Nobody will understand me..

As what I believe smacks me in my face,
Knowing that is not the norm.
Nobody will support my need,
To become a mother - stay at home.

I see toddlers fall ill time and again,
From the spread of virus at care centres.
I see myself quitting my high paying career,
In search of a fulfilling job I yearn.

Yet no man can support a family,
Single-handedly without income from the wife.
How can I protect my children if I have,
From the pushing around at child care?

My user told me his daughter picked that up,
The very first day she attended infant care.
My contractor shared with me his observation,
Of children whose mother doesn't stay home.

Stark contrast he told me, in terms of kindness,
Sweetness and innocence of children.
Why manufacture children like machines?

My heart is weeping so deeply,
Irrational yet truly concerned.
A life, I wished I had ended years ago.

Anger..

Anger fills and haunts me through,
Run as I might to no avail.
Attempts to quell seemingly fail,
Outbursts of fury follows my trail.
Can love so deep be so frail?

Struggling to escape this burning fire,
Within the heart, swamped with mire.
I try to cool, I calmy simmer,
Within soothing music, in my ears.

How to undo being so blue,
Angsty problem seemingly prevail.
Running away seems my only instinct,
Despite knowledge that is no solution.
Can love really conquer all?

Foreigners

How can I deceive myself? How much longer can I be deceived? When I started my morning walking back from the clinic, i suspiciously eyed the auntie with big curls long hair standing beside me. In her plastic bag from NTUC i spotted two cans of peaches. A cheena woman? I was later affirmed of my suspicions when her cans dropped out of her bags, (i dunno how she carry one la) and into the drain, heard her speech and immediately recognised that cheeena irk.

Just yesterday I went to the Istana, as i walked in with umbrella over head I saw so many foreigners strolling out with their umbrellas overhead. ang-mohs are easily recognisable, but what about the Myanmese, Viets and Indians? I couldn't tell. But then at Sakae for dinner, just at the table diagonal to me was a group of ang-moh family.

Just what happened to the locals? I'm beginning to muse even more deeply. Could it be that they all hide at home? And what do they feed on!? Or they slog 24/7? So we only see them at work?!

Marketing..

Can you believe i'm choosing pork based on origins? Saw the Indo Pork at Giant and got a little apprehensive.. and felt relieved to see Australian Pork but STILL.. i dunno how to choose pork!!! You want it light pink? dark pink? but some looks a bit too black.. so I gave up.. i took a packet of cheese sausages instead! lol...

Same for the mushrooms.. i saw, Malaysia mushroom? should be quite ok.. China mushroom!? omg.. got poison anot? lol...

Now all cooked But But But... my lips still numb from dental...

Note to self: no dental after five pm... the numbness is not gone after three hours!!!!

Musings..

And I went to the FLA exhibition... to learn that there's so much franchises around me..

My friend and I was sharing about our lives and concluded on how busy all Sgreans are. We forget about our parents picking things up after us, we take for granted our dear friends cleaning our mess. We forget our keys, miss out important details, skip meals... all for busynes... what busyness?!

I want, for my life, i will have, TIME. Time to pick up my own mess, time to finish my own laundry, time to notice the worries of the man sitting beside me on the SBS bus, and time to allow passengers to alight. TIME to indulge in the learning of dressmaking, time to slowly figure out how to make food taste good. Time to prepare oneself mentally for partnership, and time to engage your loved ones as part of your life.

I guess, also, time to finish working on my Mozart. People nowadays like POP. WHy pop? Pop is like fake resonance from the electric guitar. Pop is like the imitation of our instruments in terms of absolute numbers: 60Hz, 61Hz. But no, life is non-digital. life is analogue. A tone is 60.87239Hz, maybe, or 60.123945Hz... that's analogue, we don't know.

Life should be classical. Slow, patient, practised. Remaining classical in this world of POP. Respect the smelly students who squeeze the bus with you after work, appreciate the  spider that weaved its web-its work of art that you accidentally bumped into.