R-E-S-P-E-C-T

One thing to note: I am a girl who guards her privacy very jealously. If you think that this makes me a bitch, then so be it. I am in no mood to carry on pretending to be someone I am not.

If you think that I am fine with people handling my personal possessions without my permission, then think again.

If you ever touch my things again, you will be sorry. This is my promise to you.

I know that I have been a disappointment in my mother's biased eyes for a long while now. From now on, there would be no more pretense on my part. No more trying to convince the world that I am oblivious to the idea that she has never been satisfied with me.

If she wants to sever ties with me, then so be it. I have suffered enough under her manipulative hands these past years. Time cannot erase the trauma nor heal the wounds which she has inflicted upon me.

Call me infillial, call me an ingrate. I do not care anymore. Put yourself in my shoes before you pass any judgment. If you do not know what I am talking about, then maybe it's time you made an effort to get to know me better.

Whatever. I am too tired to care.

I can forgive, but know this: Serene never forgets.







What a mess

Ok galz, just a short notice: Am having some renovation works done at home - it began over a week ago - so I won't be blogging till things are back to normal again. Watch this space!







Strength

Mention the word "strength" and chances are, most of us would conjure up images of big, brawny men performing seemingly impossible, physical task. To me, strength embodies much more than that. Mind over matter. Simple as that. Our thoughts are what makes us powerful.

With every action comes a consequence, and actions are undertaken after due consideration for most of us. This would indicate that whatever choices we make in our lives is a direct result of our mental capabilities.

Looking at the people around me, I find myself being convinced increasingly that the real victors, the people with true grit, may not be the healthiest, may not be the prettiest, may not be the smartest.

A few days ago, my dad took my car out on an errand and met with an accident which damaged my car pretty badly. My dad was slightly injured but my mom escaped unscathed, thank God. Despite that, their one concern would be that I would be upset over my car being damaged. That is what I would call the power of love. To embrace and to love someone like that requires more than just physical strength. Indeed, it is harder to accept someone in spite of all his flaws than to wear yourself out at a gym daily.

Thank God for my parents. I am amazed by how patient they are with me when I know that I am a rather difficult person to live with.

Yet another source of inspiration would be my sister Sharon. Ever since we were impressionable young (very young) ladies dressed in indentical outfits, we have looked up to lawyers, wanting to be like them some day.

Now, life has presented her with this golden opportunity. With offers from LSE's as well as NUS' law schools, she has established herself to be someone who stands out from her peers. A young woman who has the prestige of attending law school.

Guess what? Sharon opted for a place in SMU's school of accountancy, recognising the fact that she would be able to glorify God and to make a difference in SMU. That shook me up as I never truly comprehended how much strength she has in her petite frame. Behind the frailty of her appearance lies a woman who is willing to lay down her life for God. This, to me, is power. The ability to make a decision of this magnitude deserves our respect.

Yes Sharon, I applaud you for daring to take the road less travelled. If I could give you a standing ovation, I would. Know this: you have chosen God over the world. You have everything to be proud of and nothing to be ashamed of. A brighter future than you can imagine stands right in front of you.

No doubt about it, you have shown me things which even the most accomplished professor cannot teach me.

It is my honour to be able to call you my little sister.







Season to be jolly?

Every once in a while, life gets to you so much that you just want to retreat into a little corner and sob. When this happens, I would typically put on a front and to continue pretending that everything is fine and rosy. I would pretend that I am really happy.

What this doews to me would be that all my frustrations would be stored in this little corner and when it gets too full, everything comes spilling out in unceasing, unsightly torrents. Not only do these outbursts scare the heck out of my loved ones, it frightens me as well.

The human heart is truly capable of experiencing emotions so powerful that words cannot describe. This humble organ many take for granted has the potential to allow one to experience pain and pleasure so intensed that occasionally, one is rendered unable to cope with it.

Emotional meltdowns and even mental breakdowns would then take place, threatening to obliterate everything which one has spent years trying to build up - a good reputation, excellent image and the like.

Therefore, treat your heart with respect. Tend to whatever emotional wounds life has dealt you and slowly move on. There is no point in hiding how you feel. Sooner or later, everything will come tumbling out.

Guess it is time I cleaned up this almost-full closet of mine.







I am woman, hear me roar

When you see a car swerving indecisively from one lane to another, what comes to mind? When you notice a driver struggling to park the car, what pops into your head? Doubtless, it would be these 2 words: "woman driver".

Hey, I am not proclaiming that women are better drivers than men - heck, I think the male species are superior when it comes to this aspect - rather, I am stating that not all instances of bad driving can be attributed to women.

Sure, I have seen my fair share of women hogging the road, changing lanes at incredibly lulling speeds, but let me assure you that I have observed the same behaviour on male drivers as well.

