There You Were, Thinking That Something Earth-Shattering Had Happened
I have decided to stop showing Annoying Year Ones that I'm annoyed with them. Firstly, it's not very Christian behaviour. Secondly, I seriously doubt that their entire year are Annoying Twerps - the very definition of an 'Annoying Twerp' entails that you've had the misfortune of encountering one. So it's not fair to generalise and dismiss the Not Annoying, Non-Twerps as being tarred with the same brush. And one hopes that they will all naturally transform into Not Annoying Non-Twerps as they grow older and realise that The World Does Not Revolve Around Those In Law School.
Right.
That being said, I had the misfortune of encountering one such Twerp this morning. On the way up Bukit Timah Campus Mountain I had to keep biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud - because if I'm not going to be Annoyed, at least I can be Amused. I know I'm able to laugh at how seriously I took myself when I was younger (read: in J1 maybe, but not in Year One), although I'm not so sure they'll be mature enough to laugh at themselves in a few years' time.
How Grown Up and Mature I sound!
***
Today I told Liz that I wanted to be a bear, Paddington specifically, because he gets to eat a lot and even when he displays a total lack of social grace he's excused. He gets to celebrate his birthday twice a year, and Mrs. Bird always bakes him a cake with lots of marmalade. Also, unless the weather doesn't permit it, he has 'elevenses' with Mr. Gruber at his antique shop in Portobello Road every morning - buns from the bakery where he has a standing order, and a thermos flask with hot cocoa.
Liz suggested that I try the whole buns and cocoa thing, but I told her what was more important was transposing the 'elevenses' concept to the Singaporean context, read: pau and coffeeshop drinks, milo perhaps. However, that really hinges on which coffeeshop you go to and the brand of paus they sell.
I may not be a bear hailing from Darkest Peru (nor practically a shoo-in for the U.S. presidency because nobody in their right minds would want a Vice-President who thinks running the country is about as difficult as the talent segment in a beauty pageant), but I think I've figured out a way to leave my mark in this world.
It will all begin with the following letter:
Dear Makers of Lim Kee paus,
Thank you very much for making the paus who have been my preferred breakfast or tea companions for the past few years, although they don't provide companionship for much longer than 5 minutes or so because by then they're in my tummy.
I have noticed that you don't produce a Halal range of paus. Could you please consider doing so, because then I can suggest to my school's administration that they replace the Kong Guan Halal Range of paus in the canteen with yours? I am sure that this will enable me to leave my mark as the One who ushered in a New Era of Good Pau in the School Canteen.
Alternatively, you could also give the Makers of Kong Guan paus, Halal or otherwise, some tips to making their paus more palatable. I'm sure this will not be a difficult process, as all you need to do is tell them to improve the quality and quantity of the pau filling, and maybe impart to them your recipe for pau skin. As your paus and their paus are factory made, I seriously doubt this will entail an increased need for labour.
However, Kong Guan has managed to produced curry puffs which are extremely Solid. There is no other word to describe them. Perhaps you could consider producing a range of curry puffs too.
Yours Sincerely
Chloe
***
About three months have passed since I came back from Beijing, and I don't think I'm ever going to recover from my fondness, now, for schmaltzy Chinese pop. If anything, my collection has expanded, with Khalil Fong (fang1 da4 tong2) and Lee Hom (you DO know the MUSIC MAN) joining the songs I think I'm listening to One Too Many Times.
I felt like being spastic today while I was on the cross-trainer, and singing along loudly and lustily to the (Chinese) songs playing on Stonie (my trusty MP3 player, no prizes for guessing which brand and model he is) and waving my arms about and acting all drama-mama, in a highly exaggerated simulation of what could be almost any Chinese singer's concert.
My grandmother has half a cup of 3-in-1 coffee with some McVite's biscuits every evening at around 5:30p.m. She dips the biscuits into the coffee because then they're softer and easier to chew. Old people like to fuss and hate to be left alone, even if they're alone only because they're in a different part of the house from somebody else.
She happened to be having her teatime treat when I was seized by the urge to channel a Chinese pop concert, and although I'd gladly go through the whole shebang for my mother's benefit and amusement, I was the teensiest bit embarrassed to do so in front of my grandmother. I felt like I wanted to be alone; she would suddenly ask me about things that happened yesterday because she thought they'd happened today. The remote control would suddenly malfunction and I would have to explain to her how to manually change the channel or turn off the TV. She looked childishly frightened when she saw the annoyance on my face, her eyes and the apology and plea not to be forgetful or forgotten in them making me feel guilty, making me promise that I will be more patient with her.
I was reminded of how the songs sounded different when I was alone on those long bus rides home from school with nothing but trees and sky lining the roads on either side. When nobody on the bus knew me and even if I'd just sung out loud suddenly I would have received strange looks but they wouldn't have cared because people in China don't bother themselves with other people, there are too many of them.
It's claustrophobic in Singapore sometimes, at home, in school - even when I'm outside I feel like it's shrinking. Since we purchased a cross-trainer, there are days I don't dare venture to the roads for a run because I don't feel like I have what it takes mentally to battle the sheer amount of traffic; drivers horning each other - you can hear the impatience in every short horn blast - exhaust fumes and the roar and warmth of buses travelling above the speed limit, drivers of cars trying to overtake them and each other.
