The Philosophical Marshmallow

C'est moi, encore

Sun, 15 Jul 2007 07:41:34 +0000

When you were seven, you thought you would have three children by the age of thirty. You thought 'nineteen' was old.

You are thirteen. Your favourite teacher sees you after school getting a snack on the street with your friends, tells you off for eating street food and then asks, "Marshmallow, when you are grown up, what do you want to be?". You think for a minute, then say, "Well, when I'm older, I want to be able to wear trainers every day because my mum tells me high heels hurt your feet." Your teacher laughs and says, "I guess that's a good place to start."

When you were seventeen, you thought you would have three children by the age of thirty.

You are nineteen. You visit your teacher in high school after graduation. She says, "It's great you look your age, everyone else who has visited was wearing so much make up it looked funny." You wonder whether it was natural to not have been wearing make up while everyone else clearly had been. You have not even met a boy you like enough to have a conversation longer than two minutes yet.

You are thirty. You go to a random party held by a distant acquaintance. A twenty year old thinks you are her new BFF after a brief conversation about her experience in Ghana as a summer intern. Your husband is at a bachelor party across town. You have no children yet. You meet single people, married people, dating people, young people, old people. You meet journalists, PR agents, lawyers, artists, politicians, lobbyists and writers. No one mentions your age. No one reminds you that you had an ideal image of what you were supposed to be when you were thirty.

You are thirty, living a life. A life that was not what you asked for, but what you have made. Your choices. Your ways. All on your time. You realize exploration of your identity and your ideas are still going on. Life does not stop at a set ideal or notion.

How can one not be intoxicated on a summer night such as this?

Here we go!

Sat, 14 Apr 2007 19:05:21 +0000

The subprime market shakeup led to a frenzy of work at the office. For those of you who haven't heard about this, basically mortgage companies woke up to the realization that the mortgages they've been giving out for free are actually things people have to pay off, and not many people could once the interest rates went up a teeny, weeny bit. This led to a general state of misery for the large banks on Wall Street who had been buying and selling these mortgages as if they were actually assets worthy of any value. So those investors who had been buying these things freaked out, and then everyone else started flaking too.

To keep it short, that had a direct impact on my workload for a while but I think now the Street (as they say) is either dead or people are holding their breath, the way victims do in horror films before they get slashed (as they inevitably do). So this week things quietened down noticeably.

Oh, to have so much free time! To be able to plan dinners and other activities! To breathe the air of a free man! It hasn't been this great since the Killers were labeled the best 'British' band from the U.S. Giddy with my regained freedom - punch drunk, almost, I must say - I agreed to a young colleague's suggestion that I enter a race.

Did I say race? I'm running 4 miles on April 29th, 2007 in Central Park for the Thomas G. Labrecque Foundation. This is what I have to run!

Of course, my humble aim is to merely finish the course, without feeling like I've been brought back from the dead afterwards. So wish me loads of luck everyone, I need it.

Babies! More babies!

Wed, 28 Feb 2007 03:49:10 +0000

No, not my babies, not yet, anyway. I'm talking about my friends. It seems I am in the middle of a baby boom all by myself - or so I thought until I realized I am in my thirties, my friends are married, and for better or worse it is the natural course of married people to have children, as a general rule. So I've been seeing lots of baby clothes and toys - sadly, ineptly picked (I fear) and because I have never given thought to what would be needed in the event of babies entering into your life, it never occurred to me that anything other than clothes and toys would be useful (prams! bottles! discount diaper vouchers! and so forth).

The new parents at my office are divided into the ones who stumble across the corridors and mutter randomly, "I really need to sleep," and those who look cheerful and normal and say, "The baby is great, do you want to see pictures?" I am not sure what is different between the two groups. Is it because the latter group somehow stumbled on the shortcut to good parenting skills? What makes someone a good parent anyway? Who decides what this stuff is about? I have always thought it a natural event for MH and I to eventually have children. But it's funny that despite my acceptance of the idea to have children, I have no idea what I should be doing, or when we should be having them. Does anyone? I feel like I'm the one person in the office who didn't get the memo, so to speak. Perhaps all my concern is just a natural fear of the unknown and all I need to do is figure out how to eliminate at least a portion of the unknown.

