Filed under: Game of Life
Here’s another post that is long overdue.
So August and I were married almost a month ago at my parish of Holy Spirit at Upper Thomson Road. (The church is mentioned in my book “The Flea Market”.)
We planned and organised the entire wedding ourselves, with the help of our families and friends – and it was a LOT of help we had burdened them with.
One of the benefits of customising our own wedding is getting exactly what we want.
For starters, I got my lovely gown at a mere $400, tailor-made and customised to what I want – which is, simply, no long train. 
Drop me a note if you want my tailor’s contact. I like her work so much I am most happy to recommend her to others who may need her service!
We shot the picture for our wedding card which looks like this:
The caption reads: “And yet, because we match.”
Besides the fact that he loves his wine (the Two Hands Gnarly Dudes being one of his absolute favourites), I am a collector of Absolut vodka bottles. As for the tag line, take a guess why we chose it?
Because our wedding date fell on the Mid-Autumn Festival itself, we decided to have mooncakes for wedding favours! Here’s how we wrapped and packaged the Shanghainese mooncakes personally baked by August’s aunt:
Oh it was a beautiful day.
Walking down the aisle with my dad was one of the most touching moments of the day, and when we reached August who was standing at the front by the altar, Dad stumbled for a moment before he handed me over to August.
He was actually thinking of what to say but it looked as if he was reluctant to let me go.
The guests laughed – and it felt so joyous to know everyone was there to celebrate this occasion with us.
We had a simple luncheon in the church canteen after. But boy, did we spend the day before doing it up! An extremely exhausting day but nevetheless, one filled with love as August and I are both deeply aware of.
So the day came and went, much, much faster than we had hoped it would. I wish I could rewind the day and live it one more time, only to slow down and not be constrained by the day’s schedule. All I have are the photos and the wonderful memories but I suppose those are enough for the storage in my heart.
Preparing for the wedding had been a lot of fun, but also a lot of stress.
Now, for those who wish to plan their own wedding, here’s a pointer: do not let the wedding matters take over your relationship. Unfortunately, I did not handle it that well and August and I had our fair share of disagreements over the different ways we handled the wedding affairs.
This is me, apologising to him. 
And he well deserves it, for being ever patient, ever kind.
So we began our lives together last month and it has been a rather exciting month altogether! And though both of us were very clear that the wedding is for one day, and the marriage for a lifetime (we hope, we pray, we choose), nevertheless, it was THE day for us. Made all the more special because we had all those we love with us.
Once more, for all your well-wishes and love, both August and I want to once again, express our heartfelt thanks and gratitude. You have placed us in a debt of love that we will always be happy to be in.
Filed under: Books
There is a certain emptiness within that I have been feeling, from not pursuing my writing for close to two months now.
Yes, my first novel has been published and distributed. I had started on my second and third, at the same time, but had to put that on hold for a while in light of the wedding preparations – which get intensely overwhelming sometimes!
Deciding to stop writing and focus on my work and the preparations seemed like the most logical thing to do – except I didn’t think I would miss it so much I even dream about writing my next book!
Well, that can’t be helped, I guess.
What I couldn’t put off though, was zooming straight for the bookshops the moment I found out “The Flea Market” had been delivered.
Two nights ago, my fiance Augustine and I skipped to town, peering at shelf after shelf of books at, first, BORDERS, then Kinokuniya.
We couldn’t find the book at BORDERS though upon enquiry, it was listed in their system already. And no wonder, because the books had only just arrived. That was how excited I was.
We found the book at Kinokuniya, under “Local Literature”.
I can’t describe the feeling I had upon seeing that pretty red-coloured book that I had written into being, cradled and fretted over, then standing proudly on display in Kino.
No, I did not cry, as I had imagined I would. Neither did I scream for joy.
What happened though, was that I suffered immense hardship at leaving the bookstore.
In a nice way!
The next day, Tiff SMSed to share that she had pre-ordered her copy from the MPH downstairs of her office. She reported, “Apparently they’re unpacking your book from the carton now.”
