Perks of Being Miss Invisible

Miss Invisible: Cordelia's Story

2009-05-18T01:40:00.002+08:00

"It's a little too much for me to handle right now." His voice was flat. Void of emotion. Like he did not care.

"Please don't do this." Hers was the exact opposite. It was quivering.

"It's for our own good. Particularly yours. You're freaking out over nothing, and refusing to calm down. It would be best if we cooled down a little."

"No, you don't understand -"

"I do get it. You're insecure. You're paranoid. I get it all."

"Babe, I'm really not used to this. This whole open relationship thing. No boyfriend has ever behaved in this way before. Naturally I'll feel a little edgy now. It just takes a while."

"A little edgy? Geez, little is an understatement!"

Cordelia felt like he had stabbed her with a blunt butter knife. She wanted to agree with him, and just stop going crazy over his little actions and friendships with other girls. But she knew that he was crossing the line. She had seen how close they were. Even despite his claims that they were "just friends" she knew for sure that there was something more. And now that she was trying to confront him about it, he was trying to break away. Twist his words and fuck up her mind. He was real smart and she couldn't do anything about it.

"Look," he said after a long silence, "I need to go. I have to get up early tomorrow. You definitely need the rest too. Just lie down, read a book, listen to some music, whatever. Stop freaking out. You'll realise that everything you're going mad about is for nothing."

"Babe.."

"Good night, Cordelia." And then there was a click. Followed by that strong surge in her heart. The painful, body-numbing surge that made her want to scream out and beat her fists against the wall. This was insane! He couldn't just hang up on her like that. Not after he had tried to "decide" how she felt. He had no right. No right at all.

She had to leave. This was no good. It was no point trying to stay with someone who denounced the truth and made her feel stupid about it. She hated how he made her feel so bounded, so helpless. It was not right. No man should ever let her feel this way.

She threw open her journal and started to vent. The tears came fast and gushing as she screeched out her emotions all over the blank page. Big, bold, and pressing words that left marks on the next few pages. Little drops fell onto the page, smudging each hurt expression and pooling into greyish-black marks.

Twenty minutes later she threw her pen down, panting and exhausted after all that emotional word vomit. She felt better, slightly. But she knew she could not let herself give in. She re-read her entry, the entry before that, and many ones before too, so that she knew her complaints were consistent and concise enough for a valid break up.

She would switch off her phone. Change her number. Delete and block him off her messenger lists and networking accounts. She understood her own weakness and that was his words. If he started crooning once again in a few days time, he would have her back. It must not be so, this time, she growled to herself fiercely.

She had been weak before. Now it was time to be strong.

2009-05-17T23:21:00.002+08:00

My cousin's daughter turned one month old yesterday. Sadly, I was unable to make it to the celebration because I had art teacher training.

Ever since Avril's (that's her name - it's French for April, the month she was born) birth, in addition to seeing many babies and children at the hospital over the month, I have been wanting a child.

Don't ask why. Ask me if I wanted one months back and I would have fervently shaken my head and emit a very loud "NO THANKS!" Because I had always thought that kids were full of trouble. They cry, they wail, and if you don't take of them properly, they turn into brats. The sound of a child throwing a tantrum was enough to make me want to point a gun at it. Harsh, but I really used to think that children were not for me.

My best friend, on the other hand, used to think I was nuts for not wanting a child. She even thought that I was selfish for wanting to spend my money on other things other than raising a child. I had, and still have, very good reasons for not wanting kids in my life. And believe me they aren't selfish. Sometimes, some people are just not keen to have a kid.

But anyway, I told the boyfriend how much I would love to have kids now. Not too many, of course, but definitely enough to constitute a family.

"I'll give you four when the time is right," He joked. Or at least, I hope he was joking.

And while I'm starting to love kids like hell, the best friend is going nuts with the thought of kids because of the countless times she had to take care of them during art lessons. Hahahahhahahaa. The irony!!

Miss Invisible: Ling's Story

2009-05-12T22:31:00.003+08:00

Ling clutched at her chest and took a deep breath. It was just her imagination, it had to be. The feminine instincts were acting up again and betraying her mind. This was just... a normality. It was. Shut up, heart.

