Now this is what I'm talking about. 

So my question is, if we're constantly being told that we shouldn't live according to the rules that society has set, then why is it then society is still abiding by these sets of rules when we're clearly told we need to move forward in a different direction?

I was on my way to the library to return a couple of overdue books (whoops) and since the library was at the mall - a 10 minute bus ride, i simply threw on my shorts and a red tube top and boarded the bus. And there is was. One by one. 5 out of 10 people in that bus staring me up at my bare naked shoulders as I walked past them. They looked away when I made eye contact with them, but I could feel their gaze burning on my naked shoulders. In my mind, I knew that they were immediately branding me as one godless woman trying to dress to impress, even if it was just a simple trip to the library. 

In Singapore, you wear something revealing like a tube top and you're branded a godless slut. So my question is: why. Why should I be forced to conform to the expectations of what common ordinary people like that ridiculous bitch of that old woman with her groceries believe decent dressing should be?  But more importantly, why does dressing in a more revealing manner make me an attention-seeking whore in the eyes of the common Asian here in Singapore? After all, are we not a secular modernized state? Are we not allowed to dress freely? Then why are we still indirectly bowing to the pressure traditional conventional values and trying to impress a bunch of ancient ninnies? 

My feelings are the same about religion. Like sex. If I discuss orgasms, masturbation and foreplay to a Christian, am I considered a soulless woman destined to go to Hell? Of course not all Christians/Catholics?Muslims/Hindus would curse me, but if a deeply religious individual were involved, am I branded a whore? What right does he have to impose this own values and beliefs on me and judge me for my own beliefs? Do I judge them for deeply religious people about such conventional traditional values and mores? Yes, I do. 

Yes, I openly discuss sex. 
Yes, I am pro-choice
Yes, I support the use of contraception. 
Yes, I support homosexuality. 
No, I do not believe in the hijab. 
No, I do not believe in female circumcision. 

But why can I not let me own opinions be heard? Because the government thinks I'm going to offend the Christians and Catholics and Muslims here? Is the government putting their needs against the needs of the atheists? If so, isn't it time for us to redefine secularism and modernity? If we're going to be a modern, urbanized state, bent on attracting foreign talent from the West, shouldn't the government be more liberal about these issues? Are you telling me that all foreign talent from the West entering Singapore are straight? 

Please. 

Singapore is a paradoxical state. We claim to be modern, but we cling on to traditional prehistoric beliefs. We want to increase our population size and encourage local women here to have more children, but the government desperately clings on to the desire for a conventional family nucleus without realizing that as we step into the future, we are beginning to challenge and abandon these traditional nuclei and opting for various alternatives. Adoption / single parenthood / sperm donation / cohabitation. Yet individuals who adopt these alternative lifestyles are shunned by the government. 

It's a terrible planet. 

And what about the issue on love, and relationships? I'm sorry, but I cringe at us Singaporeans engaging in PDA because I'm just racist toward my own people. I'm a hypocrite. I condemn Singaporeans who engage in PDA but I'm perfectly fine when I see Caucasians sucking tongue. 

The truth is, I don't know what I feel about relationships. Love. I've never been in a relationship, but I basically want to die laughing when I hear of couples who've been together for only a short period of time and saying they love each other. Yeah. Okay. Look I'm a cynic. I think that love can fuck with your head sometimes. I mean I don't want to become one of the girls going round telling the world every single thing she does with her boyfriend every single day when there are more important things to talk about, like poverty, capitalism and why there isn't a Sex and the City 3. 

M and I were talking last Saturday and we were trying to console ourselves whenever we think of girls with relationship problems coming to us single gals and we be Girl, why you telling me this? I can't give you any practical advice. Go bother a shrink with your problems! Look, I don't need a guy, but it baffles me why most of my girl friends have had boyfriends, or have been dating, or actually have been asked out by boys, when I have not. Am I that physically repugnant? Is it because I'm not the demure soft-spoken dewy girl that people think guys want? Well, excuse me if I'm vocal about my own opinions but I cannot be with a man who suppress my voice.

God. You know what. In my completely hormonal state, I'm hating every girl with a boyfriend out there right now. 

a tale of 200 children

I cannot believe how tired I am right now. I feel like the energy has been sapped from every inch of my body and I can barely get up from this chair because my legs are just numb and sore.

