Singaporean Dreaming (and complaining as usual)

I just wanted to say a quick thank you to the people who left encouraging comments on the post where I whined about how shitty I felt recently (and feels good to be meowed at, LOL..hasn’t happened for awhile)… didn’t think that anyone read this blog, not that I mind, because blogging has been a habit I’d indulged in for years eversince Cheng introduced me to Diaryland. I know A and CG and maybe some other friends who know of this blog’s existence do read now and then, but to me the readership doesn’t matter because I just like ranting. It gets boring talking to the mirror after awhile because my face makes me laugh.

Anyway, I’m glad A seems to have so many activities this month, with all the sudden ‘activist’ activities and birthdays. I do envy her to be honest. I mean it’s really cool that I’m overseas and I know many people think that it’s wonderful to get the opportunity to be in a different country. However, home to me is where my friends and loved ones are. I’m counting down to the days I can finally go down to ‘Pack and Send’ to get my stuff sea-freighted back to Singapore. I know I’ve said many times that Singapore is a kinda sickening place to live in. I have a massive love-hate relationship with it. Sometimes the country feels too small to contain what I feel (if that makes sense) and sometimes it’s everything I want. But these few years of living in Sydney has shown me that maybe I’m an islander at heart, and I do miss living in a more cosmopolitan and fast-paced city.

I know I’m a very laidback and ‘chill’ sort of person… but this place is too damn chill without friends to hang out with! Last night, my housemate’s friend from Singapore came over. I was squatting in my room as usual, half asleep because of the Choya I was downing like crazy….suddenly I heard this rude but familiar accent, and my heart was beating like crazy. Ahaha..I know, that’s so corny…

People might be wondering, aren’t there other Singaporeans there? Of course there are, but most of them are pretty young (the ones I see in uni).. and I realise that after 3 months or so most of them develop this fake-O accent. Usually it starts with an American accent which then slowly morphs into an Aussie accent. I don’t fault them for having an accent because sometimes when you talk to a local, you unconsciously start to imitate them… I do that, and my tongue gets twisted up. But I feel damn happy when I hear that ugly Singaporean drawl!! With its hodge-podge of different languages and dialects mixed in. It sounds terrible, but it’s like a piece of home. It’s like those horrendously dirty HDB void decks in Singapore back in the mid 80s… but old pictures of them make me feel happy!

I remember last year or the year before, I was out with this Singaporean friend of mine in the city. We were both sort of homesick… suddenly we  started to curse and swear in Hokkien. It’s so childish, but both of us felt better immediately. Haha.

I think life would be easier here with A around. I feel pretty lost without her here. Sydney does not seem as sunny and beautiful when she’s not around. Again, I know this is corny and mushy but it’s true. Sometimes I wish I could create a place that was a mix of Singapore and Australia. I love the wide open areas here, the neverending skies and the gadzillions of stars which can’t be seen back home. And of course the weather! I LOVE THE WEATHER! But the pace of life…wayyyy too slow…..

Ok, I gotta go bathe before I start looking like a bum who lives in her pjs. I will get my ass out of the house today… maybe go to the beach and dog park.

I miss you A and Crappy Girl! oh..and the dog… I miss Cochoo and her sulky face…

Okay, decided to come back and continue this post. It started to rain when I popped out to buy cigarettes, and therefore my plans to go to the beach is foiled. The housemate and his friends were over again…he didn’t ask me to join them… hmm… I thought he would out of politeness since I’ve always asked him out with mine. Doesn’t matter, I don’t really care…

HUGE BOUT OF WHINGING AND COMPLAINING following this.. (don’t bother to read because it’s always about the same shit but I feel better after letting it out). Like seriously… don’t bother.

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

*

*

*

*

*

Too late.

But one thing I can’t stand is that he doesn’t clean up, and he took forever to fix the toilet (like a week or 2). I was wondering if we were going to be manually flushing the toilet for the rest of my stay. Manually meaning we have to lift the lid of the cistern, put our hands into the icy cold WC water and pull this plastic lever up to flush (the flush broke).

Yesterday, he finally went down to the agency to get people to come back to fix the loo because his friends were coming over?!! WTF. And he left his laundry out in the living room for 3 weeks. I just did a load yesterday and hung it out to dry. Then today because his friends were coming over again he actually kept his laundry and shoved mine to one side? WTF again… and finally bothered to do his dishes…