She hated her own emotions sometimes. Sometimes they were well-behaved. They held up green lights and peace slogans and she was all good. And then suddenly, they were a riot. An extremist protest. A Hong Kong melodrama. And they were there to win a battle. What battle, she'd constantly ask them. But there was never an answer. It was just a battle, and no matter how logical or stupid the cause for the battle was, the emotions had to win it, or they'd give her hell.

Sometimes Ling hated being a girl, because being a girl meant carrying the excess baggage that guys hardly lugged around. And the excess baggage was a few tonnes of hormones.

Today she was particularly hating herself, her heart, her emotions, her hormones. Because before her eyes was something she wish she had not seen. It's all your fault for being nosey, she roared silently.

Her eyes flitted to the sleeping figure behind her. Deep in sleep. That was good. That gave her at least 20 minutes more to calm down before 6pm came and she had to shake that sleeping figure awake.

She looked back at the screen. It was just paranoia. The girly hormones spinning out of control again. Forget it. It's nothing.

But even as she held a poker expression, there were a thousand questions screaming out in her mind. What did all these mean? Was she being held a fool all this while? Did this take place when... when they were having problems? What about all the words of assurance and promise? Were they lies? They could not be!

She breathed in, and then out. Two. Three. Four. She move the cursor over to another program and looked at something else. Today's news. The latest sports scores. Facebook. Anything. Anything at all, to think about something else.

The clock flipped over to 6.02pm. Rigidly she moved over to him and stroked his peaceful face, his soft hair. What was he dreaming of now? Did she want to know?

She wanted to shake him violently and demand an explanation.

Instead, she bent over to kiss his cheek, and he stirred, giving a half-awake grin.

No, she would not give in to those insane assumptions like she always did before. They were probably, most likely, wrong. She knew him. She definitely did. No way she was going to let a few mixed signals lead her down the road of doubt and mistrust. She definitely trusted him.

He opened his arms and she lay in them, clinging on to his chest with her life. Yes, her whole life depended on this: his embrace, his words, his love, him. And he knew it. He would never let her down.

And- And if he did- if what she saw was ringing true to what her heart was insisting - well then, let the truth destroy her later on.

2009-05-11T23:37:00.003+08:00

I have always thought of myself as the small-town girl who makes it big in the end. It's always the typical Cinderella Story: Girl comes from an average family and goes through growing pains in her teenhood, such as annoying parents who restrict her from too much freedom, the annoying little sister, being in the shadow of It Girls and Beauty Queens, secretly crushing on the Hot Jock, and finding solace in her only best friend, a computer geek, and her secret diary.

And one day after a series of embarrassing pitfalls and getting played by the Hot Jock, Girl bumps into Cute Eccentric Boy who appreciates her awkward moments and one-too-many freckles. Cute Eccentric Boy is not the hottest person in the school, but he gives Girl exactly what she has been longing for: Fairytale Love. Furthermore, It Girl/Beauty Queen is blatantly ignored by talent scouts who make a beeline for Girl as the next star blogger/singer/model/princess/celeb. She grows to love her family for who they are, and everyone lives happily ever after.

Indeed I could vouch for such a Cinderella Story. The first part, at least: I've had my fair share of humiliating school moments. The name-calling, unpopularity, and being played out constantly. Back then my friends were fellow nobodies: drama students or just plain eccentric people. Till today I can say that I don't have huge followings or cameraderie, but I do find loyalty in a few great girl and guy friends who care nothing about being "in" or hip. My family members, like everyone else's, used to get on my nerves a lot back in the day, but I have grown closer to them since.

And though I wouldn't say that the love of my life is a carbon copy of what they describe the heroes to be in stories (pensive, quiet boys who are actually vampires, musicians or politicians' sons and like poetry), I've definitely found someone who's eccentric, funny and smart. He's not the most popular guy ever, definitely (because I realised that the popular ones are full of trouble and love their reputations more), but he's crazy, outgoing, ambitious and downright different. Best of all, he's real. There is never a time he'd make a fool of himself happily prancing around to the music, and he's ever-ready to be frank with someone whom he feels isn't being right about something. Not everyone can accept the way he is, and I love him more for it, because how many times are the well-liked ones ever true to themselves?

The only thing missing, however, would be the stardom I secretly yearn for. The movement of justice that screams out: YES, it IS possible for a nobody to become somebody. The day someone comes up to me and go, "Hi, we've been noticing you for a while, and would like to get you out there." Who doesn't long for this? There is that little smalltown girl in us that longs to make it in print one day. But perhaps reality is that only the rich and goodlooking get there.