Maybe it's not even that. Maybe the question should be, in a world where the population is projected to reach 9 billion and we are concerned about the use of the Earth's resources, should we even be thinking of having children biologically as opposed to adopting? And should I even be having these concerns before trying to become pregnant - touch wood, but the reality is there are people who have difficulty getting pregnant. And forget about looking after the baby - who said I'd make a good guide to life, a trusty parent?

I would love to ask people how they made the decision for when was right to have children. But at the same time, I know it's a personal decision - like being in love, it either fits or it doesn't. I guess that's one of the reasons why I struggle with it: I don't always trust my judgment in emotional matters.

Bah.

Maybe it would be an idea to have the pregnancy occur 'accidentally'.

Even seals are pupping.

I went to San Diego and all I saw were seals

Mon, 19 Feb 2007 04:57:17 +0000

Well, not really, but they were the highlight of my visit. Incredibly stinky though, and one of them peed into the ocean (shock, horror).

Going out: the aftermath

Tue, 06 Feb 2007 04:35:27 +0000

Perhaps wearing a skirt to work (albeit with long coat and boots) was not the best thing to do when the wind chill factor brings down the temperature closer to -11. I barely survived the walk into work.
"I cannot believe you are a wearing a skirt!" one of my female colleagues cried out when she saw me in the corridor.
"It's my way of saying f___ it to the weather," I said, shuddering inwardly at the memory of the chill wind around my knees earlier. Tomorrow I will most definitely wear trousers. With leggings.

I struggled home in the bitter harsh cold, past 10.30. MH is asleep. He always sleeps early. We joke in the family that this is why he keeps his youthful looks - he is very boyish still in his mid-thirties - but I think it is probably the truth. In the beginning I had a hard time adjusting to his sleep schedule and I recall getting up at 2 or 3 am because I had gone to bed too early for my body clock. Now the latest I stay up is around midnight. He is not very happy with me tonight because I came home late, after having drinks with colleagues, without having told him in advance. I don't know what happened to me today, usually I am very good about these things - I firmly believe that if you want your spouse to spend time at home you should set the example first - but today had been a really strange day at work. I was so lethargic, so unmotivated and not ready to plunge into conversations with bankers about their deals. Having a beer after work sounded like just the thing. Drinks on school nights are one of those rash but liberating ideas.

I had left a new beef stew on the stove in the morning and MH was at home finishing it off by himself while I was out. When I came home I tried not to hug him too hard because I knew he would smell the alcohol on my breath (why is it that just two beers will make you stink like you've been swilling it all night?). MH muttered something about not spending time with him. Poor dear. I wonder what he thought of the beef stew. He may be a bit sulky tomorrow. I will hug him later when I go to bed and hope he isn't too upset with me.

Running along

Mon, 22 Jan 2007 02:59:08 +0000

In late October I wrote about trying to train up my body so that I could at least run for 30 minutes without suffering from a heart attack or whole body cramps for the next week. Well, it's been almost exactly three months since that entry, and I can now report that I can run 3 miles in 32 minutes and 38 seconds. Yipppeee!!!

So it took 3 months, which was not my initial plan - it was a ten week plan that I was following - but still, not too off the mark and I must say if anything this proves two things: firstly, if someone who had very little cardio stamina such as myself can train to run at this basic level, anyone can do it, and secondly, nothing beats a good solid training plan which builds up your strength steadily without undue exertion.

Now I have a question: my incredibly great training plan only covers up til this level, so where do I go from here? I suppose I will carry on running the 3 miles every day. I guess I can aim for the ten minute mile. The run itself, of course, remains the source of pleasure.

YOWZA! I AM THIRTY YEARS OLD!

