21 things I’ve learned in 21 years (and 5 months).

1. Happiness is elusive when you go looking directly for it.
2. Love yourself. It’s cheesy but I think it’s important to recognize that picture-perfection doesn’t exist, and sometimes learning to appreciate your own flaws is part of understanding yourself better and finding your strength.
3. Fear is misunderstood. In case you don’t know me, I’m a walking bundle of insecurities. I don’t have it all together yet, but I think maybe learning to confront your fears is part of growing up and becoming a stronger person.
4. Be thankful. I’ve always felt guilty, especially around friends, when my parents always seemed to be able to give me a little more spending money than strictly necessary. But I’ve realized it’s not about hiding what you have, but just concentrating on being a good friend and a generous person.
5. Learn to say no. While being helpful is important, I think it’s important to create boundaries as well or you’ll end up feeling overwhelmed, guilty and resentful.
6. Find purpose and meaning in the things you do.
7. Understand what’s important to you. When I was young, it was the opinions of my family that determined the choices I could make to make them proud of me. And although I know the arts is neither the most lucrative nor their ideal career choice for me, I think they value the fact that I’ve made this choice knowingly and am willing to work hard at it.
8. Surround yourself with a good support system. This was especially important when I was away in a foreign land by myself: to make sure that there are people around whom you can rely on, and who will support, encourage and motivate you in whatever you choose to do.
9. Learning how to handle criticism. To be honest, I’m still really bad at handling myself and accepting criticisms graciously especially in conflict situations (which there inevitably will be). But what seems to work for me is to be as objective as I am able, learn as much as I can from the situation and move on.
10. Focus on your health. This is pretty much said to death in every self-help book (not that I’ve been looking… much), but it’s there for a reason. Eating well and exercising regularly does seem affect my mood (I’m less crabby).
11. It’s OKAY to ask for help.
12. It will pass. Whatever crap you go through, no matter how shitty, remind yourself that it will pass.
13. It really is possible to forgive and let go. It’s not always the easiest journey, but it’s worth it just letting some things be.
14. Smiling is contagious (Right now I'm smiling. Can you feel it? =D)
    
15. I love teh peng. I wish I had some now.
    
16. Take in everything. There’s a phrase, “seek first to understand, then to be understood”. I can’t really explain it well.
17. Just because someone is no longer around, doesn’t mean that person is gone from your life.
18. Be open and friendly. I think it’s fairly obvious this is a work-in-progress. And while I don’t see having a wide range of friends as a priority, meeting new people is always interesting.
19. Be gentle with expectations and judgments.
20. Kids are amazing. Sometimes simply hanging out with someone say, under 6 can change your perspective of the world.
21. It’s never too late to be who you want. (George Eliot said this, so I'm taking it with a tiny grain of salt)

"It is thought a disgrace to love unrequited. But the great will see that true love cannot be unrequited. True love transcends the unworthy object, and dwells and broods on the eternal, and when the poor interposed mask crumbles, it is not sad, but feels rid of so much earth, and feels its independency the surer. Yet these things may hardly be said without a sort of treachery to the relation. The essence of friendship is entireness, a total magnanimity and trust. It must not surmise or provide for infirmity. It treats its object as a god, that it may deify both."
Emerson

And I have to speculate, that God himself did make us into corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces from the clay.

I do realize there is little here on Earth more boring than hearing someone talk about themselves, but I must tell you this or I’ll explode (not really). It’s about the MBTI. It states that I’m an overly-sensitive, delusional doormat prone to bouts of emo (in admittedly less colourful, more diplomatic terms). And annoyingly, I can’t refute it. A smart-looking website nonchalantly compares me to ET (yes, the alien!), although I’m not sure how I feel about it (to be honest, I have always wondered if I were really (secretly) an alien. My favorite color is green, I like Star Wars and most of the time people feel like a foreign species to me). But what really is mind-boggling is that this site also said that my boyfriend/husband/lesbian life partner (?!) would have to be understanding and preferably paint imagery-heavy word pictures in their speech to accommodate my short-attention span. Which incidentally, is how I talk to my sister. And she’s FOUR.