I thought about it today. How the heck does one who is seemingly untalented and undeserving still manage to be handpicked by not one or two but many scouts? Easy: connections, lots of poster-face appearances, and status. The truth of life is that you need to have the status to climb higher. If you have no status, you have no cameraderie. If you have no cameraderie, you have no social standing. If you have no social standing, you have no networks. And if you have no networks, how the heck are people going to notice you?????

But there are many out there with no status. They're just really great people with awesome personalities and awesome talents. I certainly hope I'm one, and I very well see many of these people around me. If only I had that much resource to handpick them myself, and transform them into something greater. Some of them are so shy and unsure of how to make it big. I wish I could tell them to just stuff it and try anyway. But I really should start telling myself that, first.

The fear to want to venture out on my own is strong, because what if the bigger fish look down at puny me and go, "Who are you? You're a nobody. We're not going to read your book. We're not going to join your club. We're not going to vote for you. We're not going to attend your events. We gain nothing out of supporting you at all." It's happened - believe me. I tried.

Perhaps something would be different one day. Perhaps those who have envisioned the girl in cinders who eventually becomes queen of the ball actually saw such things happened, and that is why they wrote about it. But time is moving a little too fast, and I'm not getting any younger. When?

2009-05-10T14:36:00.002+08:00

News of the present AWARE exco, and also their sex-ed programme for secondary schools, are still being run frequently in the news, albeit not as often as before when Josie Lau's team was still around. And while the saga seems to be coming to a close, apparently there have been even more anti-LGBT comments and how the Straits Times and other Singapore online communities are trying to play on a pro-LGBT light.

If you ask me, I don't see why everyone is so against LGBT because aren't they all human like the rest of us? They love and they laugh and they cry like everyone of us. I like to think that the LGBT community experience the same fluttery feelings of falling in love, except that the genders are reversed.

Whether God meant for them to be gay or not, isn't really our decision to make, is it? There are plenty of statements in the Bible which clearly state that homosexuality is wrong, but then again, some others claim that homosexuality is a biological trait and cannot be corrected. Furthermore there are gays who are Christian. So, if they have received Christ wouldn't they go to Heaven like it was promised in the Bible?

Anyway I just thought that some people should stop being judgemental against them, and actually start loving them as normal people. Christians, particularly, should be more accepting of them and stop trying to force anti-homosexuality statements down their throats.

Hey, at the end of the day it's freedom of choice. You can do all you want to do to prevent them from rising up, but you still know that you have no control over their minds. So might as well let them exist. Right?

2009-05-08T20:07:00.004+08:00

Working at the hospital has been driving me nuts. I mean it in a good and bad way.

For the first few days I was pretty alright with the job. Not something I'd do for more than a month, or as a career. But definitely good for those who need cash. Like me.

So W and I decided to push for long hours. The job was pretty simple: take and record visitors' temperatures, key in or help fill in registration forms, and just make sure that everyone was safe, healthy, and wearing a face mask.

But most times we were sitting at the reception area, playing card games on the PCs. If there was an award to the most laidback temporary staff, it would be awarded to W and I.

I spent so much time sitting down taking particulars instead of holding the thermometer while standing at the entrance. When I finally got a chance to do the latter, I found that time moved by doubly slow. And so I daydreamed or wandered around a lot. Shoot me, I am such a slacker.

There was once I got to sit in front of the thermoscanner to check for those who had really high temperatures, hence displaying a very red 'aura' in their bodies. Three other girls accompanied me and we had so much fun making fun of blue people and those with red armpits that I spent a whole 4 and a half hours sitting there.

And then there were the mornings I met parents with little children wearing caps to cover their heads - these children were cancer-stricken and chemotheraphy took the life (and hair) out of them. And it really makes me wonder why God even lets children get cancer. It's bad enough that people get cancer and I don't know whether to look sympathetic or apathetic when they register at the counter in beanies and announcing that they will be going to the cancer centre. When a parent tells me she is going to chemo, and points to her child when I ask gently who the patient is, I just feel like crying.

