So where was I? Oh yes, I fell in love, for the first time in my life..

He was a year below me, and we met when I was assigned to take care of his class as a student councillor. It started serendipitously. He was one of few boys and girls I got on with, so we hung out. Talking to him was easy, and fun. There was this energy in the air when we interacted, an energy I didn’t get with anyone else. An energy that felt like electricity at times. We got each other’s jokes, jokes only both of us seemed to find funny. I often wonder though which is the chicken and which the egg – a common sense of humour precedes attraction, or you simply find the jokes of your object of affection funnier? Anyway, jokes soon turned into banter. And banter became laced with tenderness. Time shrank when I spent it with him – hours felt like minutes, and were never quite enough. As I tried to make sense of the longing I felt when I didn’t see him, and the palpitations I got when I did see him, it eventually dawned on me. I was falling in love…

How I love that phrase. You don’t walk to love, nor do you climb up to love, you fall into it. As accidents go, it cannot get more beautiful, no?

After three months, he was transferred to another junior college, one preferred by his mum. I thought, perhaps that was it. We had to end before we even began. A couple of weeks later however, he came back. Against his mum’s wishes. For me, to be with me. And thus he was to be my first ever love.

It was an exhilarating journey of discovering, and being discovered. Of learning how to love a human being whom you have no duty to love, and to trust a person you have no reason to trust. Of realizing that the prize of being understood by another in this galaxy is the price of opening yourself up to hurt by one. Of accepting that for two souls to come together, a part of the two selves has to be left behind.

I learnt these as I moved along, but I didn’t learn them fast enough, or well enough. I can no longer remember the exact trigger now, but just before I took my “A” levels, we broke up. And so in the same year, I experienced my first heartbreak. I didn’t know it could be so painful.

Preparing for a major exam whilst dealing with that constant wrench in your heart, and missing terribly the person you have spent almost every day in the last ten months with, and still see around the school, I can tell you, is no fun. I managed somehow to pull myself together, sat the exams and topped my stream, as the second ten of my life drew slowly to a close, and Oxford beckoned.

I haven’t seen him in years. As I write this, I wonder how he is, if he would be annoyed that I wrote about us (see what I do to satisfy your curiosity!), and whether he would have the same recollection as I do of us in those ten intense and beautiful months. First loves are what they are, imbued perhaps with a disproportionate significance. I will always remember mine with fondness [to be continued…].

 

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I remember very well when Husband first told me his dream. To build a business, to create something to call his own. How nice it is to have such a clear dream, and to have the courage to pursue it.

He had a go at it in his mid thirties, after a very successful decade in the corporate world, managing a global team and business by the tender age of 33 (he likes to remind me that this is one of few areas he beats me at, as I was a couple of years later than him in achieving that. For the good of his ego, I gladly concede defeat!). He found success, but the stint sharpened his thinking on what he truly loves. And so when the opportunity presented itself to learn about this area, he seized it and went back to the corporate world, for another decade. He had a great time, learning everything about something he is passionate about. A few years ago, circumstances led him to a crossroad again – to continue in the corporate ship, or to chase the rainbow at the horizon just after the storm that was the Global Financial Crisis.

Husband agonized over it. I did not. I knew it was going to be bloody hard. We would have to dip into our savings, live through a period of great uncertainty, and I would have to be the main breadwinner. But I cherish the magic of chasing rainbows too much not to encourage him to. What LKY said deeply resonates with me – “there’s a glorious rainbow that beckons those with the spirit of adventure. And there are rich findings at the end of the rainbow. To the young and to the not-so-old, I say look at the horizon, follow that rainbow, go ride it”. I wanted to ride that rainbow with him.

It has been as difficult, and as rewarding, as we have imagined the journey to be. People often see only the glamorous side of entrepreneurism. Only those who have taken the path know the sweat, fears and tears. It’s not about the capital at stake, or how much reserves there are to fall back on. It is rarely about the money. It’s far more about the mind. The omnipresent threat of failure, and the relentless assault of uncertainty. The insidious assertion of doubt, and the unconscious seep of belief. None of which, I’m inclined to think, human beings are built for. Hence the constant fight or flight tug of emotional war. Flight is the easier way out, only those who want it bad enough fight. I never for one moment, even in the most challenging of times, allowed either of us to think that flight was an option. But then again, there’s no bigger foolhardy optimist than me!

The hardest period is behind us now. I don’t know where this journey will lead in the years to come, but where it has led so far, I’ve had no regrets.

