There’s a store in Parkway that I really love and that’s the Four Seasons Organic Market. While I don’t go the all organic route, I like to get organic biscuits, cereals, snacks and teas for the family.
What makes me really excited about moving to Oz is the lower price of organic stuff and the possibility of having a big garden to grow my own herbs and vegetables!
For now, these will do just fine. Nom nom nom.
It’s official. We love Parkway Parade. So much so that it is now our regular jaunt after moving to the East. The rustic charm. The significantly smaller crowd. The basement, with its eclectic lifestyle mix is my favourite. Suffice it to say I am not enticed by the grandeur of Ion, Ngee Ann and the likes (not to mention the horrifying crowds!).
We have our routine down pat. The girls will go off gaming while we will be vegetating at either Coffee Bean or Starbucks, or grocery shopping at the lovely stretch of Organic Mart, Sakuraya and San Espirito, after which we will pick them up for Berrylite yogurt and go poke around Border’s, Exim Arts and Pet Lovers Centre. Oh, and the Watson’s at PP? LOVE. Don’t get me started on Isetan and the beauty counters.
We were there again last weekend chillin’ but this time there was hmm, something different. You know, like a cockroach smacked flat in the middle of a Monet SOMETHING.
SPGs. All eight of them, one after another, in the span of a few hours. Was it SPG Day or something?
I have nothing against Asian women dating white men. I have girlfriends dating or married to white guys and they cannot be further from the SPG tag. So what’s my irk? It’s clearly not their preference – I have dated white men before, I just don’t share the perceived superiority in doing so. Rather, it’s the typical SPG behaviour I find distasteful – the poor dress sense, the fake accent, the strange compulsion towards public displays of affection/ lust and the one thing that befuddles me the most – the grand air of superiority in snaring a white old man.
Put yourself in my shoes. We were enjoying ourselves, engaging in light hearted banter while people watching and shopping. It’s all good. Suddenly SPG zeros in on the horizon, sucking on white tonsils, pushing her insufficient but overexposed bosom against white chest while unleashing annoying giggles and an incomprehensible accent onto us innocent bystanders while looking extremely smug (why, I wonder).
ANNOYING.
K told me about her neighbour fooling around with his maid. That won’t be the first story I heard about maids getting it on with their white bosses. Before you think I am thumbing my nose at maids, I am not. I think any man or woman pulling a meal ticket on their boss is just poor form. If there is one thing I hope to teach my daughters, it is to make a honest day of living on your own capabilities and resourcefulness, but those capabilities and resourcefulness do not include making sheep’s eyes at your boss or worse, sleeping your way up.
Strangely though, I was not concerned about how such a display of unwise womanhood will register on my girls. I believe in not shielding them from the ugliness of life. If anything, I welcome the opportunity to talk about it.. And where else do you get such wonderful real life ‘how not to be’ scenarios? 
But bearing in mind I am the same mother who mentally plans survival strategies in case the ferry sinks, I did have some terrifying ‘what if’s going on at the back of my mind but they were querulously silenced by an incisive remark from my daughter.
I am proud.
What do you call a gym fellow? A gymmer? Gym mate?
Anyway, a lady in the gym took off her glasses as she was doing her rounds, and I was struck by how small her eyes look without her glasses on. I say this with no bitchiness – it’s just that the observation was rather startling. Her eyes had looked lovely and well, big behind her glasses.
After mucking around online, I learnt that long-sighted lenses make your eyes look bigger. Well well, what do you know.
I almost wished that I had long sightedness instead. Bleah.
The weirdest thing is, I don’t think I know anyone who is long-sighted. Holler if you are, won’t you?
We are making plans to move to Oz next year and while the plan is for me to do the Martha Stewart, it doesn’t stop me from having wild ideas..
Me: I just thought of a great money making idea for Oz. I could knock on the neighbours’ doors and threaten to do a striptease. Think of all the money I could make from them just paying me not to do it. I’d just need to go door to door, say ‘hello’ and collect the payments.
He: No no… To save time, they can just deposit into your account.
Me: *screams with laughter* Exactly! I’d only show up for those who don’t make payment… *pretends to speak to neighbour: ‘So, Mr Longman, there is an outstanding payment from you. I’m afraid I’d have to…’ pretends to be ‘Mr Longman’ who looks all panicky: ‘No, no, please! My wife was ill so she couldn’t go to the bank yesterday! I’d pay tomorrow!!’
He: *raises his eyebrow ‘Tomorrow’?
