Word

"Singapore [was] very lucky to have Mr Lee as [its] first Prime Minister - 
I think his contributions [...] tremendously outweigh criticism of him."
Mr Chiam See Tong

Source: Loh, C.K. (2015, March 28). No let-up in surge to pay respects. Today, pp. 2.

#RememberingLeeKuanYew

#NoYewNoUs

#NoYewNoUs

And so, at 3.18am on 23 March, Mr Lee Kuan Yew passed away after being hospitalised for 45 days.

While many of us quietly, and perhaps too, secretly, revere the man, there are others who are indignant about the volume of media coverage and ground sentiments about the passing of the first Prime Minister of the country.   Some took to social media to quibble about why they would not be that sad about Lee Kuan Yew's death, or that those who have suffered from f***ed up policies should be given the right to condemn the man.

And I was thinking, it's always easy to be critical of what someone does (or does not do).  Evidently, how objective can one man's view of the world be?  Do I agree with controversial policies including the graduate mother's scheme or media censorship?  Do I think that the people in the like of Francis Seow and Chia Thye Poh whom were relentlessly eliminated deserved such treatment?  No, and no.

I am not a LKY supporter.  But what I do know is that without Mr Lee Kuan Yew's vision, courage and perseverance, we most probably would not have transcended from third world to first in [less than] 50 years.  As Stefanie Sun puts it in her tribute on the local broadsheet, "...I do not see myself as a direct result of Mr Lee's exceptional accomplishments.  I do, however, look to the people whom I love the most as living testimonials of his legacy."  And I believe she speaks for many of us, well, at least for me.  My parents are not really educated.  Having only completed primary school education, life was hard for my family of five with my father as the sole breadwinner of the family.  And had it not been for meritocracy, fair education policies, and equality between gender and among races, I reckon I would probably be a dishwasher or a cashier.  Today, I am decently employed as a polytechnic lecturer.  Sure, I grouse about the cost of our HDB flats today (and for me, it's more than half a million dollars for a measly 93 square metres) among many other things, but I am thankful that home ownership was an acuity that took shape back in the 1960s.

Could someone else have done the same, or even better?  Perhaps, but I'm not sure because there is really no way of finding that out now, is there?

#RememberingLeeKuanYew #ThankYouMrLee

A week and a day

And it's totally weird but I did enjoy attending my wedding.  Hardly a fan, I reckon I can explain it now.

The thing about being Chinese, and planning a wedding is this: There are many Chinese wedding customs and practices that nobody is quite sure why they are there, or why they are carried out in a certain way, or why they are (even) necessary, but the elders in the family will insist that they are carried out anyway.  And sometimes, these people who may insist that such practices be carried out aren't even the parents, or even an older person!  It's like, suddenly, this is everybody's "big day" (Oh, and don't get me started on the offense I took with the terminology - big day).  And the same people are mad with you (I mean me) and at you  (me again) because you (I) didn't plan your (my) wedding to their convenience ("Sentosa?  Why so far?"  Enough said.).

According to Collins English Dictionary, a wedding is the act of marrying or the celebration of a marriage.  What I find most difficult to comprehend is the practice of inviting the whole kampong to a wedding reception, many of whom, I secretly suspect, may not even care to share the joy, just because it seems the right thing to do.  Annoyingly, the hospitality industry fully understand the concept of mian zi (面子) and capitalised on this wedding business opportunity (Does the phrase "a minimum of 25 to 30 tables" sound familiar to you?).

Believe me when I tell you the many baffled looks (and some others classified as looks of disbelief, seriously) I've gotten because there will not be any gate-crash games, or that I opted for one wedding dress (and not the usual two or three), or that all we really want is a small and intimate wedding celebration that we can remember, and heavens forbid the multiple march ins, yum sengs and photo montage!

Sure, I relented to some things to keep the parents, particularly my mum, happy.  At the end of the day, I'm glad we stuck to our guns too.  Bridezilla? Maybe, but I'm not a clueless 18-year-old who wishes for nothing less than a magical wedding.

Of course, whatever could go wrong did go wrong, somewhat.  Our schedule went into overrun in the morning; I looked like Superman's twin with the out-of-place-fringe under the veil (and nobody told me!); our wedding cake almost never came; M had a boo boo moment during the profession of vows;  I completely forgot my thank you speech during the lunch reception and I broke out in hives before lunch was over!

But we are so blessed with friends who readily offered their help, friends and family who flew in specially to attend our wedding celebration, and the heartfelt wishes and gifts (including air mailed gifts) from everyone.  We feel so loved.

