Many people I know are not inclined to cook when they are alone. Cooking for one may not sound sensible to them especially when food centres are within walking distance. They would rather dine out or buy takeaways than to spend effort dicing and slicing.

Perhaps my bachelorette student days have imbued me the pleasure of cooking for one. Mind you, it is not instant noodle or sunny side up meals but a simple, healthy and nutritional meal of protein, carbs, vitamin Cs and Es. I have no problem cooking rice plus dishes and no problem eating alone. As I’ve always say, my cooking is edible but not delectable. From preparation to cooking, eating and washing, it takes only an estimated half an hour. I’d rather do so than to rack my brain thinking of what to eat at the food centre, especially when the offerings are same old, same old.

Young couples, especially dual income households without children, have a tendency to dine out. Luckily for me, my partner and I have no qualms whipping up meals for two, even at odd hours. He’s a foodie and will fuss over methods, and preparation whereas I always look forward to savouring the love of his labour. I find home-cooked meals delightful, especially when it is peppered with dashes of love, passion and laughter.

A couple of nights ago, I watched a tv programme on business salvation relating to hawker stalls. It showcased this couple who were selling laksa and business was getting from bad to worse. They had been reduced from four outlets to this last stall. Lady boss had to work elsewhere to reimburse the household on this losing business. Concerned, she approached the programme for help. Experts were called in and plans for revamp were underway. A chef decided to impart his laksa recipe to the couple.

Just as one thought they were on their way to redemption, the husband’s nonchalant attitude was both frustrating and disappointing. It was apparent that the lady was struggling to upkeep the family, a role which ‘traditionally’ resided with men. Prior to the show, the poor lady had to work in the day, cook dinner for her two undergrad sons and blended the ingredients (chilli paste and all) for the husband. If that’s not enough, she showed more earnest and humility learning the new recipe than her lazy, egotistical husband. Throughout the show, audiences had increasing sympathy with the lady… if it is a woman in this modern day and time, a divorce is inevitable.

The strength that this lady bore was incredible, I thought. Recalling how a girlfriend commented that ‘men are supposed to be sole breadwinners’, and that she felt dismayed having to fork out money on meals. In fact, I know many female friends demand their partners pay for their expenses. Not going to content on the issue of equality here.

While watching the show, I wondered… what were her thoughts and feelings? She broke into tears when her husband, nudged by the comperes, thanked her on air for the labour she had gone through. He had been taking her for granted all the while, and worse, he did not realise. Had he not been ‘coerced’ into thanking her, the lady would never be appreciated. Even the sons, who lady had slogged for, had to be pushed to show gratitude for her.

I have mixed sentiments: while I applaud her for upholding family harmony and sustaining subsistence, I don’t know whether she has brought this upon herself by accommodating to the household needs.  Would the situation be better had she imposed more on her husband?  Nevertheless, I hope she gets better treatment post-show.

I wonder how many people suffers the same plight as her — upholding the marriage contract through time and tide, hanging on against the odds. Maybe I will patronise the stall, just to give her support, for I know the husband will probably lapse into his old manners.

We often hear of the cliche words, that love is to be celebrated everyday, not just on Valentine’s day. Somehow, I think there lies the yearning in every single to be shown a little affection on this special (spell ‘commercialised’) day. I used to be one of them… feeling the jitters leading up to V-day… especially back in the student days. Some years were good, and some not so good. The games people play — secret admirers sending gifts of sugar, spice and everything nice. I don’t lament about the flowers and attention showered, except when it came from the wrong guy. I recalled fondly the mystery rose that landed on my lap, from the shy person whom I’ll never, ever in my wildest dream guessed. Although the flower was a lovely gesture, it came with mixed sentiments ‘what should I do… how am I going to face this person in class…’. All that has come to past… now that I’ve found my love, my valentine.