Dunno la, may seem like I have loads of time on my hands that’s why I’m complaining. But the thing is I don’t usually say anything about the cleanliness to him because I’m just whatever about his lifestyle and habits. However, when he does clean up, he makes a big deal out of it, like waking me up to tell me he cleaned the floor?! WTF….oh and that was about 2 months ago when he claimed to have cleaned the floor. Usually I just get passive agressive about it, like washing up my dishes and leaving his dirty plates to grow mould and rot. I never used to be like that, but recently I’m getting fedup because the water is cold, and my hands are getting severely chapped from constantly doing the dishes. And he doesn’t empty the rubbish bin even though he goes to the garage (where all the dustbins are) every morning. So usually I’m the one doing it. It doesn’t help that when he’s too lazy to even cook noodles, he pops open this Japanese fermented tofu thing and just eats it out of the container. After that, he just leaves the container lying around in the living room for a few days, or just throws it into the dustbin and doesn’t chuck it out in the bins. That tofu thing is shit smelly like what your feet would smell like after wearing 12 hours of wet socks. Our laundry is hung in the house usually since there’s no space, so all our freshly-washed clothes smell like wet feet. I’d rather my clothes smell of stale cigarette smoke la!

The stupidest stupidest thing is, I know he’s going through a lot at the moment, what with having to deal with his retrenchment this coming end of June, having to find a housemate since I’m leaving, finding ways of meeting his car payments… I was really sympathetic about it, however he started to get all depressed. All he could do was complain about those people he submitted CVs to who did not ask him to go in for interviews. And actually, he only submitted like ONE CV. Like ONE company and he had to complain… some people submit like 100 resumes just to get maybe 1 interview. Jeez. That company happened to be an overseas subsidiary of the Sydney HQ, located in Singapore. So after he did not get the interview he complained like hell about how arrogant Singaporean employers are.

I’m not terribly patrotic about my country, but to hear him go on and on about Singaporeans just because that one manager did not want to interview him…sigh…

I started to avoid him like mad, partly because he was getting downright depressing to be around and partly because I am PMSey. I avoided going out for dinner with him, because it meant being stuck in a car alone. He’s so predictable…he would start the car, fiddle around with the manual gear, give a huge sigh, and start saying ” WHY? Why ah…these Singaporean people sooo arrogant…yadda yadda yadda blah blah blah…”

I tried to entertain him at first, then it got annoying. The night we went out for Pancakes on the Rocks was because I was just too hungry for something sweet. I sort of regretted it because I was trying hard not to snap at him. As usual, he moaned and sighed…so I said, why are you so negative la!! (trying to make it sound like I was joking with him)…then he went into this long spiel about arrogant Singaporean employers and how he’s qualified but he doesn’t have certification for the level of work he wanted to do…and kept asking me why Singaporeans are so concerned about that piece of paper..that they are short-sighted and blah blah blah. Yes I know the system has it’s flaws, so instead of complaining about it, just do something instead of flopping into bed at 6pm everyday, sleeping till 10pm, then pulling a long face when you realise I’ve eaten dinner already and you have no one to accompany you.

AIYOH!! Wo De Tien AH! (direct translation: MY SKY!! Meaning: Oh my God!)

I tried to simplify his problems for him, since he was whining about how many problems he had to deal with. I said, most of the problems are caused by the stop of cashflow in June (actually worry what?? he has savings and since he’s an Aus PR, got CENTRELINK WOT! Government give money leh..). So he should just start sending out resumes to employers in Sydney. Since he’d always boasted to me that everyone who’s worked in his company is headhunted by other major companies, and that he would have no shortage of work, then he shouldn’t be all that worried right? On the other hand, he claims that another branch of the company overseas (not Singapore) is willing to hire him and if they offer him a equivalent pay, he would go. However, he does not like that country and has told me countless times how he doesn’t want to go. But now, since he is too lazy to send out a resume… I don’t know, I feel that he just lets other people and circumstances dictate his life.

I also feel sorry for him but sorry because he’s so pathetic. Recently we keep bumping into his ex-uni friends who were in the same class as him 10 years ago (including this Singaporean friend who was here last night). All of them exclaim the same thing when they realise where he’s staying… like hello..u graduate so long already you still living in your student house with the student furniture (that other friends who leave the country pass on to you,,IKEA AS-IS furniture?!) la…alamak..move on with life already la… I would understand if this place was average to above average, but this house is the shits for a 30 plus year old man who earns a decent living. Somemore can wonder why he doesn’t have a girlfriend..somemore want a Singaporean girlfriend…kidding me… I’m not saying that all SG girls are materialistic..but even the least materialistic amongst us would reject living like that.

Okay, I feel better now. These are all the things that are running through my mind for weeks, months…even years… and I’ve never told him. Well except once when I had it with him asking me why girls didn’t want to go out with him, I told him he was too wimpy.

He’s not a bad person despite all my complaints, he’s just very very lam nuah (like super lazy), and complains too much about things he could change, but in reality wouldn’t lift a finger to.

Back where the dog fur flies and the mosquitoes buzz

So I’m back in sunny Singapore for the 3rd day now. Made my rounds, met with A’s family, my family, the toystores (to check out new toys for collecting), done the dinners with the families, unpacked the toiletries bag… have yet to unpack my clothes… played with the dog, quickly paper-mopped the floor, yadda yadda yadda.

