Fear and Technology

Geroge Falconer in A Single Man:

Let's just talk about fear.
Fear, after all, is our real enemy.
Fear is taking over our world.
Fear is being used as a tool of manipulation in our society.
It's how politicians peddle policy and how Madison Avenue sells us things that we don't need.
Think about it.
Fear that we're going to be attacked, fear that there are communists lurking around every corner, fear that some little Caribbean country that doesn't believe in our way of life poses a threat to us.
Fear that black culture may take over the world.
Fear of Elvis Presley's hips. Well, maybe that one is a real fear.
Fear that our bad breath might ruin our friendships.
Fear of growing old and being alone.
Fear that we're useless and that no one cares what we have to say.

I was quite moved by the sudden outburst during his lecture in the movie and I especially like the last line.

Is that why these days everyone is racing to blog, tweet, post updates, photos, comments on social networking sites like Facebook so that people can hear us, so that they are aware of how intellectual/popular/cool/beautiful/talented/creative we are, so that they are impressed with us, so that we will not be easily forgotten, so that we will never become a yesterday has-been?

Is that why our 'voices' are getting louder? Our photos flashier and our behaviour an outrageous flaunt to boost our self-esteem?

Is that why documenting every single detail and event in our lives has become our utmost priority and obsession?

Oh dear, we are no strangers to fear but now we have fallen prey to technology as well.

I am whining, not!

I am turning into an Oma (granny). Whose robustness is dwindling with the fast-growing and heavy bump.

After breakfast one morning, I went for my routine swim. Followed by a quick bit of grocery shopping before I hurried home to appease my rumbling stomach. Gobbled up the leftover Gong Bao Ji Ding (宫保鸡丁) and rice from the night before and off I went to the gynecologist (who is a 10min-walk away) to collect some medical papers. Thereafter, I walked to the bank for a spot of banking.

By the time I reached home, the breathing was fast and the panting furious. I was desperate for a seat and a chilled drink. Sitting on the gym ball immediately eased the heavy burden on the back.

With no air-conditioning and fan in the pad, the sudden temperature spike obviously didn't help matters. The heat resulted in a sluggishness and a loss of appetite which even the glutton monster had grudgingly succumbed to. Cooking a warm meal was unthinkable. A refreshing salad was thus in order. Accompanied by my very first German rye bread in 4 years and slabs of sea salt butter.

The palate was teased and pleased. The stomach, however, protested hours later.

The now-familiar burning sensation in the chest and throat woke me up in the wee hours. Thinking it was another mild case of acid reflux, I went on to sit upright on the couch and watch some TV. The heartburn would usually ease up after half an hour or so.

Back in bed, I let out an involuntary loud burp and then a surprise wave of nausea washed over me, acid coming up to the throat.

I scrambled for the basin and the stomach juice wasted no time in gushing out from the throat. Imagine the force and the urgency of the gush because not just the pharynx, the nose too was burning from the acidity. The outpouring lasted for many minutes.

When I dragged myself back to bed, the tummy was bloated with gas and the burning throat choke-full with phlegm. Slumber land seemed so far away....

The next day the body was still reeling from the aftermath.

Now. What with the strains of being preggers and all, I can shamelessly justify the not-so-cheap leather diaper bag which I have recently ordered. Any excuse to buy a bag! *grin*

Footnote: 34 weeks and 17kg heavier. Prefer to stay home now due to the heaviness and the heat. Puffy hands and ankles returned. A sense of anticipation and increasing fear of labour.

My Poison - Datura

Each time I listen to this number, I want to learn playing the piano, to be tripping on the said herbs mentioned in the text and allow my whole self to be transported to this place of mesmerizing piano-y trance induced by the song.

Simply intoxicating.

True and genuine

Yesterday at the man's cousin's to collect some hand-me-downs, her difficult 9-year-old daughter revealed her caring and endearing side which pleasantly surprised me.

Me: L, where is the toilet?
L, looked at me with concern in her eyes: Do you need to throw up?

We've been standing in the cellar for sometime, taking our pick.
L: Are you tired? Would you like to go up and lie down for abit?

Later, L: Would you like to sit down?
And then: Do you want to have a drink?
Best of all: What kind of labour would you be having? Normal or water labour?
(Eh, how does a 9-year-old know about such things?! *chuckle*)

Anyhow, she's so endearingly charming that I couldn't stop beaming fondly at her all evening.

Which reminds me of my dearest 11-year-old nephew who though isn't as attentive (he is a boy!) displayed his loving side as well.

