Reveries and The Red Cherry Tree

Find me at my new ranting space :)

http://helensong.com/

Three years ago when I was still in school, someone once asked me what I want to be when I grow up. Then, I had no answer to his question.

Now, if he asks me again, my answer would be clear.

Cast occupational direction aside, I want to be a lady who is honest, appreciative, forgiving, disciplined, decently-sufficient monetarily, beautiful and owns a great body.

See, first step towards honesty here :)

Yes, back to work again.

It is amazing how quick girls spend money. Just a random sashay to lunch, I ended up in a fatal seduction with the Great Singapore Sale. It is almost like a brilliant twinkle in my eye when I see that pair of gorgeous heels. Clearly, it has my name written on it. Being on very rare 30% discount just guaranteed her a slot in my sardine-packed shoe rack. Almost immediately, at the corner of my eye, I saw a huge sparkling ring waving at me. It was not a gentle wave, but a erroneously pleading one- beckoning for my adoration. Being the usual nice and affectionate being, I not only showered her with attention, I decided to bring her home.

Eventually, it is not about retail therapy, but more so doing some good deeds.

Work is like our second marriage in life. Apart from your family, the second group of people you spend most time with is your colleagues. In my little red book, these are the top incorrigible beings.

1) If you love my chocolate chip yummy cookies, I would be glad to share it. However, that does not mean you take my dear cookies for granted and consume 30% of them in my absence after work. Cookies can't talk, cookies can't reject you. This is forced abduction you are doing. The other day, I bought a bottle of Japanese vanilla milk candies and proudly dangled them in front of you purely as a boast and not invitation. Within 2 days, they are reduced to a puny family, like how the Japan earthquake swept kins apart. If you really have no choice but to consume my items, learn to take some initiatives to replace them. We call it a give and share community.

2) When you talk on the phone, accept that you are only communicating with one person, not the entire world. Even when I am four cubicles away, I could not pretend that I am not eavesdropping. You leave no room for my phone conversations as your voice towers over mine like an audacious volcano eruption.

3) It is often people with the least authority who loves playing the bossy game. Early one morning when the sky is blue and birds sing to my ears, you have to crush my lovely day with nonsensical ordeals. I would love to reject you, but out of respect for everyone above my position, I shall tolerate. It is perfectly exciting to be helping you, but only if you wipe that smirk off your face.

4) There is a thin line between friendship and intrusion. My picnic over the weekends was a blast indeed, but I don't need you to highlight it again over lunch. I need not a new fan in my life as I already have many to deal with. Now I know why it is illegal to add colleagues onto facebook.

5) AND STOP USING MY HANDCREAM. GET YOUR OWN.

I have two wigs.

One is a short wig - It makes me look like the auntie selling bubble tea.

The other is a long curly wig - It makes me look like a messy beggar.

Listen me out, wigs are very hideous.

Naturally, they put the blame on age. Almost like slapping it on the chopping board, preparing for doomsday. As we become older, our metabolism slows, that's why we expand in girth, gain weight and look dishevelled. It is perfectly reasonable and acceptable to look fat after marriage and pregnancy, afterall your new title is the wife and mum, who takes a second look at you? - their prerogative. I am not a mum yet, but I know for sure I do not want to be a fat mum in the near future. After intense reflections and reliable researches aplenty, I finally confessed to my state of extreme self denial. No one puts a verdict on how a 25 year old, going 35 year old, eventually 55 year old should look. Only you yourself can define how you want to look and feel by then.

I have been way too lenient with my well-being.

It's not too late, at least.

I think I have been taking my lovely parents for granted. Favouritism thrives everywhere - home being the number one hotspot. I was talking to a dear friend today and she ranted relentlessly about the different treatments her mum tenders to her younger sister and herself. In my recent memory, she is not the first one to go berserk on this pricky matter. Favouritism ranges from intended harshness to oblivious indifference. Known cases usually stem from either gender biasness, chronological age biasness, disability generated guilt biasness or plain unreasonable biasness. To me, no earthly reason should suffice such an act. Every child deserves basic love, attention and affection from his/her parents. If the whole world hates me, at least I know my dad and mum still love me despite my idiosyncrasy. Isn't that a very lovely fallback?

Maybe I took it for granted that every family functions like mine.

Yes, I should love my parents much more.

Life is a comedy for those who think and a tragedy for those who feel.

Credits to ' Emotional Intelligence - Why it can matter more than IQ ' by Daniel Goleman

Sometimes, I really wonder what is going on in the house beside mine. This neighbour has been here for the past near five years. Our families used to interact out of courtesy, but that act did not last for long. I never had an inkling to getting close to them as there was a lack of positive vibe in the very first place. Forced pretence and pleasant morning lift greetings are just not my cup of tea. Occassionally, I could hear suppressed laughters and heinous giggles. Other times, I could be awakened by loud beratings and the screams of their young daughter. It does not take extensive intellect or a detective's mind to cogitate the reasons for this daunting phenomenon. The father has anger management issues and often vent his anger on his young daughter. It is either beatings and yellings or chasing her out of the house as a form of 'punishment' for her wrongdoings. Of course, I had a eyehole to witness the little girl's oppressed expression and helpless physique.

Now, I hear the same roaring that is somewhat between pity and irritation. It is almost like a monthly affair, of course as the little girl age, her innocent fear had revolutionized into defiant hatred. Instead of hearing a man's howl, now it is a reciprocative heated argument.

I need to prepare my phone for the police station very soon.