Top 10 Songs I Never Skip On Shuffle.

As someone with a somewhat abbreviated attention span, songs are quite often skipped over on my iPod shuffle. However, there’s a handful that always get a play. Not in order of importance, preference or playcount:

  1. No Myth – Michael Penn
  2. You’re So Vain – Carly Simon
  3. One – U2
  4. State of Love and Trust – Pearl Jam
  5. Modern Love – David Bowie
  6. Caring is Creepy – The Shins
  7. Voices Carry – Til Tuesday
  8. 3 Libras – A Perfect Circle
  9. What Goes Around…Comes Around – Justin Timberlake
  10. Overkill – Men At Work

A pretty good mixed bag, I think. And for all the kiddies in the back who have never heard State of Love and Trust, here’s a truly wonderful performance way back when MTV used to be cool. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICiFYdBmrjo)

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICiFYdBmrjo]

The Mo(u)rning After.

“Everything ends badly, otherwise, it wouldn’t end” – Tom Cruise, Cocktail

Break-ups were never devised to be easy. If they were, everyone would be doing it. Sometimes, the notion of not wanting to rock the boat is enough to keep it afloat – at least for a little while longer. It is no secret that I was in an almost 4 year relationship, which ended 1.5 years ago. Now… relative theory argues that a year and a half is a pretty long time. And yet, there’s still fall out. Fall down. Fall apart. Popular saying dictates that it usually takes half the length of time of the relationship to “get over” someone/the situation. That would essentially expands my 4 year relationship into 6 years. 6 years! 6 years of what could possibly be the remainder of my child-bearing years. So here are my pitiful thoughts on the matter.

☞ All the King’s Horses

I learnt that when something is dead, bury it or it’ll just stink up the place. I had attempted a trial break-up a few months before the actual decapitation but caved on the now internally famed theory, “What if I’m wrong?”. Turns out, I wasn’t – and we were probably not the right people for each other. That’s right. Probably. Would you throw out a sofa that was comfortable enough simply because it wasn’t the right colour and threw off the design of the room? A lot of people wouldn’t. I guess I’m a different kind.

☞ Boomerang Child

Moving back home with my parents was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in my adult life (and this includes the extraction of all 4 wisdom teeth at once). It is emasculating, not to mention space deficient. I had to pack a household worth of life and move it into a single room. The first weekend I went out, my mother texted me at 3am, “Where are you? It’s so late!”. We’ve since ironed out our tenant/landlord arrangements and things are going pretty smoothly. It’s still a little hard to swallow telling someone that I live at home with my parents but I think I’ve just got to get over it. The primary reason for me still staying there (although sometimes I feel my lifestyle has worn out its welcome) is Dolce – whom I couldn’t bear to leave at home alone for more than 8 hours per workday. The sacrifices of the single mother!

☞ Baby Momma

Let me prefix this by saying, Yes, I am one of those loony people who treats their dogs like their children. Call it a latent maternal instinct that still wants to go out and party and enjoy having personal time and space. Dolce was one of our shared responsibilities, he did the baths, mountain climbing, rough play and knew about ticks and fleas. I did the cuddling, diet and dressing up (the good stuff). As the sole caretaker now, I have to be in charge of all the vet visits, grooming sessions, weight loss programme, beach runs, park walks, socialising, playtime, Frontlining, skincare, etc… This on top of the cuddling and love sessions we have every evening when I get home. I love her to bits and thankfully, everyone else at home does at well. This is the biggest blessing I have in my life right now (holy shit, did I use the word “blessing”?) – that my dog loves and is loved by everyone at home – even my father (they watch TV together every afternoon…)

☞ Back in the Saddle Again

Considering it had been 4 years since I was in the market (like meat), my first few weeks out were jittery, encountering complete idiots and me, trying to remember that I was actually single. One of the first few guys who tried to have a conversation with me asked me these questions, one after the other, “How old are you? Can you cook?”

My first kiss, post break-up, came 3 months (yes, I’m a slow mover), was completely unexpected and caused me to have tears in my eyes after (not that it was a bad kiss or anything). Since then, I’d like to think I’m much entrenched in the dating world – as for moving into a relationship, I definitely know I am not ready for one (the other person notwithstanding), mostly because my formula for a relationship is still based on being live-in. Considering that my ex and I had moved in 3 months after dating, I should probably play it cooler the next time round.

