Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Beauty Is An Ecstasy
D.H. Lawrence once said:
“Beauty is an experience, nothing else. It is not a fixed pattern or an arrangement of features. It is something felt, a glow or a communicated sense of fineness. What ails us is that our sense of beauty is so bruised and blunted, we miss all the best.”
Perception of beauty is indeed subjective and should be perceived intrinsically. Unfortunately, it is more often than not visually interpreted at a moment, no matter how fleeting. It is rarely given the chance to grow, to develop from contact and conversation. Perhaps it is a case of ‘the law of nature’, a programmed internal radar for what is beautiful.
I have been bestowed with various compliments surprise, surprise. Beautiful brown eyes, beautiful lips, beautiful smile, ‘a face that’ll bring fortune’ (a taxi driver said this) but I guess the sum of these parts can never make up the woman that I am. Not to most of the homosapien males anyway.
Ultimately though, the only perception of beauty that should matter is that of your own. As for myself, there are good days and bad. And I live through them the best I know how.
“Beauty is an experience, nothing else. It is not a fixed pattern or an arrangement of features. It is something felt, a glow or a communicated sense of fineness. What ails us is that our sense of beauty is so bruised and blunted, we miss all the best.”
Perception of beauty is indeed subjective and should be perceived intrinsically. Unfortunately, it is more often than not visually interpreted at a moment, no matter how fleeting. It is rarely given the chance to grow, to develop from contact and conversation. Perhaps it is a case of ‘the law of nature’, a programmed internal radar for what is beautiful.
I have been bestowed with various compliments surprise, surprise. Beautiful brown eyes, beautiful lips, beautiful smile, ‘a face that’ll bring fortune’ (a taxi driver said this) but I guess the sum of these parts can never make up the woman that I am. Not to most of the homosapien males anyway.
Ultimately though, the only perception of beauty that should matter is that of your own. As for myself, there are good days and bad. And I live through them the best I know how.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Alma Mater
Some weeks ago, I was as usual with Saz accompanying her on her endless marking. At one point, she started writing something down and humming. (When she should have been marking!) She was attempting to recall our secondary school song. I joined in and between us (well maybe mostly her) managed to figure out the words.
We loved singing the song during our school days but always had difficulty with the pitch. The last line was always ended on a low unladylike note.
In tribute, here are the words:
“We cannot all be heroes and thrill a hemisphere
With some great daring venture, some deed that mocks at fear
But we can fill a lifetime with kindly acts and true
There’s always noble service for noble souls to do
We’re not all blessed with beauty, nor everyone with brain
But each from ever other has something good to gain
So let us make an effort to keep it as a rule
That each one needs the other within the Katong school
Then let us fill the hours with minutes truly spent
In helping one another towards a true content
So let us serve in honour and work for selfless fame
For credit of our country and glory of her name”
I wonder how proximate I am to the spirit of the song and our motto “Demure & Resolute”.
But I must confess, even after all these years, I find myself still inspired.
We loved singing the song during our school days but always had difficulty with the pitch. The last line was always ended on a low unladylike note.
In tribute, here are the words:
“We cannot all be heroes and thrill a hemisphere
With some great daring venture, some deed that mocks at fear
But we can fill a lifetime with kindly acts and true
There’s always noble service for noble souls to do
We’re not all blessed with beauty, nor everyone with brain
But each from ever other has something good to gain
So let us make an effort to keep it as a rule
That each one needs the other within the Katong school
Then let us fill the hours with minutes truly spent
In helping one another towards a true content
So let us serve in honour and work for selfless fame
For credit of our country and glory of her name”
I wonder how proximate I am to the spirit of the song and our motto “Demure & Resolute”.
But I must confess, even after all these years, I find myself still inspired.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Where Is My Darcy?
Of late, I find myself obsessing again over my favourite British classic novels. My favourites are Jane Austen, Elizabeth Gaskell and the Bronte sisters. Watching screen adaptations increases the fervour manifold. With the kind aid of the Progress Package I acquired for myself the most coveted DVDs of Wives & Daughters and Pride & Prejudice (BBC series and 2005 film versions). Needless to add that I was in heaven for about a week watching them.
But with that, the yearning to find a soul-mate, a companion, a man of my own surfaced again. I was not depressed. It just put me into a wistful mood. I miss being in love with someone. I miss the intense emotions that course through me, making alive every fibre of my being.
I have not found someone who moved me that way. Not since the last one. And somewhere in the clouds of despair that now and then overshadow me lies a tiny glitter of hope. That it’ll happen again. Till then, I amuse myself with my celluloid heroes.
In the words of a Billie Holiday song:
“Someday we’ll meet
Then you’ll dry all my tears
Then whisper sweet little things in my ears
Hugging and a-kissin’
Oh what we’ve been missing
Lover man oh where can you be?”