I haven’t seen Crappy Girl though, since she’s currently working on a project for the Christmas period. I haven’t seen my other friends either, but it’s just the 3rd day, so I will go easy on myself.

Things have been sweet since I got back. The familiar smell of lush greenery contrasting with smells of concrete dust and hot tar (roadworks are a constant factor here). Having spent a lot of my days in Sydney, my ears are suddenly bombarded with noise. A lot of noise. This country is so loud all the time, even at 11 pm at night. There’s construction work going on, the sound of  vehicles… a neighbour or two who’s up playing all-night mahjong… I’ve never really noticed all these things before. Even the ’tissue packet’ syndrome which I’ve suddenly noticed in the food centre yesterday. A friend of mine who’d moved to Melbourne years ago, blogged about this ’tissue packet’ syndrome before when she came back to visit Singapore.

To those who aren’t familiar with our very unique Singaporean culture, this is a phenomenon where the general public (especially the white collar workforce) arrive at an empty table at a public food centre, and use packets of tissue paper to ‘chope’ (reserve) it. This phenomenon is performed by both men and women alike. Foreign expatriates wishing to blend into the culture do this as well (from my observation yesterday, although it was quite strange seeing a Caucasian male throwing a pink packet of tissue on the table). Yesterday afternoon, while having lunch with A, I observed this phenomenon with new (and irritated eyes).

A brought me to this particular eating place that sold excellent minced pork noodles. When we arrived at 12pm, the place looked relatively empty, although there was a long queue at the counter. All I saw on the empty tables were packets of tissue paper. I felt so annoyed, I had a sudden urge to sweep all the packets onto the floor and take a table of my choice.

I know I’m being annoyed for no good reason, seeing how I should totally understand the ‘logic’ behind this way of reserving tables. I also understand how this phenomenon came about. When we were kids in Primary School (that would be around ages 6-12), we used to ‘chope’ seats in the canteen, or our favourite hopscotch diagram, using water bottles, purses, or whatever we had on hand. While the seats were reserved with our personal belongings, we could freely wander off to buy food, or do other stuff, with no fear of losing our table in the canteen. For some reason, we instinctively seemed to understand that if there was someone’s belonging sitting somewhere public, that particular spot belonged to someone else already. Warped reasoning, but it seems to have worked its way into our psyches and have been carried through to our adulthood.

I think it is an extremely childish and annoying practice. Being the typical true-blue Singaporean, I would also suggest signs being placed around food courts and markets, stating that there will be no ‘chope-ing’ of seats and tables. Of course these new signs will somehow have to be fitted amongst the other existing signs that warn people not to litter, not to bring pets into eating areas, not to smoke, not to breathe and, to be courteous signs. Did I miss out any other signboards?

The Pre-Menopausal Lesbian’s Curse

I am typing this with the utmost difficulty because, tired and sick of my flaking hands (I engaged in heavy-duty spring cleaning yesterday), I have smothered my hands in Vaseline and Saran-Wrapped them. Very Martha Stewart I must say.

Anyway, I just had to get this off my chest.

Doesn’t it just SUCK EGGS when both you and your girlfriend who have been sexually deprived for MONTHS and are finally going to meet, have your periods at the same time?! Seriously it is a cruel cruel god that invented things like menstruation, cellulite, cockroaches and Kaposi Sarcoma.

Oh throw rocks on my head! *tears at own hair*

I know this can be a really squeamish subject, but what the hell, all who are born as female have this to deal with. It really is shitty because not only is my period late after months of being on time, this means I might have The Curse descend upon me when she visits next week. And the longer my PMS lasts, the worse my mood and paranoia. I am highly suspicious of everything that breathes when I have PMS. For example, I killed a fly outside the fly screen door of the apartment yesterday. I spent 15 minutes yesterday and today trying to find out if maggots were crawling off its ass. Last night I also thought that the cabbie driving me to Banks wanted to take me some where secluded and rape and kill me. But I think that’s a pretty realistic fear.

About 1-2 months ago, I had this one super drunk night out with some friends for an event Oxford Street (where plenty of gay bars are). I managed to get home in a cab and ring up my housemate to bring me upstairs when i tottered to the security gate.

About two days later, a friend asked me if I read the news that this drunk gay girl got into a cab at Oxford Street (the same night I was there). The driver drove her to some isolated area and molested her and when she resisted, he drove her somewhere else and raped her. I’ve been trying to find the article, but I guess this happens so often that it’s not newsworthy, so archives might not have been kept. Anyway, news like that ups my level of paranoia, and deters me from going out at night.

Will stop here, it’s getting tiring typing with two fingers.