—————————-

I have encountered 2 camps of people’s opinions on this break-up. One group thought I was nuts and the other think I’m brave for being able to make and execute such a decision instead of sticking to a relationship which wasn’t as happy anymore. I think I am both.

It’s taken me more than a year to truly be able to answer the question, “Why did I do this?”. In the beginning, I was full of Watergate answers: “He wasn’t motivated” “It’s just not working out anymore” “We want different things in life” “Just a small town boy, just a city girl”. After a year, the simplest line stands through and may not be the prettiest thing to hear or to say.

I didn’t love him enough for forever, but I loved him enough to let him go.

I still feel remorse from the fall-out of what I have done, the decision I single-handedly made and I hope that at the end of it all, our lives are better off from this decision. It’s just a drop of water in the sea of life decisions but hopefully, the ripples settle down soon enough. And because sometimes pop music says it best, here’s Kelly Clarkson’s “Already Gone”.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CZ4fkyX_Fs0]

It ain’t me you’re looking for. Babe.

For some reason, today has been a morose Friday. Usually, I’m excited and looking forward to fun and play ahead – and I’m sure there would be. Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s recent events triggering too many reminiscent thoughts and even worse, triggering the never-answered question of what my capacity for anything is.

Bob Dylan was my friend for most of this morning. Sad Bob Dylan, of course. “If You See Her, Say Hello” and “It Ain’t Me, Babe” have been suffering the wrath of repeat. And here, as always, for the purpose of over-identifying, are the lyrics of the latter song.

Go ‘way from my window
Leave at your own chosen speed
I’m not the one you want, babe
I’m not the one you need
You say you’re lookin’ for someone
Who’s never weak but always strong
To protect you and defend you
Whether you are right or wrong
Someone to open each and every door
But it ain’t me, babe
No, no, no, it ain’t me babe
It ain’t me you’re lookin’ for, babe.
Go lightly from the ledge, babe
Go lightly on the ground
I’m not the one you want, babe
I will only let you down
You say you’re lookin’ for someone
Who will promise never to part
Someone to close his eyes for you
Someone to close his heart
Someone who will die for you and more
But it ain’t me, babe
No, no, no, it ain’t me babe
It ain’t me you’re lookin’ for, babe.
Go melt back in the night
Everything inside is made of stone
There’s nothing in here moving
And anyway I’m not alone
You say you’re looking for someone
Who’ll pick you up each time you fall
To gather flowers constantly
And to come each time you call
A lover for your life and nothing more
But it ain’t me, babe
No, no, no, it ain’t me, babe
It ain’t me you’re lookin’ for, babe.

I do prefer the Bob Dylan original but Joan Baez’s version is sweet and somewhat pensive. Her little soliloquy, prior to starting the song, makes me feel a little sad – but hey, it was the 60’s – the time of free love. (It also ties in awkwardly to the prior post)

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MB79mhN6Kb4]

The Formula One Fall-Out

So, it was a pretty big weekend for loads of people in Singapore – given the hype and publicity of F1 and F1 Rocks. Oh, and of course, the race.

This is the second year Singapore has hosted the F1 – and I thought the novelty would have worn off after the first one, last year. I remember Facebook being flooded by photographs of friends at F1 – and these were people I know for a fact have never had an interest in F1. But – fair enough – it’s the first year in Singapore – let’s all pose with champagne glasses and pretend not to look bored during 61 laps.

I am not a Formula 1 fan so I won’t pretend to be. Everything I know comes from my father, who is the most supreme F1 fan I personally know – I remember his favourite driver being Nigel Mansell – he’s a true fan of racing – not teams. In fact, one of his birthday gifts from my mother, many, many years ago was a trip to Monza. When he watches the races on TV, he actually makes comments before Steve Slater (if you don’t know who that is, you seriously should not bother going next year) makes them.

Now, I understand the need and desire to experience something new – to hear the roar of the engines, immerse yourself in the spirit of passionate competition – but I don’t think I’m asking too much for you to pretend like you actually care – beyond being able to brag that you took a picture with Hamilton.

Recently read on a blog:

“Hamilton won, as you all probably know by now. I couldn’t care less.”

And yesterday, I spoke to someone who was fortunate enough to have a pit pass (my father would have been over the moon to have that) and made a comment to me, “But the race is so boring – they just go round and round the circuit”.

What did he think they were going to do? Strap on big shoes and a red rubber nose? Right now, the event still has bragging rights but before you open your mouth to start bragging – at least Wiki for some knowledge or feign interest.