All joking aside, I’m panicking inside (rhyme!). My sister’s FOUR, which means that sometimes when I see her I see a ticking time bomb. The idea that I’ll be responsible for anybody else’s well-being is plainly stupid and terrifying. I can’t even take care of myself properly (did I mention the reason why I’m writing an entry now is because I’m sick?) It’s like a deadline to mature and assume the role of a “young mom” and it’s a horrible idea and anytime I’m in charge of anything it just backfires horribly and oh god she’s going to hate me isn’t she.

On a separate and more irritating note, I have been working on disciplining my thoughts. Quite recently I have had a crush on this guy (cute, swimmer, and let’s never talk about this again) so in order to not think about him, I am using a form of aversive therapy. Every time I find myself thinking about him (quite often I might add), I’ll immediately think of something gross, like stepping barefoot on a cockroach. Or all my worldly possessions being turned a bright shade of bubblegum pink. So far, the only side effects are that I watch where I step very carefully and I take abit longer to coordinate my clothes.

Ever since I got back, I’ve also been taking nightly walks around Serangoon Gardens. It’s lovely here. YP used to walk around the estate at night when she was more mobile (the last time was probably a few years ago) and I can see why she enjoys it so. Every time I go for walk, I’m reminded of her and feel less sad for missing her so much. Time always seems to fly by when the world is slowing down.

That's it for now. Have a nice week (and don't leave your Christmas shopping to the last minute)

I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in and stops my mind from wandering where it will go.

Time is really flying by, isn't it.

I'm finally back in sunny Singapore, and I don't even think the initial euphoria has worn off yet. Finally seeing my sister, swimming in the pool, drinking endless amounts of teh peng and meeting old friends is just something Canberra cannot provide. My sis, for one, is now heavier than I can carry and can knock people over with a hug (not so fun after the first time). It's strange, the ease at which I can admit to myself how much more I can love Singapore more than Australia. I've probably spent most of my younger years hating this place and trying to escape.

Anyway, Fenner is lovely as a second home. The people there are pleasant and friendly, and by far the only complaint I have is the unsavory fear of getting my food stolen. I remember first-year me laughing and thinking, "Ha ha! There's no way I would move into that place. If I wanted to get my food stolen, I'll just leave it to the ants." (I actually did think exactly that, and the shocking meanness of it is why I remember it so well.) But Fenner is wonderful, and I'm glad to have a place to look forward to returning to.

Incidentally, I've been quite obsessed with personality tests lately. Like the Myers-Briggs Typology. I just cannot wrap my head around how there can only be 16 personality variations among 6 billion people (it feels like a cosmic inside joke). Of the thirty-something people I have asked, they all seem to agree that the test is fairly accurate. Under my pestering, my parents have done the test too, and apparently I'm more similar to my mum than my dad (which is interesting because my mum and I polar opposites in terms of interests, social interactions etc). I keep rereading over and over the explanations for my personality type. It's as if someone had been secretly living in your head, got bored and so is now gracious enough to explain yourself to you (I imagine that fellow must be an INTJ.)

In the meantime, while I wait for most of my sg buddies to finish their exams, I'm going bowling with my dad and shopping for more shoes. It's good to be back.

If we don't know somewhere to go, back to the 101.

Oh, internet.

Do you remember just a few months ago when I was so proud (and a little cocky) that staying off-campus suited me to a tee? Today, I'm ruminating over whether I should move into a hall. And not just any hall, mind you. Fenner Hall, which has all the benefits of an in-campus hall except that it is off-campus. (That was mean. I honestly do like Fenner. They have maps and flags all over in case we get lost.)

On a random note, since I broke my glasses and put on contacts a few months ago, people seem to have trouble recognizing me. At first their squinting and disbelief was quite amusing to me (I even tried a "I'm Rachel's sister" on a friend), until I realized that it was my lips that identified me. I still find their reactions funny, but I now purse my lips as an extra precaution whenever I'm squinted at.
Which reminds me, I've been engaged in a staring match with statistics in a bloodthirsty battle to the death. It doesn't like me, and I reciprocate that loathing proportionately. But with a few tuition sessions with a friend, we have now reached an impasse. I will work hard at it, and in return it will tolerate me for another month or so. It's working out so far.