Never in my life have I seen about 100 children crowding around in one level of a building screaming and shouting and jumping. It was utter mayhem I tell you. 

My group of little tots were this cute but noisy bunch of 4-6 year old girls whom M and I officially christened out babies because they're the youngest performers out of all the children. 

Teacher, can I eat my biscuits?

Gail pulled my hair!

My jacket is itchy!

I can't tie my shoes!

Can we go in stage now now now now now?

I want to go to the toilet!

I don't know where my hairband is.

Teacher, my leotard is with my mummy. 

Teacher, my mummy is going to see me dance today!

Teacher I like your scarf!

I love them babies, but my voice has gone hoarse from raising my voice over the utter noise they're making to get them to keep quiet.

Boys and girls, I want to see my two lines right now. Where are my two lines? If I don't see my two lines, you will not get to perform on stage later. So get into your two lines now and put your fingers to your lips.

But teacher, you said we can't touch our lips because of our lipstick.

Then put your finger near your lips and do not make any noise. You walk with your feet. Not your mouths, understand? 

Tiny tots, but intelligent tots. I was particularly attached to this incredibly cute adorable girl called Kate, a 3-year-old cutie who comes with her sister and practically joined at the hip because they do everything together. She doesn't speak much and can't walk fast enough so I literally have to carry her round the level whenever we're rushing to go from one place to another. She gave me an utter fright today. I walked 10 of my girls to the incredibly crowded makeup room and had to rush upstairs again to  discuss something with another of the dresser about an arrangement we made with each other for one of the kids, so I left them in the care of the makeup artist. Bad mistake but he himself was busy. When I came downstairs, I noticed that Gail wasn't with Kate anywhere. I did a headcount and counted only9 tiny heads and my heart thumped with fright. I counted again but counted only 9 of my girls. When I questioned Gail, she just stared at me with her huge glossy eyes and started walking around and calling her sister's name and I thought I was about to have a panic attack. I did a quick check outside to make sure she wasn't running around near the toilets, so I ran back upstairs to get the girls' dance teacher, this lovely Southern woman whom they affectionately call Miss Tara and who for some reason, sounds strangely like Miley Cyrus and we hurried down to search the makeup room again. When we got back to the girls, we fund Kate standing innocently there! Miss Tara questioned her:

"Hi Kate! You were missing! Where did you go?"

(stares at Miss Tara with her big glossy eyes)

"Kate, were you hiding somewhere in this huge big room?

(nods)

"Where were you hiding, my darling?"

(runs to the cupboard in the corner of the room, opens the door and points inside)

Oh God seriously I was just about to scream I just apologized to Miss Tara for the trouble and went up to Kate and gave her a big hug and kiss on the cheek and shooed her back in the line to get her blush done. 

What a fright it was because missing children are the scariest. They don't respond to you when you call their names sometimes, because they just turn and stare at you instead of raising their hand and acknowledging us. Still, Kate's a sweetheart. So anyway I got them all back upstairs and put Kate down for a nap because her eyes were drooping dangerously low and she looked so precious just lying on the floor next to her bag and shoes and looking at me with her sleepy eyes. I told the girls around her to make sure no one else disturbs her and to let me know if anyone wakes Kate up while she was sleeping and they all took on the job with such stout eagerness. 

So my tiny tots dance a weird "jazz for babies" number to Happy Boys and Happy Girls. It looked like aerobics because it was mainly lifting arms, waving them around and getting on the floor and back up again. But you can't expect 3 year old babies to do splits and shanay turns. But it still very very very cute because they all looked so happy just hearing the music and dancing to it. I couldn't stop smiling when I was backstage and watching from the sides and dancing with them to prompt them whenever they looked to us at the sides for reassurance and waving their short arms and tottering around on the spot in their yellow suits. After their entire performance, they stayed in the room and started playing London Bridge. It was honestly the cutest thing I ever saw. 30 girls in yellow tops and fluffy skirts making bridge with their hands and running under each other's arms and singing London Bridge in their high pitched voices. Of course I had only known the first version of the nursery song and can;t go being "my fair lady" because the only version of London Bridge is sung by Fergie though I hardly think they'll understand the sexual conniptions behind the song

How come every time you come around
my London Bridge wanna come down like
London, London, London, wanna go down like 
London London London, we join' down like. 