Today is the first day of another new year. What happened in 2008 for all of you? In the tradition of reminiscing,
My 10 personal projections for 2009
I think it’s good to do a cap of what happened the year before and to do a projection for the next year so that we know where we are going and how we are getting there. Care to share on your own plans? Do a pingback to me so that I can pop in and take a peek.
And since it’s such a long post already, I leave you with a song, which I thought echoes the spirit of the new year and the promise of a fresh start.
If you wander off too far, my love will get you home.
If you follow the wrong star, my love will get you home.
If you ever find yourself, lost and all alone,
get back on your feet and think of me, my love will get you home.
Boy, my love will get you home.
If the bright lights blinds your eyes, my love will get you home.
If your troubles break your stride, my love will get you home.
If you ever find yourself, lost and all alone,
get back on your feet and think of me, my love will get you home.
Boy, my love will get you home.
If you ever feel ashamed, my love will get you home.
When there’s only you to blame, my love will get you home.
If you ever find yourself, lost and all alone,
get back on your feet and think of me, my love will get you home.
Boy, my love will get you home.
If you ever find yourself, lost and all alone,
get back on your feet and think of me, my love will get you home.
Boy, my love will get you home,
Boy, my love will get you home.
Judging from the fun we had at Dim Sum Dollies, the family trooped to the WRAP festival also organized by NHB under the Explore Singapore! program.
There were good activities lined out for the kids – crafts, balloon sculpting and body art ‘kiosks’ set up to cater to the kids but the only glitch was probably that there was too much demand and too little supply. The queues were snaking long and tempers flared when a brawl broke out between two mothers in front of us. Now if they are giving out free 2.55s, I’d take apart the hussy who cuts my queue but this is freaking kids’ doodles for crissake. And lady, staging a catfight in front of your daughter is a big uh uh and certainly most unglamourous.
It doesn’t mean that I will take it lying down if my kids get sidelined but I prefer to let kids sort things out on their own – they learn to be independent and street smart. The only time I remember pulling my weight as a mum was when violence got involved. To cut a long story short, another kid hit Gean while trying to shove her off the swing. Gean, being sweetness personified, brushed it aside because the kid was younger. But this mother here was like, HOW DARE YOU, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF TURD. Big told me later that I looked murderous. I did contemplate breaking her little fingers one by one.
KIDDING. Really.
Anyway the ending was an anti climax. When I approached the mother to speak to her, I remained calm. Kids get boisterous when playing together, that’s fine but the line should be drawn at smacking and the likes – and I told her so accordingly. The kids were watching me and very possibly learning from my approach of handling conflict. Of course, there are occasions that call for a suitable meltdown but this is hardly it.
Anyway, I digress. So, if there is any queue cutting, I’d let the kids sort it out, failing which attention should be brought to the service provider as a matter of fact and that’s that.
Besides having more activities for the children so that they don’t kill each other, I think the temperature has to be adjusted lower to accommodate the afternoon sun and increased human traffic. It was rather warm indoors and scorching HOT outdoors – more fans and marquee tents would have been most welcome.
The area indoors was also spacious enough for more seats, something which I found very scarce in commodity. Perhaps I am speaking with prejudice but fat arses like mine need to be parked occasionally while I looked on with Dowager-like indulgence while my offsprings entertained themselves with paint and exploding balloons.
All in all, this mum here is happy when the kids are happy and judging from the photos, the kids don’t give a hoot about fat arses needing seats.
But still.
Must have at carnivals – food stalls! My only lament – not enough
Kweh kweh!! I.must.resist.
MUST.RESIST.
RESIST!
Damned, resistance is futile
Sigh, guess why I am a plus size auntie. *burp*
Jack and Rai of EIC performing! I especially liked Rai singing the hokkien song ‘One Half‘ (one of the songs in 881)
The bouncing cow. Perennial kids’ favourite.
Alamak you see this girl. Macham hantu can.
Body artist doing a flower mural for Gean
Pose also got pattern ok. Tsk.
Posing with her balloon flower (pink of course) and the painted art. *rolls eyes*
Ger getting her body art done
COOKIE MONSTER!!! I was almost tempted to queue and get one done too
Yep she likes dogs (yes, TK, the attraction is your dogs, not you)
Having icecream after all that fun
Happy campers
I was so inspired by Walter’s self help tips “From Excess to Austerity” that I came up with my own little guide based on our own practices-
Mutton Stew with carrots and onions. Truly soul food.
