Confessions of a Drama Mama

The following sms received on my personal mobile number is self explanatory.

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Dear Adora, I’m so sorry to call you on a Sunday. I’m at IKEA now and I want to buy alot of stuff. But I want them to deliver on 12 August, Saturday, they say cannot, becuz 2 wks delivery, and all the pieces I want running stock low. Can I pay today and I pass the phone over to some person you can talk to, so I can buy today? Or I come back tomorrow and meet you at noon at IKEA and can deliver on 12 August? I’m moving into my new house that’s why. I’m so sorry.

===== end of message =====

I don’t know what to feel, but I just want to do a poll and see how you would feel if you were me and got such an sms.

A bit of background that will help:
- You get this message on Sunday at 8pm (you’ve worked 6 full days straight prior to this)
- You don’t know who this person is because you don’t have his/her number, and he/she did not identify him/herself.
- You work Mon-Fri
- You do not work in the delivery department and you do not drive a delivery van

What say you? I’d really like to know. Please, feel free to post your comments.

An incident at work suddenly reminded me of my old school song. It’s been 12 years since I last sang it as a student during assembly on a Monday but I still can every single word (maybe ex-KC girls might wanna check the school mags to see if I made a mistake?).

Many years ago, I remember asking someone what his school motto was. It was one of those made up of 3 very strong individual words, but kind of didn’t make any sense when put together. E.g. "Honesty, courage, patience". And I remember him laughing about KC’s motto. "Simple in virtue, steadfast in duty". I don’t think it gets any more solid than that. It bothered me then that he laughed, but not now. He was an idiot anyway. And apparently his 3-worded motto has not gotten him anywhere in life.

I always thought that my character was moulded based on what my parents taught. But a sudden flash today made me realise how my life has turned out, or rather, how I would like to be, is worded in the very song I’ve sung for 10 years.

Maybe the logic of how one’s character is built in school goes deeper than its teachers and curriculum. Someone (I don’t even know who wrote our school song! But… do YOU?) must have thought long and hard about the words when he put in a song, knowing that it would be sung by generation upon generation of ‘blue nuns’.

Further than the school song, somehow missionary school students feel a click somehow. In my pre-u days, one of my classmates was a St Pat’s boy. In a Christmas card he wrote ‘having a KC girl in the class is almost like family’.

And now, the moment you have been waiting for, typed entirely from memory, is the Katong Convent school song as I remember it:

Forward Katong Convent
Make our future bright
To achieve our aims
Bravely we will fight

Guide us through our labours
To the Lord we pray
In wisdom, strength and courage
Growing day by day

Solidly united
By our motto sound
Simply in virtue
Strong in duty bound

In duty to our country
Let us ever be
Serving it with cheerfulness
And with loyalty

Let us ever noble be
In thought and word and deed
Striving to our utmost
Always to succeed

Solidly united
By our motto sound
Simply in virtue
Strong in duty bound

You know you’re an auntie when:

1. you get turned on by those little neighbourhood shops that sell plates and bowls and cooking stuff
2. you rush home to prepare dinner
3. you find joy in cooking
4. you feel somewhat ashamed/guilty when you use canned food/processed food/prepacked food/stock cubes
5. you can’t help but laugh at your own crazy cooking
6. you can’t help but post photos of your crazy cooking:

in case you wanna be a crazy auntie too, here are the recipes:
soup
chicken stock (GUILTY!!!!) + carrots + onions + celery. boil for 10-15 mins. then add alphabet marcaroni for about 10 mins more.

fish and smilies
marinate defrosted fish with salt and pepper. dip in egg then dip in breadcrumbs. bake in oven for about 20 mins at about 190 degrees. you can bake together with smilies, and if you are a true blue real auntie, you will be able to do this concurrently with the soup on the stove.

guess that makes me a true blue certified auntie. guess i’m proud of it too

Max asked ’so, "Daddy, Daddy, I want, I want" was your last post?’, meaning ‘why so long never post anything already?’. I took that to mean he missed reading my posts. But lao gong, I talk to you all the time!

Anyway, I had to think long and hard about what to write. No inspiration la. And busy at work. So if this is a half past six effort, don’t complain OK?

