I need to be in love

I've just discovered the song "I need to be in love" by the Carpenters (co-written by Richard Carpenter, John Bettis and Albert Hammond) in my ipod today. And the lyrics seem to describe me perfectly (see lyrics below), particularly because over CNY, my cousin JS said that my problem was that I was too demanding. I have too many criteria, expect too much from a boy, and will therefore never find anyone good enough.

And French boy commented: "You're quite princessy aren't you?" I didn't understand: "Why? How so?" "You know, like waiting for your prince to come. ... which is not a bad thing I guess." I laughed. I had told him: "Sorry, not tonight. Maybe some day in future, if and when I'm in love with you"

That's true I guess. I never thought of it in that way, that I was princessy... after all, I'm the loopiest, one of the most tomboy girls I know. But it's true that I always say "one day my prince will come"

"I need to be in love" is purportedly Karen Carpenter's favorite song. I can see why. It's as if someone saw through me and inside me and described what (s)he saw, that I myself hadn't consciously realised/articulated.


"I need to be in love" (The Carpenters)

The hardest thing I've ever done is keep believing
There's someone in this crazy world for me
The way that people come and go through temporary lives
My chance could come and I might never know

I used to say "No promises, let's keep it simple"
But freedom only helps you say goodbye
It took a while for me to learn that nothing comes for free
The price I paid is high enough for me

* I know I need to be in love
I know I've wasted too much time
I know I ask perfection of a quite imperfect world
And fool enough to think that's what I'll find

+ So here I am with pockets full of good intentions
But none of them will comfort me tonight
I'm wide awake at 4 a.m. without a friend in sight
I'm hanging on a hope but I'm all right
repeat *
repeat +
repear *

One night stand

I don't understand this whole one night stand thing that these Europeans have got going on. Well, particularly European guys, although it takes two to clap.

So, on Friday, on a spontaneous whim, I decided to synthetically replicate the experience of a one night stand without the actual commitment of getting to know each other in the biblical sense.

The boy's opening line was: Do you speak English? I got so irate (this is my one sore point) that I immediately flipped him the third finger straight in his face. At which point he hastened to explain that he was French, and doesn't speak good English, so he doesn't assume everyone speaks English.

We ended up over-leaping convention and talking about some fairly intimate stuff... not intimate as in of-a-sexual-nature (although there was some of that too), but intimate as in close-to-the-heart. Somehow I was comfortable with him.

After the lights were switched on in the club at about 4.30am, he steered me out onto the street where he negotiated a cab fare back to his place. I was a bit annoyed at his unchivalrous behaviour at not asking where I was headed and offering to get a cab for me first, and told him: well I'll need to get a back. But he said: no, come on, just come home with me. I have gotten a cab for £20 back to my place, and it's here.

Because I felt comfortable with him, had some trust in him, and I've been bored recently and was in a bit of a reckless, pour-quoi pas? mood, I hesitated only slightly before saying: but you must promise not to have sex with me. He replied: not if you don't want to. And then I got in.

He had a nice place actually, in a part of town I'd never been to, but found really quiet and charming in the day time.

It was almost 5am when we got to his place, and I set my alarm for 8.45am to go for French class. We didn't end up having sex, although it wasn't from lack of effort on his part. At some point, I was so annoyed that I was about to walk out of his door and flag a cab on the street to go back home, even thought it was probably close to six or after by then.

In the morning, I woke up before my alarm rang, and began dressing. I turned and looked at his sleeping form, and fully intended to wake him up to say bye before I left. But while I was reading the back cover of a book that he had on his night stand, he stirred: what are you doing? where are you going? Don't leave like a thief.

I'm leaving. I have French class remember? I was going to wake you up before I left, really.

He made a disbelieving sound.

I leant over, kissed him lightly on his right cheek, and closed the door behind me.

He didn't have my number. I didn't have his.

I wonder: is this what a one night stand is like? Feels like?

Probably not I guess. And funnily enough... in movies, it's always the guy who sneaks off like a thief first thing in the morning. But this time it was me, the girl, who was sneaking off early in the morning, after a night of not-having-sex.

It was such a strange, unreal twist of the typical one night stand, that I couldn't help but be both confounded and amused.

Because we didn't actually have sex... presumably there would be no sense of guilt or awkwardness, fear of additional expectations/commitment, and he wouldn't feel like it was a mistake? I wonder, if he would want to see me again?

I wondered. He didn't ask for my number after all. I took down his address and I've decided to mail him a postcard with my number to say he can call if he wants. Judging by his mailbox, it doesn't seem as if he checks his mail often, if at all. But... I'll just send it anyway. I'm curious, but won't mind if he doesn't call. I'm not entirely sure what I expect anyway. We're clearly not friends, and I have doubts as to whether I want him as a lover (as in, a person I love, for a relationship).

But, oh well, que sera, sera.

Happy Chinese New Year of the Golden Pig!

Happy Chinese New Year all! According to my friend, this is the year of the Golden Pig, which comes once every 60 years, and is supposed to be particularly prosperous (it is "gold" after all, in the typically pragmatic and materialistic chinese way).