Thank you Lord, for blessing us with a beautiful wedding, and countless memorable moments as we embark on our journey with You at the centre of our lives.

With this ring, I thee wed...

"I dreamed of a wedding of elaborate elegance,

A church filled with family and friends.

I asked him what kind of a wedding he wished for,

He said one that would make me his wife."

Ah Choo!

Even when SARS was at its scariest, most people were not compelled to don masks when they were unwell.  And so, this is why I couldn't help but wonder the effectiveness of this public campaign of getting people to sneeze into a piece of tissue in public places and not use it to chope seats at foodcourts during lunch hour, or wipe their mouths thereafter...

The C Word

As the whites and the blues compete neck-to-neck for the parliamentary seat at the Hougang by-election, which, again, does not fall short of airing dirty laundry in public or biting accusations about integrity and honesty, I cannot help but wonder what the game is about.

Short of being bias because of a childhood friendship, I was secretly hoping that my friend would win the seat this time around since I figured that at the end of the day, it should be about serving the residents, or is it not?

If campaigning is about achieving change, it means having a clear aim or purpose, knowing what change one wants to achieve and what is required to bring that change about.  Since last May, it was evident that many people are screaming for change.  Gandhi once said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world."  But is change all about having an alternative voice in parliament, or is about improving the quality of life of the-said residents in the constituency?  To be honest, I am confused.

Do you have the answer?

Evolution of a Singaporean Dream

Dreams, there are many.  But without a doubt, one ubiquitous Singaporean dream has got to be home ownership.  Once hailed as the epitome of any progressive young nation, it has today, or at least in the last two years, become the woe of many.  At its worst, netizens slammed a cabinet minister's comment about "buying HDB flat on $1K pay".

Where my parents paid some S$17,000 for a 2-bedroom flat in the late 70s, it is at least 10 times more today.  Gone also are the days where mortgages ranged between 10 to 20 years, a 30-year housing loan is the norm today.   If truth be told, a non sequitur would be the absence between a citizen and a PR prior to GE2011; there is no price difference, no priority distinction and no loan preference.

Where a family's first HDB flat is their springboard to a better quality of life, where upgrading to a bigger flat or even a private apartment is almost a given, today we are told we should live within our means and buy what our salaries can afford us (this, as well as the soon-to-be defunct theory of meritocracy).

With a five-room HDB flat priced at S$400K or more, it is of little wonder how we made it to become the world's number eight most expensive city to live in...in a country that is only 47 and a half years old.

Who's the Boss???

And just like the looming Facebook Timeline, the time has come (too early!) for one to be reminded that s/he is an active contributor to the nation's economic development.  As an occupational hazard, I would, at times, painstakingly remind (read: nag) students to be mindful not to waste resources as they're financed with tax payers' money, until one day, an unwitting comment...

"You have to pay taxes, right?  So, you are paying yourself to work!?"

Let.It.Go.

Quite honestly, I'm tired of rants in the like of I do not want Tin Pei Ling in Parliament or Petition to remove Tin Pei Ling as an MP on my Facebook news feed.

After all, its's been almost a week since the election on May 7.  And, people are still harping over You-Know-Who.  To date, the number of Likes of the former hate-page is at 50,539!

Seriously, does anyone think they will be able to change something with an online petition, on Facebook?  I reckon we're still that naive Singaporeans who do not know any better.  And in the words from the horse's mouth, "I think what's more important is that...now that I'm a Member of Parliament-elect for Marine Parade...I hope that I'll be given this opportunity within the next five years to prove myself through my actions, serving the residents of MacPherson."

Sure, I'll probably be able to show through CDA the implicit meaning(s) of texts and its correlation to the person, but I will not.  To me, it's still the case of he says, she says.

I may not have much affinity or animosity towards her but we really should just let it go...

Vote for Change?

Election fever!

And with an average of 20,000-strong rally crowd at almost every opposition  party's rally, I couldn't help but wonder if this were the impetus for the incumbent singing a, well, somewhat different song.  To many netizens, some (re)actions are too little, too late.

Me?  For one, I most definitely am put off by the superficial dangling of an S$80 million 'carrot'.  For another, I'm sure I am not the only one who was appalled by the 'vote wisely...or live and repent' threat by a highly revered public figure who has brought this little red dot to where we are thus far.  Every day, I would tell myself that I've had it with the human squeeze on the train or the near impossibility of owning my own apartment or car.  I have daily grouses of how the absence of a feeder bus service leaves me stranded at the bus stop every morning, how quickly the money in my wallet depletes or how meagre my salary is (believe me, it is!) despite being highly educated with a Master Degree, no less!