More often than not, I find myself wondering about what I am going to do in the future. And this line of thought scares me excessively. I still have about two more years of undergrad, but it seems the deadline to decide is getting tantalizingly closer each time someone asks me what my plans are after I graduate. I always wish I have a good answer prepared for that situation, but I don't. And these days I feel as if the answer will never come.

And before I forget, Happy Mid-Autumn Festival, you! (I'm actually seething with regret now, because I have already eaten the mooncakes I had.) But here's to hoping you have more patience and good sense than me, and have some lovely mooncakes to enjoy as well.

One too many goals, that measure of your worth, to seek your weight in gold.

It has been a big fear of mine for the longest time (bigger than public speaking even) that if I should one day dare to put in effort into something I'm passionate about and come up short (pun!), there would be no one to blame but myself. In fact, one of my dreams is to write a novel. And there are so many ideas swimming around in my head which I desperately want to put to paper. But there is still this fear. This incorrigible paralyzing fear, that god forbid I should actually decide to pursue something I want and it turns out to be a mediocre piece of toerag, that will be all that's left to define me. My gravestone will read:

"Rachel Chan 1988 -
Daughter, Sister, Friend and
Toerag.
No real accomplishments, but I'm sure if you knew her you would find her quite delightful.
Oh well."

I'm a little lost, to be honest. I know lots of people* who use fear as a motivating tool, but I just haven't found my own courage yet.

It is the teaching break now, and the assignments are piling in. So if I don't blog for awhile, please don't think I killed myself. Despite timing.

*Okay! Clearly I lied. I don't actually know anyone like that, but I was trying to prove a point.

If they ask why we left in the first place, say we were young and so in love, and I guess we just needed the space.

I haven't written in so long. Mostly because I've been so busy with moving and assignments. (You lie!) Okay, so I've been occupied by other things. I'm quite amused by how many people's birthdays are in September. My friend's theory is that people tend to let their guard down during Christmas parties (which I find is a hilarious and perfectly legitimate reason).

Incidentally, I love reading the handwritten comments on my essays. Seeing the marker's handwriting makes me feel like someone other than a robot has read my scribblings, and that jazzes me to no end. I keep all my essays in a box under my bed where they receive a semi-annual dusting. (Okay, obviously I made that up. I don't know where half my essays have gone.)

Speaking of weird habits, I have never been embarrassed by the fact that I am quite short (even when random people insist on walking into me) or the fact that I speak with a strong Singaporean accent (or so I am told). It is these shortcomings that make me comfortable in my strange little world. But my stubbornness these days has reached new and unfortunate heights. Yesterday I spent hours walking around 5 different suburbs because I refused to take a bus (also partly because my new housemate told me a horror story about a bus). I still pester my friends to go swimming with me (none of whom are silly enough to), and I continually allow myself to spend hour after hour playing with the fonts and margins on my finished essays. I don't know why I am the way I am sometimes, but I'm working on it.

I'm going to Japan in January with my buddy Shan and I must say, I'm greatly looking forward to it. It'll be for about a fortnight, and we'll be going to Osaka, Kyoto, Nagoya and Tokyo. I even planned some time to hang out by myself. Hopefully I won't get too lost.

My English tutorials are wonderful. Like a weekly book club. Did you know Persuasion was originally titled The Elliots? The person who told me was actually a middle-aged plumber from Queensland. People just never cease to surprise me. Sitting in that room always makes me feel somewhat inadequate. I'm probably the most boring person to be, with no definite dreams or accomplishments. Just a silly foreign kid, a little homesick and dreaming of great things.

That's it for now. Have a nice week!

If what they say is 'nothing is forever', then what makes love the exception?

My YP passed away last month. I don't know why, but I feel the grief as raw as I did back when I heard it over the phone. I'm just not ready to say goodbye. It wasn't unexpected - she was in a coma for weeks. My parents finally decided to take her off the respirator, only to have her improve miraculously. And I felt she was just waiting for me to come back. But it was a struggle, and she still left in the end. And my parents, they are already over it, going about their lives as if nothing has changed. But she is gone, and I feel abandoned. For 21 years, she had been my rock. I used to curl up next to her at night whenever I was sad. And she would always cook my favourite food before exams. And how she would sometimes ask me to buy the paper on the way back from school, but I would remember only half the time. Everything just seems so meaningless now, such that even leaving my room is a chore. I wish I could speak to her again. I wish I could tell her how I feel. That she was special, and my heart hasn't felt fully happy since.

good feeling, won't you stay with me just a little longer?