When I was very little, my rainbow was dancing. But I quickly realised I was never going to be amongst the best. I didn’t want to spend my life being just good enough, so me being me, I let that rainbow go. My next rainbow was public service, inspired by the giants of history I admire. There cannot, I thought, be more fulfilling work than leading and serving, for the common and greater good. But alas, I know I’m not cut out for politics, nor civil service. As explained in “Inappropriate dressing”, I am not good at conforming! I haven’t given up yet though. I am convinced that I can chase this rainbow without compromising who I am. I just need to figure out how (see how obstinately optimistic I am?!). I will keep searching, as I never want to be without magic in my life.

What is your rainbow? I hope you are chasing it, and have someone to ride it with. There’s no greater fulfillment in life, I think.

[Those of you looking forward to “Best time of my life! – Part II”, stay tuned, it’s coming up next!]

Those of you who have read one of my earliest posts, “Youngest Uncle” may remember my plans for my fortieth (there, I said it!). Everything has been arranged now. 60 guests (gulp), at the Ritz Carlton, complete with a stage and sound systems for a night of high spirited performances which hopefully won’t require my contribution (gulp gulp).

As I come to terms with the impending start of the second half of my life, I’ve been thinking a lot about my first half.

The first ten is at best blurry now. I wouldn’t say I remember my childhood as a very happy one. And this is not an accusation against my parents. It is not an accusation against anyone. It’s just the way it was. Life in a kampung with four of us squeezed into a room next to a pig sty, Mum and Dad facing constant financial pressures, and my coming to terms with my moon face (!), just doesn’t make for a great fairytale, does it? But it made me who I am. It gave me purpose, focus and grit. All of which have served me very well.

The second ten is clearer. Those were my studious years – one long relentless drive for academic excellence. They were also my transitional years. I attended a local primary school until 12. It wasn’t a “good” school by any present standards. Mum and Dad sent me to the nearest one from home! We spoke primarily Chinese, and none of my school mates was rich by any measure. I worked hard, topped the school at the Primary School Leaving Examinations and went on to a “famous” secondary school. And what a shock that was.

It was an all-girls Catholic school. For the first time, there was no distraction of boys (not that I am easily distracted, of course). And I came in touch with a different religion from mine. I learnt how to say prayers and sing hymns. How I enjoyed them! More importantly, I came across a different breed of girls…the posh ones. You know those? They speak English differently from the rest of us, somehow. Their hair is always amazingly glossy and shiny, never a single strand out of place. Quite unlike the unruly, wiry mob I wore. They glow with health, confidence and beauty. There were many of these at my school. I wanted to be one of them.

Alas, I was never cool enough. Once, when I was 14, we were allowed to wear our own clothes to school. I picked the best in my closet – a much easier task then, given I had a grand total of five pieces, a desperately far cry from the miserably obese state of my walk-in today (by the way, don’t believe the rumour that I never repeat my clothes. Note to self: debunk all such rumors in the next piece). And so, I paired an orange camisole with a navy blue cardigan (I know…), and… a navy blue skirt with white flowers. Have I lost all credibility by now?! I still remember the snigger of one of my posh friends.. There you go, not the best start to my career as a fashionista, but even Victoria Beckham began life as a Spice Girl (even if it was a Posh one), no? I wonder if I’ll find the courage to pair orange with navy again..?

I survived that initial crash of confidence – by working even harder. If I couldn’t be an “IT” girl, I would be a smart one. So I applied my laser focus and finished “O” levels top of the school. But that’s not the best gift of those four years. The best gift was my friends. Friends whom I’ve kept till today. Friends who will be singing/dancing on that stage in a couple of weeks’ time.

I moved on to a “top” junior college. Junior colleges come with err.. boys. As I turned 18, for the first time in my life, I fell in love.. [to be continued…].

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Before I left for my work trip (which explains my radio silence in the last few days), the story of a feud between Dr Lee Wei Ling and her brother, our current prime minister, broke. Dr Lee was upset about the commemoration activities held islandwide for their father, our founding father, Mr Lee Kuan Yew. I touched on her reasons in my post “The giant and his daughter”. She felt that her brother was dishonoring their father by allowing, even encouraging, those activities in his capacity as prime minister.

I am convinced both Dr Lee and PM Lee love their father deeply. That love is palpable from the tears in his eyes and the quiver in his voice when he announced his death to the nation. It is evident in her words as she wrote about coming to terms with his absence in her column, and in her deeds as she sought to protect his legacy, fiercely. How is it then that they found themselves in a conflict over their father? Love is complex, isn’t it? They love him, but they love him differently. They want to honour him, but in opposing ways.

Dr Lee loves their father purely as a child. She takes his wishes literally and they become her overriding objective. His wishes were not to be hero-worshipped, and for his marital home to be demolished, not turned into a cheesy place of attraction. She’ll take anyone to task for not respecting those wishes, including her own brother.