However, a rationale mind beckons for me to assess the bigger picture.  It is true some issues raised at the rallies of the opposition parties resonates with me, and possibly many, many fellow Singaporeans, and these are issues that are very, very real.  However, beyond having fun watching them calling each other names, using smear tactics and questioning the individual's integrity or sexual orientation, I couldn't help but wonder how many potential candidates actually want to serve the people and to be their voice.

Between absent-in-action and dubious agenda, which is the lesser evil?  Between personal grievances and national affairs, which is more important?

Will I vote for change?  Yes.  But I remind myself to vote wisely too.  Or maybe, I should practise drawing tortoises now...

iThoughts

Funnily, I was really disappointed when Darlene Zschech was the worship leader at church today. No, she's absolutely awesome, but I badly wanted something distinctively NCC, something Singaporean. Afterall, I'll be at Hillsong for at least the next five months.

And for the first time in a very long time, all I wanted was to go home right after lunch; no amount of distraction from my favourite stores were able to entice me to stay out a minute more. No doubt I'm a homebody, but definitely not a recluse. I love my Sunday outdoor routine: church, lunch, shopping. The proof? I actually hesitated, albeit even for a split second, when K asked if I wanted to take photos of his football team later in the afternoon. There you go...

Packing and leaving. Sure, it's nothing new by now, but it still takes some getting used to.

PS: 48 hours...

Reflection

Changi Coastal Road, 1925 hours

Random Lesson 101

Singapore skyline from the Marina Barrage

Trust me, I have absolutely no idea what barrage even means before this, or where or what Marina Barrage is. My initiation to this word was from an ad on the telly in the last days of 2008.

Do you?

Based on Civil Engineering terms, a barrage is an artificial obstruction in a water course to increase the depth of water, facilitate irrigation, etc. In other words, it is a construction to control the level of water, somewhat like a dam.

Oh! So, that's what a barrage is!

But do you know that there are 2 pronunciations to this word - (1) /bəˈrɑʒ [buh-rahzh] (esp. BrE) and (2) bär'ĭj [bahr-ij]?

Anyway, whatever the pronunciation, do make sure you bring along a tripod if you do not have a pair of really steady 1/15 hands (like me). That, or you can hold your breath really well.

[All images taken with Canon Ixus 50]

It will NEVER run out

Of the 3 stories today, the funniest and definitely most characteristical of human behaviour is Elijah and The Widow (1 Kings 17:8-16). The other 2 stories are Elisha and The Widow's Oil (2 Kings 4:1-7) and something about a borrowed axe. Ohhh, I remember now, it's The Floating Ax Head (2 Kings 6:1-7).

The impetus of this entry is not my zealousness to share what I'd learnt at church this morning (oops!), rather, it was the despondency brought about by the 7pm news on Channel U. As if the ongoing economic downturn has not struck enough fear in the country, the media has to reiterate the phrase 经济不景气 every other sentence (and no, I'm not exaggerating; just pay attention to the newscaster). And if there's an element of truth in the secular belief of the Law of Attraction, then one can only guess the magnitude of the damage that may be caused by the carelessness of the tongue.

Truly, I would be lying through my teeth if I claim that the thought of unemployment after graduation has never crossed my mind once. But I should know better than worry about this transient thought, for I know that my God will provide. (^_^)

Elijah and The Widow

Then the word of the LORD came to him, saying, “Arise, go to Zarephath, which belongs to Sidon, and dwell there. See, I have commanded a widow there to provide for you.” So he arose and went to Zarephath. And when he came to the gate of the city, indeed a widow was there gathering sticks. And he called to her and said, “Please bring me a little water in a cup, that I may drink.” And as she was going to get it, he called to her and said, “Please bring me a morsel of bread in your hand.”

So she said, “As the LORD your God lives, I do not have bread, only a handful of flour in a bin, and a little oil in a jar; and see, I am gathering a couple of sticks that I may go in and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die.”

And Elijah said to her, “Do not fear; go and do as you have said, but make me a small cake from it first, and bring it to me; and afterward make some for yourself and your son. For thus says the LORD God of Israel: ‘The bin of flour shall not be used up, nor shall the jar of oil run dry, until the day the LORD sends rain on the earth.’”