Other than that, there are some screaming and impatient rich foreign middle-aged ladies who think that us taking down their particulars would cause them to be super-late for their appointment - when we only take 30 seconds. Then there are cute old couples who accompany each other, and they explain the whole diagnosis of what's wrong with them when we ask them where they are headed to. And then there are so many maids who push elderly patients in wheelchairs to their clinics, so much that when I asked a lady visitor with a wheelchair-bound granny for her work permit today, she said, "Huh? I'm not a maid! I'm her daughter!"

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

But while the anally no-brainer job started to lose my interest, the art school FINALLY emailed me with the training dates for teaching. Which meant, I finally achieved a proper job. And better yet, it would be just right for me. Flexible ad-hoc hours (within reason of course), good hourly pay, and plenty of time to do what I enjoy doing: teaching kiddy art.

2009-05-04T22:24:00.005+08:00

I have a group of three close guy friends. Let's call them W, Q and Z.

I knew W and Z through Q after a few drinking gatherings. W and Z were best friends since they were in the same tertiary institute; they even know each other's ex flames, ex best friends, and parents personally. Q and I got to know Z through W just this year, and Q and Z found out that they actually lived a few blocks away from each other. Imagine befriending someone who lives a stone's throw away from you. It's like living near a candy shop. So Q and Z started meeting up regularly for breakfast on mornings, and they'd hang out under the blocks after. It was pretty fun on some lazy days, where three of us would make pancakes at Q's place and watch HBO the whole afternoon.

W did not join our gatherings as much as I heard that he'd complained about Q and Z's estate being a little too far away for him. According to Z, W was pretty much an 'emo kid', always in his own melancholic world for no particular reason, and that it could get pretty annoying. Apparently W was jobless and always broke so he would freeload off Z for cigarettes and meals.

Well, I am a nurturing person by nature, so when I found a temporary job position for myself at the hospital, I decided to rope W in so that he'd have a job too. Z scoffed at me when I told him the news.

"Do you know that W can't be fucked to even work?"

"Well, I'm going to tell him that I already gave the agent his name and so he would find it harder to back out," I replied, "That way we'd see if he really wanted the job or not. If he can't be fucked, he wouldn't call the number that I'm about to give him."

And W called. We were both paired as partners for the job, and I found with relief that I had W as a working buddy, because the job was depressingly boring. I needed the cash so I had to work, but I know that if not for W's enthusiasm to clock in outrageously long hours and hence encouraging me with much fervour to do likewise, I would have probably not even continued after the first day.

I never thought I'd get close to W. He was the type that I figured I'd never click with, because he spoke quite a bit of Mandarin and I was clueless in that department. But we hit it off ever since the first day, and he became a really close friend over the weekend.

We'd talk about our other halfs, bitch about patients who just couldn't wait, and insulted each other while playing Bejeweled online. And we shared our problems.

Today W confided in me about Q and Z. Apparently, he felt very left out as they were always going on and on about an addictive online game that he did not want to get involved in. He told me that it was because of the game's addictive nature that his studies had slipped and he eventually dropped out of school. He did not want history to repeat itself as he was picking up his life and being more responsible. I felt that that was a very mature mindset.

On the other hand, he was mocked by Q and Z about it constantly. However, when he asked them to join him in another less time-consuming game that they used to play together, they'd push him away saying that the game was not as good as the addictive one.

"But why don't you just try to talk to Z about it?" I asked, concerned, "He is your best friend after all."

"Yeah right. Ever since Q and Z found out that they live near each other, they're always in their own world and they never include me in their outings. They only choose to hang around their estate and berate me for not wanting to come over often enough, when it's so difficult for me to do so. But when I ask them to meet me at my estate, they never do. At the end of the day, if I want to be with my friends, I have to go to them, but they never come to me."

"Geez." I was stunned by how Q and Z were acting. Immediately those stories about W being the "emo kid" were justified. Q and Z were being kinda... exclusive. It was true. Even I had to go to their estate to meet them, just because it was more convenient for both of them and they always claimed to be broke or the weather being too hot to go out. But what about W and I? We were the jobless ones who could not afford our bus fares, let alone lunch. And it is hot all around the island. Wouldn't we be feeling it too? I contemplated the thought; wouldn't it be more fair for the two of them to go to wherever either one of us were, as they could travel back home together? If not, what was wrong with meeting in the middle? That hardly happened.

And besides, wasn't Z W's best friend? He had only recently met Q. It was not really fair to bitch about W behind his back, or exclude him, even.

