Tone and Register

There is this aspect of composition writing that is corrected based on 'tone and register' i.e. is your tone too informal for a formal letter? Speaking to your uncle like he's a teen? etc..

It's amazing how people can teach these things and be totally oblivious to actual tone and register in real life.

My supervisee is highlighted for being late to work too often. I am tasked to address the issue.
I sms her 'I need to speak with you. Is it convenient to call you now?'
Reply 'No time. Let's talk tomorrow.' (person that I have to rank come performance bonus time)
I sms ' It'll only take 5 minutes. It's quite important.'
Reply 'Can sms? Not convenient to talk.' (person whose report I have to write)
I sms 'Your name was highlighted at the managment meeting. It was noted that you've been late to work frequently. Do you face any problems in coming to work on time?'
Reply 'No! I've only been late once! And I do my best to walk fast to work. Mdm XYZ can prove that. Anyway, I'm not the only one who's late to work!' (person who is supposed to be a mentor and role model. )

Wah LAO eh........What happened to tone and register?

Defence/Offense

I do not understand why my mother always assumes that the whole world except her own flesh and blood is right / to be defended.
The small things are irritating enough - but people say.. but what will they think... but what if they talk...

So her supervisor borrows one of my gowns (vintage, Patrick Cox, houndstooth retro) and manages to mangle it when washing (not dry-cleaning, even though this is obviously a delicate fabric)
and I ask - what does she(the supervisor) plan to do?
'Oh but she feels very sorry.'
'Does she intend to compensate?'
'Oh but the dress was already in a bad condition and she feels very sorry.'
'Does she intend to compensate?'
' ...Oh. She already explained that ..... '

What the bloody BUAY3 ZI 3DONG3.

My anger is exarcebated by the compromise that my mother makes, her lack of at least making some sort of pathetic case for me. It is not about the dress. It is about that supervisor's lack of taking responsibilty (over and over and over again, I meet these people everywhere not taking responsibility) The lack of defending one's flesh and blood. The bloody Buay Zi Dong Syndrome I keep encountering.

Wake up your idea people.

I should join the army. Guns. Shouting. People who obey orders.
Yeah.

My mum danced..

This evening, my mum went to her Annual Dinner and Dance and she DANCED! She came home, still resplendent in her geometric print butterfly top and hot black bell bottom pants, and she told me how she and her colleague Elaine had danced till they were soaked in sweat.. A ballroom full of ladies, many pushing 60, gyrating away.. I grin to think about it. Women are wonderfully made.

The Question of Wedding Invites

The other day, a friend whom I hadn't met in a loooong time suddenly called me up and said that he had been trying to get me.
'Getting married?' I asked.
'Hey, are you trying to say I'll only call you if I'm getting married?'
'Yes' I replied - and got it right. He proceeded to sheepishly/elatedly invite me to his wedding.
Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy and all, and I'm happy for him - but what exactly is the protocol for inviting people to weddings?
Should it be confined to people you've met at least twice in the past year? People who've met both you and your partner? People who would potentially feel slighted if they knew you were married after the fact?
I get the feel that most Singaporeans operate under the last category. To which I would like to respond - NEWSFLASH - I will NOT get offended, I will simply congratulate you and be mildly relieved that I did not need to sit through a three hour dinner with people I need to make small talk with and pay $80 - $100 to go through such torture.
Of course, part of it is my fault. I could simply say - congratualtions man, but i don't think i can cos my pet salamander will be down with a cold..
But inevitably, I chicken out.
O well, another reason to buy evening dresses at least.

the male psyche?

There was a 40 minute relay run for the various CCA groups today, and I was one of the runners.. What I really noticed was how 95% of the boys who ran would sprint like mad near the cheering crowds and then slow to a walk in the cordoned off areas.. Tells alot about what makes some guys tick.. O well, at least there were 5% who were consistent.. I wonder if the same numbers work for grown up specimens? hmm...

The Girl who Learnt to Run

Once upon a time, there was a Girl who was sure that she hated to run. She knew it was a terrible thing because she always felt out of breath and slower than the others, and because she knew she couldn't be the best at it.
But one day, she decided to try. And as she ran, she learnt about herself. She learnt that she didn't finish things very well, that she tended to slow down at the end instead of running through. So she started to work on that. She learnt that was often afraid of pushing her limits and running at a faster pace, even when she had the strength to. So she decided to face her fears. She learnt that she ran the worst when she was easily distracted. So she started to learn to focus.
She learnt that she didn't like to run with music, that she preferred the quietness of the sky, the rolling thoughts that come with running. She learnt that she liked running alone very much, and that she didn't feel alone most of the time.

