were almost too adorable to eat!

Wendy and William’s ROM was a riot of fun!

The next morning, as with all wonderful weddings, drama was aplenty. First, an early McDonald’s breakfast was woefully skipped as we were late! Okie, that’s beside the point, heh… then, with only one hour of setup time, it was a mad rush to decorate the place and pack the cupcakes into the mini white take-out boxes, complete with the Thank You sticker notes. The lush surroundings of Halia inspired the at home with junk and the precious decor which included Jo’s birdcages (complete with rust, bird shit and feathers), a sprouting little yam and mud-encrusted boots from Irene’s dad! The wooden deck floor was strewn with rose petals while jars of flowers and wedding favours lined the long dining tables. Huiling saved the day with her Tiffany ballpoint pen and the funny Justice of Peace made everyone laugh and the cupcake tower wobble with his wedding solemnization speech. The wedding setup was a hit with delighted guests and the constant stream of Botanical Garden visitors stopping by to snap photos or capture the wedding on their video cameras. Most importantly, the couple loved it! Wooo… I guess our motley crew of wedding decorators did good! Oh, did I say how much fun it all was? Hee…

love seeks the good of the beloved

Ah Tan and Ah Chan’s simple church wedding was a celebration steeped in tradition, meaning, love and beauty - the splendid sunny morning, the lunch tables strewn with rose petals, the chinese character for love which was embroidered on the back of the priest’s chasuble; the guests who each had their own “how I knew the bride/groom/couple” stories; Ah Tan’s beautiful gown with the gorgeous train; Ah Chan’s contented grin which never once left his face; Isaac, the very-determined little ring bearer; Patricia, the precocious flower girl often lost in a world of her own; the quiet happiness emanating from Ah Tan’s mom…

Fr. Simon’s wedding sermon had me in awe, especially when he reminded everyone that love is a decision of the will. The wedding had also coincided with the first day of Triduum in Advent, adding significance to the beginning of a lifetime’s journey in love for the celebrated couple.

Tansterrrrrrr!! My partner in crime of nearly ten years, sister high witch of sampat-ism, fellow unlicensed pig farmer and irreplaceable bosom buddy of clandestine adventures… I’m missing you loads already! Take good care, have tonnes of fun, feed Ah Chan well and don’t OD on nachos and burritos, okie? I’ll see you soon in summer with enough curry-flavoured Maggi Mee to last you till Christmas!! Till then, we heart Skype!!

and the boys grew up

As toAdie and Rose exchanged their marriage vows, I was widening my eyes in an attempt to not shed tears. Such depth of meaning in just a string of simple words. Marriage vows never fail to get to me… Heartiest congratulations to the new couple - Mr and Mrs Ang Peng Hoe!!

The last time we emceed together was Teacher’s Day in school back in 1998. Rashid was his usual confident self while I was pretty nervous from feeling super rusty. Pohf happily reassured Mrs Yong that she had never knew a moment when I had ran out of things to say. Great. Rashid’s golden wisecracks did not fail us that night. Reunited at Rose and toAdie’s wedding with wireless microphones, lame Live Earth comments and with less than an hour to sync our emceeing mojos before the dinner begun, we apparently did a great job! Woohoo… what a relief!

I’m a twit for true love. You could see it acknowledged in the eyes of Rose and toAdie’s family and relatives, their best friends and their wedding guests. Most beautifully, you can see its radiance on the celebrated couple’s faces. You don’t always notice it so significantly at weddings but when you do, your heart cannot help but feel like it contains the warmth of a thousand rising suns. A glowing joy that remains long after the bottles are emptied, the party lights dimmed out and tired friends sent home. It is indeed a blessing to be witness to such lovely people and moments…

Photo credit: Rashid’s Flickr!

whimsical offerings

It was a beautiful afternoon, one that reminded me of gorgeous summer ones in Aalen. Into the bookstore I went, leaving the warmth behind the glass doors and headed straight towards the fiction area. I stopped in front of the M row and scanned the shelves for Murakami. Aahh, here we go! I picked up the only copy of The Elephant Vanishes available and looked through the titles of the short stories inside. ‘On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning’* was the title of the story that Kit wanted me to read.

A sad story, don’t you think?
Yes, that’s it, that is what I should have said to her.

With those last lines, I closed the book and leaned against the bookshelf. A huge grin appeared on my face, and from ear to ear it widened, threatening to transform me into one of Jim Henson’s muppets. I spilled out onto Orchard Road among a sea of pedestrians, the grin still on my face but in more normal proportions. Crossing the road as the pedestrian traffic lights blinked 18, 17, 16… I thought of why I never saw or remembered how my 100% perfect guy looked like in my dreams (and how it did not matter at all, not knowing while dreaming). Then I am reminded of the movie Turn Left, Turn Right and that Polish poem* in it. Somewhere between recalling the name of the poet and Takeshi Kaneshiro, I got lost making up a fictitious story about a boy and a girl who trade favourite passages from books as declarations of love across a distance, before finally snapping back into reality as I avoided a near collision with a guy in front of me.

Like the movie and the poem, the story aches with the possibility of a fairytale, a hope embedded in hearts wreathed with loneliness, more than they would ever care to admit. On this busy pedestrian crossing, as strangers traded glances in the briefest of moments, one can picture a bunch of stray thought bubbles born of different owners with the same longing, taking flight in the cool breeze of a sun-drenched afternoon. Like orphaned helium balloons, higher and higher they climb till appearing no more than just speckles of grey among cotton candy clouds. That possibility to some, may be a mere fantasy, yet to many, it is most certainly worthy of belief.

*On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morningin The Elephant Vanishes, a collection of short stories by Haruki Murakami
and Love at First Sight,
a poem by Polish poet Wislawa Szymborska.

live another day, for me

I asked you if there was one question you could ask God, what would it be? You answered that you would ask Him, “Can I come home…? Like, now?”. Cool, I said, awkwardly, trying to find the humour in an answer that left me stunned. Then I felt a sadness I couldn’t explain as the weight of that answer sank in.

“What can you do?” she asked me,”There’s nothing you can do to change how a person feels about this. Can you give him the happiness or purpose he is seeking for? Can you fill whatever void he has? Short of talking to him, nothing, right?”. There is something about the matter-of-factness in the way she asked that question that reeks with helplessness, her voice strong yet apparent in hurt, somewhat echoing a reluctant surrender. I don’t know which one is easier, accepting the fact that I want to help but I can’t or that my help cannot change anything. Either way, it feels absolutely horrible. It makes me angry.

“Help him decide to help himself… I think God tries to thwart attempts by sending in people who care. Easier said than done, but you have to try, even if you know in the end, the decision is not yours to call.” Wise beyond her years, she offered some bittersweet advice anchored in reality.

I told you before that I know should you decide to end it all someday, I will not be able to stop you but for now I most certainly will not cease trying to influence your thoughts about it. You may or may not know it, but I am not the only one trying to do so.

harbinger of light

The sun shone bright and lovely today. A brief few hours amidst a week of gloom, rain, cold floor tiles and a nose that threatened mutiny; a good omen.

Today, I let go of all that remained.
No bonfire, no lingering… no big deal.
It feels wonderful.