The last two weeks have been productive. I've started my official journalist-writer kind of interviews - did five last week -, photoshoots, and story-writing and i feel good.
Many friends and family were really surprised when I told them I was going to interviews, or I just came back from one. Their first reaction was, "Why? You changing jobs again?"
No lah. So I thought about a better word to use but couldn't find any. So I explained that it was those kind of research interview and they went, "Why you must interview? I thought you were in corp comms/ corp mags?"
So it was that I happily volunteered for MCYS publication so I can help promote happy family lifestyle. Joa said that was perfect for me. But I think what's even better for me is the SDU mag! Because I do think that I'm Aunt Agony and Ms Love Vogue. Ha ha! Joke, joke!
Anyhow, on Sat, we went to Joa's colleague's place for steamboat. Getting together with the other army wives was just fantastic. Hearing them complain about their husband OT and stress at work was so marvellous. In fact we were just amused at how similar our grievances were! I'm lucky Joa works with people who married nice women as wives. In fact I wish we could meet up more often. But it'll be kinda over-zealous and odd to propose at our first meeting, wouldn't it?
The long weekend. Joa was off on Monday as well so we snuck out to catch Funny People at Lido. Crappy movie. Too crude, too boring, and too long. I was just waiting for the climax or some kind of a drama and then I felt so bored, and then pissed that it was taking so long. Everyone quickly shuffled out when the credits started to roll. Goes to show just how entertaining it was. I asked Joa how many 'popcorn' this garnered and he said four. Four out of 10 would be apt.
I was gonna reflect about some of the heartland stories I discovered in Hougang last week. Autism children and a couple who was battling with kidney failure. I really do think that I'm extremely fortunate to live in a lifetime where I can pursue a career that I feel passionate about and eat whatever I like and buy whatever I fancy. Whenever I pick up my little boy and see him smile, I remind myself that there are people just nearby who have problems that are too big for me. This guy, Thung Toh Khee, just donated his kidney to his wife. But more than that, I think he's an amazing, wonderful guy. Just hearing him speak was an enjoyable experience. People like him makes me feel that the world is such a great place to be in.
I'm just about to leave the office so I can go on an indian-hunt. Yeah, need to track down some young indian youths for yet another soundbite.
martes, 20 de octubre de 2009
viernes, 9 de octubre de 2009
my twitter:
Errands this weekend:
1) cut hair
2) buy voice recorder
3) fix handphone
not enough time!!!
1) cut hair
2) buy voice recorder
3) fix handphone
not enough time!!!
jueves, 8 de octubre de 2009
death-defying
I think I suffer from thanatophobia, in simple terms, it's the fear of death or anything related to it. ever since my uncle died and my baby was born, it dawned on me that a whole new generation has come and taken over.
Everyday, I'd imagine a car accident, and if my dad or Joa comes home late or I cannot find them, I'd think maybe they'd disappeared forever. I love looking at Little J when he's asleep but hate it when I start imagining him cold and still. I look at his chest very often. Just to make sure it's heaving up and down.
An ex-colleague once told me she used to imagine that her kids being kidnapped. Maybe my imagination that my child died is part of the maternal protective instinct. It's morbid, I know. It's something I haven't told anyone, not even Joa.
I was pondering about how we always look forward to the weekend, or to an event that's happening in one or two years time. But what we don't realise is that in between, all that time is wasted. And so, I resolved to treasure every second and every minute of the day. When I awoke this morning, feeling an overwhelming numbness from a lack of sleep, I reminded myself that lazing in bed just one more minute is just wasting another minute of my life. Life is short and it seems everything that I'm doing, exercising, eating, or simply mopping the floor, is just a big waste of time. Imagine having to work five days a week, spending your entire day at the office and missing the baby you'd left at home, only to die at the end of 50 years.
What's the point of it all? I was just thinking that next year, I'd be in my last twentieth year. I'll be thirty. And in a blink of an eye, I'd be forty, and fifty, and sixty, and then a senior citizen! You remember how as young teenagers we cdn't quite wait to grow up. And now that I have, I realised I'm growing old.
I wonder if the eventual "freedom" of death is simply pain in itself. Why can't I stay 28 forever? Why can't my parents and I live like that forever? Why can't my baby be small forever?
Everyday, I'd imagine a car accident, and if my dad or Joa comes home late or I cannot find them, I'd think maybe they'd disappeared forever. I love looking at Little J when he's asleep but hate it when I start imagining him cold and still. I look at his chest very often. Just to make sure it's heaving up and down.
An ex-colleague once told me she used to imagine that her kids being kidnapped. Maybe my imagination that my child died is part of the maternal protective instinct. It's morbid, I know. It's something I haven't told anyone, not even Joa.
I was pondering about how we always look forward to the weekend, or to an event that's happening in one or two years time. But what we don't realise is that in between, all that time is wasted. And so, I resolved to treasure every second and every minute of the day. When I awoke this morning, feeling an overwhelming numbness from a lack of sleep, I reminded myself that lazing in bed just one more minute is just wasting another minute of my life. Life is short and it seems everything that I'm doing, exercising, eating, or simply mopping the floor, is just a big waste of time. Imagine having to work five days a week, spending your entire day at the office and missing the baby you'd left at home, only to die at the end of 50 years.
What's the point of it all? I was just thinking that next year, I'd be in my last twentieth year. I'll be thirty. And in a blink of an eye, I'd be forty, and fifty, and sixty, and then a senior citizen! You remember how as young teenagers we cdn't quite wait to grow up. And now that I have, I realised I'm growing old.
I wonder if the eventual "freedom" of death is simply pain in itself. Why can't I stay 28 forever? Why can't my parents and I live like that forever? Why can't my baby be small forever?
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