And the saddest thing is that I can't bear to be alone for too long.
I have decided to stop showing Annoying Year Ones that I'm annoyed with them. Firstly, it's not very Christian behaviour. Secondly, I seriously doubt that their entire year are Annoying Twerps - the very definition of an 'Annoying Twerp' entails that you've had the misfortune of encountering one. So it's not fair to generalise and dismiss the Not Annoying, Non-Twerps as being tarred with the same brush. And one hopes that they will all naturally transform into Not Annoying Non-Twerps as they grow older and realise that The World Does Not Revolve Around Those In Law School.
Right.
That being said, I had the misfortune of encountering one such Twerp this morning. On the way up Bukit Timah Campus Mountain I had to keep biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud - because if I'm not going to be Annoyed, at least I can be Amused. I know I'm able to laugh at how seriously I took myself when I was younger (read: in J1 maybe, but not in Year One), although I'm not so sure they'll be mature enough to laugh at themselves in a few years' time.
How Grown Up and Mature I sound!
***
Today I told Liz that I wanted to be a bear, Paddington specifically, because he gets to eat a lot and even when he displays a total lack of social grace he's excused. He gets to celebrate his birthday twice a year, and Mrs. Bird always bakes him a cake with lots of marmalade. Also, unless the weather doesn't permit it, he has 'elevenses' with Mr. Gruber at his antique shop in Portobello Road every morning - buns from the bakery where he has a standing order, and a thermos flask with hot cocoa.
Liz suggested that I try the whole buns and cocoa thing, but I told her what was more important was transposing the 'elevenses' concept to the Singaporean context, read: pau and coffeeshop drinks, milo perhaps. However, that really hinges on which coffeeshop you go to and the brand of paus they sell.
I may not be a bear hailing from Darkest Peru (nor practically a shoo-in for the U.S. presidency because nobody in their right minds would want a Vice-President who thinks running the country is about as difficult as the talent segment in a beauty pageant), but I think I've figured out a way to leave my mark in this world.
It will all begin with the following letter:
Dear Makers of Lim Kee paus,
Thank you very much for making the paus who have been my preferred breakfast or tea companions for the past few years, although they don't provide companionship for much longer than 5 minutes or so because by then they're in my tummy.
I have noticed that you don't produce a Halal range of paus. Could you please consider doing so, because then I can suggest to my school's administration that they replace the Kong Guan Halal Range of paus in the canteen with yours? I am sure that this will enable me to leave my mark as the One who ushered in a New Era of Good Pau in the School Canteen.
Alternatively, you could also give the Makers of Kong Guan paus, Halal or otherwise, some tips to making their paus more palatable. I'm sure this will not be a difficult process, as all you need to do is tell them to improve the quality and quantity of the pau filling, and maybe impart to them your recipe for pau skin. As your paus and their paus are factory made, I seriously doubt this will entail an increased need for labour.
However, Kong Guan has managed to produced curry puffs which are extremely Solid. There is no other word to describe them. Perhaps you could consider producing a range of curry puffs too.
Yours Sincerely
Chloe
***
About three months have passed since I came back from Beijing, and I don't think I'm ever going to recover from my fondness, now, for schmaltzy Chinese pop. If anything, my collection has expanded, with Khalil Fong (fang1 da4 tong2) and Lee Hom (you DO know the MUSIC MAN) joining the songs I think I'm listening to One Too Many Times.
I felt like being spastic today while I was on the cross-trainer, and singing along loudly and lustily to the (Chinese) songs playing on Stonie (my trusty MP3 player, no prizes for guessing which brand and model he is) and waving my arms about and acting all drama-mama, in a highly exaggerated simulation of what could be almost any Chinese singer's concert.
My grandmother has half a cup of 3-in-1 coffee with some McVite's biscuits every evening at around 5:30p.m. She dips the biscuits into the coffee because then they're softer and easier to chew. Old people like to fuss and hate to be left alone, even if they're alone only because they're in a different part of the house from somebody else.
She happened to be having her teatime treat when I was seized by the urge to channel a Chinese pop concert, and although I'd gladly go through the whole shebang for my mother's benefit and amusement, I was the teensiest bit embarrassed to do so in front of my grandmother. I felt like I wanted to be alone; she would suddenly ask me about things that happened yesterday because she thought they'd happened today. The remote control would suddenly malfunction and I would have to explain to her how to manually change the channel or turn off the TV. She looked childishly frightened when she saw the annoyance on my face, her eyes and the apology and plea not to be forgetful or forgotten in them making me feel guilty, making me promise that I will be more patient with her.
I was reminded of how the songs sounded different when I was alone on those long bus rides home from school with nothing but trees and sky lining the roads on either side. When nobody on the bus knew me and even if I'd just sung out loud suddenly I would have received strange looks but they wouldn't have cared because people in China don't bother themselves with other people, there are too many of them.
It's claustrophobic in Singapore sometimes, at home, in school - even when I'm outside I feel like it's shrinking. Since we purchased a cross-trainer, there are days I don't dare venture to the roads for a run because I don't feel like I have what it takes mentally to battle the sheer amount of traffic; drivers horning each other - you can hear the impatience in every short horn blast - exhaust fumes and the roar and warmth of buses travelling above the speed limit, drivers of cars trying to overtake them and each other.
And the saddest thing is that I can't bear to be alone for too long.
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