Just that image conjured from what she said – of the shopgirl bending over to retrieve my book from a musty box – brought back the broad grin that had been sneaking up onto my face lately.
So, three more weeks to the wedding, and then I’m off to my honeymoon in Egypt – which I shall write about another time, then I’ll be participating at the Singapore Writers Festival on that very evening that I touch down in Singapore; after that, when I’ve settled back down, out will come the Microsoft Word files of my two upcoming stories.
I can’t wait.
Oh yes, I miss writing.
Filed under: Books
Hi all,
“The Flea Market” is now available at all major bookshops!
That is, BORDERS, Kinokuniya, Page One, MPH and Popular (only at the Bras Basah outlet).
Do pick up a copy!
Would appreciate your honest comments and feedback about the book too.
Lastly, I’ll be participating as a new writer at the Singapore Writers Festival on Thursday Oct 29. [More details later]. Do say hello if you’re there.
Happy Thoughts!
Filed under: Game of Life
The reception area of Marina Mandarin Hotel is thronging with beautiful women and smartly-dressed men when August and I arrive. Most of them are holding delicate glasses filled with red or white wine. Sauntering in the midst of these wine-drinkers are the few who are cradling their beer mugs.
Almost everyone is engaged in some conversation that makes them break into happy laughter every other minute.
“Wow, we’re late!” I gasp to August, my fiance as we both squint our eyes to look for Rays, our friend – the groom.
“Is that him?” August asks, beckoning to this handsome young man standing some distance away, waving frantically and grinning at us.
“Hey! Congratulations!” August say to him as we approach, while Rays grabs hold of another of our friend, Sze, who is loitering around, probably wondering where we are.
“You look so handsome,” I squeal to Rays as he extends his hand to me after shaking August’s. “Can we hug?”
“Of course, lah!” he replies, grinning, and opens his arms to me as I engulf him in a tight squeeze.
We catch up while Rays tries to catch a breath or two from mingling with his hundreds of guests.
It’s a nice start to what is fast turning out to be a lovely evening already.
Many minutes later, we prepare to head into the ballroom for dinner and as August, Sze and I make our way to the reception table to sign the guest book, and find out where we are seated, we are pleasantly surprised to learn that “He’s put us next to the bridal table!”
Much, much honoured, we feel.
Into the ballroom and I tell August how nice it is – with its low ceiling and wide space that dress the entire room into a much cosy setting. I think to myself how some people prefer the feeling of grandeur that comes with big, spacious ballrooms and majestic columns but how, this ambience can be so perfect for those who wish for a night amongst friends and family.
We sit down, acquaint ourselves with the rest at the table, and am surprised again; we meet this other couple Terence and wife – Terence was my senior in JC and apparently, an acquaintance of August as well, back in those days when we, the young, went clubbing much.
Shortly after, The Menace and his fiancee Feline arrive.
She too, immediately squeals, “I can’t believe he put us next to the bridal table!”
Strangely, we are all elated at this.
The Menace, Sze, Rays and I go way back when we were in the same junior college in the first three months. There’s another chap, Scruffy Dog, who can’t make it for the wedding dinner this evening. We had been tight friends all those twelve years ago, and we had providentially managed to re-find one another, re-group and rekindled those old bonds when we met again two years ago. Of course, there were more of us in the past, but the rest have moved on with their own lives. It is now only the five of us left. It’s still good!
When the first video is shown on the big screen, of Rays and his wife ML’s childhood photos to their adulthood ones, I begin tearing.
Nudging August, I tell him ruefully, “I feel so happy for him!”
He smiles back and probably tries not to roll his eyes.