So that was in the first interval. The second interval was so incredibly hectic for me because I was responsible for quick change for this girl called Holly - the Caucasian girl I was telling you about - and little boy Keyan, who only had a timeframe of 3 minutes to get into her costume before her net item began. I got one of the male crew members to go backstage with me with their costumes so he can change Keyan and apparently we (the crew members) have been warned that Holly can be tiny little demanding diva. When Holly finished her first item, we were scrambling look around for her and then we saw Miss Tara running with her and holding Holly's hand. When she approached us, we started stripping her costume off, but not before I noticed that she was whimpering and then I asked her what was wrong. She told me she fell on the way and had cut her lips and then burst into these screechy cries and freaked me out and I tried my best to get her to calm down. She was asking persistently for a tissue to dab her lip because she thinks its bleeding (she was right) and when we dressed her, I sat her down on the chair and firmly told her to stop her tears and comforted her but she kept insisting that she couldn't go on stage anymore because everyone will see her lip. I promised her its only a small little cut and no one will be able to see it but she couldn't stop sobbing, so the stage manager stepped it and got fierce and firm with her and Holly quietened down (I'm sorry but I can't be him - I don't know how and I feel wretched for telling a child off!). Miss Tara then walked away to get the kids in line and left Holly on the chair for a bit to get her act together. I gave Holly a hug hug and promised her that no one would be able to see her lip and had her come to me so I can help change her costume again for her next item. 

When changing for her next item, I could definitely tell why the production and senior crew members called her a demeaning tot. She was telling people what to do and where her things was and how to do them. Its a big difference from all the other girls because they ask for permission and show things to you and basically just obey whatever you tell them. But Holly's different. She's more spirited and more direct and unfortunately, extroverted tots like her don't mingle well with Asian adults. 

You need to tie my shoes first!

I have to put on my leotard first!

My socks are in the wrong position!

I want a tissue for my lip!

Other than that, she's pretty quiet whenever her dresser and I are just shoving her tights and leotard up. I still think she's nice one. I mean, we had a nice chat in the toilet! She was telling me excitedly about how her pink outfit is her favorite costume and who would be coming to watch her perform. She's going to grow up to be 30% Regina George I can tell you. 

But anyway, I was upset when the final curtain call came and all the crew members came out and bowed and all the kids starting cheering and jumping and shouting "Teacher! Teacher! Teacher!". I was sad when we were packing the kids bags and lining them up and taking them outside to the foyer to their parents. I was sad when I was walking with M to the foyer and spotted one of the girls, another 3 year old whom I was in charge of watching over - screaming and jumping and waving "Teacher! Teacher!" and then pulling my scarf and showing me the bun she was eating to me, with her parents thanking me for helping her (what did I do? All I did was kiss and hug her because she's so adorable!) but hey, it's a challenge managing 50 kids in one room. Or rather, 50 4-year-old toddlers running around. But she's one of the 3 year olds so I gave her special attention and personally dressed them both, checked their bags, lunch boxes, put them to their naps and carried them and ran to the stage to perform. So yes. You're welcome. 

And I was sad when the stage manager debriefed us and we all parted ways. All the volunteers had gotten friendly with each other this past 2 days because we had to work so closely with each other and help each other mind the children and all. EEEEKS. I'm so glad I signed up for this volunteering stint. I admit. I wanted in only because of the dance card, but after helping backstage and interacting the kids, I started thinking differently about it and can honestly say I really enjoyed working backstage and helping everyone and meeting new people and tending to the children. 

Mind you I've not changed my mind about children. Unless they're cute Caucasian babies and remain at 3 years old with cute cheeks like my cutie pie, 3 year old Kate :D

I'm tired, but happy ;)

100 kids and counting

Today and tomorrow will mark the days that will allow to determine whether or not I will make a suitable parent, and boy was I mistaken on so many counts today.