I felt bad. So I raised the issue to Q, who immediately got annoyed. "W never makes the effort. Ever since he got out of the army he had been jobless. He's always waiting around so why should we make the effort for him?"

That was not true. Just that day, W was encouraging me to take more shifts for the rest of the month. He was so motivated to earn money. I asked him whether he'd splurge on himself when Pay Day came and he said, "No.. Not really. I'll probably buy things for my girlfriend. And give some money to Z."

That statement had immediately moved my heart. He did not even think of himself first. He was hardworking for the mere reason that he wanted to make others happy. And to think he would still give some money to Z, who could not even appreciate his existence, and still constantly left him out of his life.

I knew Q did not see Z's real nature, but I was not to be defeated. We were to meet Q and Z that night so I told W, "Whatever it is, don't show them that you're upset about being left out. You should smile more, laugh more, and participate more in the conversations. It'd leave them wondering why you're such a changed person."

That night, I sat in angry silence as I listened to Z go on and on about how he wanted to "level up" in his game and how nothing else mattered because he had no other committments. I listened to Z persuading them to just join him for one hour of the other game, and the other two just retorted, "One hour?! That's a waste of time! In one hour, I could do so much in the other game. I'm not going to play with you. It's just too bad that you don't want to play with us."

If I had a gun that night, there would have been murder.

I chided Q, "Please just play for an hour with him. If that's the best you can do. Just make him happy, as he's done his best tonight to be optimistic and participative."

Didn't happen.

My heart was, and still is, with W. Whether or not he is feeling shitty for himself is the biggest worry in my head right now. In many times in my life I had been the one who got excluded out of social groups because of weird or petty reasons, and I knew that it really sucked. Seeing W in the situation that I was once in broke my heart, and I knew from the moment he poured his heart out to me about his lost best friend, that I would fight for him no matter what. No one should ever be left out like that, especially if they had never done a thing wrong. Even if W had overreacted previously, it was only because he was afraid of losing his friend, and what is wrong with that?

And so I have made a vow to myself that, starting tomorrow, I would be the most supportive friend that W needs so much. I never thought that I would be there for the excluded, but when I recall the pain that I had gone through myself, and how much I had longed for someone to stand up against the rest and be there for me, I decide that this time, I would be the first one to stand up.

2009-05-03T23:23:00.003+08:00

The Extraordinary General Meeting for the Association of Women for Action and Research (Aware) took place yesterday and the results were, as I had hoped, far from amazing. I was so pleased to receive Google alerts on the now former 'new guard' 's downfall last night.

When I found out a month back from my mother that Aware had been overtaken by a new group of women with uncannily the same religious background (and even more coindentally, the same religious institution), my bullshit detector went off. When it comes to religion, my senses are heightened and I am ready to take on any debate.

I used to be a very devout Christian who spent my weekends at Church, worshipping, serving and doing almost anything for my church. And due to a turn of unfortunate events that happened, I found my eyes opening on what I had ignored for almost two years of my life.

I'm sure you must know by now that more than anything, I crave acceptance from people. I was 'one of them', you could say, at Church. I served in ministries, interacted well with my peers, and responded to every sermon with an open heart and childlike faith. And then one day, I fell in love with someone from the church.

He was my best friend and a great companion. For the first time in my life I found a partner I could study with. He was great at Math and I sucked at it. It was an important year for us so many afternoons found us at the libraries or fast food joints, mugging to our hearts' content. His mum loved me, and my mum loved him too. When I had a heartbreak, I'd moan to him about it. When he had a crush, he'd seek me for advice on how to land a date with a girl. And one night, I just found myself thinking of him so much that I knew it could not be just friendship.

And as the months passed, I realised that I had found someone who saw me through my 'invisibility'. You cannot imagine my elation then. He was sweet and was the first boy who held my hand. And best yet, we were God-fearing, ministry-serving individuals. And in Christian context (or at least according to the books I read on relationships), it was a great start.

Until we brought the matter up with the youth pastors and their response was not what we had bargained for.

"If you really love God," I remember one of them saying, "You would break this up and try to live life serving God while single."

I was 16 and so were he. We were innocent, we were respectful, we were naive. We put our blossoming relationship to an end.

