Having said that I will say that I celebrated a birthday in between now an my last post: I turned 28 on the 29th of May. Can't believe I'm nearly 30! I try not to think about it too much. It's not that I think 30 is old, I just feel that I should've accomplished more by this age. A psychologist once told me that I needed to remove the word 'should' from my vocabulary. Then again, this was the same psychologist who, when I told her that my best friend's cancer had spread to the lymph nodes near her liver, replied that it was "pretty much curtains for her then." As it turned out, she was right, but I think she could have put it a little less flippantly than that.
What else...oh yes! My friend Lisa, who is a photographer, asked if she could shoot me for a series she is doing called "Connections." The idea behind it is that she is shooting people who've had a significant impact on her life, and shooting them in ways which illustrate who they are, and how she sees them. Together we decided that the theme of mine should be books and or reading. We wanted to give it a kind of old-school library feel, so it was me sitting in a wing-back chair surrounded by piles of leather-bound books. It was quite cool even though I felt a bit awkward being photographed. My cat, however, had no such qualms, and decided to make herself the star of the show by hopping on my lap mid-way through the proceedings.
While this blog is ostensibly about books and writing - at least, that was my initial plan, it seems to have turned into an altogether different beast - my life has recently undergone a significant change which I feel the need to write about. The change I speak of is that I have left my beloved home of Melbourne, where I was born and have lived for all of my 28 years, and moved to Singapore.
I have now been in Singapore for almost two and a half weeks. I do like it here, but the constant humidity is so oppressive. As I write this, the temperature is 31 degrees and the humidity is at 70 per cent - that's a lot, in case you're wondering. A few minutes ago there was a huge crack of thunder and now it is pouring. This happens most days. In fact, there is very little variation in weather at all here, and no discernible seasons from what I've heard.
The food here is pretty great, and a meal will generally cost you no more than 5 Singapore dollars (about 4 dollars Australian). I must say I am getting a little sick of rice though, and I've hardly eaten any vegetables since I got here. It's all meat and rice, and if you feel like mixing it up a little, why not have meat and noodles? I'd give my right arm for a nice roast or a good spag bol - though this may be cheating slightly as I'm left-handed. And I've not even been here 3 weeks, imagine how I'm going to feel after a year or two!
From what I've seen of Singapore so far - and admittedly this is not a great deal - it mostly consists of malls, food courts, condos and more malls. It's basically a consumer paradise, which doesn't suit me on two counts, the first being that I don't really like to shop because malls confuse and frighten me, the second being that I have no money. Actually, that's not strictly true; I have money but the money I have has to last me a looong time, because my prospects for employment here are pretty slim. As I said, you pretty much need a degree to do anything here, and for jobs that don't require a degree they seem to want only Singaporeans or permanent residents. I don't mind not working if it means more time to study, but I can't even collect the dole so I need to be frugal.
Our apartment and immediate surrounds are very different to what I had envisioned, but that's because we have nothing comparable in Australia that I'm aware of. I had imagined a tiny shoe-box of an apartment in a single high-rise, not unlike the living conditions of Scarlett Johansson's character in Lost in Translation. This is not at all the case. For starters, we are on the ground floor, and our apartment has 2 bedrooms and a study, and is actually quite roomy - although for $2900 a month (!!!!), you'd hope it would be. The building itself is a mere 10 storeys, and is but 1 of about 15 towers in a gated complex. They are condominiums, though I still can't quite work out whether the word refers to each individual building or to the complex as a whole. The grounds are quite lovely, though for some inexplicable reason it has a Savannah theme (they're called the Savannah Condos), and consequently is full of rather tacky statues of various African animals including giraffe, antelope, lions and elephants. Aside from the random animal statues, we have a massive and quite aesthetically pleasing pool, a small gym, tennis courts and even a one lane bowling alley. So all in all it's not too shabby really.
