Stereo Hearts

Cute concept. Love the way the guy rests the stereo on his shoulder! So retro!

Suburban Digs

I was out with a friend yesterday at Paya Lebar and she suggested going to City Plaza, apparently some of the shop tenants are blogshop owners. Initially I was quite skeptical. From the exterior the place doesn't come across as somewhere that fashion savvy shoppers shop at. However, once we started shopping, I got more and more excited! Design wise, it's quite repetitive in most of the shops, but I guess that's why most of the apparels are priced quite cheaply. The best thing is, you can still bargain to a lower price! (Yes, the auntie in me can't help but bargain) I bought a lovely sun hat, kind of like those on the heads of ladies viewing a polo match. It looks kind of extravagant, but I'm already thinking of all the possible occasions I can wear it to!

On another note, the quality and the fitting of the apparels are honestly, quite lousy. But hey, you're only paying $8 for a blouse, and $10 for a dress, yi fen qian yi fen huo right? I'd been splurging on too many items that I would probably only wear once, or which material doesn't last long, so although I'd seen many items I love at City Plaza, I rather spent the money on something which is well-made and classic.

Tired...

I used to look forward to Friday so eagerly because then, I will be able to see you. It's not that I don't look forward to it now, but with every Friday come the following Sunday and the whole cycle repeats again.

I miss you so much.

The Radish by James Tate

I was holding this really exemplary radish in my hand.

I was admiring its shape and size and color. I was imagining

its zesty, biting taste. And when I listened, I even thought

I could hear it singing. It was unlike anything I had ever

heard, perhaps an oriental woman from a remote mountain village

singing to her rabbit. She's hiding in a cave, and night has

fallen. Her parents had decided to sell her to the evil prince.

And he and his thousand soldiers were searching for her everywhere.

She trembled in the cold and held the rabbit to her cheek. She

whispered the song in a high, thin voice, like a reed swaying

by itself on a bank above a river. The rabbit's large, brown ears

stood straight up, not wanting to miss a word. Then I dropped

the radish into my basket and moved down the aisle. The store

was exceptionally crowded, due to the upcoming holiday. My cart

jostled with the others. Sometimes it pretended we were in a cock-

fight, a little cut here, some bleeding. Now the advantage is mine.

I jump up and spur the old lady, who's weak and ready to fall.

I spot a mushroom I really want. It's within reach. You could

search all day and never find a mushroom like that. I could smell

it sizzling in butter and garlic. I could taste it garnishing my

steak. Suddenly, my cart is rammed and I'm reeling for my balance.

I can't even see who the enemy is. Then I'm hit again and I'm

sprawling up against the potatoes. I've been separated from my

cart. I look around desperately. "Have you seen my cart?" I ask

a man dressed in lederhosen and an alpine hat. "I myself have

misplaced my mother's ashes. How could I know anything about your

cart?" he said. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother," I said.

"Was it sudden, or was it a long, slow, agonizing death, where

you considered killing her yourself just to put her out of her pain?"

"Is that your cart with the radish in it?" he said. "Oh, yes,

thank you, thank you a thousand times over, I can't thank you

enough," I said. "Schmuck," he said. The mushroom of my dreams,

of course, was long gone, and the others looked sickly, like they

were meant to kill you, so I forged on past the kohlrabi and

parsnips. I hesitated at the okra. A flood of fond memories

overcame me. I remembered Tanya and her tiny okra, so firm and

tasty, one Christmas long ago. There was a fire in the fireplace

and candlelight, music, and the crunch, crunch, crunch of the okra.

I have never been able to touch okra since that sacred day.

We were in the Klondike, or so it seemed to me then. Tanya had

a big dog, and it ate the roast, and we had a big laugh, but now

I don't think it's funny. I remember the smell of that roast,

as if it were cooking this very minute, and I can see Tanya

bending over to check on it. How did we ever get out of there

alive? and what happened to Tanya? I look around, peaches and

plums. I'm buffeted from behind. "Watch it," I say to no one in

particular. Eight eyes are glaring at me. "I'm moving," I say.

But I can't move. The rabbit says, "Tonight we will meet our

death, but it will be beautiful and we will be brave and not

afraid. You will sing to me and I will close my eyes and dream

of a garden where we will play under the starlight, and that's

where the story ends. with me munching a radish and you laughing."

I can't move," I said.

I was jealous but then... Hahaha!

Hey bitch! You know what, I'm glad you said no to him. Because now I'm his first love, and nobody ever forgets his first true love. Things really do happen for a reason I guess huh? Peace out yo.

Shake it like a Polaroid!

A Beautiful Mind

I may only be 20 now, and I know it's a long way before my brain starts degenerating beyond my control, but I can't help to think "Won't that be a really petrifying situation to be in?". As with old age, people start to forget things, events, memories and even their loved ones. But what would it be like to forget how to bath yourself, to cloth yourself, to feed yourself; the very basic things that you have done all your life?

I remember watching Love, Sex and Other Drugs and the male protagonist met another guy, whose partner too has Alzheimer and the former asked the latter whether he still loved his wife. The answer was startling to me. He said "Run when you still can. Everything you'd loved about her would disappear." When two people commit to matrimony, they vowed to "love each other in sickness...", but how can one promise to continue to love and care "till death do us apart" when she knows that she will lose her mind, bit by bit, everyday and eventually forget who he is and the life they had together?

Or when one has a talent so extraordinary, that once his mind starts to degenerates, he begins to be obsessed with the reality that he would not be able to produce another work as spectacular as the one that made him famous. I remember how when i first read David Auburn's Proof, the pathetic fallacy in the winter scene nearly made me cried. The cold winter was a reflection of the great mathematician's disintegrating brain and the dramatic irony of his eventual death. Just last night, I was watching 90210, and Marla, a great actress of her time, chose to commit suicide because she could no longer perform as she forgets why she is on stage.

Imagine if you have control over your mind all your life, and one day it just starts slipping away from you, how would you deal with it?