I don't really have anything to say except that right now, I'm sad.

Living with Jas and Don is the usual fun, but lately I've been considering moving back into a hall. I miss hanging out with certain friends, waking up just 15mins before class and even small talk with acquaintances. Which is why, on impulse, I applied to a few halls. And unilodge responded with an offer for a studio. I doubt I would take it, but now more than ever I must admit, it is very, very tempting.

My heart hasn't recovered from my trip to Indo either. I miss it and the friends I made quite terribly. We were riding bikes everywhere every day (including me, I was riding. a. bike!), smoking, uncovering an actual political fraud, hanging out with people in the kampung, sightseeing and eating. Oh, the food! Fried chicken in the morning is quite welcome. My 21st birthday was thus spent with new friends in a foreign place, but it was significant, and one of the happiest days of my life. And because of all this, I've been quite distracted lately. It might be too presumptuous to think that something inside me changed, but I know I won't be at ease till I return one day soon. In the meantime though, my future does seem a little clearer to me. I've always wondered if I was cut out for living in the developing world, sheltered as I am, but even with all the lack of luxuries and amenities there, I was honestly happy.

My dear grandaunt died on July 10th, after a long struggle. She's the first person I've loved to actually pass away, but I've accepted it. For a while, I was in a bad shape. Just not knowing how to survive in a world without her. But it's easier now I suppose because I'm not actually home. My parents keep telling me not to be sad, to celebrate her life etc but I can't do that. Time will pass, and I know there will come a time when I miss her less, but right now, I'm lost.

A dear ms lin was also supposed to come visit me as well a few days back, and I was looking forward to it with a vengeance. So when the time came, and she got into an cycling accident, I was horrified and worried, then disappointed and sad. She'll be alright, in case you're wondering. But Canberra suddenly seems alot lonelier.

Because of my three english courses this semester, I have about 20 or so novels to read. Anna Karenina is one of prescribed texts, but even she isn't helping lately. Sometimes I understand her and sometimes I don't. But for the most part, I realized Tolstoy is a very generous writer. Minor characters get stories, and it is in the details where they start to seem like real people. It's the same with Anna, and I do think that somewhere along the way writing, he fell in love with her. It's one of my favourite books to read, just somehow depressing now at a time when I'm already quite sad.

But life is short, and I know there are/will be plenty of things to look forward to. Like meeting the Indo lot for dinner tomorrow. Yea, things will get better soon.

Oh monster, why did I create you.

Oh, hi. Haven't blogged in awhile, so I'll just give you a brief State of the Union-esque to let you know how everything is going. The exams are approaching, so naturally I have turned into a little ball of stress. I went drinking with a few good buddies two nights ago, and I am slightly mortified that a stranger messaged wanting to know if I'm interested. Right now my desk has more snacks than books, and i still worry constantly I will run out of food. Excellent. So that's that.

I was going to continue writing a nice cheerful entry but as it turns outside of exams and drinking, my life really is as terribly boring as living in Canberra can be. My hair is stupid. Neuroscience is out to get me. The weather is seriously getting on my nerves. Also, you hate me. Don't lie, I know you do; yes, you do. In other words, it is that time of the month again.

So in order not to post something hateful and vengeful which I will surely regret in a few days, I should just write about something harmless. Like the weird dinner I just made myself. Or I could be honest and tell you about how restless I am feeling now. Maybe the latter. I don't understand it; it was as if I woke up one morning and it was claustrophobic and God, why am I stuck here! And I miss being by myself in foreign place, trying to figure the world out on my own terms. I miss home, and I'm considering taking another major either in Philosophy or English.

It's horrible, being an emotional slave to one's hormonal cycles. But on the bright side, I have a 9am history class tomorrow, which would give me an actual reason to cry and rage.

Beware the flying spaghetti monster!