It’s hard to place this emotion within me – looking at Ray’s photos, I can still remember the days when we romped around, from one chalet to another, cutting classes to head out, watching movies, eating at Serangoon Gardens where we both live, and everything else in between. When we bumped into each other in Serangoon Gardens two years ago, Rays had reminded me, “You always made me watch repeat movies! I will never forget that!” (What he meant was that I used to drag him to re-watch a show I enjoyed…) I didn’t even remember that but some memories linger with some more than others, I suppose. I’m sure I have a fair share of memories of us he had forgotten too.
The second video comes on, of the day’s event, from the time he arrived at ML’s place to pick her up; this time, my tears are falling down even as I’m laughing merrily away.
“He is like a brother to me… And he looks so happy!” I cry and laugh at the images of Rays wearing a bra and his best man being made to suck on it – the ‘necessary evils’ the bride’s girls had planned for the men before letting them into the house.
August coos in response, “Aw…..”
The night goes on like this and I sit there, sipping my wine and marvelling at how tender I feel within at this wedding dinner.
Because wedding dinners are not something I had always enjoyed going to. Perhaps because, all I remember are the times I had attended wedding dinners of relatives that I’m not particularly close to, and wondering why I’m there and when it will end.
But as the last few years have progressed the way they have, I am getting accustomed to enjoy attending these wedding dinners of friends and cousins I grew up with.
Still, tonight is different.
Rays is like a brother. We shared one of the best times of our lives together. Watching now, the man he has grown into, is extremely gratifying and amazingly sweet.
He is still the same person, but wiser, and he has just crossed another milestone on his journey of life.
It’s not new to hear – “A wedding is for a day, a marriage is for a lifetime.”
This wedding is a lovely signpost that marks that milestone he is happily stepping past. May it lead to a road that will take him to stranger and more wondrous adventures in love and life.
And as the evening ends and August and I finish our last smoke outside the hotel, he turns to look at me and says, “Being with you has taught me to be less cynical. Weddings used to be just parties to me. Now, I can appreciate how it feels to be happy for the couple…”
Perhaps it’s because I’ve been emotional all night, but I can’t help but to indulge in spilling a few more tears hearing his words, as I breathe in the night air, being grateful for being here tonight to experience two people in love coming together, and looking forward to August and my own wedding in a month’s time.
The journey is good.
Filed under: Books
“Writing is the easiest part,” White Boy said to me a couple of years ago, when he published his first novel. White Boy is my colleague at CN and we’ve been working together since we joined the organisation in August 2005.
He published his first novel one year later, the first of a series of fantasy novels.
I looked at him and thought, “Really???”
Several years later, when I finally committed to write and publish my first novel (I have written many, many stories before, when I was much younger; I’ve even finished writing two books in my teens, but those were a long time ago…), his words came to mind.
There I would be, ploughing through the pages on my Microsoft Word document, taking smoke breaks and wondering why the story wasn’t unravelling the way I had planned, or why the words weren’t coming at all, and worst, why the entire story eluded me as I sat there, sometimes for hours, churning out pages and then deleting them, and I would think to myself that White Boy’s got to be kidding.
Writing isn’t the easiest part! I would scream in my head. Or am I just not as talented a writer as he is!
Both of these thoughts brought little consolation but much self-doubt as I felt myself sink deeper into confusion and frustration.
Eventually, I did finish the book.
And then, I finally comprehended what he meant.
Oh, writing is not easy… but compared to the business of producing the book, it was probably the breezier task.
Getting the book laid out properly was enjoyable and brought much fulfilment; watching August work at the various book covers was quite a thrill – an exercise that made me want to jump around excitedly through all the different designs until we settled on The One; visiting the printer and making sure the final copy was properly sent out only made the anticipation of holding the first copy of my book more unbearable… and of course, finally taking that finished copy in my hand was an almost surreal experience… one that was also very, very gratifying.
Approaching bookshops though, was a big pain.
There is way too much hassle with logistics between bookshops and publishers to hamper the entire process of producing a book.
Herein steps our distributor whom we thankfully get along rather well with. At least the process has been kicked into place and things are moving again.
This entire experience keeps bringing to mind NLB’s campaign.