Steamed Fish fillet – no fishy smell and the kids love it
Baked honey pork ribs – as good as it looks
Braised broccoli with prawn – he can’t take prawns but will cook for us because we do
Miding fried with sambal belachan (Miding is not available in local markets – Big’s mum got it from Malaysia for us. It is very delicious but looking at it made me itch uncontrollably!)
Oven baked chicken thighs – this is as yummy as the fried version but much healthier
Apart from the luxury of being pampered with home cooked food, we also value the time that we spend eating together as a family. In this society where everyone is working late and having their own activities, not many families have the time to dine together.
You can also check out Wine Affaire at 73 Tras Street (6220 2493) - where you can have a free flow of wines at only $28.
Very cosy ambience
The two owners (local entrepreneurs) of Wine Affaire
Chilling out on the couch for movies with homemade popcorn and drinks
This is a wonder machine. It not only plays DVDs, VCDs and CDs, it is USB compatible – it plays stuff that you download to your USB device.
The benefits of carpooling are as follows:
1. You reduce transport expenses.
2. You save on travelling time (direct route, no stops etc).
3. There is no driving stress or fatigue if you are the passenger.
4. You could read/ check emails/ work etc if you are the passenger.
5. You enjoy co-savings on petrol costs if you are the driver.
6. It is environmentally friendly.
7. It reduces traffic congestion.
8. It reduces parking problems.
Vanilla Cupcakes
Cupcake decorated with hundreds and thousands and chocolate rice
Brownie (for my kids to decorate and have fun)
Raspberry and white Chocolate cheesecake
Oreo cheesecake
Crafts for kids (a packet of the wood powder costs only $5 and it can last you a very long time)
Bear shaped pen holder
Dog paperweight
visit museums,
rediscover your heritage by exploring different parts of Singapore eg. Arab Street, Little India, Chinatown etc.
It’s enriching to the mind and soul while allowing us to rediscover our inner selves. It’s also much cheaper than hanging out at the malls (retail therapy is so very tempting and expensive) – and we’d end up eating in restaurants most of the time. I like this site because it gives me ideas on where to explore next in Singapore.
Our basil plant
I was reading about the “big spenders” in the latest issue of the Female magazine. I pick up magazines every month to keep abreast of the local fashion coverage for my writing. This article about the ‘big spenders’ left me feeling a little, well, disconcerted.Don’t get me wrong, I am not against having money, living a luxurious lifestyle or being well groomed. I, for one, am a woman who likes my retail therapy, my grooming routines and my little indulgences. The distaste is towards those who put on a casual nonchalance about the $54,000 massage machine, flaunting the $10,000 hairdo but claiming ’stealth wealth’) and the $600 pedicure. Class and breeding are not commodities bought by the abundance of money. I find the arrogant flaunting of wealth extremely vulgar and ‘Beverly Hillbilly’.
This is also a reason why I am glad I am not officially working in magazines – for fear of offending with the truth of what I feel. I will not be able to say that I have a real distaste towards the vulgar materialism that some ‘taitais’ exhibit. I will not be able to express that some of the richest ‘taitais’ I know will not dream of strutting around in such obscene displays of vulgarity. For them, a dignified and luxurious elegance is paramount and loud displays of wealth is considered vulgar.
Most importantly, a glaring difference between the old money and nouveau rich is their attitudes towards charity. While old money is known to give millions away on the quiet, the nouveau rich glorifies in the opulence and extravagence of haute couture gowns, ostentatious jewellery and designer stylists. The logic that the money spent on showing off and one upping each other could have been better put to use if it had been directed to the objective of the ball – the charity cause itself.
Perhaps my distaste is furthermore brought on by the fact that I come from a family that advocates the importance of working hard, humility and a general aversion towards boastful extravagence. Perhaps I have found that the truly rich tend to be discreet and it’s those who are loud, arrogant or flashy tend to be well, somewhat lacking. Indeed, I cannot help explain my natural distaste of people flaunting how much they paid for anything and a comfortable acceptance of people with fortunes many many times of mine.
I leave you with this picture and a question:
Obama is obviously more wealthy than Palin. Why do the Americans not begrudge him his riches? Why then is he deemed more credible and able than Palin?
The answer is Substance.
We went to ??? at Maxwell Food Centre for chicken rice (forget ??, it’s over-hyped). After dinner, we decided to take a sightseeing stroll at Temple Street and Chinatown.
