A while ago, Mian recommended a Japanese film (Departures/Okuribito) to me, because she thought I'd like it like she did. She didn't elaborate much on the film, except for the fact that it won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film at the 2009 Oscars, so I went to google it myself. After realising that a large part of the film is on funerals, I avoided watching it.

I'm not good at dealing with departures and funerals scare me. I went for my uncle's service in Malacca a few years ago, but I ran away the night before the actual ceremony. I still have memories of hearing the nails being hammered into the coffin, my brother crying, thinking that we would never get to see her face again and the finality of reality setting in. I can deal with the memories, but I can't deal with reality.

I'm so tired of running away.

After some contemplation, I wanted to know what made this film worthy of an Academy Award, so I watched it anyway. The pace of the film is slow, so much so that I got distracted a couple of times. Because of that, however, there was a calm sense of strength underlying the development of the plot, flowing serenely with the deep, soothing notes of the cello, played by the protagonist. It is definitely different from all the Hollywood Blockbusters with its notable quiet charm, but I shall reserve my judgment on whether it really deserves an Academy Award.

I saw it though - the beauty of death.

No matter if you are tired of loving or tired of hating; whether you are suffering or in pain; whether you are crying and feel your heart breaking; whether you are depressed or disappointed, angry or upset - such is life and it ends with death, but so do joy and the happiness of living. To know that there is an end to all our pain and happiness, is life comforting or cruel?

Death may be inevitable, but it doesn't mean we don't have to live. In fact, all the more we should live till it drains us, love till it hurts, try till we fail, because someday, this too shall pass.

Even though I have my TOS assignments due the next day, when Mike asked me if I wanted to watch Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen, I couldn't say no.

The movie may be losing its novelty, but the excitement remains.

Via Things We Forget
I almost forgot today is Fathers' Day, until Mike suggested for us to go to Sakura for buffet dinner. The food was mediocre, but with adequate variety - or at least enough to satisfy Dad.

You know, try as I might, sometimes I forget.

I get blinded by my traumatic memory of the past, I don't see how hard you are trying to make it up in the present.

I forget that I still love you.

William and I shared the kitchen today, with him cooking spaghetti bolognese and me making my chicken salad. While I'd say I'm pretty adept at cooking spaghetti bolognese as well, it never tastes quite as good as his. Then again, he was the first to pick up cooking amongst us (Mike never did) and even once worked in Coffee Club as an assistant cook, though only for a short period of time.



After brunch, he packed a portion of the spaghetti bolognese and chicken salad into a lunchbox to bring to his girlfriend (my brother is such a good catch), who was working at Holland Village. I was puzzled though, when he put on his cycling gear.

Me: I thought you were going to meet your girlfriend?
Him: Yah, she's at Holland Village.
Me: And you're cycling there?
Him: Why not? I ran there before.
Me: !

Each time I surf through Lookbook, I wonder where do all these beautiful, well-dressed people come from. After a while, however, your eyes grow accustomed to such beauty and you start to think that everyone looks similar, with no one better than the other. So when I saw Nancy's illustrations of herself, alongside her outfit photos, I was pleasantly surprised.






Her attention to details in her Photoshop illustrations is one I admire the most. I always thought self-portrait was the hardest to master, because the way you look at yourself may not be the way others see you, but she made it seem so effortless.


I remember when I was still an annoying kid, my older female cousin loved drawing various outfits on faceless figures, before proudly holding them up and telling me that one day, she would be a fashion designer. Her artful drawings made me look up to her in awe, but she is a doctor now.

"...and when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter – they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long." (Sylvia Plath)

I never liked Plath, because the morbidity in her works pains me. I never managed to get through The Bell Jar.

I didn't want to think like her.

Barely one week since we've ended school, I have a lot of friends telling me that they feel aimless, lost and even bored. I understand how being unproductive makes you feel useless, but it has only been a week - there is still so much that I want to do. I'm not about to join in the rat race immediately after I've ended my paper chase.


The most common question I get nowadays is, "What have you been doing?" Well, loads, my friend, loads. I have friends who are frantically looking to secure a job in the civil service, but not looking for one (yet) doesn't mean I haven't been productive.

I packed and cleared all my notes, sending them straight into the recycling bin, without looking back. I cleaned up my room and prepared it for a tiny revamp at my study area that involves removing my childhood table-shelf and installing a brand new work table from Ikea. Of course, not without the help of William who removed the huge table-shelf for me, Mike who carried the heavy work table back from Ikea and my Dad who nailed the table legs. Good to have the big boys at home, huh?


I have been out rather frequently too, meeting up with my sOCi mates for dinner, supper, chalet and whatever excuses we can come up with to meet up, shopping with Xping and clubbing with elles. I still have to catch up with a couple of friends, like Kaixin, whom I've promised since before the exams, Naddy and our Casual Poet date, as well as Lynette and Corinna for our museum and flea market outing. It is about time to revive the social life, no?