M and I were at the University Cultural Center at 830am to begin helping with the first full dress rehearsal of the day, which would begin ay 10.30am. We were assigned to be in charge of 2 different groups of children. The first was a group of 34 young children, most of whom were girls, aged between 4 to 7 and it was our responsibility as dressers to make sure that they get into their costumes for their dance items, hustle them to the makeup room and make sure they don't run around and get lost / hide in the cupboards / squabble with each other / throw hissy fits. And my god, is it hard to handle 37 children. Even though there were 4 of us dresser assigned among the 37 children, it was tough to get each child in order because many of them looked so clueless and couldn't think and react fast enough, nor understand the importance of time. And they needed help getting dressed, especially the younger ones who were 3 or 4 years old. Most of them were girls so no awkwardness about helping them change into their outfits, and they were very obedient didn't protest in response to us twisting them or grabbing their feet and shoving them into their tap or jazz shoes. They're probably used to their parents forcing them to stay still and dressing them. This group was tricky, because they had a buffer time of 1 item to quickly run back to their dressing room to change their shoes and because these children possess absolutely no sense of urgency, we took such a long time to get ten to stay still and change their shoes and run them up to the stage entrance.

It was an absolute chaos with the 37 children, but it was such a delight talking to them and I was taken by surprise at how well, motherly I sounded when I started talking to them. I was calling them sweetheart, sweetie and honey holding their hands and humoring them and packing for them and pinching their cheeks. All the performers looks excellent in their costumes, especially the ballet and lyrical dancers. But oh my lord, the Caucasian children, especially the young ones, look so utterly previous and gorgeous and beautiful and innocent and oh my god I want to die. Most of them were girls, and seeing them tottering around in their tap shoes and their hairs in high buns and running around and looking beautiful. Of course the older ones were gorgeous, but man was I jealous because they're so prettyyyyyyyyyy. We saw a 12 year girl taller than us and with the body of a 16 year old girl. I mean what is that? What is that? Life is so unfair.

Anyway, the second group of dancers we were helping to dress and handle were 6 year olds. They were more independent and definitely a more spirited bunch. They could pretty much dress themselves and needed some guidance and help with their shoes and accessories. There were these 3 boys who were this spirited lot, teasing the girls and making fun of each other. One of them asked me where the dressing room was. I said the room we're currently in is the dressing room, and he gasped and protested "But there are girls here!" and so I had to go find a male volunteer to take the boys to the toilet to change. Then I brought them to makeup and it was another round of playful protests.

"I have to wear makeup?!"
"Yes, everyone performing on stage has to wear them."
"Makeup is for girls!"
"Makeup is for everyone! Boys wear them too, but only on stage!"
"Can I not wear makeup? Please please please?"
"No, you're getting your makeup done. Otherwise, you'll look pale like a ghost.

Then it was time for lipstick and the boys started screaming and trying to get way behind the line and so I dragged them one by one to the lipstick lady to get their lipstick done. It was actually fun to banter with them about the lipstick and blush.

Anyway, we had a while before their item was due so the kids were allowed to play and boy was it a sight to watch. Rebecca will be so proud of us actually noticing the different stages of child's play. The kids were only 6 and according to Piaget, they would usually be engaging in rule-based play between the ages of 7 and 11, but the children, especially the girls were abiding by rules to determine equal play. They played "scissors paper stone" to determine who gets the color markers first and agreed to who will go first. And it seems that an appearance complex develops at that age. I had two or three girls coming up to me saying things like "Do I look pretty?" "Does my makeup look good on me?" "I need a touch up for my makeup.

Strange world.

It wasn't difficult helping this group but it was chaotic for two of the kids who had no buffer time to change because they had two items back to back and we didn't get to change them in time and so I volunteered to coordinate the dressing for the girl who had to change immediately after her first item so she can go on for the second item straight away. She's this doll-like looking Caucasian girl who definetely had a more open disposition than the other girls. She knows exactly what needs to be done and would tell the dressers what to do and sort of got into trouble when one of the dressers tried to force the shoes on her without unbuckling it before hand and so I suppose it hurt her feet. Se started telling the helper what to do and well, I guess the helper didn't like being told off by a child so firmly told her to pipe it down. Well. I had the sense to unbuckle the tap shoes so I got it right for her, she politely said "thank you very much" and then hopped off.

After their item I took her to the washroom and it such a nice time walking her there because she's such a chatterbox.

If I get married, I definitely want a Caucasian man.