On Tuesday I left the office on time (something I had always strived to do but somehow never quite succeeded), and I was feeling quite proud of myself. I had been looking foward to my facial appointment for a long time. I love facials. Not the extraction parts (for those who’d never been for a facial: imagine someone using a fat needle and poking at your nose. Think Thaipusam), but the mask part and the massage part is very shiok. I’ve decided that among the things I love the most are: face and head massages.

So back to the point. My appointment was at 7pm. It was 6.30 when I got out of the office and I thought aiyah better take a cab. From Alexandra to Park Mall is relatively close but it’s a "2 bus-stop, 6 MRT stop, 5 minute walk" expedition, so I decided to cab. $10 (thanks to the increase in cab fares) and 15 minutes later I was at the facial place.

I’ve always loved the place. The thick carpets always made me feel quite royal. And plus the facials are pretty reasonably priced. And I’ve grown to love it even more after telling them I come after work and would prefer therapists that don’t talk to me cos I just want to rest.

So I arrive and they say ‘oh you’re early. You may have to wait a while ok?’. Which was fine. I usually sit at the waiting area for about 5-10 minutes anyway. I don’t mind. It gives me the time to unwind before giving in to total relaxation and pure bliss.

So I sat there in the waiting area with dim lighting and almost comfy sofas, with maybe 7 other people. It had never been that crowded before but I didn’t think anything of it. I just re-read many magazines (I have to read magazines at work - it’s part of my job) and a particular article about this shelter for the dying destitute in Calcutta (opened by Mother Teresa herself) really touched me. So I teared a little and I remember reading faster cos I didn’t want to be called before finishing my article.

But I finished. And after a while, people began to sigh irritatedly, and one woman called her friend on the phone and started complaining about how long she had been waiting. And then one by one the therapists came to call the ladies into their respective rooms for their respective treatments.

I started to feel like perhaps more than 10 minutes had passed. You kinda have no clue what the time is cos you usually put all your belongings, watch and handphone included, in a little locker.

So I went to check. It was freaking 8pm! Recap for those of you with Dementia - I arrived at 6.45pm and my appointment was for 7pm.

It had already been an incredibly busy day at work and I was so looking forward to a relaxing facial, and I was tired. So wasn’t exactly in the best of moods. But surprisingly, I was calm.

So the next time I saw one of the consultants I asked:

Adora: I’m just wondering if anyone has forgotten about me cos I’ve been sitting here for a very long time

Consultant: Oh sorry, we’ve got 2 therapists on MC and we’re preparing your room now.

A: If you knew you had 2 therapists on MC, maybe someone should have called to tell me during the day and rescheduled then I wouldn’t have had to rush to leave the office and take a cab down here. I’ve been sitting there since 6.45!

C: I’m so sorry, your room will be ready in 10 minutes.

A: No la, I really think I don’t want to do my treatment today cos it means I’ll be home so much later - I’ll just come back another day.

C: You don’t want to do it today ah? But it’s only 1 hour, your facial.

It was at this point that I think the whole day’s activities really accumulated but I still remained quite calm. Which was very un-me.

A: So I wait more than one hour, I don’t want to do the facial anymore but you insist I should, and you’re telling me I will get LESS time than I usually do? Isn’t the facial usually more than 1 hour? I really don’t want to do it and I think I should be compensated.  

C: Err ok… let me ask my incharge

In the end she said ok you can do it now, we have the room ready (apparently we had been talking for 10 minutes) and she checked with her boss and they would be happy to compensate me by letting me do my session for free. Apparently her ‘incharge’ felt giving away a free facial was worth it to keep a pretty loyal and usually untroublesome customer.

There I was, minding my own business, having my nice little pack of yu pian tang (from the best yu pian tang in the world - Bukit Merah Lane 1, behind Alexandra Village hawker centre), flipping through the papers when I saw something that really bothered me.

There was an article on Beetles. As in the car, not the insect. Nor the band. The article featured 2 Beetle owners - Chen Han Wei, and Mr Unknown. So we read about Chen Han Wei and how he consults a fengshui master to choose the right colour for his car, and how he gives rides to his friends, and the world is fine and dandy.

