Too much cheem talk makes uncle T a dull uncle.

makaned so much these past 4 days that my growing girth is nearly all I care about since Thursday!
makaned the best char siew in the world in KL, stir-fried pork belly with salted fish, steamed fish, steamed herbal duck, nasi lemak...


Cafes and cheem talk
Cafes always get to me, in a good way. I once again find myself in a Starbucks, this time in Kuala Lumpur (KL). Finally some time alone with just me, latte, my lappie and Christmas carols in the background. I am on the last evening of my 4-day family trip in KL. I guess KL will always hold fond memories, having been the place where poignant family memories (often coalescing around makan) have been made since I was a little boy. Yet, I guess its a different kind of nostalgia as to the one I will hold for all the places I've been blessed to visit in Europe and New York. As we all grow older, we gather enough worldly experiences to actually need to start compartmentalising the nostalgic "last-times".

Having seen a teeny bit more of the world in the past 2 years makes even home seem different; ang mohs in Singapore still feel queer, yet I feel as if I "know" them abit better than, say, 2 years back. Yet, home where I grew up, will always be home. The comfort of knowing the roads at the back of your hand, the hawker lady who saw me since I was a year old in Ang Mo Kio...All of it makes me so comfortable that I've stopped thinking in the past week; I've been "reacting" to situations than "responding". Without asking deeper questions, I just reacts to situations as instinct dictates, like an animal. That is what I fear about returning permanently back to Singapore: coming back into my comfort zone puts me off my guard, sedates my heightened sense of awareness, brushing aside difficult questions that I should continually ask. Don't you have that fear sometimes? Daddy warned me today that it is human nature to stop pushing our own limits once we get too comfortable where we are. Some might say all this talk might be silly. Why should anyone complain about being comfortable, being contented? Perhaps I derive contentment differently.

Perhaps I know that once I get too comfortable, I allow myself to fall into habit, and often bad ones. I turn into a sloth. So I cannot stop pushing and testing my limits, I cannot stop questioning my life, reflecting on the path I've walked thus far, or where I'm going. I'm one of those if you put in a rocking chair with no stimulus to get up, will grow into the chair. So I need to always remind myself not to just "being" but always "living". No need for constant fireworks of elation and joy, just quiet contentment. I want to always sit in my chair of quiet contentment. Don't we all? Don't you?


Shopping, 5-storey jump and cheem talk
We have been shopping the past few days, and eating. That's what the Foo Family does each time we come to KL or Bangkok. If not for the political uncertainty in the latter, the magnitude of the shopping and eating would have doubled. The Foo Family have often taken such short trips all these years; spending little to get to our holiday destination, seeing little of the place, but spending loads on makan and shopping. And nope, we hardly buy the branded stuff, or eat at Michelin restaurants. We just eat loads of local food and get the thrill of finding good bargains. But most importantly, its a time when we try to put aside everything else and just be. Be a happy family; that being a tall order these days. With mounting social expectations, advancements in communications, it is becoming more difficult to have a healthy family that communicates?

But it has been a nice 3 days out here. Finally get to spend time with my little-girl-no-more sis, making "old man" jokes about Daddy and having buffet breakfast with Mummy. I also plucked up the courage to accompany Mummy on the ride in the amusement park, which was totally not amusing. If there was anything amusing, it would be my facial expressions and my screams as I got brought to a height of 5 storeys (lovely view of Genting though) and dropped and bounced up and down a few times. So it has been all good, and we are back to Singapore tomorrow.

Yet, amidst all this mundane joy, there were other bigger thoughts I'm to take away and think about. Daddy essentially told me over wanton mee what to keep a lookout for in my career, to never get too comfortable and forget to plan ahead, how blessed I am to have a job at this economic low. Stay hungry, stay foolish. Mummy reminding me its about attitude and being sincere when meeting people, at work or at play. I like to dream, heads in the clouds. I choose to think I have dreams, which people along the way have deemed dreamy. But as I dream, dream big, I always have my two feet firmly on the ground. And just being under Daddy's constant reminders, my feet have only gotten bigger. And I've been reminded once more that they must only get bigger.


Hiding behind verse?
I rarely write in prose about romance and love, often hiding behind verse and cryptic, artsy-fartsy, fancy-pansy lines. I was, and have, thinking about them on this trip. In prose; nothing fancy, just simple prose. Perhaps triggered by the amount of Grey's Anatomy I've been watching of late. What do I want? Who do I want? Who wants me? Do I have got to figure all this out like filling out an application form? Or do I just wait and the right lady will fall into my lap and I will know it?

Or do I really have to try a dating agency? Perhaps a monastery?


Uncle T