PM Lee loves their father also as a political mentor and predecessor. He does not want the nation to forget the many contributions Mr Lee made. Understandably, he wants to keep his political flame alive. There’s also the nation’s wishes he has to respect and facilitate in his role as PM. And those wishes – to preserve his marital home and to express our gratitude on his first anniversary – run counter to Mr Lee’s personal ones, as perceived by Dr Lee.

Thus, the conflict arose, and there are no easy answers, as is often the case with Love. It reminds me of my own relationship with Mum and Dad.

Dad and I are like yin and yang. Our relationship is very easy. We see each other frequently and travel together at least once a year. I want Mum and Dad to see the world and experience what life has to offer – the world that I am able to see and life I am able to lead, on the back of their sacrifices for me and Bro. Sadly, Mum doesn’t like traveling so has never come with us apart from the trip we took as a family when I graduated from Oxford. It’s always just Dad, and we always have a good time. Loving Dad is simple.

Mum and I are like yang and yang. I take after her, you see. We are both strong willed and somehow always managed to say the harshest things to each other in the heat of the moment. We had some of the most violent clashes I’ve ever had with anyone. We have found a modus vivendi over the years, which unfortunately involves very little daily interaction, apart from the big meals we have together around someone’s birthday, Mother’s Day, and Chinese New Year. Which I deeply regret. The irony is Mum knows me better than anyone else. And I know her pretty well too. Because we are just so similar. I have no doubt she loves me, as I love her. She was my supporter in a couple of critical decisions I took, against Dad’s preferences, because she understood. And for which I’m grateful. How is it possible then that we haven’t been able to find a way to parlay that mutual understanding into a warmer and closer relationship? How is it that we’ve both struggled to express the love we know we have for each other? It has confounded me… There’s still time of course, though it is running out, and I hope I will find some answers in the not too distant future, as will the Lee family.

 

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The topic of schooling came up over lunch on Friday with some friends. Son attends a local primary school. We could have, on account of Husband being an ang moh, sent him to an international school but I never saw the point or merit of that. I went through the local school system and emerged, I think, fine. If it’s good enough for his mother, it’s good enough for him.

When queried why I decided to put him through a system notorious for its high pressure and seemingly narrow focus on academic achievements, I often offer the explanation that no system is perfect. It sounds lame, I know, but that’s how I view it. Systems are by definition, devised to meet the majority needs of the majority. This means it is inevitably inadequate. And it gets even more challenging when it comes to education, of which academic competency is a necessary but insufficient component. For something as wide ranging as education, it would be unrealistic to expect the system to be able to do it all. Parents, like it or not, play a critical role.

Local schools are known for their relentless focus on academic achievements. This brings with it pressure, and a requirement for hard work and discipline. International schools on the other hand, embrace creative learning, with much less focus on homework and exams. I’m generalizing here but you get the idea. Which is better? I think the more relevant questions are – what makes for comprehensive learning, what will equip the child to survive and thrive in the world he grows up in, and how do we get there?

Is it possible to excel in life with just rote learning and no creative problem solving skills? Of course not. But is it possible to get far, from bouncing around with ideas but with no hard work and discipline to achieve a direction? The road to success is littered with failures. Does the child have the ability to deal with the stress and pressure that comes with the pursuit of success, in anything, and the resilience to keep going when (not if) he’s tripped up by failures? Even in the world of technology, that most creative of industries, name me a titan who isn’t known to be a workaholic never-say-die perfectionist? Steve Jobs? Elon Musk?

Survival is not, and never meant to be, easy. A variety of skills, soft and hard, are required. Systems have to choose a position in this spectrum and then structure it for the majority, which makes it as I mentioned, inadequate by definition, for any one child. So parents have to step up, to fill in the blanks. Just because we pay taxes doesn’t mean our kids’ education is solely the responsibility of the state’s!

I chose the local school system for Son because I believe discipline, hard work and resilience that comes with the ability to manage pressure, are the bedrock upon which everything else will be built. Given my demanding job, it’ll be hard for me to create the environment at home for purpose of training these skills. So I “outsource” this part of his education to the system. My focus as his mother, as I ask of myself, is to fill in the other bits the system can’t deliver. Hence, I encourage his pursuit of music and sports. I balance the high stress environment by allowing him, as I have found out from casual conversations with other parents, rather generous TV and iPad time. I believe, strongly, that we have to subsume our instinct to protect our children from pressure/stress to the longer term responsibility of equipping them to deal with it, because we cannot always shape reality to suit them. The world in which we live, is stressful.

