Yes, I finally have in my collection the paperback version of Book 6 in the Harry Potter series! The rain could not dampen my spirit as I walked from Paya Lebar MRT to Eunos last Sunday with the Popular plastic bag clutched in my hand and the other balancing an inadequate umbrella. (I could not bear putting it my bag for fear of it being crushed) I'll finish my Order of The Phoenix reading number 4 before I get started on it. Still gathering my “it's-there-even-if-others-don't-see-it” hidden and subliminal intimations on the H-Hr relationship. Yes, I live in my little own fictional world where the love of Harry James Potter and Hermione Jane Granger prevails!!
On a more brooding mood, I was once again asked that afternoon in a massage session, my age. Upon hearing that I was thirty, the client exclaimed, incredulously (translated), “Then how come you are doing this kind of job?”
I was stunned momentarily.
It never occurred to me before, that being a massage therapist could be viewed as a lowly or perhaps menial occupation. She then went on to raise her concerns about CPF etc. I told her I had admin jobs before but the hours were killing and my days were long. She looked at me then like I was a half-wit and said, “Well life is like that.” I disagreed and said it does not have to be lived that way. It's a choice.
I wasn't disturbed or angry. It just set me thinking, on my journey to my Half-Blood Prince, the number of times I will have similar conversations in the future. Maybe I should devise a pre-recorded elucidation of sorts.
Till the next time.
The half-wit bids you goodnight.
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