0187614455085

I was, however, fortunate enough to chance upon tickets for the final day of F1 Rocks from a friend – and even though we were waaaay at the back, Beyonce was fantastic to watch – a really great, confident performer that put up a good show. And in case anyone was wondering, I was that lunatic at the back who:

  1. yelled, “Bring Jay-Z out!”
  2. sang along, terribly out of tune (but lyrically sound), to Irreplaceable

I regret not making an attempt to catch No Doubt (and no, you idiots, it wasn’t a Gwen Stefani performance, it was No Doubt. And no, they never broke up – they were just on hiatus) cos I really do like their stuff – wonder if they performed Ex-Girlfriend?

The fall-out from the F1 Rocks would have to be Beyonce’s famed take on Singapore English – “…although Singaporeans don’t speak good English, I am glad that they sang along with me…”

Oh, the drama that ensued on our crappy radio stations the next morning (why I was listening, I had no idea). Our ninny DJs Glenn Ong and The Flying Dutchman (for god’s sake, get a grown up name already) had a field day discussing this (I suspect mostly because it saved them from having to research another thin topic to discuss) – and the most brilliant (yes, that was sarcasm) theory from the Flying Dutchman (what’s his bloody real name, damn it!) which was, “Well, Germans and French people have accents, why can’t Singaporeans have theirs?“.

Oh, you foolish, foolish man.

While I choose not to over-analyse Beyonce’s statement (it’s not like she’s the Commonwealth representative for Queen’s English) – the truth of the matter is that Singaporeans can’t speak English for shit. The 100 people you know that you think can speak English well, is nothing in comparison to the millions of Singaporeans who can barely communicate a simple sentence.

If you are Singaporean and speak good English – it means you should be capable of speaking both English and Singlish. If you can only speak Singlish, you cannot speak good English. If you cannot speak good English, chances are, you were lost somewhere in the middle of this post (look at the pretty picture!). I do not look down on Singlish at all – it’s my primary means of communicating. However, in situations where I would be conversing with someone who is not Singaporean (or a formal setting), I would revert to good ol’ plain English. It is really that simple – accents aside.

This has nothing to do with accents. Germans and French people are allowed to speak poor English because it isn’t their first language. I’ve know people who speak better English than the average Singaporean and English was their 4th language! English is technically supposed to be our first, so it’s perfectly logical for foreigners to expect a decent standard of spoken English (and please don’t even bother bringing up this bilingual shit. Being bilingual means that you can communicate somewhat decently in 2 languages. If you can only speak one, you’re still just monolingual. And if you’re going to be monolingual in Singapore, it should be in the official first language – English).

And I have found it terribly amusing that people have ripped Miss Singapore World Ris L0w to shreds on the internet when I would guarantee that almost all would know at least ONE person in their life that speaks that way.

Stop using Singlish as an excuse for poor English – if this language is to be my identity, I’d trade in my passport.

Till F1 2010!

If there are any grammar/spelling mistakes in this post – it was intended for dramatic irony.

If the shoe fits.

We all know that famed quote about understanding someone better once you’ve walked a mile in their shoes. I think the shoes you have, can actually lots about your personality and life choices.

For example: My feet literally reject almost all shoes. I even bought a pair of soft, fabric shoes once and wound up with blisters at the side of my feet.

But I keep falling for these pretty shoes and buy them against my better judgement. In spite of the pain they give me the first time round I wear them – I justify them, make excuses and keep trying to make it work. And it almost never does work. I just wind up with blisters, corns and the kind of calf pain that needs muscle relaxants.

Every once in a while, I would admire someone else’s life. Whether it’s their luxury of not having to work, or being vivacious or having a great career – I wonder what it would be like to step into someone else’s shoes.

And then I realise that their shoes may look really great but I don’t know what it’s doing to their feet. Some people just grit and bear it but for me? I don’t care where I am – if my shoes are killing me, I’ll take them off and go barefoot – shoes, be damned.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIBzbdo2LjU]

I got it bad
you don’t know how bad I got it.
You got it easy
you don’t know when you’ve got it good.
It’s getting harder
just keeping life and soul together
I’m sick of fighting even though I know I should.

The cold is biting through each and every nerve and fibre.
My broken spirit is frozen to the core.
I don’t want to be here no more.

Wouldn’t it be good to be in your shoes even if it was for just one day?
And wouldn’t it be good if we could wish ourselves away.
Wouldn’t it be good to be on your side?
The grass in always greener over there.
Wouldn’t it be good if we could live without a care.