I used to have severely conflicted feelings about what it means to be Singaporean. Here we are, a tiny island in a curious situation. We have a majority Chinese population within a marginally Confucius society (& if Wikipedia is to be believed – part of the Sino sphere) but have adopted many Western systems (even though we’re still constantly vilified in their media for being draconian) but is geographically & historically part of Nusantara (even though we’re constantly trying to be the ‘regional other’). Certainly, such a fragmented cultural identity will give anyone a bad bout of schizophrenia – yet it is also what makes Singapore unique in its odd way. The ambiguity of our identity is our identity.

Or so I think.

I’m reading this book by Lily Rahim about Singapore in the Malay world & it brings up a very important point: The reason why it’s so hard to create a solid Singapore identity is because we have, as a nation, rejected our regional identity.

I haven’t finished reading it, but one thing Rahim states that I remember Sabapathy also mentioned was that Singapore is one of the few abnormal countries that celebrate our colonial history & has relegated our pre-colonial history to the status of myth.

Now that is very very tragic.

鼻血狂流。Seriously.
Socks are a very important part of my wardrobe because unlike most normal people in sunny Singapore, I can't wear slippers. Those flappy footwear hurt my feet like hell & become a major pain when that impatient uncle deliberately steps on the back of it in a crowded mrt escalator while attempting to overtake (thereafter I will glare menacingly at the back of his head while muttering curses for his EZ link to surreptitiously fail at the gantry).

So I wear shoes.
And shoes need socks.
Shoes & socks are engaged in a symbiotic relationship akin to sliced bread & jam. The bread (shoes) is the blank slate upon which you write whatever jam (the socks) you so desire.
Selecting tasty colourful jam is important because eating bread with say, marmite, gets miserable fast. Therefore, by the same reasoning I never buy black socks.

Those socks from uuuu...shoooop!! (yes, really, that's the name) are like tasty otah sandwiched with sambal belachan, layered with gooey cheese & avocado & tabasco sauce! That's how orgasmic it looks! And from what I read ... not cheap.

Well, whatever. I'll be going to Hong Kong next month & I shall find me a pair of incredible socks if that's the last thing I do!

Here <--- inexplicable mystery meat navigation warning.

Over on other things....
Oh Tyakasha, why do you always come out with the nicest designs that are completely out of my budget? Why?

It seems that every time I'm on blogger, I'm either slacking my pants off or gouging my eyeballs out from stress.
Yes, yes. This is another one of those times. Say hello to those feelings that I detest ....

There is nothing more i'd like to do than dissolve into my pillow.

Painted Skin is one of those eerily beautiful films that could have benefited with a much more tragic ending & less campy kung fu stunts - but the impossibly sad love triangles and heart-wrenching acting from Zhao Wei & Zhou Xun (males, I realise, are periphery & plot devices in most Asian ghost stories) makes me want to ball my eyes out.

Argh, someone hand me a tissue.

Listening to Jay Chou's 烟花易冷 like crazy, but why is it that all of his 中国风 song's MVs are so depressing? Look at 发如雪 and 千里之外 and 青花瓷 - amazing lyrics, beautiful cinematography and all tragic endings.

Sometimes, it's not enough for the characters to die once but are reincarnated into the modern world to die another time. Mercy does not exist in ancient Chinese love stories, I realise. You're either committing suicide for your dead loved one like 孟姜女 or, at best, meeting your sweetheart once a year on a magpie bridge because of irreconcilable circumstances. Depressing.

~

雨纷纷 旧故里草木深

我听闻 你始终一个人

斑驳的城门 盘踞着老树根

石板上回荡的是 再等

雨纷纷 旧故里草木深

我听闻 你仍守着孤城

城郊牧笛声 落在那座野村

缘份落地生根是 我们

~

Can anything describe how just mind-blowingly terrific these jackets & pants look?!
I know... I know... My elder sis has been telling me how awful my fashion sense is. But tell me how can you look at a planet & stars design & polka dots & NOT say it's the cutest thing ever???

Need. These. In. Closet. Now!

From Here