A promising k-drama called Moorim School that's got me so super-excited, I have to rein myself in;

cause one generally has to be cautious with the love to prevent disappointment.

but ohhhhmygod, sign me up for this.

this drama has my favourite tropes and is hence hitting all the right buttons for me.

It feels like HP! but not quite. or wait, maybe it feels like DT.

• a special school that is hidden and mysterious (after Hogwarts, how can anyone not love this trope -- if done well, of course); they have a you-choose-whatever-class-you-want-to-attend system, and only morning exercise is compulsory!
• a wise-mentor figure that does not let on what he knows -- gah, frustrating!
• secret histories of characters that hook you in
• very-likely hero prophecy plot -- and the icing on the suspense: we're not 100% sure who it is yet!
• intense rivalry/enmity that is looking like it will develop into an unlikely blood-brothers-friendship -- no bonus points for guessing that this was the clincher for me, because DTDraco/Harry, duh. And the pair of male leads are an orphan and an unloved-rich-kid to boot. 
• kickass female leads who fight with sticks and fists; strong women are always necessary 
• a subtle yet supernatural element threading through the world as we know it: do our boys have special powers? which one of them does?
• I can sense the existence of a really, really evil villain, the magnitude of whom cannot yet be comprehended by our protagonists who are embedded in the dramas of youth: figuring out goals and dreams, and juggling school with love, friendship, and bullying.

Basically, yes, it's HP, ahahah. Not all of it of course, but definitely the coming-of-age, finding yourself in the world, the world is more than what it seems, good-vs-evil part.

And speaking of awesome schools -- met K and N at a work course today, and had a hilarious account of the sad state of our Singaporean schools. Sad in the sense of it being... crazy, machine-making, unreal, and inhumane. (In other words, a microcosm of the actual adult world in Singapore, I guess.) K was telling us how she has morphed into a nutso-Mother who texts teachers and is obsessed over tests and exams hahaha -- and how she needs to return to her old chill self.

Because yes, K (oh how I miss her, she's so awesome), was, is, one of the coolest Mums I know out there. When we were in school, she was proof for me of a loving Mum who lived her own life, participated actively in the community, did not micro-manage her kids, and had awesome kids anyway! because you lead and parent by example more than anything. Despite being a busy mother, she still organised our class outings, planned class events, got involved in Muslim efforts, and basically built a career. She didn't miss out on the fun side of life. Of course, her husband is awesome-beyond-awesome. Seriously, behind every great man, is a great woman, and vice versa.

So  anyway, K was telling us in her typical, comic, make-everyone-burst-into-laughter way, of her eldest boy scoring 93+ marks for all subjects in Primary 1 and still not gracing anywhere near the top 10 position in his class. Where apparently, it was not an uncommon event for kids to attain full marks on every single test paper since day 1 in school. Because, it appears, that marks are what all Singaporean parents have their eyes on.

And don't make me start on the increasingly-accepted norm of parents taking substantial amounts of leave because their kid is sitting for PSLE -- APPALLING. I cannot even. what. no, people, no. There is something wrong here. This is not right. Something is not right. And I don't know how or what to say, because they are my friends too some of them who do this.

My future kids, should God grace me with that responsibility, will likely be home-schooled. Why would I want to subject my kids to this life, seriously? So K was like all, yes, I need to home-school them, and what about character and resilience and tenacity and less outcome-oriented-ness and we were laughing it out.

God, I miss my class. I miss these two friends of mine. And unless it's Hogwarts or Moorim, I'm not sure I want to let my children go to school.

i fail to be light, yet again

Sitting by my lonesome in the wee hours of the morning, reading, and blogging, and doing whatever crosses my mind -- because my short holiday break from work has commenced! yay.

Maybe I really should consider having leave from work like this on a regular basis, so that I can return to my reflections without the thought of work responsibilities cluttering my mind. And I am aware that my being single and having generally few responsibilities allows me the luxury of delving into my personal projects to what feels like almost-infinite lengths of time. Alhamdulillah for that and for all the little things I fail to perceive.


Thoughts in point form!

* I thought today about how independent I am, or in other words... how selfish I am? Clearly, I don't run the nitty-grittys of my life, such as putting a roof over my head, since I live under my parents' roof (it's only monetary contribution that I give). Obviously, I owe a lot to them, and I need them; life would be way more of a struggle without them. I probably should express more gratitude for all of that. But what I mean when I say independent is the sense that I don't like being... tied down, told what to do, given expectations and roles to live by. And in general, I feel like I don't depend, or at least I don't want to depend on them. It's horrible of me, but I have now and then envisioned myself living somewhere far away by myself, so that I didn't have people's expectations to live up to. So that I could totally and freely explore being me without feeling like an ingrate. Which I feel like I am right now, hence this rambling. Don't get me wrong, I love my family -- couldn't have been blessed with better. But I always wanted that being by myself thing -- and it was probably the biggest push for me to study overseas when I was younger and hence was more than disappointed when I didn't manage to.