Clearly I was devastated and very lost. However I was grateful to see that many hands were reaching out to me, trying to pull me back up into my usual fervour. And believe me, I tried so hard. I worshipped harder than ever, I threw myself into Church camps and activities. I wanted to believe that I could get out of this.

And in the end I really did get out of that heartbreak, but in a way that even I had not expected.

It was about 6 to 7 months after the heart-shattering experience and I was still mourning. I remember it so clearly: Just one week, everyone was there for me and I had mentors guiding me. Friends were there taking me out swimming and tanning. And a week later, suddenly, everything stopped. It was like I was suddenly thrown into a room of vaccuum. Bit by bit I saw one of my closest girl friends avoiding me; she would always take the bus home with me after church, but that day, she rushed off to a friend's car asking for a ride back. And after that, she stopped inviting me to her place, or speaking to me online. I was considered as a group leader to lead some younger Christians. Suddenly, the idea was dropped. I don't know how exactly I could explain it, but I was starting to be excluded. And I had a feeling it was because I was starting to look like a burden.

And so I stopped going back.

It used to be as natural as breathing; attending service each week without fail, and cancelling or dropping other events just for it. But as the new year came and went, and I realised that I no longer felt motivated to go, I started adding my name into Saturday and Sunday shifts for work (I used to leave evenings free before). And one day, I just slipped out of my innocent, Christian life.

As I lost my innocence to the real world around me, I decided to try to look at other religions. Perhaps something in me was prompting me to look elsewhere. It was definitely an experimental transition for me. I was in a new relationship with a Muslim boy and so I decided to take up Islamic classes to learn about the religion. I spoke to people of many other religions and even picked up the Tao Te Ching. And funnily enough somehow, I could not shake off my Christian beliefs even though I stopped going to Church.

Life really is different when you're not faithfully practicing religion. Maybe it was because I saw the real world, but I didn't like the tribulations presented, and I thought, "Hey, perhaps I really need to go back to Church after all. Enough experimenting!"

So I decided that I should go back to that old Church. I scolded myself for being childish to think that they were 'against me' (why would they, really! I was the stubborn one who refused to move on..right?) and told myself to go back and rededicate my life. But the moment I stepped back into the area, I knew that I no longer belonged.

Old friends whom I had known before, were now in relationships with each other. What a disgusting shock. I recalled how the pastors had berated my puppy love and I for wanting to get into a relationship, and now look at the number of couples popping up all around the church.

And even though I had come back like a 'lost sheep', there was no shepherd. In fact, I believe that the shepherds were too busy doting on all the other sheep who had stayed and played favourites. I remember how a friend used to call the Church members 'elite' because they grouped themselves tightly in cliques and were unfriendly to others who were not 'part of them'. I thought it was a childish and jealous opinion. But now, I saw it all. There were the musicians who constantly received praise for their "awesome worship session"; the girls who called themselves the Smallies because they were all skinny, cute and small; and other groups who took no notice of any other newcomers, or new-oldcomers, particularly me. I tried to ignore this "Satantic" thought, and proceeded to speak to a youth pastor on how I would like to rededicate my life to Christ. I said, "I'd like to get baptized again, actually. And be committed by joining a group that could constantly hold me accountable."

Imagine my shock when I received these words: "You have to prove to me that you are really serious before I let you get baptized. And at the moment, all groups are full, so you would have to wait."

So now becoming a Christian needed an initiation? And since when did God ever "wait" on His children?? How many times have I heard the saying, "When you draw close to God, God will draw close to you"? How true is this fact now in my context? Hardly.

Whether or not it was the religion at fault, I could see that none of them had the interest in helping me get back on my feet. I guess they believed that I was still sulky, childish old me, and that they did not want to go through all the trouble only to get 'burned'. Well I didn't know that Church organisations worked like Gym memberships.

One day, I met up with my old puppy love mate. We are now still good friends even though we are both attached to other people. As it turns out, he left Church not too long after I did, because he believed that it was too impossible to grow amongst them.

"Look at them. They are only bothering about their own little groups, and thinking about how much better they can become. Do they ever look at the rest of us, who are not as 'rich' or 'talented in music' or 'fashionable' as they are?" He lamented. I did recall that the reason why I loved him then was because he was not like 'the rest'. While the rest focused on being in groups and doing things together, he would talk to the ones who felt left out, and even choose to go out with his mum after service instead of going with them. While everyone else died to be in the worship team, he was contented with being in the children's ministry even if it meant that he would not be in the same place as them.