Twice a month my boyfriend's company puts on a free movie for all employees and - providing there are enough tickets - their partners. Last night we saw Toy Story 3 and I must say it was brilliant. Great storyline, some brilliant new characters and lots of laughs. I even shed a few tears at one point! The animation was genuinely amazing. It's funny, I have such an appreciation for animation since meeting Neil (my boyfriend, who works as a 3D animator at Lucasfilm). Before that it wasn't even something I really thought about that much, but the amount of work that goes into a film like that is unbelievable.
At the moment I'm reading 2 books: Paula by Isabelle Allende and The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson. The former is a beautiful, harrowing work which has brought me to tears on several occasions. Allende is such a passionate individual and a wonderful writer; I look forward to reading more of her work, especially her novels. I haven't quite decided how I feel about the latter, but I'll say one thing for it: it has piqued my interest. I'm about halfway through and I'm definitely hooked, but I do find some of it quite frustrating. For instance, the constant descriptions of what the heroine is wearing I find unnecessary. It's like, ok,I get that she's an emo (or goth or whatever you want to call it), now get on with it!I'm slowly catching up on my coursework but it's been tough because of the disruption caused by the move. Also, time management has never been one of my fortes, but I am trying (yes, very trying, as my mum would say). Which reminds me, I started out this blog with the idea that I would post some of my own pieces of writing and I haven't done so since my first post. I think it's time to add another one!
The following piece is a sensory monologue, prompted by these instructions:
Sit quietly where you are free from distractions. Listen to your senses. Take note of
how your body feels weighted in the chair. Are you warm, cold, just right? How does
your clothing feel on your skin? What can you hear? Are the sounds distant or up close and demanding? Are they irritating, intrusive, soothing, jangling, happy or sad? What can you see? Are you looking out the window? Is anything happening outside? How does this make you feel? What are the colours? Is the sunshine bright and glaring or is the day dull and grey? What does your room look like? Is your desk tidy and clear or a jumble of books,papers, dirty plates and mangled paper clips? As you sit what changes do you become aware of? Does one thought keep demanding your attention?
Obviously I've gone of topic a little, but never mind. So, here it is:
I should be dressed, but why dirty clothes that will not be seen by anyone but myself and my cat, who is not very fashion conscious anyway? I am reminded of a time when I had finished high-school and deferred university, ostensibly to save some money to travel, but more because the thought of the responsibility of undertaking a degree frightened the life out of me. I spent many a day lazing around the house in my pyjamas, and after a time my father became frustrated and implored me to “get dressed, for Christ’s sake.”
“But I’m not going anywhere, so what’s the point?” I reasoned.
“How about self-respect?!”
I can see his point. However, I digress...where was I? Ah, yes: I was sitting in a chair in a tracksuit. I feel quite warm, despite the fact that it’s cold outside and the central heating isn’t on. This is largely to do with the hot-pink-with-purple-kitties fleece that envelops me. The fleeciness of my sexy tracksuit - which has never seen a track in its life - and dressing gown combo against my skin is comforting, like a big, warm hug (from someone dressed head-to-toe in fleece. I’d like to think they are wearing a Snuggie).
It is quiet here, but when I listen, really listen, sounds start to emerge from the silence. The buzzing of a small aeroplane overhead, the swish-swish of the washing machine going through its cycle, the occasional hum of a car going by somewhere close. The fridge chimes in with a little rattle, as if to say “I’m here, don’t forget me.” No fridge, I won’t forget you. In fact, I may just visit with you soon, as another sound I have just heard is the angry rumble of my tummy. Tummy has digested the two pieces of peanut-buttered toast I ate almost three hours ago and is ready for more. Patience is a virtue, I tell my tummy, mama’s working now.
This room is ridiculously dark, due to the fact that one metre away from each of the room’s three windows is a 2 storey-high wall that is the outer wall of our neighbour’s house. Hooray for Victorian terraces! Hooray for the fact that four of the last six houses I have lived in have had exactly the same lay-out! Hooray for dust and ridiculous discrepancies in bedroom size!
And goddamn that plane that keeps buzzing around my head like a mosquito!
Ok, so it's pretty pointless but it's what tumbled out of my brain.