Oh gosh, it's been some time since I've blogged and felt like I needed to delete something because it shouldn't be for public consumption. And then I will often have a fight with myself because I fight for authenticity, and another part of me will fight for my self-image, because really, S, do you want to shoot yourself in your foot? Why do you always sabotage yourself?

* Which brings me to a memory of what Y said when we met up at the baby shower, after a long time. She exclaimed, Hah, you're still blogging??? and further implied how ridiculous it is to display things for the world to see. Which made me almost want to strike her off my friend list, but luckily, I treasure our friendship -- okay, I kid. I was hurt and affronted, so I gave in to some vindictiveness.

But really, how does one write at all if one does not write what one knows? And I already have a hard time half the time trying not to be too specific talking about things because yes, Y, despite what you said, you do know that I do not write things for the world to see. I don't mention people or even events clearly enough to have them be identified with more than a 60% certainty (most of the time). And the problem with that is, when you try to discuss or talk about things, it gets... fuzzy, and difficult, and meaning gets lost in my abstractness. Or even I get lost in my own abstractness -- when really, at the end of the day, I was really just upset that so-and-so did such-and-such to me, end. It is not easy to be an authentic reflective public blogger! (who also attempts to be politically, and socially correct)

Yes, why do I even do this. Other than the fact that I simply have the impulse to write.

* I really don't like who I am tonight.

* I feel like there's a general assumption that adults should have reached a peak or a status quo in terms of development of intellect, character, and spirituality. So people just don't feel like reflections like mine above are valid? Why are you blogging? Why are you writing a diary? Grow up!



What are the benefits of confronting one's ugliness? Evaluate them for rectification, I suppose. Swallow the reality of who you are... and then, strive to attain some level of beauty?

As always, I envision holding my heart in my hands, all battered and defective, for all my times of having stupidly dealt with things -- self-sabotage and what-not, and hand them over to You. For I don't trust anyone else, especially myself.

Ah, I should blog, I should just blog. I used to fall to this a lot more frequently, a lot more easily, when I was younger. Because writing things, privately or otherwise, and saying things out -- clarifies one's own thoughts first, before it helps others.


The fruit of all the service that I serve
Despair doth reap, such hapless hap have I.
But though he have no power to make me swerve
Yet, by the fire, for cold I feel I die.

In paradise, for hunger still I starve;
And, in the flood, for thirst to death I dry.
So Tantalus am I, and in worse pain
Amids my help, and helpless doth remain.

Help me to seek, for I lost it there, 
And if that ye have found it, ye that be here
And seek to convey it secretly.
Handle it soft and treat it tenderly,
Or else it will plain and then appear;
... Help me to seek

... I wis it was a thing all too dear
To be bestowed and wist not where;
It was my heart. I pray you heartily,
Help me to seek.



Reading this for God-knows-how-many-times-already, but today hit me differently, harder, than before. And made me want, in that very instance, to go home and cry into a pillow. But instead, I sat sipping a Mango macchiato at a KOI cafe, stared into space, and waited for a meet-up with J.



Then there are excellent comic moments that make me snort out loud, like when Nostradamus was trying to advertise his complexion cream:

"If used from the age of fifteen," Master Nostradamus said briskly, "it will preserve lifelong beauty and enable the skin at sixty to look as young as that of a twenty year-old. The contents are quite pure. Sublimate, quicksilver, rose-water, and the saliva of a young person who for three days has eaten onions without vinegar. Boiled, I may assure you, for the length of two Paternosters and two Ave Marias, repeated with reverence."

...

She sent for the pot of complexion cream. If one had to turn back the clock, one might as well begin systematically.



I'm trying not to be deliberately cryptic, really, but these are my thoughts, all jumbled throughout the day. Was it Walt Whitman the poet who said -- I am large. I contain multitudes. To put them all to coherent form and give commentary, is maybe to analyse prematurely, who knows. Besides, I don't think I have the mental energy. Let me just have them recorded, and some other day...

On a lighter note, put forth by the lighter aspects of my self:

It goes to show how far gone I am that I get how this is funny.  This was AWEsommmmmeee! ohhhmygod. Unfortunately, unless you have enough knowledge of the history of this show, and the history of its members, this wouldn't be half as funny. And it shocks me again -- how am I this nut. Why do I so easily get sucked into things.

And Gary's latest music video has Jihyo in it --

Way to fan the flames, Monday couple.

You two just know you'll rake in all the $$$ exploiting your very evident chemistry, deshou?

Last but not least, something I just finished watching, that talks about the importance of mentors.

It has crossed my mind several times: Who can help me? I don't know anybody. 

Where do I find them? Oh, I kid myself. 

