the most Beautiful word

I have moved!

Moving on from 2009, please visit my new blog at www.joycegan.com

See you all there, and Happy, Happy New Year.

Six Degrees of Separation?

The theory of “six degress of separation” is an intriguing one. Essentially, what it suggests is that if you were to draw a map of all inhabitants on our planet, you would see that you are separated by all individuals by only six or less people.

Interesting.

Especially since our world is becoming ‘smaller’ with people getting more interconnected via social networking (not to mention… Facebook!).

In my own life, I’ve noticed that some people tend to cross my paths more than others, while others seem to be connected to me somehow, that even should we lose our way with each other, we will soon cross paths again.

Recently, a shining example came by to remind me of this ‘phenomenon’.

There is this young seminarian in my church, Brother Jude, whom I’ve come to know better in the last year since he was attached to my church as part of his formation towards the priesthood.

I had first encountered him when he came to my parish to share his experiences towards the priesthood, some years ago. There he was, up on the pulpit and I was totally awe-struck by the way he spoke.

Now, because I work with the Catholic Church, meeting with priests and religious is not something new. However, I have to confess, I am not one who seeks them out for a chat. Which is why it’s surprising to me even, when after that Sunday at church, I dropped Brother Jude an email to thank him for his sharing and to affirm him in his calling towards the priesthood. He had spoken with that much conviction and passion.

A couple of years later when I met August, now my husband, I learnt that Jude and he had been in the youth group at Church of St. Francis Xavier, at the same time, with the same people.

How coincidental, I thought.

Then Jude came to my church for this attachment, and he joined the ministry I am in – LANDINGS, a ministry to receive and welcome Catholics who had left the Church and who wish to return, and who might have certain issues they wish to talk through. And so we worked more closely.

Two weeks ago, at a friend’s son’s first birthday party, Jude and I got to talking.

As it turns out, he knew me not only through the Church, and not only through August, but also through a good friend of mine, Shaun, because they were friends at St. Gabriel’s.

After secondary school, Jude had gone on to Anderson JC – the JC I would’ve gone to except I didn’t quite like the environment there.

So there I was, taking all this in and later, I wondered if Jude and I were destined to be friends somehow.

There were so many opportunities for our paths to cross. Not only did we have two mutual friends (August and Shaun), these two mutual friends are people very dear to me and right in the small circle of close friends I have.

And not only was Jude posted to Church of the Holy Spirit where I belong, he became attached to the very ministry I serve in.

And what if I had gone to Anderson JC? Would I have gotten to kow Jude there?

Looking back now, it seems like, even if I had gone to Anderson JC and didn’t get to know him, even if I had not dropped him the email to thank him for his sharing, even if August and Jude had never moved in the same circle at St. Francis Xavier, and even if Shaun had not mentioned me to him, perhaps, in some quirky way, our paths would still have crossed!

So I’m thinking to myself, that some people definitely are separated by less than six degrees. This feels like a minus-one degree of separation actually.

Intriguing and yet, ttoo bad this whole theory is more an urban myth than even a theory!

Vampires in the House

August and I now have two new mouths to feed.

Before any conclusions are made in the space of the two seconds you took to read the last line to this, the additions are not of the baby-kind.

Well, actually, they are babies – of the feline kind.

We adopted Maya and Inca from a cat farm in Lim Chu Kang last week, and have since, been adding toys and catnip and boxes and litter, cat food and scratching post, to the furnishing in our house.

Meet five-month-old Olive Maya, an extremely well-poised and regal kitten. She is on perpetual purr, meows intermittently but usually breaks off in mid-meow, is gentle and sweet, and strangely, she is able to comprehend when she’s being chastised for attempting climbs to places she shouldn’t be heading.

And this is Inca (originally known as Pika), happily walking across my laptop while I was at work.

She is only two-months-old and already a monster of a kitten! She terrorises everyone in the house, most especially, poor Maya.

Whenever Maya is occupied with one toy, Inca too, wants that same one and will snatch it from her. Then, Maya strides off in search of another toy but when she settles for one, Inca will decide Maya’s toy is more interesting and off she goes to disturb her again.

Poor Maya can be sitting on the couch, watching the world go by, or taking a nap, or simply, walking by, and Inca will crouch down low, shake her backside to ready for a pounce, and find some way to ambush Maya.

Recently, they have taken to the habit of including me in their game of “Fight to the Death!”

I would be at my computer, or reading a book, and both of them would decide they should play with me. So what do they do? They pounce on me and how do they hang on?

By digging their nails into my flesh, and happily chewing away on my fingers when I try to pry them away, or on my toes if I so much as wiggle them in their sight.

As I told August over MSN earlier, “We got ourselves two vampire cats!”

Yet when they sleep, they are such angels, snuggling close to each other, even licking each other, before they settle down, and concuss. Then, the world can come to a halt and they wouldn’t care less.

Happy and carefree are they, engaged in their world of fun and play, before they retreat to a space only cats know – with no worries and no thought of tomorrow.

Sweet, sweet babies of mine. Vampires, they may be.

Saturday 3 October 2009

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.

Signposts & Milestones

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.

a storage of memories

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.