But with that, the yearning to find a soul-mate, a companion, a man of my own surfaced again. I was not depressed. It just put me into a wistful mood. I miss being in love with someone. I miss the intense emotions that course through me, making alive every fibre of my being.
I have not found someone who moved me that way. Not since the last one. And somewhere in the clouds of despair that now and then overshadow me lies a tiny glitter of hope. That it’ll happen again. Till then, I amuse myself with my celluloid heroes.
In the words of a Billie Holiday song:
“Someday we’ll meet
Then you’ll dry all my tears
Then whisper sweet little things in my ears
Hugging and a-kissin’
Oh what we’ve been missing
Lover man oh where can you be?”
Friday, May 05, 2006
CATS
No, I’m not talking about the musical. (Which I wouldn’t pay to see by the way no matter how much I love the creatures. Sorry Mr. Webber though I do adore ‘Memory’-the song.) I’m talking about this need I have lately to own one. It would be so nice to have a little grey/ginger/black kitty to come home to after a day at the shop. The furry bundle to cuddle up to while catching a bit of tv or reading in bed, fishy breath and all.
Then it hit me.
LONELY SPINSTER = CAT/S
Was I succumbing to the classic single woman stereotype? Needless to say I was perturbed. The clock must be ticking so hard and my nesting instinct was on full mode. I recalled, if my memory served me well, watching some episode of C.S.I. (Las Vegas of course – there can only be ONE!) where single women were being murdered by a serial killer and hey guess what, almost all had cats!!
Maybe it’s just an overblown generalization but for now my feline yearning has been put on hold. Kept in check by the knowledge that my mum would probably nag at me for it will be her in actual fact who would be taking care of little Smoky/Sunny/Ebony.
Then it hit me.
LONELY SPINSTER = CAT/S
Was I succumbing to the classic single woman stereotype? Needless to say I was perturbed. The clock must be ticking so hard and my nesting instinct was on full mode. I recalled, if my memory served me well, watching some episode of C.S.I. (Las Vegas of course – there can only be ONE!) where single women were being murdered by a serial killer and hey guess what, almost all had cats!!
Maybe it’s just an overblown generalization but for now my feline yearning has been put on hold. Kept in check by the knowledge that my mum would probably nag at me for it will be her in actual fact who would be taking care of little Smoky/Sunny/Ebony.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Revisiting
As I get older, I have this apprehension of revisiting. Not places but myself, in the past. The me, who went crazy over a fad or a film or a pop star. You know the moment when you look back at an episode or phase in your life, or encounter again a guy you had this huge crush on and you say to yourself, “WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?”
But I realise you never can go wrong with books. Good ones that take your breath away then and still have the power to do it again now. One that really stuck with me through the years is this narrative called ‘I Capture the Castle’ by Dodie Smith. I first read the book when I was probably about fifteen and completely fell in love with it.
The main character, the seventeen year old Cassandra Mortmain enamoured me. I admired her voice and her head. I could relate to her even if she was living at the other side of the world and in a different era. And of course her quiet romance with the gentle, kind and almost perfect Simon Cotton was enviable.
A couple of weeks ago, I chanced upon it at the Tampines library and borrowed it. I managed to finish it in a night last Thursday. It was somewhat odd having the same feelings course through me as I was reading the words and visualising the scenes in my mind. The going-on thirty year old me still had the same appreciation for the book. I didn’t feel silly or question my taste and judgement. In a way, I felt comforted. Like it was some kind of affirmation of the person I had become.
Perhaps, it’s just the timeless nature of well-thought out words; efficacious and emotive, no matter what age we’re in.
“Contemplation seems to be about the only luxury that costs nothing”
I Capture the Castle
But I realise you never can go wrong with books. Good ones that take your breath away then and still have the power to do it again now. One that really stuck with me through the years is this narrative called ‘I Capture the Castle’ by Dodie Smith. I first read the book when I was probably about fifteen and completely fell in love with it.
The main character, the seventeen year old Cassandra Mortmain enamoured me. I admired her voice and her head. I could relate to her even if she was living at the other side of the world and in a different era. And of course her quiet romance with the gentle, kind and almost perfect Simon Cotton was enviable.
A couple of weeks ago, I chanced upon it at the Tampines library and borrowed it. I managed to finish it in a night last Thursday. It was somewhat odd having the same feelings course through me as I was reading the words and visualising the scenes in my mind. The going-on thirty year old me still had the same appreciation for the book. I didn’t feel silly or question my taste and judgement. In a way, I felt comforted. Like it was some kind of affirmation of the person I had become.
Perhaps, it’s just the timeless nature of well-thought out words; efficacious and emotive, no matter what age we’re in.
“Contemplation seems to be about the only luxury that costs nothing”
I Capture the Castle
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