You're not a very bright snowball are you?

Today was a day of firsts. My first press conference from the viewpoint of a public relations person and not the journalist. My first Austrian acquaintance made while buying fruit juice. My first call made to the US since I got back here. My first paycheck from this internship. My first conversation with an American-Chinese in Singapore. My first time coming straight home after work to have dinner with my mum. And my first time alone in three weeks to catch up with myself and what I have to do. I think I'm starting to get a hang of things here.

Although I still don't know what possessed my prime minister to say at the swearing in ceremony today, "For those that voted for the opposition, I am sure they wanted to vote for the PAP." Yeah strange spiritual forces were at work in those voting booths man.....or maybe the population that did vote for the opposition had myopia and couldn't check the right box. Or maybe they were held at gunpoint. Or given money. Or had a temporary flash of amnesia. Or blindness. Or they were all spasming. Or is he just competing with Bush for the MTV award of dumbest thing said? I bet his public relations team were all slamming their heads and cutting themselves in disbelief. I know I would if I was them.

It was blood fest in there....

There are some things worth driving 4 hours to KL, braving the “first-day-of-school-holidays” traffic jam, sitting awkwardly in a car with your parents while looking at a giant banner that says “SAY NO TO PORN” while erotic R&B music people grind to emit out of toll booths for. Three words that drives most Singaporean and Malaysian girls into a human meat eating frenzy: VINCCI SHOE SALE. With one hand clutching onto 5 pairs of shoes with my dear life and the other one trying to wrestle a pair of stilettos onto my feet, I managed to stomp my way through a hundred other women from different parts of the world speaking the same love language as me. SHOES. Yeah who needs babies and chocolates. Just give me shoes dammit.

If I were to re-write Greek mythology, I would feature a Shoe Goddess somewhere. Why did Archilles get killed? Cause’ he wasn’t wearing any shoes. Instead of dipping him in the magical river, his mum should just go and get some shoes. And then maybe she can go get those nice champagne satin killer heels that my mum made me put down.

Look ma, I'm spying on the neighbours again

Looked like the sky was falling on us 

It's like my house was under the bush fire 

It's like the floating city.. 

Home in Singapore 

My brand new expressway linking me to the rest of singapore 

It has been some time hasn't it wanda?

Finally, after moving at top speed and under stress for the last couple of days, I was able to find some time to make myself a mug of kool aid and freeload some arnott's chocolate biscuits from the pantry. That was when I went to the bathroom, looked at the mirror and discovered that my newly highlighted copper and red hair made me look like a fish.

I stood in front of the mirror, turned my head left, turned it right and decided, yeah, fish it is.

I also lost my waist after gorging myself for two weeks on prata, hokkien mee and nasi briyani. So I look a bit like a potato-shaped fish.

That's what happens when you haven't had time to look at yourself closely in the mirror recently.

It's a bit late, but Happy Mother's Day!! 

My parents at the Korean BBQ place 

Look ma, I got new friends

I absolutely love my salsa class and classmates!! We bonded over spicy korean food, drinks, seven hours of dancing, experimental salsa and aching muscles. And then we started doing our own clubbing and finger dancing in the middle of a salsa club. Very elegant.

The dinner after salsa class and before more salsa-ing at Union Square 

My salsa classmates at Union Square salsa dance club 

Yan Ting and I totally fooling around! 

The guys from my class 

Those of the fairer sex in my class 

The expert and I 

Performance by Attitude Dance Studio 

3 guys, a car and a girl who can't give directions

I love how everytime when I am at my loneliest, when struggling to adjust in a new place, the right bunch of people who have been through or are going through the same problems as me turn up in my life miraculously. Sitting in the car with three other people I met one week ago, bouncing home at 11:15pm tonight, I realise how similar a past us four strangers have, and how they have gone through the same adjustment period I'm going through now. God is just amazingly beyond me!

Today was perhaps one of my busiest days in the last week or so. The day passed quickly with three projects at hand, one lunch appointment with my colleagues, one long overdue dinner appointment with Ade, five kids to interview for a project and two hours of experimental salsa at Union Square. We were cracking up on the dance floor among all the serious salsa enthusiast as we tried to copy their moves, and then finally I decided to break into some 70's clubbing grooves. I have huge problems with allowing a guy to lead in dance. Huge. Huge problem. And it is not even like I actually have an ego problem with taking male commands. I just unwittingly and unintentionally autopiloted my way through steps and then profusely apologised for doing that. And then did it again. Next time I should go there wearing a teeshirt that says "Not a Team Player, Have Problems Taking Commands." Bob, you have been warned.

It wasn't just another trip to the altar or the post office

Sitting on the pew, I looked across the catherdral and saw an old crippled woman struggling with the help of the priest to get onto the altar for holy communion. And it reminded me of the two images I will never forget. One of them was looking at fragile old men and women, strapped on wheelchairs and assisted breathing equipments, use every last fibre of their bodily strength to get to the altar for communion. They could have asked for it to be brought down to them. But to them communion was more than just a piece of waffle and grape juice. When I saw their shaking frames inching towards the altar, I broke down in tears.

My second reality mise en scene was at the dingy united states postal service post office in philly, me getting extremely impatient waiting for the clerk to finish stamping my parcels. I looked across at the counter next to mine, and a shabbily dressed African-American man with an old backpack approached the counter. He smiled and asked for a sheet of stamps with children's storybook characters on them. He slowly counted the money in his old tatty wallet and put down a bundle of coins. He held the row of stamps in his hands so tightly with the glee of a child after christmas, and broke into a contented smile. I don't know why he wanted those stamps. But he waited in line just for them for a long time, and looked like he saved up for them for an even longer time. I bought the same row of stamps as he did and pinned it up on my wall to remind myself about him. It reminds me that it's more than just money. In this fast food middle class bubble that I live in, I take religion, communion, simple things, time, relationships and life for granted. I am thankful I don't have to struggle for them. But without struggle, they stopped becoming meaningful to me. When money can buy everything, it stops being able to buy happiness?

What the visiting priest from Uganda said yesterday made sense, money can buy a bed and mattress, but it cannot buy sleep.

Well maybe because I'm not American...

You Are 21% American

You're as American as Key Lime Tofu PieOtherwise known as un-American!You belong in Cairo or Paris...Get out fast - before you end up in Gitmo!

How American Are You?

Despite my addiction to polo ralph and abercombie, I still prefer wine over beer, and bleu cheese over american. It's good to know. I have however succumbed to hoodies and sweats. They should have a "How singaporean are you?" quiz.

Lovely bouquet of flowers from bob that caught me totally by surprise!! That was the peak of my week.  

Stella and some weird looking decoration at the Clarke Quay toilet 

My Last Week in Penn

It is suppose to symbolise the covenant, but everyone called it the bloody tampons 

My dorm at Upenn!! The old frat house. Third floor window nearest to the basketball hoop is my room. 

Chie and Lena looking so cute! 

We thought we were funny. No one else thought so. But who cares. We thought we were funny.  

How many guys does it take to carry a girl? 

Eddie and I amusing ourselves with the camera 

My fabulous Survivor Arizona gals! 

Nik tries to kill me. Again.  

My Diet Coke small group!! We look like a family posing at a photography studio!