I have been agnostic for a long time now, mostly because I can't suspend my scepticism about organized religion. Lately though, there's been this thought swimming in my head, that I only believe what I want to. Because really, reason and rationality are what I base most of my decisions on (or try to, at least). And my philosophy in life has pretty much been, what I can't rationalize with logic I shouldn't accept. Which is stupid, because if that's the case, then it also means that for every truth I can't explain, it in effect becomes a lie. What glimmer of faith I may have had when I was young I could never truly understand. My faith was to be private, and people, even my uncle the pastor, interfering with how much I'm willing to give or express of it was unacceptable to me. Until now, I'm still not comfortable with active evangelising, cell groups, or what I see as the church guilting people into giving up 10 percent of their salaries. What I contribute is between me and the Person Up There, which was partly why I was so repelled from churches back home. But I attended a catholic service recently, and more than anything, I felt confused. Because that's what sitting on the fence does to you.

Oh, and because I've been researching my essay on nuclear deterrence this past month, these were the headlines for some day last month.
Voice of America: US Military Chief: Iran Has Enough Material to Make Nuclear Bomb
L.A. Times: Iran has the materials to make a nuclear bomb, top U.S. official says
FOX News: Top Defense Officials: Iran Has Fissile Material for Nuke, but No Bomb Yet
Wall Street Journal: Iran Amasses Enough Fissile Material for Bomb, Officials Say
AFP: Iran has enough material to make nuclear bomb: US admiral
New York Times: U.S. Says Iran Has Enough Material for Nuclear Bomb
ABC: Iran has fuel to make nuclear bomb: US official
The Guardian: US fears that Iran has capability to build a nuclear bomb

Honestly, it's incredible how fear-mongering the media is. If you're just an average person glancing across the headlines, you would think that Iran would be in possession of an actual nuke very soon. But it's not until you actually read the articles, when you find out that yes, they may have enough uranium atoms to create a bomb, but to actually develop one, Iran would need high technical capabilities to enrich them to a weapons-grade level, which they do not have and won't have for some years to come. Thing is, Iran had signed the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (approved by the IAEA), which gives them the indisputable right to produce nuclear power for civilian uses.
To be fair, I did find some balanced articles on this topic (who is going to believe the Tehran Times anyway?). But on the whole, I think putting sensationalist spins on stuff like this just confuses people. It's like saying, I can go to my backyard and grab a bucket a sand and use the silicon to make a computer (although that I admit would be really cool).

Oh and incidentally, <http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/27/opinion/27taylor.htm>.
It's what I do when I have assignments due; I google alternatives to university. Or read stuff about the Reform Party back in Singapore (better economic policies, they say). Or this: <http://wayangparty.com/?p=8552> on our one and only Ho Ching turning 428.1 million into 29 dollars. She makes it look so easy. Peh.

The lost month.

So where do I begin. Oh god, I seriously just typed "I'm still alive, at least" without thinking.

So anyway, my laptop broke down, a public bus REROUTED just for me, I had WAY too much to drink, essays on nuclear deterrence and the fall of Singapore due, fifty dollars on calls to Johor, our possum is named Wombat, I fixed my laptop, reading about cars (I've been really into them lately), baking an awesome pineapple upsidedown cake that apparently everyone loved, and an ex-potential housemate keen on double dates/bush walking.

Between you and me, these past few weeks have been incredibly gratifying. Except the time when my laptop broke down, and for a week I was sneaking into Don's room to use his com. And I am missing home terribly. The baby especially. We were on the phone the other day and she asked me "do you want to bake cake?" I miss her. To be honest, I haven't really been on touch with anyone in Singapore outside my family. I worry that one day when I return, we will all just run out of things to say. We will sit in silence when we meet, and we will slowly realize that things have changed too much. Which is a supremely childish way of thinking, but I can't help but entertaining it. In any case, it's my fault really for not making time for the people back home. And I'm sorry.

Staying off campus. It's pretty great I must say. Somehow I never really meant it until now. The freedom, the peace, that grownup feeling you get managing stuff in the house (I don't know why I said that. I still feel 16 at times). But most of it is because of Jas and Don I know. They're so easy to love it's ridiculous.

That's about it, really. Right now, I'm as happy as I've ever been. My courses are interesting, the new people we meet are funny, the food we eat is good. That and the packets of milk tea in my room waiting to be drunk, I could almost wish the world would stop for a moment.

All that a heart can take.