We saw miniatures of lion dance props, Chinese paintings, calligraphy and drawn fans, jade jewellery, cheongsams, embroidered shoes – a whole condensed world of the Chinese culture. I was sorely tempted to get a pair of the exquisitely embroidered cloth shoes but where on earth would I wear them to? LOL.
There was a shop in the old “Sei Yan Gai” (????where there were very nostalgic pictures of olden Singapore on display. I bought a few to be framed up and displayed at home – in line with our decor theme of vintage nostalgia.
So nostalgic
Old Collyer Quay
Old North Bridge Road
Old Singapore River
Old Dhoby Ghaut
On a small table, small “wood clay” animals made by the owner were displayed for sale. He also sells the wood clay powder at S$5.00 a packet for home crafts. He explained that the wood clay is made from wood powder and we just need to add two parts powder and one part water to make dough. Basically you can add colour to the dough to make playdough. To prevent it from drying out and hardening, just keep it refrigerated in a plastic container or bag. To make an ornament or craft item, just fashion and sculpt when wet and leave for 1-2 days to dry out and harden completely.
The children being the usual inquisitive sponges that they are, gathered around him to ??. He very gamely started to teach my girls how to craft a hand, dog, and other ornaments out of the wood clay. Seeing that the kids are having such a ball, I bought a packet for them to do their thing at home.
The children are dolls. They insisted for making something for me.
Ger’s bear “pen holder” for me
Gean’s bear for me. She is waiting for it to dry before she paints it.
Bringing the children for a free “heritage tour” of Chinatown and spending a quiet evening doing crafts with them – these are a few of the simple things that we enjoy and which gave us much happiness.
After all the hubba hubba about Anya Hindmarch’s I’m not a Plastic Bag, the stampedes in the countries it launched in and the whole world going crazy over it, I have a question. Is this about saving the environment by using a canvas bag, or is it about getting a cheap designer (albeit rather ugly) bag?
I don’t know about you, but the more I look at the bag, the uglier I find it. Especially the fonts on the bag. Of course, there are always fashion victims who go for anything with a brand name brandishing it around already so it sort of added to my derision.
And forget the sprees that claim to order from a supplier who would always claim that it’s authentic but no guarantees. Duh. There are so many fakes going around on ebay and yahoo now that it makes me think that Anya Hindmarch has saved the earth after all, albeit the loss of a little profit to counterfeiters. 
In any case, the Anya I’m not a Plastic Bag is no longer available, if you are a stickler for real stuff, like I am. I am eyeing the envirosax range of eco-friendly bags and they are waterproof to boot. That means you can place your tubs of ice creams, milk cartons and what nots and they will not soak through the bag. Nice.
More pictures below…
I brought the girls to Sentosa on Thursday during their school hols. I brought a neighbour’s daughter Angel along as she is always cooped up at home after school and even during the school hols so I thought the outing might be a treat for her.
The girls are sporting a new pixie chic haircut as you can see from the pictures below…
I went for a manicure and pedicure over a long lunch today. Boss is not in the office – normally when he’s in, I have a 10 minute lunch and that’s that.
So. Today has been quite relaxing for me. Nice leisurely lunch, doing nails, having a nice cuppa coffee… almost like a taitai. Almost.
Anyway, I overheard the conversation of this lady at the manicurist. Am NOT eavesdropping as the conversation was so loud it was meant to be overheard…
Anyway, the summary of the whole conversation was that she had a ball of a time shopping on her husband’s credit card. And she wanted all of us at the salon to know it.
However, her insistence that her husband does not mind her spending thousands of dollars on designer shoes simply had me thinking if he does indeed, mind, and she is convincing herself otherwise. Hmmm..
She then turned to me and made small talk. Basically she wanted to know if I am a taitai (no) and if I do my nails regularly (yes) and where do I normally go shopping (here and there) Then I asked her when she started on the habit of buying designer shoes, when she just started working or after a few years ? She exclaimed
“No! I wouldn’t have paid for these myself… so expensive… all the while my boyfriends… and now my husband pays for me.”
OK.
My 2 cents on the conversation? Not to judge her, but I don’t agree with her. Perhaps her husband is happy to pay but my point is really, her attitude towards spending.
Boyfriends and husbands are not suckers to be leeched off this way. If you wouldn’t spend on something, or can’t afford it for yourself, quite shocking to squeeze the purchase from your other half. If he wants to buy something for you, fine. But to use his card to purchase stuff as if the money drops from the sky…
I really don’t agree with this, even though I love gifts.
If he gives you something from his heart, that’s sweet.. but don’t take advantage of your man like this.