I am not perfect in this aspect either. Although I no longer stall my engine (I drive a manual car) I am still guilty of changing lanes abruptly and failing to slow down when approaching humps. Speed demon I am not, but I am not your average, stereotypical slow-poke woman driver either.

Besides, women have to grapple with the problem of driving in heels and tight, short skirts. Well, at least that's the issue I have to deal with, being too lazy to carry an extra pair of driving shoes around. Slippers, mules, stilettos, pumps, running shoes. You name it, I've got it. And you know what, I drive easily in any one of my beloved pair of shoes

So gentlemen (and ladies), the next time you witness some bad driving, take a good look before pinning the blame on the fairer sex. Better yet, keep your eyes on the road lest you too, become a "woman driver".







I'm a survivor

Fencing will be a no-no for me for the next couple of weeks thanks to an injury sustained during free fencing last night. I've an angry-looking bump on my shin which causes me pain when I walk.

My mom and dad are worried that I might have fractured my shin - yet again - I'm just hoping that I'll be fine soon enough. Given my poor state of health, competitive fencing will now be a thing of the past. It's time I learnt to take care of myself a little more.

I've survived worse. This would come to pass in no time.

I talked to my parents last night upon returning home, and I've never been prouder of the manner in which they have chosen to educate me. I love my parents. No doubt about that. They might have their shortcomings, but they are my parents after all.

You say you love me? Then show me by loving my family as well.

We come as a package. Take it or leave it.







You know I'm besotted when...

Ok, you would know that I'm totally captivated by an individual when I display the following symptoms:

(1) I tend to be fidgety around him
(2) I would never look him in the eye
(3) I steal secret glances at him
(4) I would endeavour to talk more to him
(5) I bring him up during conversations
(6) I find no other guy attractive
(7) I blush when he pays attention to me

My current dishy man-candy embodies all the qualities I find attractive in a man. He is good-looking, well-spoken, confident, and funny.

Before you start drooling, let me tell you this: He's gay.

He's as gay as gay can get. To get to know him a little better, watch Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.

Then let me know what you think of culture vulture Jai Rodriguez.







Making a list, & checking it twice

Dream men are not necessarily handsome, not necessarily smart, not necessarily perfect.

Rather, they are basically average men with their flaws. Flaws which make them believable. Flaws which make us love them even more.

Personally, I've conjured up an image of my ideal mate many times over throughout my teenage years, and as I continue to evolve in my degree of maturity, the model of my desired partner has altered as well.

Perhaps what makes the memories of me retreating into my little personal space and planning my fantastical future so poignant would be the fact that for a while, my loneliness is left behind. For a while, I can make-believe that I am truly happy.

Scenes of blissful couples strolling down the streets seem to reverberate in my mind, haunting me even more when friends begin to date and drift away from me. And no, contrary to belief, I am not resistant to the idea of settling down with a God-given mate. Given a chance, who would not want the opportunity to be loved and to love in return?

Although I may seem to have everything going for me, there is a portion of my life which remains void, waiting for God to send that special someone to occupy it. Meanwhile, I would just have to be conscientious and to keep that part of my life clean enough for him to reside in when he does eventually move in.

Then, I would know that I would no longer be alone. Then, I would know that I have found my way home.







If you're happy and you know it...

I'm a simple girl. With simple needs. With simple desires.

You want to make me contented? Then just be here with me.

Nothing beats the feeling of having a loved one next to you.

You want to see me smile? Then whisper into my ears.

Nothing is better than hearing your soothing voice.

You want to listen to my laughter? Than just be yourself.

Nothing pleases me more than to witness your endearing mannerisms.

You want to provide security? Then hold my hand.

Nothing can go wrong with you by my side.

You want to capture my heart? Then show me that the cynical me can trust in you.

Nothing satisfies me more than knowing that I'm treasured.

In all actuality...

You want to make me happy? Then simply be happy yourself.

That is what love is all aboout.

Love takes away the masks we know we cannot hide behind.

Love has found a way into my heart.







Please EX-cuse me

Carrie Bradshaw - whom my sister firmly believes I resemble the most behaviour wise - once asked in Sex and the City, "Can you be friends with an ex?" Seemingly innocuous, but I can bet it is the turmoil which plagues many a woman fresh out of a relationship. Heck, it torments woman regardless of whether you're newly single or not. Admit it. It does.

For me, I am an advocate of building bridges and letting time heal my wounds. To me, it is fairly possible to become platonic friends with the dreaded ex. This might sound awfully rich, coming from someone who has never, and I emphasize, never, been in a relationship before.

Yes, I am 20 and have always been single. In case you're wondering, yes, I happen to think that I'm fantabulous the way I am.

I am guessing that what makes it so difficult for women to overcome this stage of feeling awkward in front of an ex would be the idea that women tend to open up themselves and expose all their vulnerabilities whenever they get involved with a paramour. No, I do not refer only to the physical aspect of the relationship when I employed the word "expose".