I’m showered with love everyday, lots of it from my beloved. V-day holds little significance to me this year, I found. Passe as it may sound, I bask in gentle words, sweet caresses, great and minute gestures that lingered long after they are expressed, bringing an indelible sweetness in my heart. Every precious moment is carefully carved in my memory. The contentment is something not words can express. Sure, we have had our disagreements and trials, however, we emerged stronger and closer after every ordeal. We are still ‘young’ in our journey, but I know we’ll continue the journey holding hands and joining hearts.

It is my wish that all sentient beings out there can find their special partners and experience eternal love in all its goodness and glory. May u be loved!

I’ve always enjoyed a particular segment along my walk that allows me to experience the sounds and smells of the rainforest. There is a pathway cutting through the thicket, liken to a carpet leading to nature’s best. Walking into the sounds of the overwhelming insect chorus amidst the cooling environment, carefully listening to identify individual sounds and activities, it’s a moment of Oneness with nature. It’s almost sacred! Out of the rainforest, I am greeted by sounds of gently waves crushing on the breakwaters. The sea brings different sensory pleasures… the smell, the glittering reflection, the cooling touch, and the sound of rolling waves brings calmness to my soul.

When I was given a portable music player, I wondered to myself the need for it. The sounds of nature — every sound, every silence, every chorus — are to me, melodious to plugged in music. Moreover, music interferes with my thoughts. Nonetheless, I still bring the device along. I reckon when I return to civilisation of bustling traffic and sky scrappers, the music would alleviate the reality and bring some pleasure on my homeward journey.

Wedding preparation is a demanding exercise. If there’s an aspect that I found most rewarding, it has to be shopping. Like all ladies out there, browsing for new items have never been more pleasurable and painful. There’s never enough shoes or dresses and there’s always room for one more :). In every corner, a pretty little something beckons. The painful part understandably lies with the means to acquire. I’m a focused shopper. My tendency is to shop with a purpose, otherwise, I’m like a fish in the ocean swimming cluelessly in the material world.

Wedding gave me an excuse and a reason to indulge. After weeks of assignments and schooling, I finally got the opportunity to sneak in some shopping. I purchased stilettos and earrings. I have to admit that I succumbed to additional purchase (earrings). Believe me, they were sending out ‘pick me’ vibes ;p. Although less heavy in the pocket, my heart leaps with joy like a little girl, gawking at my new acquisition. *glee*

Preparing for wedding is not easy feat, especially when both individuals are engaged with work and studies. While navigating through the myriad webs of bridal studios, caterers, honeymoon planning, I had to make many decisions… “I like the menu by one caterer, but it wouldn’t suit the palette of relatives”…”I’d like to wear all white, but relatives will consider it an inauspicious colour”… and the list goes on. At the end of the day, one thought came to my mind… is the wedding for us, or a show for others? Why do we go through these exhausting preparations for one single day? Who’s going to remember it 5 years down the road? We have kept ceremony as simple as possible and mind u, it’s still a lot of decisions and work.

Eventually, what’s most important in a marriage is that we’re going into a lifelong contract with another who’s neither kin nor kith to begin with. Wedding is a day, marriage is forever. That committment of love, faithfulness, companionship, friendship and trust are what we give to each other, from the moment ‘I do’ to eternity.

Living in a city state that exalts itself as clean and green, I am almost always questioning this statement whenever I go to the beach after a weekend or public holiday. The sight of the beach is most depressing. Tons of litter — plastic ware, bags, bottles, tissue paper etc. — strewn around every possible square inch of land. I am most aghast.

Thankfully, the environmental agencies and the hardworking workers work around the clock to maintain the civilised image that the city wants to portray. My utmost respect and gratitude goes to these foreign labourers for picking up after tardy beach goers.

Somewhere it was stated that the mark of civilisation/cleanliness lies its sanitary system — toilets. There exists a Restroom Association which advocates better sanitary standards. I wonder how far are we away from civilisation if not for these workers.

I am a ’sun worshipper’. Sunrises and sunsets inspire me a great deal to the extent of forsaking my quintessential beauty sleep just to embrace those precious moments.

The sun is most beautiful when it rises from the horizon. For a very limited window of time can it be gazed at directly without resulting in painful eyes. Ditto for sunset. They create the most glorious hues in the sky. On both occasions, I’d catch them when time permits, usually on the beach, by the jetty.