I read the Chinese horoscope, and this is supposed to be an infinitely better year for me than last year, the year of the Dog.

Had a cosy reunion dinner with my two cousins, where we ate to bursting point - a six course meal for the three of us!

Apart from that, I had one of my weirder and least chinese CNYs ever - Italian on the first day of CNY (Zetter for brunch, Carluccio's for dinner), breaking of taboos (mention of death and dying and necrophilia!, clearing my room), watching the most bizarre French film ever (Ma mere), and this year we didn't make even the smallest pretence of settling debts before CNY like I used to in the past.

It's strange, celebrating this least chinese of Chinese New Years. But the truth is, my family has always been not very chinese as they go. My parents (mom especially) have never been particularly pantang (literally "taboo", meaning keep to taboos), neither has my extended family in Malaysia. We talk of death and dying and cuss out as happily as ever on the first day as on any other day (e.g. I feel so full, I might die).

Hmmm..I think the Singaporean community is generally a lot more pantang than the Malaysian community, or even the Chinese one actually.

In any case, Happy CNY, may we all have a fantabulous and prosperous year ahead! Gong xi fa cai, xin nian kuai le, wan shi ru yi, shen ti jian kang, nian nian you yu and all that jazz!

What VD stands for

***
On another note:

Happy Val's Day all!

I hate the over-commercialisation of VD (Venereal Disease, anyone?), the relentless marketing and promotions, and the ubiquitous red hearts. But to me it's something special as well - because, for me, this is the one day that I especially think of friends. I had resolved long ago, during the days when I was the only attached one, and all my friends were single, that this would always be a day for friends, especially single friends (although now I am practically the only single person I know). And so, if nothing else, this is a day for me. A toast to myself: Happy Val's Day, here's to another year of being single, celebrating choice, freedom, strength and independence, and to reminding myself that when I eventually do get into a relationship, to not get sucked into the ridiculous pseudo-romance that is Valentine's Day.

Home

I was the customs check-in earlier today (yesterday) after a 2-day business trip, and the immigration officer asked me: "What's the purpose of your visit here?"

Maybe it was partly because of my lack of sleep, but I was completely disoriented and confused. What was she talking about? I was coming home, and very much relieved to be back too.

Then it hit me: she thought I was visiting the UK. (yeah, einstein) I have a foreign passport after all.

I replied: Oh I live and work here.

Oh, sorry about that, how long have you been living here?

Six, seven years?

Oh that's a long time, you're practically part of the furniture now.

It's funny, that I completely forgot that I'm foreign. The more I travel in and out of the country (and that has become fairly frequent for work and pleasure), the more automatic the entire process is for me: the filling out of the landing card (I brought a small stack home intending to fill them in and carry them around for convenience) - and that's the only time I fill in "banker" under occupation - to avoid the need for explanation, the effort to exit the plane quickly to avoid long queues in the "All passports" lane, walking straight past the baggage belts onto the heathrow express back to town - the easier for me to see the coming and going as just taking a train out of town, and the greater the relief at each successive home-coming (although there is the tempering effect of the spectre of work).

And so, sometimes I forget that I am crossing borders, and that I don't have a permanent right to be here, and I am baffled by questions that challenge me. I don't understand why they ask me if I am visiting, who I'm staying, how long I am here for. I live here, work here. I may not have a passport, but my life is here. For better or for worse, for now, this is my home.

Threat of drowning

It comes and goes, this whole depressive thing that I've got going on.

There are days, weeks when I'm all buoyant and upbeat. But I tread carefully, always thankful for another good day, and ever alert to the threat of drowning which dogs my every step, barely flickering at the edge of my vision. Then suddenly, the shadow-like dark wave surges and threatens to engulf me. And I tread water furiously, desperate to remain afloat.

After a few good weeks, I was ambushed today. From a completely unexpected angle.

It seems that I am only ever upset about two things - work and boys. Well, family as well. But time and distance has done much to give me peace of mind on that front. But recently, boys (one boy in particular) have given me more pain, so I have mainly defended against and assault on that front, and I have been extra vigilant of late for fear that I might succumb to the threat of the black month of love.

Instead, I was dealt a low blow. To the pit of my stomach. Right at the start of dinner, a conversation about work, colleagues, reviews, prospects.

I lost my appetite, and truly felt like I was about to drown. Buried by layers upon layers of dark water that sealed off the open sky, sucked by gravity and evil into an underwater grave.

What scares me the most, is how sudden and persistent these attacks are. They can descend any time, and with great violence, like the mongol hordes. And worse, they almost invariably revolve around one of the three main themes or a combination thereof. I'm getting tired of dealing with the same crap day after day, month after month, year after year, epoch after epoch.

The truth is, I'm a pretty insecure person. As a child, I knew I had a bad case of inferiority complex, although the world at large perceived me as being a fairly confident person, just prone to mood swings.