That makes me one of the luckier ones. I've never been attached. Never been shackled to somebody exclusively. Never said the words "I love you" to any man. In this manner, perhaps it would be easier for me to play the switcheroo game from becoming friends from lovers. For one, I would not consider any of the men I've dated up till now as being my boyfriend.

Call me a commitment phobe, or a heartless bitch, but at least I've managed to survive positively well in this age of un-innocence where nobody has breakfast at Tiffany's or affairs to last. This girl has guarded her heart proficiently and will endeavour to continue doing so.

Oh well, fine, so I am only a human being after all. And a woman at that. Do call to check with me again - or gloat (whatever makes you happy) - after somebody finally manages to crawl his way into my heart.







Crossroads

Every once in a while, life has a sadistic habit of messing up the routine which I have come to accept and enjoy. This forces me to take a breather and to contemplate as to what my next course of action should be.

I have been feeling unwell these couple of days (I think I'm suffering from muscle inflammation), which means that I've been stuck at home - I didn't even go for free-fencing. The great deal of time I've on my hands has given me time for a spot of self-reflection, and I have finally acknowledged the idea that I have arrived at a fork in the road.

For the past couple of months, I've been forced to deal with some of the most complex issues I've had to deal with. Thank God for gifting me with strength and wisdom. I would have otherwise drowned in the sea of setbacks eons ago. These include my choice of church, my commitment to fencing as well as my personal relationships with a few people.

Nobody said that life would be easy. Indeed, this is where its beauty lies. The inability to define it makes life so transient, so beautiful.

Having said that, the moment has arrived for me to take charge of certain areas of my life which I have ignored. Taking a bull by its horns would be an apt manner to describe how I would tackle this problem.







Stranger things have happened

First session of PT was conducted this morning and although I am now aching all over and feeling so lethargic that I'm on the verge of collapse, it feels good. 2 rounds of running, some footwork training, circuit training and some sprinting. Boy was it a refreshing and thorough 2-hour long workout.

This is strangely reminiscent of how women seem to be addicted to pain. You know how it goes: Girl meets boy, boy breaks girl's heart, girl continues to stick around despite being treated like dirt. Note that this has afflicted many capable, intelligent women.

Why is it then that women are prone to such an unfortunate fate? I blame the media for glamourising the idea of being a martyr for love. In drama serials and novels, long-suffering women are often the protagonists, and it seems to be that one cannot find happiness without having gone through immense heartache and suffering first.

This has corrupted the minds of many young women who go on to think that the one true love of their life must be the one who brings them nothing but grief.

Tragic really. Then again, maybe it's not the media. Maybe women thrive on pain. Perhaps we women have been genetically programmed to welcome pain as a relief from the trials of life. Maybe.

Why else would we squeeze our feet into killer stilettos just so we can hobble painfully around and restrict ourselves to consuming nothing but "health foods" (hey a girl's gotta watch her figure)?

I say it's time we kicked our shoes - or those awful stilettos - off and try to take things easy. After all, worrying would only give you wrinkles, and this can only be remedied by going under the plastic surgeon's knife which would be agonising.

Think about how we can save ourselves from excruciating pain just by not feeling an insane need to conform to society's definition of how women ought to be.

Or would the agony be a huge turn on?







Er sir...I think we have a problem

Recently a poly lecturer was arrested in Thailand for hiring the services of prostitutes. No, we are not referring to scantily clad young ladies. The group of people in question here would be boys. Young boys. Young virgin boys.

What disturbs me here would be that the very people whom parents entrust their children with are the people who could be causing them serious psychological damage and physical trauma. This dude probably did nothing to his pupils because they are too old for him. He likes his meat fresh young and tender apparently.

This brings me back to my JC days, where rumours defaming certain teachers in school were the norm. Hands up those who schooled with me and can remember Mario.

Small as he may be - interpret this anyway you want - he gave out tremendously strong, bad vibes. There is something about him which screams SLEAZY and we were always cautious around him.

Thinking back, he meant no harm. It is those normal looking ones whom we need to be wary of. Those who seem to be hardworking and conscientious might well look haggard and constipated due to other factors not relating to school.

Would this happy trend be yet another by-product of our highly competitive education system? After all, it is an open secret that the weird ones are always the "smart" ones who ace every single subject under the sun.

I shudder to think of what would happen to my children in the future should they be under the charge of a paedophile. These perverts do hide their tracks and preferences remarkably well. Sigmund Frued would relish the idea of studying subjects like them.

Oh well, guess that's where karate and martial arts classes for children come in handy.

The rants, the raves, the lady herself


22 going on 23-year-old Trinitarian
A fresh SMU graduate on a job-hunt
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