Moreover the independent woman in me feels that we should be able to buy our own Manolos and her own diamonds (I do) but then the little woman in me still likes to receive sweet little thoughtful gifts from her man every now and then..
Or if Big suddenly decides that he would spend obscene amounts of money on me for shopping, I wouldn’t mind… *screams with laughter*
But ONLY if he does this willing, or not pouted or sulked into it by me. I wonder if this makes sense to you guys?
But that’s just me.
*edited: I realised I did blog about this in the past.. guess I really cannot abide by parasitic creatures who smear the reputation of the rest of the women who earn their own keep and buy their own blings.
This seriously makes me sad.
I mean, I have never felt that pressure from my parents about my weight or size. Yes, my mum calls me “fei po” in Cantonese (affectionately though), but she always makes me pack food home whenever we pop back to her place. And she always spoons more food for me….while discussing about the different diets. *rolls eyes*
Yes, this is the fat blimp who stuffs her face and never bothers with diets or exercise (swimming when I feel like it does not count as exercise)
And Big, who loves to feed me and who constantly tells me that he loves me as I am and that I am NOT fat, does not help matters. He’s also fond of random praises for me (out of nowhere!) and reaffirmation that he totally adores my figure. So, really, no help at all.
I think the worst enemy is myself. Really, I should be losing a good few pounds (and I am sure my dieting, colon cleansing colleagues agree) but really, I just cannot be bothered. And I am not exaggerating. I stand at 1.68m and my weight is 68kg. Someone please tell me my BMI?
I just love my food too much, and am satisfied as long as I don’t put on more weight. Maintenance pleases me as is.
I think I have too much self acceptance. I mean, sure I feel a little odd when I see someone being a size 0 even after two kids. But it disappears in about a few seconds, and I am back to having Hokkien noodles for lunch and muffins for tea. Duh.
The other half also plays a big part. I have friends who are upset that their husbands think they are fat after giving birth. I also have friends whose husbands adore them as much as, if not more than before they had given birth. And the men who leave their wives for a slimmer and younger version… I say, good luck to them. Just don’t come running back when the pasture looks less green. Very often, the spurned wives had already moved on and made a better life for themselves.
But I digress.
So are you a snob? I like to believe that I am not, and here’s why.
Food
I can eat at hawker centres or coffeeshops. I love “tai pai” stalls (roadside stalls). I love local hawker fare as much as I love the fine french cuisine of Le Jardin.
Fashion
I don’t believe in a full designer wardrobe or couture, and neither can I afford to. Instead, I prefer high street brands like Zara, Mango, Bebe, Topshop and Dorothy Perkins; and the quirky labels from one off shops in Bangkok and Hong Kong. However I do have an incurable weakness for designer bags and shoes, particularly leather totes and three inch killers. I love Cartier and Omega watches, preferably with diamonds. And I do so love diamonds. Am wildly allergic to zirconia. It’s a dirty word in my dictionary.
Friends
As for friends, I only have a handful. No, I can count them on one hand, that’s pushing it already. Clearly I believe in quality and not quantity. Sometimes I think I am a little anti-social, preferring to be alone most of the times. And I have a very wide personal space; I hate crowds and people touching me on public transport, especially when there is ample space to move. I am fiercely loyal to my friends and I expect the same in return. Only two things I cannot forgive and that is; tittering behind my back (that means you CAN bitch to my face, I’d appreciate that more) and betrayal.
None of that Ms Popularity for me where you have friends everywhere and everyone’s your best friend. No sirree. Life’s too short for such nonsense.
I had a best friend of twelve years (since age 4!) and she threw it all away for a man. She stole my very first boyfriend, can you believe it. Needless to say, I axed both dead weights out of my life. Goodness if you have friends like that, who needs enemies? I don’t forgive. Yes, that’s a sin, but whatever. And the sweetest thing in this mini saga was that I met him again when I was flying and looking the most fabulous ever (read: size 8 and young, hah!) and he was wriggling back into my life. Be it suffice to say that I milked him nicely of expensive fancy dinners, designer bags and shoes, ridiculously expensive concert tickets, then told him “it’s not working out darling”. Ah, revenge is evil… but sweet. As for said ex best friend, the last I heard was she was rapidly being known as someone who can be had for a song. A note, rather. Not that I care.