This year started off with me obnoxiously telling myself that everything will go swimmingly well this semester. And as things are going incredibly well so far; therefore I am certain things will go horribly wrong soon. That's logic. Or irony. Maybe foreshadowing?

Anyway, living with Jas and Don. I am very thankful having them around. Except sometimes they talk like I'm not around, saying stuff like "how old is she, man" and "are you sure she's a uni student" to each other. Guys, you know I can hear you right. Haha, but they're awesome. And since Don doesn't read this blog, I feel it is safe to say that he just might possibly be the best housemate in existence. He is clean and quiet, doesn't mind me gleefully eating his food, cleans up random messes that aren't his own, drives me absolutely everywhere, washes our dishes and tosses out the trash regularly. And Jas is an awesome cook. Pizza, curry, pasta, fish, salads she makes them all and more. And proof of that is my noticeable weight gain. Sigh.

As I am writing all this, there's a pile of books and papers strewn freely across the desk. And buried under that neglected pile, is a textbook. For neuroscience, specifically. It has been directly underfoot, trying to kill me with its weight and useless information. I kid, it's not useless. Just irrelvant. Still kidding. It's just really difficult. Jas comes over sometimes and morbidly flips though that book. I'm glad at least my suffering amuses her.

And suddenly! Without warning the mountain of books stacked on my table collapses and the neuroscience textbook knocks my head and spills my brains onto the carpet.

Well I'm joking, that didn't happen. But if it did, now that would be irony.

Closing my eyes, and breathing out.

I say goodbye to you tomorrow, and we won't see each other again. The moment came, as it always did, when our mistakes finally caught up. We could no longer huddle in past longings, when the truth was that we had become such separate entities. Of such disparate thoughts and understandings that growing apart was, in hindsight, inevitable. But despite our hateful prejudices, you were once loved. Truly.

Diagnosis: Moron.

Look... I just, I KNOW, okay? I've been meaning to write - really, really trying - but sometimes you just get caught up with nothing. I have been writing posts in my head since last week, nothing substantial, just a bunch of disjointed paragraphs. Like how I think it's funny Kanye West gets all excited on his blog and TYPES IN ALL CAPS LIKE THIS!!!! YAHH!!!!!!!!!!!! Or how cute my yellow toy elephant is and he feels swedish and maybe I should call him Blobtörpt? I'll sulkily ruminate (btw, this is currently my favourite word. It reminds me of a cow chewing) for a few days over some little thing which I would be convinced is the worst thing to ever befall me but by the time I feel the urge to write, it's no longer such a bad thing and I feel like an idiot. So instead, I'll recommend you some books. Because, you know, I'm not an idiot.

1. Ayn Rand - The Fountainhead
I actually read this like two years ago, but last week I was on this ridiculously long train ride with Sudev and he mentioned he had been reading this for the past few months and I flipped out it made me so happy. I love Ayn Rand, her writing is brilliant. I've been entertaining this thought that her books aren't really the novels they appear to be, but philosophy books in disguise. And her philosophy is, basically, that self-interest should be glorified. I've also read Atlas Shrugged and The Anthem, but I like this one best. Read it! (Or, you know, browse it at a bookstore or something.)

2. Barack Obama - Dreams from my Father
Ah. Well, enough has been said about this guy, so I'll just give you a short quote from the book.

I learned to slip back and forth between my black and white worlds, understanding that each possessed its own language and customs and structures of meaning, convinced that with a bit of translation on my part the two worlds would eventually cohere. Still, the feeling that something wasn't quite right stayed with me. There was a trick there somewhere, although what the trick was, who was doing the tricking, and who was being tricked, eluded my conscious grasp.

He writes mostly about race, nationalism, black civil rights, his life and heritage. And I was very moved, despite it all.

3. Gabriel Garcia Marquez - 100 Years of Solitude
I'm proud, and a little stupefied, that I have managed to finish reading almost all his books. Not all are worth reading, but this one was magical. Love in the Time of Cholera was pretty good too, although I might have been frowning with disbelief half the time.

4. Leo Tolstoy - Anna Karenina
This has to be one of my favourite books to ever be. And I'll tell you something silly. I haven't actually finished it yet. Mostly because it's so beautiful, and I know the ending is tragic and I don't want it to end anyway. So when Zy wanted something to read, I was more than happy to lend this to her.