Then we read about Mr Unknown. We read about how he’s spent $12,000 on modifications, and how he’s imported parts from the US, and how his girlfriend calls it the "evil beetle". Yeah yeah, whatever. I’ve not reached the best part yet.

Mr Unknown ….. is…… all of 22 years old! Which means: He is either 1. very rich to be able to afford his own car in Singapore, or 2. very lucky to have a rich father. Well since he’s 22, and an NTU student (or was it NUS? I can’t remember. Both are the same to be. Both rejected me. Yes I’m sour. You want to fight? But I didn’t sit around and wait to get accepted, no, I went to get my degree from Curtin and now I have a respectable job after scraping the bottom of the barrel for 6 years. So shut it OK? And I have an almost black belt in Taekwondo. Which means black-tip, which means brown-black. Which means I can kick your balls and you may not have a next generation. But then again, it’s been a while since I’ve practiced the art. But if you want to present your balls to be kicked, hey, be my guest.)

So anyway. Where were we? Ah, yes. 22 year-old Mr Unknown has a groovy car, probably given by his daddy. Anyone see anything wrong with that? I don’t know, is it just me who thinks that kids should be able to earn their own rewards?

So if you give him a car (and come on, this is not Australia where you can get a boneshaker for a couple of hundred bucks) now, how do you expect him to be able to work for what he wants in the future? Or do you intend to take care of him for the rest of your life? And then leave him a big sum of money when you die so that he won’t ever have to lift a finger, and continue living in your 3-storeyed bungalow with your 20 maids in black and white uniforms?

Fine, if daddy can give you a car. OK, nothing wrong if you were born with ten silver spoons in your mouth. But to BRAG about it? What is there for you to be proud of? Do you have any right to boast? How did you contribute at all?

Girls, this is for you: You go out on a date and he sends you home in a nice car. And if things progress to a more physical state, you suddenly realise that THE CAR WAS GIVEN BY YOUR DATE’S DADDY! Would you be grossed out?

You know what? I change my mind. Mr Unknown technically can be considered lucky but I think the implications of him being so spoilt will go far deeper.

I think his spoilt brain will never be able to understand the meaning of earning his keep. He probably will never know how it feels to earn $5 an hour balancing trays (of course I did. Pine Tree Town and Country Club. You know those banquet waitresses you bully at wedding dinners? I was one of them) just so he can see an extra movie on the weekend without asking his parents for money (i BET he’s still getting an allowance at 22).

He will never know the meaning of sacrifice, of having to save for something he wants. All he has to do is to whip out his ATM card and withdraw a shitload of money, and smile back at his 6-figure balance.

Hey I may be 28 years old with only a 5-figure bank balance but I earned every cent of that. I’ve graduated from having no room of my own to living in my own house (technically it’s rented but those of you still living with your parents and not paying any rent really have no right to jab me here on this point). And that is exactly what I will teach my kids - they have to know the value of everything so they won’t take anything for granted.

I’m not saying that everybody has to go through this to learn. I’m just very disturbed that there are people who can feel so unguilty about bragging so publicly about something that was given to them.

It is my personal opinion that only one word describes people who continue to take things from their parents AND brag about those things: "WIMP".

Everybody knows I’m scared of the water. So much so that I even bend forward to wash my hair each time I shower. But I did the most unthinkable thing - I signed up for an aqua aerobics class last week. And yesterday I did the mostest unthinkablest thing ever - I actually went for the class.

Class started at 7.30pm. All the way up to 4pm I felt nothing but excitement. I even bought a new swimming costume for this. All the way I was thinking "Wow, a new sport. How fun that will be! And screw all those who laughed at me for joining a fako synchro swimming club".

But at 4pm I started panicking. I SUDDENLY realised aqua aerobics classes would be held in a swimming pool and swimming pools are filled with water and I was …. afraid of the water! And I was worried I’d go and everybody else was an Olympic swimmer and they’d laugh at me. I realised one thing. No matter how old I get, I always feel nervous at starting something new, and I always worry about not being able to fit in.