I don’t know how many of you have seen the bus ads proudly proclaiming the slogan “Nurturing a Nation of Readers”, but while I agree with that sentiment, rather than focus solely on the importance of reading, I feel we are sadly neglecting to encourage local writers to publish as well.
Perhaps more encouragement is needed in that area such that we would be nurturing a nation of writers as well as readers?
To this end, I have to say I love etch publishing’s slogan. It’s simple, to the point and it says it all – “Read. Write. Publish.”
For those who are already bibliophiles and have that desire to tell the stories brewing within them, why not?
Filed under: Game of Life
There was once upon a time when I was blogging quite regularly, and it seemed as if there were endless happenings, thoughts and reflections to pen down.
Somehow, these days, I think about getting online to the blog and I sit there wondering what there is to write about.
Strange, because so much is happening everyday. Is it because of such busy-ness that I no longer make the time to be quiet, organised and disciplined enough to get to the blog?
Boy, do I miss journalling.
Back in school days, I kept journals that just months ago, I repacked into an entire cupboard I had cleared out. Those books where my best and worst memories were kept – some of which I still remember; most of which are mere faint lines etched into me – shall remain till the day I finally decide I am old, before I will sit back, relax and revisit those old times carefully stored away on what would probably be yellow pages.
I always imagined that when that time comes, I would be sitting in my chair (like the one above in the header bar, with a glass of wine in my hand), enjoying the feel of those familiar book covers and running my fingers lovingly over them… flipping each page to reveal the neat handwriting, interspersed with the messy ones… the spots of ink that had been stained with tears that fell onto them… and trying to make out the inept drawings of images in my mind.
I would be laughing at the naivete of that girl who penned those words and crying at the loss of her innocence. I might feel the same pain of heartbreak that had assailed that young girl that was me decades ago, and I probably would miss the passersby that had visited her life at some point or other – those that I would inadvertently remember when I read about them again. Definitely, I would be doing both the laughing and crying together, over the marvels and miracles of life that surprises you with love, joys, desires, yearnings and hopes.
One can hope that day comes.
Because at the rate things are happening on a day-to-day basis, I suspect there will never be a time when I would “retire” from life to travel to the past.
One can only hope.
Every other game of mahjong I play is when I aim to hit 5-limit cards. The only times I don’t try to make a full suit is when I have a lot of “flower” cards already – those are additional points – then, I will try to game as soon as possible.
Now it isn’t that I’m being greedy. I only play among friends and with friends, money is never the goal. It’s the thrill I’m after – to know if I can finish the game plan or not.
So when someone else games before me, I get very much excitable. And when I am close to completing my own set, I get even more thrilled and want to show my friends what I have in my collection.
Sometimes, we show one another our cards at the end of each game. Sometimes, we don’t. It depends on the individual.
Recently, I realise that the challenge to not open my cards at the end of one game, can be pretty trying. I would want to show off my nicely fitted cards to my friends, either to ‘wow’ them with the cards I have, or to whine and lament about how close I am to finishing the game and why someone else had to game before me.
For a while now, I have thought how much of an act of humility can be practised from adopting a mahjong-etiquette of simply quietly folding my cards back and letting it go, however spectacular they may be.
I’ve been trying; succeeding sometimes and failing at others. It has not been easy, just quietly folding my cards without lament or pride.
The other strange thing about mahjong is, you tend to feel as if ‘luck’ exists. Those who know how to play mahjong can probably testify to how things have an exceptionally strange way of turning out in games. There are common ‘passed-down’ superstitious practices, like changing seats if you’re losing, calling for the card you want, knocking one tile against a similar one you want so it appears, etc..
But because I play only with my friends who are also Catholics, we make it a point to bring God into the game. Like, when we are tempted to be cheeky and make remarks like calling upon our mahjong cards to present themselves in our favour, or to make statements like, “Luck is with me today”, or “Tonight, no luck!”, the others of us will respond, “No need to change seats. There’s no such thing as luck. It’s just a game.”