Wed, 17 Jan 2007 05:10:00 +0000

So MH and I went to London to celebrate my birthday. We had a splendid time with many great meals, not the least of which was my birthday dinner that was spent with Liddle Sis, my great friend W. and MH and myself at a supposedly Spanish restaurant with an incredibly snooty waitress.

There was much merriment to be had ("Darling Old Person" was the card I received from the still immensely young Liddle Sis, which showed two dogs discussing Botox). Suffice it to say that I am very grateful and happy to be able to celebrate my thirtieth birthday in such a good way. 'Lucky me' was the motto of the day.

We had dinner with friends of mine who had children or were pregnant and it caused a rash of comments on unsuitable names for children. I suppose now that I have reached an age where my last egg may drop any second according to ye olde Asian folklore (as per my parents) I should give the matter more serious consideration. Unfortunately for my parents who are dying to become grandparents, this was the extent of the consideration MH and I had:

Unsuitable First Names For Children with the Surname 'Lee'
1. Ugg.
2. Sara.
3. Happy.
4. Sad.
5. Love (you get the drift).

Ever noticed how Asian children never get named 'Shaniqua'? Have you been surprised when you asked for a 'Caleb' expecting an Irishman but ended up with a Chinese guy? Wondered what it would feel like to be a Korean 'Georgina', 'Arabella' or 'Hermione'? Not to mention the slew of edible names such as Plum, Apple, and Peaches. MH and I have realized naming children is one science experiment too good to miss - this may be the one incentive that will lead us to having sprogs.

The joy and delight of being in London among such great company was marred by the fact that the exchange rate left us in positive penury and the dreadful flight back made me suspect there was a conspiracy to kill us off. Virgin Atlantic's multiple stress tactics were as follows: starvation (due to a missing pilot we did not leave until well past dinner time and I had had my lunch rather early), refridgeration via absolutely freezing A/C and confinement (we hovered over Newark for an hour, making our travel time a whopping total of eleven hours). I could well imagine the conversation between the pilot and air traffic control:
"VS 1, have your passengers died yet, over."
"This is VS 1, no casualties yet reported, over."
"Too bad. You must hover for another two hours until we've killed them all off, over."
"Will we allow food and water? Over."
"They can chew wet napkins. Over."

After so much joy, there can only be pain. As expected my workflow has been a little bit out of control since Tuesday.

Ending 2006

Thu, 28 Dec 2006 05:29:09 +0000

After I posted my previous entry I was struck down by a violent fever. MH had to take me to see the doctor. It was the first time we'd been to see our doctor since our old one retired this summer. In my delirious state I was not in the mood for polite chitchat so when the doctor asked me what were the symptoms, I said,"Well, I think I have tonsilitis and sinusitis." The doctor looked at me and said, "Why don't you let me make the diagnosis, OK?" Of course, after I told him my symptoms and he measured my temperature, made me say "Ahhhhh," while he peered into my swollen throat and pressed the really painful areas of my temples, he told me that I had tonsilitis and sinusitis and prescribed me some terribly strong antibiotics.

So I was out for well over a week. It wasn't great. My friends ended up taking care of me while MH tried to take care of my friends. And then Christmas came by and went, and I didn't have much to show for it (although I got some beyooo-tiful pearl earrings). Poor MH went without a Christmas present, since I belatedly decided he should get a Wii only to realize too late that most of North America wanted a Wii and not a single one is to be found on this continent neither for love or money until late January next year. Such are the trials and tribulations of my nearest and dearest. But I am fully recovered now. I even managed to go to the gym today for the first time since November. It shows I am in sufficient mood to ponder how my 2006 has been.

It's been a year of facing new challenges. We found out last month that a close family member has developed a chronic illness. This week my dad retires after an overachieving 34 years as an international financier. MH has new responsibilities at work, and I have been carving out a new career path in financial services. MH's friend lost his brother in Afghanistan - a terrible, gut-wrenching death that still provokes tears. These are all different challenges and much fine detail needs to be worked out in the new year to overcome them.