For those who have seen the sun today, it was a gorgeous magnificent orange globe creating a wonderful aura around it. Excited, I jumped into my walking attire and raced towards the beach. However, I encountered a situation in my pursuit. An hour onto my journey, I saw dark clouds gathered in a distant. They threatened to engulf the light and possibly rain on my parade.

Call me stubborn, I would not relent to rain. I was determined to cover my usual route (which takes 2 - 2.5hrs) come what may, and I was glad I did. The prelude to rain brought many waves of cool breeze. I inhaled deeply and bask in the cool air. The sky poured while I was half hour away from home. Availability of public transport is scarce in the area, therefore, the little panic voice in me persuaded me to push the ‘damsel-in-distress’ button. However, the call was rendered as non-critical emergency. I have two choices — to take shelter or to soldier on’. I chose the latter. A quick check in my mind: would the maximum opacity of my clothes result in ‘free show’ - no.

Walking in drizzle was refreshing. Rain drops pelt lightly on me as I hurried home, oblivious to the stares along the way. It wasn’t so bad afterall, I thought to myself, and I retreated back into my world. Although I was drenched when I reached home, I felt satisfied and unexpectedly happy.

The light may be hidden, but the rain brought its own pleasures. In a world of dual diachotomy, our perspectives are limited by constructs of the mind. I believe that if I am able to eradicate my fear for the dark, I’d be able to appreciate the night sky better — the stars and the black void that complements it.

A kaleidoscope of colours greeted me during my routine walk to the East Coast Park. Cyclists donning multicoloured attire whizzed past me. Pretending not to notice, I sneaked peeks at the toned bodies of those ironman athletes who were racing one of the most gruelling competition in the sporting arena.

The most famous ironman feats has to be the “Team Hoyt” successes. Dick and Rick Hoyt, the renowned father-son marathon and triathlon duo, has inspired millions. Rick, a quadriplegic with cerebral palsy, and his father, Dick, have competed in numerous races all because a father wanted to fulfill his son’s dreams.

I on the other hand, have my own ironman champion. Today marks the 100th day of dad’s passing. He is my ironman champ, the one who slogged and slaved for the family’s betterment. A humble man whose dreams were those of his children’s; he scrimped and saved so that his children would attain good education and gain a firmer footing in the society.

Dad had a tough life. Being the eldest son, he sacrificed education and creature comfort early in his childhood to contribute to the family. He roughed it out in the construction sector for 40-odd years to provide for the family. Countless of overnight stints were undertaken as that meant more income for the family. There was a period of time where he doubled up as taxi relief driver in the night after a demanding day at the work site. Food was his only indulgence, but as luck would have it, he developed diabetes and had to watch his diet. While some had the luxury to enjoy their retirement years, dad had to undergo dialysis in the last years of his life.

Life is such, as some would say. Some have it worse, and some have it better. Everyone is entitled to have their own ironman champ; memories of my ironman champ are etched in my heart for a long time to come.

1 Sept marks a special day for those in teaching profession. I’ve had my fair share of teachers in my life having gone through a long education route. I am back to studies again. As a student, I honour these knowledge workers who try to impart their skills and expertise to others.

Couple of days back, I received an sms from a dear lecturer back in my poly days. He subtly ‘demanded’ a greeting from me which I obliged. He is one of three teachers I maintained contact with from school days, and I’m glad I did. Our relationships have since evolved from teachers to friends; people whom I seek for advise, trust and respect.

It may not come as a surprise that life teachers do not belong to the academia. Ordinary people from our everyday lives impart extraordinary lessons. Such is the case of Bala*, a cancer patient whom I acquainted in the course of my work previously. Undeterred by her medical condition and financial hardships, she went on to complete her diploma and is currently undertaking part-time degree course. Her perseverance and persistence have taught me valuable lessons in life. I am grateful to have met these inspirational teachers along the way. Here’s wishing all a happy teacher’s day.