He was right. And I suppose, my suspicions had rung true as well. Religion, regardless of which one was the True one, was not supposed to be exclusive and elite. While everyone else around me grumbled that the Christians were always trying to brainwash them like a "multi-level marketing" company would, I had first-hand experience that the ones who had fallen from grace were, in fact, not given a second chance. Just because we had strayed for a while, we could not be let back in because we were no longer 'trusted'.

And so now, I float like a wandering spirit in and out of religion, because I am not sure if I could trust it again. When I found out about how the "Sisters" of Aware's new guard were acting, I was instantly miffed by how they 'excluded' those who were not 'right' like them.

The lesson of inclusiveness in Christianity that I learnt as Miss Invisible was, and is still valuable to me. Although I had lost dear friends due to this practice of exclusivity, I started to be mindful of those who had backslided, or were of a different religion or belief. Perhaps, back in the day when I was one of them, I had despised such discriminated groups as well. Fallen Christians, or those of other faith, are to be more respected than the ones who profess themselves to be of the True Religion (and then hardly practice it). If Christianity were to be really true like how I still hope for it to be, perhaps my role in this world would be to include all those who were discriminated. I truly love them more than my own supposed "Brothers and Sisters in Christ".

2009-05-01T02:08:00.003+08:00

I received a friend request from a familiar face tonight. Unfortunately, he isn't my friend. In fact, he triggers memories of the time I had less than friends.

During secondary school, I was a blooming, walking biological epitome of puberty. I had oily hair, oily skin, and really bad complexion. And when I mean bad, I mean terrible. The type you take one look at and go screaming down the other direction of the street. Okay, for the lack of exaggeration, my face was sprouting huge yellow or red pimples on a daily basis (one went down and another grew in the meantime), and I was just RED. And for that reason, I was the biggest joke of the school population from the very first year I enrolled.

Senior girls walked past me calling nicknames. I was constantly confronted by the gangster-wannabes who thought that I had a 'problem' because I was not afraid of their taunts - to be honest, I was more than terrified, but I never let it show; I just continued to be my usual chatty self with others, and they did not like that I seemed unaffected. Guys dared each other to see who could 'get together' with me the longest without getting nauseous by looking at my face. Friends fell out with me because they had to choose between staying with me and getting mocked for it, and shunning me and being normal like the rest of the school; they chose the latter choice. Even teachers refused to take my side; they saw me as a misfit who could not be well-behaved like the rest of the girls in the class.

I even had a very unoriginal nickname. Remember the period the world was hit by the SARS virus? Three quarters of the upper secondary population used to call me SARS - acronym for Sue Ann Really Sucks (they did not have enough intelligence to find out that my name is not two, but one. So technically if Sueann really sucks, it would be SRS. But hey.)

All of the aforementioned were just acts of schooltime immaturity, and in reality, it happens in high schools everywhere till this day. There is always the "Dunce" of the school. Too bad, it had to be me. And till this day, I still have trouble coming to terms with my own esteem because I always can always remember how people shunned me due to my awkwardness, ugliness, or lack of social status. But it's getting better, I promise.

By the way, this was the period of my life that I labelled myself Miss Invisible. Not because I was invisible (I guess I was not, judging from all the teasing that put me in the spotlight of notoriety), but because I felt like I was nothing, serving no value in the eyes of everyone else around me. Within the frequency of mainstream popularity, I was a wallflower amongst the "cheerleaders" and "jocks" and "prom kings and queens". And like Marie Digby hoped for someone to notice her in a good light, I hoped the same. But I guess the opportunity did not present itself till later in my life, which is a different story.

So anyway, this particular 'no-friend-of-mine' dude was a year my senior, and he used to scream "PIMPLY-FACE!!!!" at me from the second floor whenever he saw me. I was 15 and an emotional wire. At that time I thought that the teasing days were over the moment I stepped up to the upper secondary category. I guess some people just don't grow up.

Years later after I had graduated, I bumped into the bugger on my way to the beach. He did a double take when he saw me and I didn't really know whether that was a good or bad thing until I received a friend request from him and a message asking me, in a very uncool fashion, to accept it as "I from ur school also he he". (I swear those were the exact words. I still remember them after 3 years.)

