“one’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” – Henry Miller

thank you for dropping by...

I missed my flying days again, days of traveling through the East Coast and Europe with my bb, fleeting memories of places I have been. This little ladybug dropped by when we were driving through Pennsylvania, like many that we’ve encountered during our trips, the tiniest of things that I’m so grateful for, that they happened in not all but in our paths.

“Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends, but is played out over and over again in the quietest chambers. The mind can never break off from the journey.” – Pat Conroy

birthday album

As promised here and here, I’m sharing some pictures from my rosy FABtastical birthday weekend, all thanks to my bb who single-handedly planned all of the below.

one Saturday, I found myself here

so deliciously agog, guess who can't wait to sink his teeth in

somebody complained that I ate as if I needed much effort, despite after I made him a nice mocktail...

... here's why

An afternoon beer later, it's Orchard Rd that we hit. bb had no choice but to accomodate my shopping bug

and bb hit the spot with a surprise reservation at IL LIDO

mmmm... bliss

just when I thought the night ended with a sweet note of tiramisu, i got this, and a 2nd surprise proposal where bb got to say what he didn't the first time round.

and then a tired-looking cindy came after a long day at work, just so she can be my surprise number (countless). nawww...

In the morning after…

just the way I like it, what a wonderful birthday it had been

any numbers here can be fictitious and created purely for dramatic effects

I did not expect to turn 30 now.

Yet nearly one month into my 30s, I felt like I have been here a long time. Perhaps nothing has changed, I certainly still feel the same. I wasn’t expecting a whirlwind carrying me off my feet and finding myself in a whole new world, but something’s gotta be different, no?

When I looked back into my childhood during my teens and early 20s, the shy little girl, who loved to retreat to her private make-believe world, flew plastic “kites” out the 8th floor of a one-roomed HDB window and drew wherever she could, had seemed a different person. Similarly my younger self had imagined 30-year-old me to be less inhibited, more matured and maybe, not so much like myself. I’m not entirely sure why I would wish myself to be a different person, but I’m guessing that the fear of staying where I was, not going anywhere nor experiencing life the way everyone else expected it to be has always been that underlying current that gripped me and the decisions I made. As it turns out, the Greed of Man runs in me. However happy I am in any stage of my life, I would wish that I’m somewhere else. Many times, I had related to this Nelly Furtado’s song  “I’m like a bird, I’ll only fly away, I don’t know where my soul is, I don’t know where my home is…”

Rare are the moments when I’m truly contented.

Granted, I have never been ambitious. I have never craved that power suit nor set my sight on any golden ladder. Material Wealth is something that is good-to-have and not a must-have. However I do have dreams. Dreams of setting my own pace, moving to the beats of my drum. I wanted someone to love and to be loved back. Just like the little girl that I was and inadvertently always has been, I wanted to find a place to belong. I want to belong. As much as the wanderlust in me want to travel and explore the world, my feet want to find their resting place and my hand wants to touch what’s real and truly mine.

Yet, I know, I’m getting there. I’m paving stones for my little path while others may be building their yellow-bricked road. This year has been big for me. Unlike the last 5 years, I have spent this whole year on ground, leaving behind a 5-years lifestyle that I both loved and hated and will always fondly remember. This year IS a new chapter. I got proposed to, not once, but twice (See next post) by the same man whom has been my best friend for years and would be home to me in November. I’d made lots of friends in my short stint at the 1st YOG, all lovely people whom I considered myself honoured and blessed to have met. And then I turned 30. It isn’t that turning 30 is a scary thing, leaving my 20s behind however, is keeping me on tenterhooks. It’s like, I have defined my 20s and look! there are a ton of things that I have not done! Yet while every stone I pick for my humble path may add to the coarsening of my aging skin and add a new ache to my body, I thank God for all that I was given and will be receiving. I will never be that wise woman that I want to be because I realised that I’m still learning, learning to deal with issues, learning to live my life and learning to be content.

Here’s something from Robert Frost that I’ve always like:

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

This year’s birthday spanned over the period of one blissful weekend where as I remember it now, all rosy. See next post for pictures!

start pounding those pavements

Recently I discovered a peel on one of my more expensive shoes. No thanks to neighbourhood developers who failed to consider wobbly-ankles, like mine, and laid brick-like pavements with deteriorating cement in between gaps. Unless I tiptoed for the whole length of that pavement (actually it is more like that multiply by 3, since from where my block is to the station lies 3 stretch of said precarious pavements), my heels seem doomed.

It’s a “why-didn’t-I-think-of-that!” moment when I saw these SoleMates:

These High Heel Protectors also come in Black and cost US$9.90. A 10% discount when you buy up to 10 pairs. Is this a good idea or what, especially if you know where I’m going to have my wedding! I really don’t mind that on my heels if they are going to bless my heels with longevity and keep mud away!

hair the good o’ fashioned black-and-white way

No siree, they just don’t look right with ’em glossing with Brylcreem!

He got the shoes, he got the suit and now he needs work with his hair. I’m always happy to help! Looking through all these pictures of men with slick shiny ‘do, is it any wonder I can almost smell that stuff on their heads?

from haircutsformen.org - This is a classic Pompadour. Hair is left extremely long on top while the sides and back are tapered shorter. Hair is slicked up and back with a wax or pomade. The pompadour was the signature haircut of Elvis and was quite popular by young "rebels" in the 1950s.

from hairstylespics.blogspot.com - The ducktail

from http://coolmenshair.com - Tommy Sands' Classic Bouffant. The word bouffant comes from the French word meaning "puffy". This is a perfect description of the style as it was combed and styled in such a way as to make it puff out from the top of the head and appear to have more volume than was actually there.

James Dean

James Dean’s look is so timeless that I think Patrick Dempsey copied it. My knees go soft just looking at those curls.

oh my gosh!

I got no time for this!

It’s the inaugural Singapore Youth Olympics 2010, I certainly can’t miss this, can I?

And so, I’m juggling, between planning for pre-wedding photoshoot, creating my wedding invitation, marketing/promotion for CE and shifts at Ritz Carlton Main Accreditation Centre for YOG.

Being 30 is no fun at all. August, please be nice to me?

apologies

I am apologizing for my vegetating inertia, being busy is not an excuse, slothfulness is. I am one week into my 30s and I‘m hating it. I will be writing more about that in a while, just not now. I have been grumpy and full of MYSELF. Self-indulgence just always doesn’t seem enough.

I did however have that during my birthday weekend, as usual, stay tuned for more pictures!