our song

blankanvas has moved.

To serve you better.

I don’t count on you to be bothered to change the new address to your Blogroll, but if you do, thank you.

To those who have emailed me asking me about the shutting down of my blog, thank you for your concern, I’m flattered, really.

I hope you like the new look better.

This blog is dead.

I’ve decided to close this blog. More details to be released over the weekend.

Watch it.

One wrong move, Ms has-been, and I will make sure everyone knows who the fuck you are, and what you do.

We must have loads of mutual friends in the industry, don’t we? Not sure if anyone gives a fuck who you are or remember you anymore, but hey, everyone loves a little scandal.

Not sure if the one who owns you would though.

Not Dead Yet. Just Fucking Busy.

It has been a mere week since my last entry, and yet it feels like a month. Strata after strata of events layered upon the past seven days like stocky rectangular bricks to a house. Tiring as it has been, it was productive. Like my grandmother with 12 children.

Very Kind Words

Blankanvas is the personal journal of Pat Law, an artist who also has a knack for words, and a knack for choosing the best photos to go along with them. Aside from art, two regular topics in this blog are lesbian issues and advertising. This blog is a must-read.

Very kind words from Eatonweb Blog Directory.

42 Years Young

A FINE lady turns 42, and thanks to her, I get to enjoy a day’s break from the office. She’s lucky – Only a country can be 42 years old and be deemed as young. Hell, I started calling my mum Lao Chio (old but pretty hag in Hokkien) ever since she hit 40.

I have a love-hate relationship with my motherland. Sometimes I’m grateful of her existence, sometimes I want to cease her existence.

I do get extremely discouraged by her fickle-minded behaviour, at times. For example, on one hand, you tell us its ok to be gay, and on the other, you tell us gay people aren’t allowed to have a picnic at the Botanic Gardens without a permit.

Why on earth do gay people need a permit to eat their sandwiches in Botanic Gardens? Do you think the mayonnaise used in their sandwiches is self-manufactured? And even so, is consumption illegal? How harmful is a bunch of gay people to the plants anyway? What, an Orchid will turn into a Cactus due to overexposure to homosexually which disrupts the process of photosynthesis? Gay people may be naturally more self-conscious about their appearances, but they won’t bother applying SPF50 sun block lotion on plants, believe me.

Well, on the account that I do have the day off, I will end my bitch trip early, and be nice. After all, I love my country too. For the following reasons.

1. Safety
I can stagger home pissed drunk in a low-cut top, come-fuck-me mini skirt, at 4 in the morning and know that I won’t get raped. Unless of course, I live in Geylang. If that’s the case, I’d probably get paid after getting raped anyway.

2. Chicken Rice
2 white drumsticks, with an egg please.

3. Geographical Location
I can get to Krabi and back in just under a hundred dollars.

4. Public Transport
Before you think it’s no big deal, try experiencing the public transport in Europe or US. The train stations are sprayed with splatters of dogs’ urine, buses arrive every 10 years, and you may have to skip your designated stop because of a bomb threat.

5. The ability to squeeze 3 languages into a single sentence and be understood
Siao eh, 你们 go where makan?

6. Singapore Airlines
Qatar may be catching up, but our signature sarong kebaya by Parisian designer Pierre Balmain still makes heads turn. Both heads.

7. Currency
Big enough to think shopping in Asia is dirt cheap, small enough to make everyone outside of Asia think shopping in Singapore is dirt cheap.

8. Kopi-O
Forget Starbucks. We’ve got the real deal at 1/5 of the price, baby.

Our homegrown famous blogger, Mr. Miyagi, has directed 3 videos on “What if Singapore were a person?” which also features a good friend of mine, Irene. Check the videos out.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Inked.

This means more to me than you can ever imagine.

Read the meaning of my tattoo here.

Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis

All things change, and we change with them.

It has been merely four months since we separated. What started as a meek smile, betrayed by eyes that glistened with heavy drops of sorrow, is now replaced with a genuine smile of contentment, and eyes that reflect hope.

My rapid recovery from the breakup has unfortunately leaded to herds of skepticism.

Are you sure you’re ok?

You must have not loved her in the first place.

While tempted, I chose not to throw a punch on the owner of the second statement. It wasn’t worthwhile, and more importantly, I owe no one but myself an explanation.

I have learned a lot about and for myself, since her departure. She was the witness of my life for 4 years. She was my emotional pillar of support. I depended heavily on her. Along the way progressing up the corporate ladder, I was so preoccupied in fulfilling my own needs, I neglected hers completely. The truth is, I did not deserve her.

The first couple of weeks after the breakup was the hardest part; time passed so slowly, like blades gliding against my shivering skin, causing me to bleed from inside. I lost my appetite – a big deal really, given my usual food consumption level – and was nearly put on drip. I feared being alone each night, and ended up having Johnnie Walker for company. Like I said, the first couple of weeks was the hardest part.

The emotional lessons I’ve taught myself in this solitary journey could not have been possible without feeling pain of this degree. I could choose to adapt to the change, or continue to live in the past. I chose the former. I did love her, but I realized I didn’t want to let her go because I loved myself more. I was unwilling to get out of my comfort zone. For the priceless lessons I’ve learned, I have only the breakup to thank.

Perhaps that is why I’m able to love someone so unconditionally right now. Love is not about ownership. Love is when you are willing to subject yourself to the purest of pain, in exchange for the happiness you feel together with that person as one.

A few couples I know have most recently broke up with their partners this year. I do sympathize with them but I don’t necessarily feel sorry for them at all. Pain is inevitable when there is love. What doesn’t break you, make you stronger.

Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.

At That Bridge

We’re crashing
Into the unknown
We’re lost in this
But it feels like home