All in all, it was a tiring day. All 200 kids will be coming in at 11am at once, so we need to man our battle stations. Watching the kids dance on stage, and talking to all the other crew, most of whom are dancers, really gave me fresh perspective on dance, but that's discussion for another day. I need sleep. Desperately.

this is dance

Because dance is not just about using the corresponding music genres for a particular style of dance. 

Because dance is about expression

Because dance is about spreading a message

Because dance is about searching, exploring and finding. 

Because dance is meant to move and inspire. 

This is such a powerful performance; the unique unconventional interpretation is the music and somehow he managed to blend 2 completely different styles to create something so touching and moving. 

I felt it and I was just moved to tears halfway during his routine. 

You go, dwag. 

I had the most lazy-tastic day ever yesterday. Lazi-tastic. Is that even a legit word?

Lazy-tastic = lazy + fantastic.

After a week of hurried walking, shopping and a flurry of meals back and forth, I had the entire apartment to myself on Saturday with everyone out. Okay it was really just my mum and sister out but that's good because my dad and brother normally shut themselves up in their rooms and barely disturb me. So really, it's one of those days where I can get some peace and quiet and do whatever I want to do.

Yesterday was spent experimenting with my accessories, reading magazines (yesssss I gave up reading magazines for the sake of exams), scrolling through Tumblr posts, watching Transformers: Dark of the Moon and getting my arms nibbled by Bobby each time I jump up and down in my seat during an epic chase/battle scene, Skying with S after dinner, running for an hour and finally watching reruns of Sex and the City til 12am.

Yes, that, ladies and gentlemen, is my idea of a fabulous day. Simply staying at home and having some quality lazy time to myself where I don't think about anything else. Well, except for URECA and work. I sent in my resume to a few other recruiters, begging for work. I think sooner or later, I'll settle for anything that comes my way - even being part of a service crew and being a waitress, though I put my foot down at a $5.50/hr salary. That's just insulting but I was only too inexperienced and silly to realize it 2 years ago.

God, what do I do?! This whole finding-work-that-pays seems so enthusiastic. I'm not even a graduate. Most jobs out there that need no other experience/qualifications are low wage jobs like sales and telemarketers and waitresses.

Okay I am a 22 year old woman. I need to be independent and figure this out. Okay, I've drawn out my plan. I sent out my resumes to 15 people since a week ago, I've got Plan Z, I've got to complete URECA, and now its time for some comfort companionship with Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte. I can always count on my 4 girls to give me practical advice about everything. What would I do without you girls.

The hardest part during the recovery process is not seeing the results that you want, or knowing that the results that you will get can only come after a lengthy. gut-wrenching process, or that it stresses you out when your triggers are staring right at you in the face and testing you to the limits. Then you need to consciously remind yourself to not give in to your old habits of self-harm and continue pushing forward.

It was a first for me stepping into JB in Malaysia today, though I'd have to say I didn't particularly enjoy myself. Let me be clear. I am very confident about my personal style. I can scan all the clothes in a store and immediately pick out styles that I love: color blocking, matching, feminine silhouettes, printed jeans, peplum and bustier tops, maxi dresses and what not. The problem is that I don't have the right figure for it. I'm very aware of how exactly my body is, and I can tell you with absolutely certainty, that some of the styles I pick need a good body to be able to pull the look off. I look in the mirror and I don't see the figure I want, but the fleshy areas that really does ruin the silhouette of the outfit. its really a self esteem buster, especially when you see other girls confidently pulling off the looks that you desperately want to wear when you know you can't.

Well, of course there are plus size women all over the world not giving a rat's ass about how their body looks in a particular outfit as long as they feel good in it, but you know what - that's them. It's going to take a long time for me to accept my body and until then, I really do want to slim down. Not for the sake of fitting into a distorted societal norm, but because I want to look and feel confident instead of hiding behind what I've christened my "fat clothes".

Needless to say, I went home feeling pretty much dejected and forlorn. Am wishing I could to J. I mean J isn't exactly the best company to talk to about such body issues because J is so practical and straightforward - when I told J the dress I liked so badly would look better on skinny girls because the fabric of the dress clings, J just said "so get a bigger size". And I just wanted to say to J that there are just some things that won't solve itself if you get a bigger size and if things were that simple, I wouldn't be in therapy to begin with. But yes, I wish I could talk to J about it because sometimes in my life, I just need an uninvolved and unbiased party to help me see things straight.

If only life were so simple.