The reality was that my volatility was a function of my deep-seated insecurity. I could (and can) be very high-strung, and sometimes the smallest things could send me into tailspin. And then I would have to battle against the onslaught of depression. There were fairly frequent minor skirmishes. But once in a blueish moon - either a couple of times a year, or once every few years depending on the phase of my life - there would be a real threat of drowning. Before I started working, the last serious bout was in 2002, when I was visiting SW in Cornell. It was my first major depression in what felt like a long time (despite the fact that I had been very volatile and depressed over my break-up in the previous 12 months, because that is a completely different experience), and I felt like I wanted to die, which is a terrible way to feel.

I think it's crazy, that I'm still so insecure, after so many years. In many ways, as I've said, I have come a long way and become so much more confident and self-assured. And the fact is, I'm a young, attractive, intelligent girl. I should be happy, enjoying life. I have my life ahead of me, potentially the world at my feet. And yet all I can do is compare myself to the people around me, a lot (not all) of whom are ambitious, competitive, intelligent, aggressive - and feel incompetent and inadequate. It's crazy. The worst thing is... at the end of the day, a lot of it boils down to personality fit, luck, very specific strengths/skills that are not the measure of intelligence or ability. And I become depressed because I am perceived in a certain way because of the nature of the job, or of historical reasons, and I feel deeply ennervated. I know this is all ridiculous. It's insane how much of my self-worth is tied up with my work. The first time I was caught out by Cave was also because I was crying over work. It's crazy. I mean, really, I need to keep a sense of perspective.

Maybe I should see a shrink.

...

Or I could write here more often. :)

But seriously. This helps. Just writing it all down. Words words words. Neutralising my fears. I can see them for what they are - paper phantoms.

A la carte

Love, marriage, and kids.

My outlook and attitude towards all have varied considerably through the course of my life. Swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other and back. Always heavily charged with deep, complicated emotions.

For some reason, at some point when I was in Hong Kong, I had come to the discovery/decision that yes, eventually I DO want to have kids.

One might laugh at me: Of course, all women want kids! But, despite a fairly (perhaps unexpectedly) strong maternal streak in me, I had almost always deeply ambivalent about the idea of having children, and being responsible for another human being. (bar the time I was with MTB).

The decision was a relief—it was nice to finally that yes, I actually do want to have a child/children one day.

The questions that remained were: how to go about it, how to raise (s)he/them.

I have a very a la carte attitude towards life. To me, wanting to have a child does not equate to wanting to marry someone. That entails far more risk than I can even begin to contemplate, even now. The idea of the pain, suffering, hurt, betrayal that might (invariably, inevitably, inexorable) await in that bottomless abyss that is a 40, 50, 60-year long marriage, sends me into shock.

But I've been thinking increasingly of what my friend IE (of Land's End, Paris, and sky-diving) reiterated when I met her this weekend.

She too, is against marriage. She thinks that people should have a 5 year contractual relationship, akin to marriage, but only for 5 year terms. You agree to be totally committed during the period and work out any issues, as seriously as if you were in a marriage. But at the end of each 5 year term, you can decide if you want to renew your relationship, or go your separate ways, without obligations or judgements.

When she first proposed this slightly less than a year ago while we were at Land's End, I found the idea very daring, innovative, but could still see the side of the traditionalists, and thought the idea wasn't very feasible. But increasingly, while I still see where the traditionalists are coming from, I'm far more inclined to subscribe to her school of thought.

The truth is, we can change so much in a fairly short space of time. People grow apart, get bored, get resentful. I can barely bring myself to stay at my job for three years, can't decide what I want to do five years from now... so it's actually cruel (and ridiculous) to force a person to decide who (s)he wants to be with for the rest of her/his life, and to bind them together till death to them part (in theory).

One can cite divorce statistics to disprove the veracity of the "death do you part" claim. Point taken. But the fact that the average effective longevity of marriages is not 40 years, but very possibly more like 10, 15 years, is not a reason to uphold the institution of marriage.

The problem I have with marriage is the pretense it makes of forever-after. The liars it makes of 50% of us (or whatever the statistics are) by promising to love and cherish one person in sickness and health, good and bad, better and worse, till death do you part.

I'd rather call a spade a spade. I'd rather say: I love you as deeply, truly, and to the limit of what I can envisage now. And I hope I will be able to love, care for and respect you for as long as possible, I hope it will be for the rest of my life. That for the rest of my life, after this crazy I-want-to-bonk-your-brains-out passion fades, you'll still be my best friend, the first one I want to confide in, the first one I run to, the first one I want to share my joy with, my soul mate, the one I care for. And that is all I promise: that now, this perfect forever-after future is what I want and truly wish for. And that I will always be honest with you and expect the same from you. If one day, one or the other is bored, disillusioned, disappointed, if too many disappointments, compromises have led to too many recriminations, build-up of resentment, then we agree now, that when that day comes we will take a step back agree to disagree and walk away as friends, with a warm hug and a goodbye kiss, so you can both remain intact, live separate and maybe happier lives with new loves. If there is a child, you agree to work out a way to resolve the issue amicably.

But don't pretend to promise something that you clearly have no control over.

That's why I'm actually For "living-in-sin", so to speak, but with legal recognition of the partners' rights, equivalent to marriage. Because, right now, I think the legal rights gained by marriage is the key argument for the perpetuation of the hypocritical institution.