Books
As for reading material, I really prefer writers like Murakami, Philip Roth, Naomi Wolf and Zadie Smith to the likes of Nora Roberts and Victoria Holt. You get the drift. I do so not like romance or girly novels. But having said that, I did vastly enjoy Lauren Weisberger’s The Devil Wears Prada but only because it centres mainly on fashion.. I tried the Shopaholic series by Sophie Kinsella. No offense to her fans, but I was extremely irritated by the unbelievably bimbotic ways and stupidity of her protagonist. So, I guess I am a little of a book snob. Well, life’s really too short for bad books…
Character
Crass people do so get on my nerves. Just the other day at the Wheelock Nokia care centre where I brought my N70 to be diagnosed, there was this Indian man who looked very pleasant and educated. That is, until he opened his mouth. And oh boy, was it foul. The poor customer service girl was berated with the harshest words which she definitely did not deserve. The air was thick with sentences like “Your two hours are not the same worth of my two hours”, “Why do I have to come at least once a week to see your face” and the clincher, “You are not in charge of Nokia. You are only working for them and at a minion level too. Get your manager to see me now!”
And he had the cheek to turn to me and smile! The nerve! What, did he think that I would be impressed by his fluent outburst? I shot him a glacier stare, and it was too good for him.
Yes, I could be a snob to such people. And speaking of a foul mouth, I am reminded by this person I know. Actually I was warned by several friends that she “has a stinking mouth”. But I always believe in making my own decisions and in not pre-judging people before giving a chance to disprove any rumour, so I did go out with her on a group social occasion. And foul mouth she has. The entire evening had her sniping, gossiping snarkily and making negative remarks about all and sundry. Don’t get me wrong, I am not against the occasional bitching and sniping that is soooo good for the soul. But, to deliberately suss out others’ faults and gloat over them, and to constantly harp on negatives… That’s really too off putting for me. Didn’t your mum teach you?
IF YOU HAVE NOTHING GOOD TO SAY, SOMETIMES IT’S BETTER TO JUST ZIP IT.
Education
I think I am a bit of a snob when it comes to education. I believe that Ivy League colleges are somewhat superior to our local university – though not because of the ‘overseas’ factor. Getting an education overseas that nurtures forces you to think is simply more superior to the moddly spoonfeeding “only one answer is correct” style of teaching here. I also found that 9 out of 10 of every NUS graduate that I have met in the course of my work for the past twelve years are unresourceful, uninspired and sadly dependent creatures. So, if you are that 1 person, don’t get too fidgety ok? You should be very proud, as all 9 of your fellow cohort are idiots.
Lifestyle
I cannot stand sad stupid people who feel the need to assert their superiority in pouring liquor down their throats. What, very gung ho and macho is it? Why waste good liquor and pollute the air further with your cigarette smoke and the nonsense you sprout when dead drunk? Slow poisoning is boring, and you burden the people around you when you get liver cancer and start begging for charity. Best to buy a bottle of bleach and get it over and done with. But don’t die in inconvenient places, like MRT stations, bus stops or what nots ok? Go to some quiet corner where you will not be missed.
Don’t get me wrong again, I love my Irish cream, champagne, vodka and red wine. But I do so like to enjoy the taste and the relaxation, as opposed to raucously downing said liquor and announcing to the whole world “Hey, I am drinking! I am doing a bottoms-up!” *rolls eyes* (think of the ah bengs shouting, “tah ah!!!” *shudder*)
Same goes for sad sad men who feel emasculated without a trophy model on their arms or a trophy car in the parking lot. Why, feel like a wimp without a sports car to validate your worth is it? It’s so sad! No, it’s not sad, it’s amusing.
Same for braggarts who love to brag about their culinary/ whatever/ insert boring activity skills or riches to people like me who really really don’t care.
Having said all that, I am not and can never be, a snob to others who are not on par in terms of economic comfort. In my last trip to Bangkok, I was very deeply affected by women begging by the roadside with their young daughters. One in particular, looked as young as Geanyne and my heart really went out to her. And she was so obedient too, just standing patiently beside her mother on the road. The first thing I thought of was, why is the mother not working?! But the very next second, it struck me that not everyone is as blessed as I am to have received an education, or even have the “luxury” of a job. The little girl may not, and most probably will not have the luxury of an education and may have to walk in the path of her mother’s life, or much worse. Then I felt the futility of it all and couldn’t help but tear up. I still do, every now and then when I think of that little girl standing by the road, it’s like her small self against the whole world.
Anyway, I hate talking and no action, so we’ve agreed that for our next trip back there, we are going to buy some stuff for her, that is, if she’s still there. You can’t save them all, but at least you can make a difference, no matter how small, in one little life.