A peculiar inheritance..

Today, I reached home, sweaty and stinky from a run, and was greeted by the sight of my mum surrounded by piles of clothes and squeaking 'retro, retro'.. apparently, she has a workplace dinner and dance on saturday, with the theme 'retro'.
She proceeded to unearth an alarming array of clothes hoarded for the last 40 years.. these included brown snake skin leather pants, floral bell bottoms, a number of see-through frou frou tops ... you get the picture.
it has been two hours since i got home and she is STILL trying the clothes and bringing out new/old stuff.. woah...
My sis has since joined the fray.
i'm wondering - will that be me 40 years from now?
My mum is rather adorable as she putters around.. but 40 years of clothes?hmm.. hopefully not.

Unexpected Rejoicing

…. In duty. I had got up not wanting to go to school (i.e. work) today. Such a bone deep tiredness, inexplicable sniffling and general dread. But I’m the only one who has the key to the school’s oral documents (a definite sign of governmental paranoia, all this lock and key and seal and sign stuff) so I had to drag my ass there.. Yet, as lessons went on and the kids went about their usual nonsense, the work simply cheered me up. I guess I need to be needed. (hmmm… sign of wholeness or insecurity? … sigh. Must stop over-analysing… )

…In old ties. I also had wanted to cancel an dinner appointment with an ex-student, Lifen - but what a great delight that had turned out to be! There’s a genuine freedom that arises when two individuals reach a certain trust level and start to say and share what they REALLY think and feel. No fear of condemnation. No worry that the friendship will break down or be compromised. What a freedom. I’m so blessed to have so many of these friendships.

…. In divine meetings. Got a divine opportunity to meet up with Cellina (teacher, mother of two, shining example of what a truly gracious lady is like..) for a quick tea session after the oral exam. Just being with her reminds me that good old kindness and sincerity never runs out of fashion.

Someone asked me if I feel filled with joy always. Not always. Many times, I forget. But when I pause and I choose to remember, I am indeed filled with thanksgiving and joy.

Kindness

I was talking, and I knew my friend was listening, and I felt God’s patience.
I was unsure, and I saw my friend smile, and I felt God’s encouragement.
I was confused, and I heard my friend’s advice, and I learnt God’s wisdom.
I was hurting, and I felt my friend’s touch, and I knew God’s kindness.
What is kindness? An attempt to bridge the empty space between two souls, to understand and to feel and to do one’s best not to hurt the other, but to encourage the other soul. We often mistake pity for kindness or condescension for kindness, but kindness is unconscious love.

The Girl who had too many clothes

Once there was a girl who had too many clothes. This had not always been the case. When she had been younger, she had only a pair of jeans that were too tight for her. And one day, she leaned over and the jeans had burst.
From then on, the Girl knew that she would need the perfect pair of jeans, one which would never burst and which would never cause her to feel embarrassed. When she finally found it, the Girl rejoiced. But not for long, because she then knew that she had nothing else in her wardrobe to match such a perfect pair of jeans. She started searching for the perfect white t-shirt. She found that too, to her great joy. But then she felt pressed to find the perfect shoes. But the perfect shoes did not entirely match the jeans, so she had to buy another pair of jeans. And t-shirt. And shoes. Pretty soon she had forgotten what was supposed to match what else. And she was less and less joyful each time she bought something new. She was also a lot busier trying to categorise and wash and iron and fold all the clothes she had bought.
But the most amazing thing was that each time the Girl opened her cupboard, she felt that there was absolutely Nothing that she could wear. She felt lost in the number of possible combinations.
She went through different seasons of emotions. At times she felt guilty – I shouldn’t buy anymore. I have so many things already. I should give some clothes away – but each time she left the house, a temporary amnesia would come over her and she would forget just how many clothes she had. She would then return with more clothes. And the pile just kept getting bigger and bigger.
At other times she felt exasperated – Why shouldn’t I buy these pretty, perfect clothes? After all, I used to have only one pair of jeans. And I have so many different sides of me, I need all the different clothes to match my different moods – but she knew it wasn’t true. There was just one Girl, and one side of her that just didn’t feel perfect enough with any piece of clothing.

Yes I will....

Yes, I will blog. No more scoffing no more criticising, no more putting off my writing and letting my sparse supply of writing skills dry up and wither. I am tired of letting other's opinions influence me to the extent that sometimes, I forget what my own voice sounds like.
I would like to see it in print, and know a little more about myself.