MH and I have done more things together than we have ever before. We started taking golf lessons together, and MH has joined me for yoga classes. We traveled for two weeks together in Asia. We have had more chances to actually be in the same space - which is great after the previous year ("Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing...").

This year I finally discovered Manhattan in all its glory - all the exhibitions, art shows and side streets with great restaurants and bars. It is also noteworthy that some time during the summer I finally managed to ditch my subway map (which is not to say that I don't still get lost). I can close my eyes and still hear the beautiful music from the shows I've been to at the Lincoln Center. My tongue remembers the taste of the fresh oysters, the luxurious sushi, the mouthwatering desserts and the fragrant drink. Happy moments seem to coincide with visits to great restaurants.

When I was a teenager I remember thinking that I should really live it up, because I thought later on in my life I would surely lead a domesticated, routinely dull and wholesomely virtuous adulthood. Well, I'm staring thirty in the face next month and it's amusing and fascinating to realize that what my teen self envisioned has not yet become a reality - there has been euphoria in abundance. I know at some point I'll stop having fun (or will I?).

What new endeavours may be taken on in 2007 remains to be seen. I am cautious about the trials to come but I will try to remember that I have much, much more to be grateful for.

Tropical cheer

Mon, 11 Dec 2006 03:03:31 +0000

This is a picture I took in Bali. The image of something tropical is sorely needed on cold, dark winter days. My friends from the equator are here to enjoy the dark chill of the coldest season of the year - something they seek out actively because it is not an experience they undergo naturally - but knowing where they are from helps to remind me of my recent travels in sunnier climates. It's great to have friends around who help me see the winter in a different light - not just something cold and unwelcoming to endure but as a fascinating change in season.

I'd still take the warmth of summer any day.

Is this English?

Sat, 25 Nov 2006 16:43:59 +0000

One of my nightmares when I was a child used to occur during the summer holidays and goes thus: I wake up the next morning only to find that I'd missed a day of school because I didn't know that school had started the day before. I had forgotten when my summer holidays would end. I felt the same sense of panic as I woke up yesterday.
"Is today Friday?"I asked MH.
"Hm. Um. Yes."
"The day after Thanksgiving?"
"Yes."
"Do I have this day off?"
"I don't know, you said you did."
"When?"
"Before we went away. You sincerely believed that you had today off."
I had to look up my Treo calendar to check.

Crazy old coot. But I'd like to think that the reason why I appear so forgetful is because I enjoyed my time away so much, in the same way I used to spend my summer holidays, because I had completely lost track of the usual sense of me. Of what I do in my usual every day life. To break free from such containment is a true holiday, I'd like to think.

Or it could just be that I am growing prematurely forgetful as I reach my milestone birthday.

Let me tell you about my time away. It was full of sumptuous, gorgeous food - a resplendent Chinese banquet, sweet, succulent hairy crabs and nostalgic indulgences from my mother (we are an earthy family, we eat the type of Korean food that most people's grandparents' generation would have had) and friends, dear faces I always somehow seem to dream of every now and then as if I had seen them every day. It had the element of the tropical, the extravagant (as we stayed in a fabulous resort) and the sobering: who thinks of beggars on the street, out in the hot sun with no shoes on while sitting in an airconditioned taxi that costs five dollars to make a 20 km trip? I saw my beloved husband tired, cross and aching from squeezing his lanky frame into a dozen cramped seats. We watched too many painfully awful films, ate too many meals made of sandpaper and industrial waste (aren't these the ingredients of airplane meals, worldwide?) in enough time for me to finish reading six books. I saw him happy and tanned on a poolside cabana, ready to jump into the warm water - and absurd with a frangipani flower stuck to his head, not sure himself of the reason why he decided to frame his glossy head with the white petals.

I slept for 11 hours once I got back into my bed at home, a dazed dreamless sleep. Or so I thought.
"You kept talking to me all night," MH said, when I finally woke up. "But I couldn't make out what you were saying."
It appears I am having trouble getting back to the ordinary, usual me.