We were boarding the train during rush hour one day. He swiftly squeezed his small body through the scores of humans and scouted for a seat. When he couldn't find one, he exclaimed loudly,' Aiyah, 姑姑 (Aunt), no more seats!', in the hope that someone would give up their seat for me. Well, no such luck!

Later someone got up and in his sudden excitement, he forgot himself and shouted, '姑姑, quick! There is a seat!'

People looked but I was too busy being pleased with his thoughfulness to be bothered with them. I was of course all smiles during the rest of the journey.

Oh kids! What would we do without them?!

Weight woes?!

What have I been up to lately? Busy cooking, whatelse! Seeing no end in the bottomless pit in the stomach, one is safe to say home-cooked meal is the best bet in providing wholesome and nourishing food. The chomp which the man and I particularly relished recently:

Mee Pok dry with Char Siew and Roast Pork

Hor Fun with green pickled chilli

The homemade chilli is now an absolute indispensable item in the kitchen! Single-handedly, this humble condiment completes the whole street food eating experience. And so yes, ladies and gentlemen, my Hor Fun tasted authentic enough!!! *huge grin*

'Enough of eating!' my doc however seems to imply during my last checkup because she reckons I have piled on too much weight. Well, I obstinately disagree and think she is sprouting nonsense. Simply because lately I haven't been stuffing my face as much as I did in the last months. I eat healthily and I stay active by swimming at least 3 times a week. I don't even snack on chips or junk food anymore. My only weakness now is ice-cream which I indulge in moderation and yoghurt. Since I do not see any problem with my diet, I won't hasten to change my present eating habit.

But as if to prove me otherwise, today in the changing cabin at the swimming pool, the bench I was sitting on was mocking me out loud with its creaking and squeaking in its struggle to not buckle under my weight.

Oh well, perhaps I am in denial.

Still. I will not let us starve.

Footnote: 30 weeks and 14kg heavier. Itchy skin has led to unsightly marks caused by uncontrollable scratching. Puking has eased up but not the queasiness. Maybe experiencing false contractions. Prenatal class has started.

On Greece bailout plan

A labour of love

Those books and articles on the labour and delivery process are so enlightening that instead of allaying my fears, the jitters now have their tight grip firmly on my shoulders. You see, cases of a fast and smooth delivery seem far and few these days. Many hours of painful labour appears to rule the day now. And if the Greater Being up there were to decide that the pangs of childbirth weren't enough, he might along the way prescribe some complications to warrant a caesarean or a full operation.

Isn't that great news for a first-time pregger?

But not all hope is lost. By staying active does help in a smooth birth apparently. It appears that walking, yoga, swimming are beneficial for us preggers. Walking however acts up my backache and the one and only maternity yoga class in this ulu place is fully booked, whatelse! Thus, I am left with my favourite sport, swimming!

In spite of the constant fight with the sloth monster and with the fear of endless labour pain lurking at the back of my head, I finally succeeded in dragging my big ass literally off the couch to pack for the swim. Well, it's not like staying with the bestie where I can simply put on the bikini (yes, I can still manage to squeeeeze myself into the two-piece) and throw on a tee and shorts and I am ready to go.

So. Bag packed. Destination reached.

Once in the pool, I took to the water like a fish. It was a good swim albeit having to scurry to the loo every so often. The best part is I felt weightless in the water and my back didn't hurt at all. Overheating and shortness of breath evaporated into thin air.

However, being cautious to not overexert myself, I limited the workout to 45mins and called it a day thereafter.

When stepping out of the water (trying at the same time to do a Ursula Andress but failed miserably of course) to retrieve my towel, I noticed 2 young boys next to me giggling. I turned towards them just in time to hear them whispered, 'Look at her tummy!!!' Well, kids can never master the art of whispering, can they?

That's also when I realised they had no idea about my pregnant state and thought I was just fat!! How cute!

Frankly, seeing other pregger ladies hanging out at the pool in their bikini and some with kids in tow, I admit I am now less conscious about baring my pregger self in public pool. Hence, in order to avoid an arduous labour, I better take pains now to remain active and not succumb to the temptation of The Sloth.

Footnote: 27 weeks and 12kg heavier. Most clothes are too snug now. No more power-puffy ankles though itchy skin is not letting up.

No waist, no ankle and no neck soon?

The slender ankles were vanishing quickly after touching down in sizzling Singapore and the local food laden with sodium, MSG and whatnots certainly sped up the rate of disappearing act.