Not just social life, but family time too. Now that I'm not perpetually stressed by schoolwork, I talk to my Dad and brothers in a much nicer tone. I start cooking again, making breakfast for them (when I can wake up for it) and experimenting recipes. I spend more quality time with Dad, going grocery shopping and watching television together, discussing about world news and even soccer matches (pretending that I know what he is talking about).


Personally, I try to sleep early (when I'm not out painting the town red) to switch my body clock back to normal. I'm making an exercise regime for myself for a healthier living. I have to start learning how to drive. I have errands to run, like renewing my passport and ordering my graduation gown. My TOS editor is waiting for me to pitch some stories to her.

Oh and I need to travel too.

So how is it possible to be bored already? Talk to me in a month's time.

...but if faced with courage, need not be lived again. (Maya Angelou)

Yesterday, Dad and William went to visit Mum, while I was in class. It has been ten years now.

I watched a film called "A Long Night's Journey Into Day" for my SC4212 (Social Memory) class yesterday, since I missed the lesson last week.

Featuring four stories of the Apartheid regime in South Africa, which had been brought up to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) with the offenders seeking amnesty, these stories were similar to the one I read in Forgive Me. While watching, my heart was burning with an urge to be there, to cover the stories and tell it to the world. Why did some forgive, while others refuse? Why did some ask for forgiveness, while others insist their intention was for the greater good? There was so much to say and so much to tell, not just about forgiveness, but also about remembrance, courage and healing.

Yet a part of me was afraid.


Archbishop Desmond Tutu (Photo from here)
One of the journalists talked about how she was opening up her wound (her father died during the regime) as she was covering the stories, but it was by facing the past that she could heal. Archbishop Desmond Tutu, chairperson of TRC, said, TRC was not about prosecuting anyone, but about getting the truth out, so that everyone could heal.

How does one heal?

When you stop feeling the pain as you tell your story?

Does knowing the truth, if it exists at all, help?

Do you stop feeling the pain as the truth unfolds in front of your eyes?

Even after ten years, I still don't have the courage to know.

It is Mike's birthday today, exactly two weeks before mine. William suggested that we should go for the steamboat buffet at Crystal Jade@Hollandv that comes with free flow of Xiao Long Bao(s)! Actually, it's free flow of all the ingredients and desserts, except prawns. Maybe we didn't choose the right soup base (one was spicy and the other was herbal chicken), because the food was actually mediocre, but it was a nice change from the places we used to go for celebrations and special occasions (still steamboat buffets, nonetheless).

In fact, William said we should cut the NYDC cake at the restaurant, instead of doing it at home. Mike, looking suitably embarrassed as I thought he would, protested and said that we were all too full, so we should leave the cake till the next day. I told him that there would be no significance in cutting the cake the next day, but he glared at me, which promptly shut me up. Juliana tried the soft approach by saying that if we cut the cake at the restaurant, he could bring the leftovers to work, which he would be going straight to after dinner, and offer them to his colleagues. My brother simply shook his head. I laughed and said that the negotiation has failed, to which Juliana whispered that she has never succeeded before. Mike smirked, oblivious to the fact that all this while, William had asked the servers to clear the table and bring in the cake.

So you see my brothers and I, we make a great team.

Some time ago, Weiling came to me and asked me if Bishan was a good district to live in, because Natura Loft was one of her housing considerations. She is one year older than me and currently engaged.

I know Mike has been collecting pamphlets on housing for a while now and Dad has been asking me to ask Mike to start looking at houses, so I asked him to check out Natura Loft too, especially since it's strategically sited in Bishan. Today, he asked me if I wanted to join him and Juliana to visit the showroom. Of course I said yes (despite having loads of work to do).


My imagination simply went amok then.

I started thinking about how life would be without my bossy brother in the house. No one would barge into my room to use the toilet and I can have it all to myself. No one would make me cook pasta for him, just because he feels like eating. But then no one would buy me breakfast after I've pulled an all-nighter. No one would fetch me to my destination when it's raining heavily and I refuse to carry a bulky umbrella. No one would buy me an expensive dinner to reward me for my completion of assignments. No one would be there in the room opposite mine (though I think William will swiftly move in).

So what if I stay with Mike and Juliana periodically? Maybe they can reserve a guest room for me? Maybe I can help them decorate the house?


I was immediately brought back to reality when the guide started asking about our budget. The whole planning procedure, from CPF reimbursement to HDB loan and housing grant, was extremely tedious, but also very enlightening.

It is not like Mike and Juliana are going to buy a house now. They are not even engaged (though Mike told the guide that they were). They have a lot more planning to work on, but it is about setting the goals right now.

I'm really happy to see them moving towards the next phase, though. Perhaps I shouldn't think that I'm losing my doting brother. I'm actually gaining a loving sister.