So she went away and did according to the word of Elijah; and she and he and her household ate for many days. The bin of flour was not used up, nor did the jar of oil run dry, according to the word of the LORD which He spoke by Elijah.

PS: If you're wondering about the funny bits in this story, I'll be glad to explain, if you ask.

Here and There

Writing at an hour way past my usual bedtime, you'll reckon there are things on my mind. Indeed, there are...

Sometimes I wish there are two of me, or maybe even more. How strange it is, the way it has dawned on me that I'll be away from home for a good almost half a year in 12 days. And though I am looking forward to my impending departure, I think I'm already missing home.

Oh yes, that indescribable feeling. A strange dilemma. Perhaps it's loneliness. For I miss the people here while I'm away, and the ones in Sydney while I'm home; the same way I miss those in Hong Kong terribly now.

And no, I don't suppose it's my propensity to not do as my heart desires. But attempting to debunk something which has already been established is futile. I long to (and have been so looking forward to) go on a road trip that has been planned for a while, yet I willingly gave it up just because I want to catch a glimpse of my little sister try on her first wedding dress.

Can I be here and there at the same time?

Hard to say I'm sorry

I'm often baffled how infrequent it was to hear "sorry" when I got stepped on, or bummed into on the streets (which happens more than very often, honestly!). And for the longest time, I thought it was me. Maybe I'm a klutz in more than one way; I reckon I may possess the most dangerous walking e-break in the history of mankind. But after countless "ohh..." and "ah!", I figured that perhaps it's just hard to say "I'm sorry".

On a lighter note, I fondly recall this from Taiwanese drama Meteor Garden: 如果道歉有用的话，还要警察干嘛？

Hee...

The good thing about a bad thing is like a consolation prize. So, I've had to drop out from a few dinner dates, forgo eating my beloved chips (that's calling out "eat me!"), consuming only warm plain water wherever I go ("...and no cold drinks, okay?" the doc stressed as I turned the door knob) and killed one tree too many with the mountain of tissue I'd used up.

But I sure am elated the scales registered 118 pounds... =P

Nose Replacement

I may not be the healthiest, but I don't remember being a sickly child. But now, after my third doctor's visit in less than a month, I'm beginning to think otherwise. Plagued by sinus symptoms since my childhood days, I thought I'd finally shaken off the annoying daily rhythm of wheezing and nose-blowing a few years ago. And of course, the swelling of my nose one size too big (think Jackie Chan), besides an uncanny resemblance to Rudolph.

Short of rolling the tissues and stuffing them into my congested nostrils, my worst fears were confirmed. *Dramatic Pause* I am ALLERGIC to the climate of the place I call home! The humidity in Singapore appears to be a bane to my ultra-sensitive nose. This probably explains why I can always pick up the slightest whiff from even 10 miles away.

And so, before I get a nose replacement (well, there's hip replacement, right?), I reckon I'll just have to pop pills and drip nose drops, or maybe this.

24

And I often wonder about time. It's like this: In a day, there are 24 hours. But how much of this is actually spent the way we want it? The last one year and a half witnessed the obstinance of yours truly doing what she'd fancied: travelling, and working leisurely, and studying. But retrospectively and seemingly, I have lived the year and a half of my life, well, wasted (not on my terms, of course). And time, lest the occasional nail-biting deadlines, was plentiful - a stark contrast to it being never enough just a few years back.

And as time goes by, I recount the days I'd just let it slip me by. Too many, alas, as I count the days left before I head 6,500km southeast again. Twenty-four...

And as strangely and ironically as the number seems to, perhaps remotely, signify any tinge of regret, I reckon I was also the happiest at 24.

A 牛 year muse

As the elders fumbled over how my cousin's almost pre-schooler should address me (I suggested the technically correct and easy to remember yi-yi - pinyin for 姨姨 - but was frowned upon) this afternoon, I found myself wondering if the little fella will remember me next year this time. To date, I don't think I know his full name or how old he is. The irony is, even my mum isn't exactly sure what his full name is...

The strange thing about my once-a-year visitation is how some relatives are so excited about the festival: nothing short of small chats to party poppers (no kidding!) to overfeeding guests with the ever-familiar CNY goodies. But today, I found myself somewhat strangely envious of that kind of enthusiasm for I totally dread the de rigueur my mum maintains for as long as I can remember.

And at the end of the 2-day holiday, despite being overstuffed and worn out, I still am in stupefaction of my 2-dollar ang-pow...