I ignored his request, but was embraced by more persistent requests and messages saying the same thing (of course phrased differently, but still in the wonderful command of English language). I am not one who blocks people on my social networking sites because I believe in forgiveness and tolerance. So I merely deleted and ignored these pesky notifications. And alas, here I am on a new social networking site, and what else may I find tonight but his friend request?

I decided to be blatant about my reasons behind ignoring his friend requests, and so sent him a message. The following is how our short conversation went:

me: sorry I don't know you.
him: i *insert name* *insert school* (yes there is no error in my grammar here. He basically said "I John Garden Secondary".)
me: yeah the one who called me Pimply-face! We're not friends.
him: =.= sorry

I guess I made my point clear to him.

It's not surprising how looks can so easily switch the mindset of someone so shallow. I was once ugly and he did not hesitate to insult me in my face. I guess I became slightly better looking as I grew up, and that resulted in him persistently wanting to be my friend suddenly.

And funnily enough, I've seen it happen even with supposedly 'grown up' young adults. A girl is a nobody until she gets together with an It Boy. Immediately everyone wants to be friends with her. A misunderstanding takes place between two, and people abandon the not-so-cool one for the one with higher power and better social standing. A boy can't decide whether to choose between two girls, and his friends offer that the cuter, smaller sized one is better even though she had constantly badmouthed the other plainer, bigger sized girl. Okay, I'm saying this on the context that I have thoroughly investigated the true opinions of each party and I am not jumping to conclusions. Anyway, they're just mild examples. And, we read about it all the time in chick-lit books like Gossip Girl. Looks like the ideals of favouritism and social castes aren't new.

But it makes me happy, somehow. Because it's comforting to know that I don't have to make childish choices driven by groupthink. Maybe, I have this "no-friend-of-mine" to thank. Along with 75% of the school population.

2009-04-29T22:25:00.003+08:00

I have a mission.

My mission is to do all it takes to earn a large pool of money for the upcoming big sale which will take place in about a month.

The other day I was flipping through a chick mag when my eyes landed on the events calendar. Most of the events were boring: stars' birthdays, movie previews, and other paparazzi-indulgent days that I frankly have no interest for.

And then I saw it.

The news being announced in font size 10 print. A sale. THE sale. The Annual Sale That Every Girl Would Die To Participate In Every Year. It was the sale I'd been missing out on each year because I'd exhaust my funds by the time June came around, forgetting that I could have waited for the darned sale to put my moolah to good use.

I checked my calendar. I had a little more than a month.

I checked my purse. I had about fifty cents in the coin pouch, and if I remember correctly, about a dollar in my bank account.

I checked my employment status. Jobless. It had been a tough period for many of us who had been laid off from our jobs late last year. Thanks to the merciless death of many big organisations that led to one of the worst recessions of late, companies big and small were looking to shrink their staff count, and those looking to increase were met with a hundredfold desperate jobseekers (such as yours truly). If I applied for a job matching my diploma qualification, I'd lose to someone with a better skill. If I downgraded myself to an entry level or no-qualification job, I'd lose to someone with a lower qualification and hence a lower salary expectation. To cut the story short, no one wanted to hire me.

But the Material Girl in me was screaming. I had not hit the stores since January, and that was only because I had to purchase new outfits for Chinese New Year. Besides, Mother had been the kind soul who offered to pay for the two outfits. I wanted the rush of being able to purchase as many things as I wanted, with a big budget.

I was sick of recycling my old clothes. They were getting loose and saggy at the sleeve holes, anyway. And it had been ages since I'd really pampered myself. I really really wanted a wardrobe overhaul.

As a result, out of desperation and newfound motivation, I devised the said mission. Currently my net worth was nearly non-existent, so I'd have to start building a fund from scratch.

After a few cigarettes, resourcing, researching, and nearly tearing my hair out, I had a three-page game plan.

Three-quarter of the ideas are embarrassing, and some of them could end up as total failures, seeing that I need a lot of social backup to make them happen, and clearly, I don't even have much of that to begin with. (Tried and tested: the last time I tried to market an online gift shop on a social networking site, I did a background check and realised that 75% of the people I hang out with ignored my invite. Supportive, eh.) And so, to make the mission successful, I need loads of humility, and loads of luck. We'll see about that.