Our God is bigger than any ‘luck’ there might exist out there, we remind one another. And we end up having a good time and sharing faith experiences.
Never have I imagined that even a game of mahjong can be a practice of humility and Christian sharing.
If you have other innovative ideas of how to practise Christian humility (or other morals) in the everyday business of our lives, do share, then perhaps I can be more mindful of God in the other areas of my life too.
In the meantime, I guess the games will continue amongst us friends who serve together at Church of the Holy Spirit, friends who have shared one another’s joyous occasions and loss; we shall try to learn that precious lesson of humility, and to continue placing our God higher and above than banal ‘luck’.
After all, as the late Father David Thexeira who baptised me, informed us while we were going through RCIA, only to have a few of us cheeky catechumens break out into giggles, “Catholics have no luck!”
Just over the weekend at a Day of Recollection retreat held for our LANDINGS team at Church of the Holy Spirit, in preparation of the new journey to begin July 11, I was reminded of a miracle that had happened the year I was in RCIA as a catechumen.
The first time I heard this story was after we had returned from our Lenten retreat, back in 2004. The details have not changed, as Mr C (coordinator of RCIA and now LANDINGS), also a very good friend of mine, shared last weekend:
“That was my first year as coordinator of RCIA. I think God knew I still needed signs of affirmation from him,” he confessed.
“At that retreat, when I got back the love offering box after it went round and counted the money, I was $1,104 short. I had counted all the cash in the box! The only thing I didn’t include in the pool was a cheque that someone had put in as love offering too.
In my head, I was quarrelling with God already. ‘Want me to do your work and still have to pay out money too!’,” he laughed, recollecting the memory. “I picked up the cheque – I mean, how much can it be right? $50?” He sighed melodramatically to his then captivated audience.
“And when I opened the cheque – it was folded – I almost fell off my chair. The cheque was made out with a contribution of, $1, 104.”
…
Mr C subsequently called up the lady who made the donation to thank her. And of course, he asked why she donated such a sum of money.
She replied, “Two months ago when I gave you a cheque of $1,000 for donation, you didn’t want to accept it, telling me that the ministry was still doing okay with funds. But you see, I had made a covenant with God that I would give Him a percentage of my profits from my business. Now, two months later, you needed funding for our retreat… I had to top up the additional $104 that I promised to God!”
God sure has a way of connecting the dots in His time…
Mr C said ruefully, “These miracles don’t happen to me anymore. Maybe God knew my state of being then, I was still very much in need of such signs. Now, I like to think I trust Him more… He doesn’t need to ‘prove’ His presence as much.”
My takeaway message:
- Miracles exist. Just look out for them.
- God does not play favourites. If someone else experiences miracles and you don’t, thank God for your faith that you still trust Him.
1104. Four digits that revealed God’s presence to us who needed that affirmation.
Have you encountered God today? If you too, have such experiences, why not share them because you never know, the person you’re telling might be in need of exactly such a testimony.
And that, to him, could be the very miracle he needed for the day.
Besides the walk-in wardrobe that we all now have an image of in our heads, thanks to “Sex and the City” and the recent Heineken ad, that I have always wanted in my home, one other room that I look forward to furnishing is my personal library.
Here is a photo of one of my two bookshelves from IKEA that I built myself. I yearn to furnish one entire room with these shelves.
That desire was fuelled once more when I stepped into Kinokuniya yesterday and allowed myself to be intoxicated by that smell that only books (real books made of paper!) emit.
The sight of the rows and rows of shelves that cover just about every single topic that can be written about never fails to ignite that great thirst I have to pick up one book after another and immerse myself in the different worlds they offer.
The year I polished off the most books in one seating, was the year that potato left for Boston, and subsequently broke off with me.
I remember that period well. For no other reason than that there was little reprieve from the brokenness I felt within. And there was no saving grace because everything I did, everywhere I went, every movie I saw, only served to remind me of him and to point out to me, the possibilities of a future I no longer had with him.