The bestie and the Lion stared fixedly at my power-puffy ankles and broke into laughter. I chuckled along. The feet were all inflated like a puffer fish and trust me, it's not a pretty sight but totally hilarious. Fitting into that pair of ballerina I brought along was out of question now.

And then the Lion observed: 'Each time I see you, you are always eating!!!'
Me: I can't help it. I am always hungry!!!'

She and the bestie were quite astounded by my bottomless stomach capacity.

Most articles I read advise against pregger ladies to eat for two. Instead they should only add about 300 calories more to their diet each day.

I am not sure about other pregger ladies but the hunger pangs are like my sidekick these days. They are always hovering around and no matter how much I stuff my face to chase them away, they would come back haunting me again in less than a couple of hours. Regardless if it's in the middle of the night.

And of course being back in Singapore means all hell just broke loose. There's no stopping me from launching an offensive on those resplendent food I've been craving since months.

Hence, the Lion's comment that I have now no waist, no ankle and soon no neck too? LOL!!

The weight I have piled on escaped no one of course. Some expressed silent shock on their face while others (usually those who were once pregnant) commented on how great I look.

After the uneasy first trimester where I was struggling to cope with the awful morning sickness, constant throwing up, curious cravings and aversions of food plus changes to the body, now in my 6th month, I've learned to embrace and live with these changes and the demands made on my body.

The friends' harmless teasings I take them in stride. Because being pregger means I have the privileges and the perfect excuse to incessant eating, to weight gain, to walk slower (due to backache and shortness of breath), to rest more often, to special requests like asking for a whole row of 3 seats to myself on the plane etc., all without having to feel apologetic or guilty about it.

I felt loved and blessed basking in the friends' and family's indulgence and attention and now in the man's pampering such as cutting fruits for me every evening, doing most housechores, rubbing my tummy and being more patient towards my needs.

Now all I need to do is sit back and relax and enjoy the kickings and the somersaults in my belly.

The hunger pangs return. Nasi lemak and ayam goreng await.

Chicken soup for the soul

I am bored. Of the endless colourless and uninspiring music issuing from the googlebox and the tuner everyday. The djs either have no clue of other music genres or they are just belting out tunes which they think appeal to the masses. Well, I am not the masses and I am not feeling the music. It is like a glass of plain water, flat and tasteless. It does not excite nor move me. My soul is suddenly in famine land.

Determined to not concede defeat to the gratifications of mass commercialization, below is my very own chicken soup for the day:

1. She is the new thing - The Horrors (The video is wicked!)
2. Fire - Kasabian
3. Florescent Adolescence - Arctic Monkeys
4. Crystalized - The XX
5. Where did all the love go - Kasabian
6. Someday - The Strokes
7. Teddy Picker - Arctic Monkeys
8. Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
9. Soma - The Strokes
10. Butcher Blues - Kasabian
11. Whole new way - The Horrors
12. Y-Control - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
13. Song for Aberdeen - Mando Diao
14. Vlad the Impaler - Kasabian

And yes, Kasabian is definitely my favourite flavour on the menu card!

Childhood taste memory

When we were little, weekly visits to Grandma's were nothing unusual. I suspect my mum has never gotten used to staying away from her family for too long after her marriage. Being the eldest daughter, the burden of assisting my Grandma in taking care of the large brood naturally fell on her young shoulders. That explains the tightly-knit bond she has with her folks.

So each Saturday morning we would be dragged out of our warm bed for the habitual visit. In the old Kampung Geylang.

The one thing I wasn't hot about these visits was having to face my fear: the large black dog, deliriously welcoming us at the entrance by almost barking its head off.

Each time after gingerly walking past my psychological hurdle, I would gleefully await Grandma's return from the wet market with my favourite brekkie.

Yong Tau Foo!!!

Drenched in red sweet sauce and chilli sauce, Grandma would lovingly cut them up into small pieces and feed me while I sat on her lap. My little mouth would be working the food while the taste receptor cells sent data to the brain for permanent memory retention.

It is no wonder I still love Yong Tau Foo so much after all these years.

Till this day, the palate can never forget the medley of distinctive flavours of those unadorned Yong Tau Foo which Grandma bought.

Sure, other Yong Tau Foos which we have tasted so far are good but I doubt they can ever match up to the childhood taste memory.

Replicating the dish here is simply not the same. The broth with the essence wanting and the recipes for sweet sauce and chilli sauce lacking.

Bun in the oven. Raging hormones. Crazy food cravings.

Oh, I am homesick and I want my Yong Tau Foo!