So anyhow. I arrived there way too early and I sat like a fool on dry land, near the waist deep pool. Then after 10 minutes of sitting and potentially being mistaken for a peeping tom, I asked 2 girls if they were part of the aqua class and they said yeah, and it’s way over at the other pool.

My heart stopped for a brief second. The other pool? Like as in THE DEEP POOL? I felt my knees go weak even though I made sure I hadn’t had any kang kong recently.

Thankfully it was only 1.2m deep. Not so thankfully, I’m only 1.58m tall so only my head and a bit of my neck was above water.

Once I got in, I felt I couldn’t really breathe cos of the pressure. At the moment the instructor asked us to gather, I felt a nagging need to pee even though I had just gone twice half an hour ago (Max says luckily I didn’t pee in the pool cos now they put chemicals in, and I would have been surrounded by a pool of black ink. Kind of like a squid). 

So for the first 10 mintutes of the class, I was just waiting for the cramps to hit, anticipating each new step to bring a cramp. But after a while, I started relaxing and really enjoying the class. It was one whole hour of nonstop action. And you’re in your own world, kinda. You’re with 11 other people but you’re really doing your own thing. Sure you look like a fool walking back and forth or trying to run on the spot, but what a fantastic whole body workout!

Towards the end, with the soft music, and the bright lights, and me cycling (yes, with my body under water) while sitting on the thin foam thingie and my arms moving at the sides, I suddenly felt like I was in a movie where a girl gets rid of her hydrophobia and enjoys the water. In the distance I could hear the instructor say ‘This is the last exercise. If you want to move faster, you can move your arms at the side. If you want to relax, just keep cycling’.

"Relax". That word would never have linked to anything water related for me. But cycling there on an invisible unicycle, relax was exactly what I did.

I cannot wait for the next class!

The writer can be caught in action at Delta Swimming Complex every Monday at 7.30pm. She experienced cramps in both feet, one after the other, while in the shower.

This is a sensitive post and I have to make it as generic as possible because I don’t want to go to jail or offend anybody who could possibly harm my career. But what I’m going write about what I feel is 100% honest and true.

Here goes.

Recently I attended an event. It could have been some days ago, or some weeks ago. (See I said I would be vague!)

It was attended by some of the biggest names of a certain industry. They were being recognised for certain things that they did for others. The four of us girls were invited under the company name, but we were just guests, we weren’t really part of the whole event.

So we put on our best, did our hair, arrived in style in a Merc cab, drank our lobster bisques (didn’t really like) and ate our oven baked cod fish with lentils (good good good! I never thought I would like lentils) and rather enjoyed our dessert (a ‘medley’ of stuff).

And then it all started. The whole ceremony

People and companies were getting called up on stage for their good work and based on seeing them jamming their fists in the air and screaming and yelling and jumping, one would get the feel that they did indeed do something to deserve the prestigious recognition.

I didn’t know whether to feel disgusted or embarrassed. I wasn’t the only one who felt that way; those at our table did too, and you have to trust me when I say they are not from your usual mom and pop shop.

It really was a case of maybe 300 people in a ballroom, divided into 10 screaming, and 270 giving quizzical looks to each other (300-270-10 = 20 sad people who didn’t get to scream). The 4 of us looked at each other with the same deep frown that said "HUH?!"

If it had been only us frowning in wonder, then it’s still justifiable that it was only us stupid enough not to understand. But if there were many more people doing the same thing as us then it clearly must mean that they also felt the same way, that these 10 probably did not deserve to be screaming with such joy and pride.

Two things really disturbed me:

One -
The people that organised this are aiming to host the international version of this event next year. They want to show the world what a great hub Singapore would be for such an event. I’m just wondering if this is the standard they will continue to uphold because if it is, it will just be an event to give an international audience the opportunity to laugh at us.

Two -
I don’t know which is worse - being awarded for something that you
don’t deserve (judging by the ‘huh what? They won for that?’ looks of
people around) or being awarded for something someone else did and you claimed credit for (sorry, I
can’t go into this but I’m betting more money than I did on the
Brazil-Ghana match [$1,000 by the way] there’s an extremely high chance
they didn’t do it).