It was the world of books that took me in and provided the sanctuary I needed from the big, bad world around me then.
I was still afraid that I might read about some great love between two characters that would rip me apart all over again, but picking up the first book then was merely an escape I needed to make, to an all-time favourite pastime.
I never expected my old friends to offer me the shelter that I needed.
That year, I polished off about 25 (or 50?) books in half a year or so. I got a Kinokuniya loyalty card where I started collecting stamps for every book purchased. Initially, I did that for fun but as it turned out, I couldn’t stop reading.
The books did more than provide me a shelter. Once more, they offered me havens where I was restored in mind, spirit and soul once more.
It was an interesting journey I made. One of complete healing. While I initially abstained from reading any book that had even a hint of romance in it, as the months went by, I learnt to pick out the various themes that I needed at any given time.
Eventually, I even dared to read about love again. Not trashy romance novels (oh no, not since I quit that detestable habit in secondary school for drowning me in a false belief of the existence of that perfect man who would go to any great length for you!) but any book that concerned LOVE.
And I found myself sitting down on the couch, eager to consume the words written, laughing and crying with the various events that unfolded in the lives of the characters.
In that process, I learnt to let go of my own pain… and believe that I can love again.
Books… they have always accompanied me since the very first fairytale and Enid Blyton I read.
To what do I owe books?
Walking up and down the aisle at Kinokuniya yesterday, that period of my life flashed intensely before my mind’s eye once more, and the answer dawned on me – my sanity.
Filed under: Books
The book was purchased from BORDERS on 8 April this year (2009).
It sat forlornly on my shelf next to “Good Omens”, book jointly written by Teri Pretchett and Mr Gaiman himself. But it was only last week that I picked it up and started to read it.
In my opinion, it was a delightful read for adults and an exceptionally wondrous adventure for children to partake in.
The best way to describe this was put forth by Garth Nix, Australian author of young fantasy novels: “I wish my younger self could have had the opportunity to read and reread this wonderful book, and my older self wishes that I had written it.”
Honestly, I don’t think this is the best book Neil has written. Not that I have read a lot of his books, besides his Sandman (graphic novel) collection.
But the other one that I had read, “Neverwhere”, blew me away. That story is about an entire underground world that exists in London, where good and evil reign and their age-old battle continues. That one brought me to a different realm altogether and I highly recommend that to anyone who enjoys a good parody, allegory, and concrete reality being mapped onto ever-mystical fantasy.
This one, “The Graveyard Book”, is about a young boy who was taken under protection by an old graveyard and its inhabitants – ghosts of hundreds to thousands to time infinite, years ago – when he was being pursued by the killer who murdered his family when he was a mere babe. The story continues with his adventures in the graveyard and how he unravelled the mystery of his killer…
And of course, with Neil Gaiman, he introduces whole new worlds together with that.
It is a delicious book to read. Some chapters a lot more than others. He is the master of creating tales of fantasy – all kinds. When you read his book, you don’t read words. You travel. Not just to faraway lands but to lands that exist only in a distant memories that you absolutely have no recollection of ever experiencing, in dreams that are ever familiar but you don’t remember ever having, in the boundaries of your Imagination you never knew you were capable of reaching.
Highly recommended for those who need to unwind with a good read, but without wishing to be too emotionally drawn into the tale.
And at the end, when I read his acknowledgements, I was thrilled to stumble upon his thanks to Audrey Niffeneggar (author of “The Time Traveller’s Wife”), the one whose book I had laughed, cried and spent huge amounts of emotions on! She is an amazing author and it was after her this first novel that I started to look out for first-time novelists.
(I should probably write to her to get some form of commission cos to date, I have physically bought four to five copies of her book as gifts to my friends and pushed a lot more others to get it! It was named “Tomorrow’s Classics” by BORDERS. I think that speaks for itself.)
Two of my favourite contemporary authors.
Tantalising, captivating, enchanting and wondrous.