I try to inculcate independent (and hopefully creative!) problem solving in the day to day – my first response to his cry for help is “动脑筋” （exercise your brain). I don’t prescribe one way of solving his “problem”, nor do I allow Husband to (I’ve discovered men have the tendency to think theirs is the best way, but another story for another day!). And I don’t help until he’s tried everything he can. I drill the messages of the importance of filial piety, generosity and kindness, with stories I tell since he was little. And I watch like a hawk, ok, tigress, how well he puts these values into practice, far more keenly than I watch his grades. Through these efforts, I hope to provide him with as balanced an environment as possible in which to learn, for a lifetime.

Yes, I’ve obviously got the grand theory all worked out. Ask me in ten years’ time how it has worked in practice!

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Is that the right term? No? Facebookie then? Or Facebookian? You know what I mean.. I’m a new citizen in the world of social media, having acquired a fb account only recently. It’s been almost two months and I must confess I’m a bit lost.

Facebookland must be the happiest place on Earth. I see a lot of happy pictures and happy faces, which makes me happy, but also somewhat bemused – am I the only oddball around with neuroses? Did I miss a memo upon obtaining my Facebookland passport that I ought to put only my best face forward? Is there an unspoken rule I haven’t grasped that when you enter Facebookland, you leave all your real world baggage behind?

What about the issue of etiquettes in this new utopia? Let’s take the ubiquitous “like”, which has totally floored me. Is it a judgement on contents or a measure of friendships? Do I put a “like” only on posts I truly like, or for the friends I like? I’d prefer the former, as a matter of principle, but are principles, like aerosols, not allowed onboard? If I don’t put a “like”, would my friends think I don’t like them or want them as my friends? Should I put a “like” on at least one post per friend, in the name of fairness? There’s only one problem with that though. I recently realised, to my horror, that what I “like” would appear in my other friends’ pages too. Am I cluttering up their space because of my complete incompetence at maneuvering this new landscape??

Oh, and can anyone tell me if “heart” is just a variation of “like” or is it a step up from “like”? And if someone “likes” or “hearts” my post, what is the cyber equivalent of “thank you”? I “heart” them back?

It also appears to me that there is a certain desirable words to pics ratio, and mine is marching firmly in the wrong direction. I have posted primarily my blog posts and only one other picture than my profile one. This would be quite easy to fix – it takes far less time to produce a picture than a post. But alas, I fancy myself a writer than photographer. I hope there’s a place for diversity and inclusion in Facebookland too?

Don’t get me wrong. It hasn’t all been confusion. I’ve reconnected with long lost friends and in two minutes, got right up to speed with where they are in life now. But two decades of void can’t be filled just by scrolling photos. I miss the sort of face to face catching up, where I can slowly fill in the blanks of twenty years, with trials and tribulations that tell me so much more than a emoji and outsized thumb can ever do. But would they want to see me?

Yes, I’ve over-thought myself into a state of paralysis – I haven’t checked in for days now. So my fb friends, this is why you haven’t seen a like from me. But please don’t “unfriend” me just yet! The problem is me, not you. I’m lost.. Though perhaps you haven’t even noticed if you, like my twenty-something, have more than 1000 friends. Any help you can offer this useless Facebooker will be greatly appreciated. Even more so, an invitation to catch up over a cup of tea.

I bumped into Tall & Slim from the marketing department yesterday on my way to lunch. She told me she’s been following my blog eagerly, and enjoying it. How very nice to hear on a lethargic Thursday afternoon! It perked me up instantly. I’ve had the more expressive amongst you tell me similar things. Thank you, it means a lot to me that you care to share those precious minutes of your busy day with me.

It’s been 1.5 months since I started writing. I remember well the initial struggle – of all the things that interest me, what should I be focusing on? What would people like to read? I expressed those doubts in “What the blog?” and “My words vs Kim K’s butt”. It’s very clear that my words are still not a match to her butt, and certainly not her nude selfies. She recently posted one and almost crashed the Internet (please finish reading this before checking that out!). But I’ve done better than I ever imagined possible, receiving a higher readership than I allowed myself to hope for. It’s a surreal, and rewarding experience.

What’s not clear to me yet though is what YOU like to read. Some posts receive more views than others but there doesn’t seem to be a clear pattern. I wonder at times how those figures would look if adjusted for those of you who “follow” me via email notification. When you read my post on your email, the blog’s readership count doesn’t register it. For that to happen, you’ll have to click on the link (the title of the post) and go into the blog itself. If you’d like to help me understand better how each of my posts is doing, and what you like more than others, please click on that link! I’ll be grateful.

I’m seeing Peter Pan for lunch, which I’ve been looking forward to. We’ve decided (well, I forced him..) to indulge my one great food sin – pig’s intestines! I’ll send him your love.

Have a nice weekend!