She hardly knew at times what it was she feared, and what she hoped for. Whether she feared or desired what had happened, or what was going to happen, and exactly what she longed for, she could not have said.

5. Tom Robbins - Still Life with Woodpecker
I highly recommend this book. Parts of it really hit home with me. This part I wasn't sure how I was supposed to react to:

When we're incomplete, we're always searching for somebody to complete us. When, after a few years or a few months of a relationship, we find that we're still unfulfilled, we blame our partners and take up with somebody more promising. This can go on and on--series polygamy--until we admit that while a partner can add sweet dimensions to our lives, we, each of us, are responsible for our own fulfillment. Nobody else can provide it for us, and to believe otherwise is to delude ourselves dangerously and to program for eventual failure every relationship we enter.

6. Jane Austen - Persuasion
Of course this book has be on the list. I'll risk sounding delusional here and tell you that once or twice or maybe more, I find myself having an imaginary conversation with Anne. Not that she says much, but she is calm and disarming. Incidentally, I always travel with this book. Wow, that really does sound mildly obsessive.

7. Stephen Colbert - I am America (And so can you!)
This book was hilarious.

America used to live by the motto "Father Knows Best." Now we're lucky if "Father Knows He Has Children." We've become a nation of sperm donors and baby daddies. But there's more to being a father than taking kids to Chuck E. Cheese and supplying the occasional Y-chromosome. A father has to be a provider, a teacher, a role model, but most importantly, a distant authority figure who can never be pleased. Otherwise, how will children ever understand the concept of God?

8. Ian McEwan - Atonement
This book was amazing. And the movie was just as great too. And yes, I am aware that I am too liberal with the use of hyperbole but this book will really change your life. Like jumping off a cliff. But in a good way.

And so, Chinese New Year is upon us again. I made the most of it by baking brownies, different types of muffins and a little thing I like to call chocolate chip cookie dough cheesecake. My parents, supportive as they are, forced it on a nice unsuspecting lady next door. Or maybe it was all a plot to get rid of it. But anyways, I'm looking forward to seeing my cousins tomorrow. They and their perfect complexions and diction. Gah.

Here are some quotes I like.

I didn't know what hate felt like, not the hate that comes after love. It's huge and desperate and it longs to be proved wrong. And every day it's proved right it grows a little more monstrous. If the love was passion, the hate will be obsession. A need to see the once-loved weak and cowed and beneath pity. Disgust is close and dignity is far away. The hate is not only for the once loved, it's for yourself too; how could you ever have loved this?

Jeanette Winterson - The Passion

Emotions, in my experience, aren't covered by single words. I don't believe in 'sadness,' 'joy,' or 'regret.' Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feelings. I'd like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic train-car constructions like, say, 'the happiness that attends disaster.' Or: 'the disappointment of sleeping with one's fantasy.' I'd like to show how 'intimations of morality brought on by aging family members' connects with 'the hatred of mirrors that begins in middle age.' I'd like to have a word for 'the sadness inspired by failing restaurants' as well as for 'the excitement of getting a room with a minibar.

Jeffrey Eugenides - Middlesex

I cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is, or should be an existence of yours beyond you. What were the use of creation if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning; my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the Universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it. My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods. Time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees — my love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath — a source of little visible delight, but necessary.

Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

Have a merry CNY, folks!

Resolutionary.

My official list of new year's resolutions, all no doubt meticulously thought through and not made up off the top of my head as I type. Because it's tradition, dammit.
I have thus aimmed to Study Much Much Harder, play the guitar in my free time, call my family more often, make time for my friends, be happier with myself and hopefully less neurotic and unforgiving. And stop pinching the baby's cheeks so much. Pinch her butt instead.
I don't usually try very hard to keep to my resolutions, but this spiffy new 2009 me replacing the shabby old one has alot more reason and hindsight to make at least a remotely solid attempt.

I've also tried to write a nice wrap-up of 2008 but every time, I get abit edgy. Not that the whole year was a flop. Wonderful, wonderful things have happened, for which I am immensely grateful for. (And then there's the stuff that wasn't too good.) But in general, I am just eager to MOVE FORWARD.

So: Happy New Year, guys. I hope this year brings you everything you wish for.