Several names and possibilities have already popped into my head. 

The question appears to be, 

how do I gather the guts and the discipline to do what needs to be done?

Well, now I just feel silly.


Just came back from the yearly Ihtifal Maulid Nabi (i.e. celebration for our Prophet's s.a.w. birthday) -- only in SG this time round, meh -- and I was reminded today how small my self-absorbed problems were. Yes, they bother me. Yes, they unfortunately exist, at least in my mind. But the moment I started thinking about Nabi s.a.w., all I wanted to do was cry and cry and cry. For being so silly. For ever forgetting about him and the big picture and trust and faith. I don't like being this silly, pathetic woman. I want to be strong and work hard and make you proud. Please keep me close to you.

Today was very long, but I noticed a bit more this time how we were all concertedly there together, despite language barriers, racial differences, across distances, and across comfort zones, to be united under the same Prophet. It made me happy. Like, given another situation, would we be doing this? Would I have gone to a Tamil-Muslim house, say, to visit one of their boys who recently got into an accident? Would I go out of my way to take care of him seeing as how he's going to be coming to KK Rehab for therapy? Would we sit listening to Qasidahs in Urdu and Burmese and funny English lines thrown into the midst of the drumbeats? Would I have otherwise ever gotten to meet and hug and love people who I barely know but feel an affinity for? Sudanese, Yemenis, Syrians, Egyptians, Saudis, Malaysians, Indonesians and Burmese.

I'm remembering the two Syrian boys I met a year ago -- I hope they're fine. The family was already out of Syria and living in Turkey by that time when we met.

There's so much work to do out there, S. Let's get cracking. I think it's good that Rabiul Anwar is coinciding with the Gregorian New Year. Makes for a refreshing all-round renewal.

c'est la vie

Ah, I meant to post before the new year! but as always, procrastination is my greatest weakness.

I actually had two previous drafts for my final end-year-reflection post, but because I had a super-ambitious post in my mind, I kept stalling with the writing and neither of those drafts got completed. So I figured -- S, stop being ambitious and just write, dang it.

Here are my thoughts and ramblings as the new year begins and 2015 is no more.



*My battles stay the same. Still fighting feeling weird and out-of-place in my late twenties. Every day I question why I'm so weird. Why can't I just be normal like everyone else. I think I've lost count the number of ways I've tried to think about this, me, my life. I've told myself it's all in my head, I've recognized and acknowledged that it's a very INFP trait, I've tried to change my mindset, and I've even attempted embracing my perceived weirdness. I have my good days, but this outsider syndrome with its negative emotional effects persist. Sometimes I get a headache thinking about it cause obviously I go around in circles.

*Starting a book club possibly one of the best things that happened in 2015, hand-in-hand with the growing love and attachment to my Kindle.

*Unpleasant experiences in the second half of the year with respect to attempting and obliging to be paired up in real life. Reality clashing terribly with my idealistic thoughts. Realising that I simply cannot live with the cognitive dissonance -- to the point of physical discomfort, really. I cannot pretend to do things for the sake of practicality. I am idealistic, and I don't know how to live or think any other way. And then, having made my decisions, I bash myself up about them and the level of ingratitude I exhibit. There is nothing more tiring and more surely leading to depression than constant self-blame and guilt. I think that's why my angst resurfaced as well, and haha, reading fics like this not helping very much either:

Why is everyone married?” I cry after Mrs Kennedy leaves, “Am I the only one?”

“I’m not married,” Linda points out, “And I wouldn’t worry about it, love. Plenty more fish in the sea.”

“No, haven’t you heard? Fish are becoming scarcer and scarcer! That’s why salmon is so expensive these days! THERE ARE NO MORE FISH!”

“Calm down,” Gladys tries to soothe me.

“And anyway, I caught my fish and threw him back in,” I say, “I don’t deserve any more fish.” 

— Still Delicate, padfoot4ever

*Work was wonderful in comparison. I've had a great professional year. The work team has shifted in terms of dynamics, for the better. I feel more confident too, more trusted as a valuable team member -- one of my seniors even dubbed me the outpatient guru because I do so many outpatient speech-language clinics! I've been given opportunities to explore new theories, new ideas, learning new things; my thirst for knowledge is sufficiently fed and watered within this field and I find joy amidst the bustle of everyday work. I haven't shared this with anyone yet, but I might even recommence inpatient training. And my plan for the future keeps shifting -- I have ideas about my own personal projects, but I also feel increasingly attached to the team, to the environment, and the learning that does happen within the pressure cooker.



Having said all that, overall, I do feel calm in general about life. I do feel like I'm not stagnant, and that's what counts. And that though I struggle, I feel I'm growing. Or maybe in fact, because I struggle, then I grow. I pray that I never lose guidance and continue to seek it, because life is a long journey and more often than not, a rough uphill climb.