the engagement ring

and my fingers are so fat. i just wanted to say that. hah!

Aquarius man is not so complex. When he has decided on something, you can’t change his mind. He’s pretty set in his ways. If he feels that a relationship isn’t completely fulfilling he’ll move on to something else until he finds what it is that IS fulfilling to him. Once found, it’ll be his for life. He is prone to more than one marriage, but once a right partner is found he will be faithful and loyal to her. Even if romance doesn’t bud, their friendship will.

Electrifying conversations and shocking similarities – these two phrases describe a relationship between a Gemini female and an Aquarius man aptly. Feeling the same things/situations, intuitively knowing what the other one will do before he or she does it and frequently throwing challenges at each other – wow, so much fun. Aquarius man shall often try to surprise her, but her uncanny ability to discover what he is trying to pull before he pulls it, will be upsetting yet he’ll admire that and then try another trick. He’ll constantly try to impress her by going a bit further and soon they’ll realize they are in love. They will have so many things to teach one another while trying to cultivate their relationship. They both combine the love and friendship aspects of their relationship, perhaps because they often confuse the two. If romance is not a factor they will still remain close friends as their interests remain quite similar. While trying to find the ‘stable’ in their relationship they may just find that they excite each other in the silly antics of day to day life they both indulge in. Although subtle, these actions will make for a fun and interesting relationship between the two.

For Gemini woman and Aquarius man, the need for a strong sexual relationship is not as important as it would be for most other couples. They are satisfied with the togetherness that they feel for one another almost in a fun, childlike way. When they do partake in love making it will be mutually satisfying for both, but there will not be a lot of intensity or passion in the act. They will basically be able to read each other and know what is to be expected. Yet, each night they’ll experience the unexpected. They must understand that simple things can bring the intensity needed to keep up sexual satisfaction. A look, a steady gaze, a simple touch and there you feel the magic of love.

Gemini woman’s flirtatious outlook may cause a problem, but mostly Aquarius man isn’t one to make a big deal out of some harmless acts from his Gemini woman. He often fuses friendship with love and the qualities that go along with each. There may be a bit of jealousy in there, perhaps not on his part, but she may wish he paid more attention to her and less toward his friends. Once in a while she’ll upset her Aquarius man, but she’s just as easily forgiven as she is to cause such a ruckus. Gemini woman is one creature who can charm her way out of such an argument and back into her lover’s arms. If Gemini woman can put herself in his shoes and see just how fickle she can be and the consequence she brings to the relationship because of this, she may tend to tone herself down and stable herself more into the relationship with her Aquarius man. They could both benefit from learning more about reliability and dependability.

A relationship such as this one is above and beyond most. Gemini woman and Aquarius man will unite to bring many realities together. A whimsical and fantastic reality with a bond that holds true to a friendship as well as a deeper relationship. They treasure their friendship because of its security and confidence. It takes much more courage and faith, however, to go beyond friendship into a deeper love. Their friendship is a wonderful and strong bond they have together, but sometimes it causes them to give up a love that could be strong.

Source: http://www.ask-oracle.com/sign-compatibility/gemini-woman-aquarius-man/

I have to say, my job, not god, saved my relationship. If you know me well enough, you’ll know that I’m ALWAYS working. I’m not a workaholic by choice, I’m just destined to slog like hell my whole life. So, while I’m seemingly married to my work, the boyfriend is like a mistress. And we all know how much we love mistresses!

To all the 14-hour work days, all the burnt weekends seem to be worth it now. Isn’t this warped.

My theory is, the more time you have on hand to spend with your partner, the more opportunities to notice the flaws of him/her, the higher the chances of you finding fault. It is almost human – we like things that are scarce. And the more something is in abundance, the more we commodify it. The Law of Diminishing Marginal Returns is such a bitch, it’s true.

It’s just like how others say you need to give one another “space” and “own time” (while my “own time” is basically spent working) you need periods of time where you cool off one another, update your own facebook account, beat your own angry bird high score, write a blog entry that maybe 2.5 persons will read.

Another view that I have is that – same age relationships are difficult. My parents are of the same age, the boyfriend and I are both born in 1985. Females mature faster than males. And without NS, the gap just becomes a hell of a gaping hole. The boyfriend is not exactly the most romantic or exciting person on earth, but he handles all the admin stuff in my life like a trusty personal assistant. While some people might think that we’re a relationship of convenience, I see it more of a tag team. We make up for one another’s shortcoming, and sooner than you know, you can’t live without one another because no one else can have that kind of chemistry and trust like the boyfriend can provide.

To me, romance is child’s play. I’ve always thought, live your fullest when you’re young and at all cost, avoid quarter life crises. I’ve seen so many goody two shoes go berserk once they reach the big two-five. It is appalling. I sound like a jaded old fuck, but let’s be honest. After all the partying and flighty relationships, I’m convinced I’ve seen enough to know what I truly need and deserve in life. While the boyfriend is not a millionaire, doesn’t drive, loves iPhone applications too much, he is… enough. Enough for me to look forward to an evening out, enough for me to smile when I get his morning messages.

Good men are hard to come by. But bad boys are the ones girls hate to love. While I have pondered upon how it would be like to be with a loaded, mature guy, I’ve dated enough of them to know that most of them are just plain dodgy. And most of them are attached, and cheating.

So…

The boyfriend is complaining behind me. It’s important to make concessions for one another. It’s important to come to a median. But sometimes, breakups aren’t necessarily a bad thing. They can be devastating but life changing at the same time.

Goodbye.

1) Get hitched

2) Break up

Extremities are always a funny thing and crossroads are so extreme they aren’t funny.

I’m trying to not go all neurotic about being in a 5-year relationship, but Hollywood and romance novels always plays up on the new, the better looking and the more charming that will blow your mind away. And being a Gemini, it’s not always easy to be bought over by familiarity and sentimentality.

So while I struggle and submerge myself at the same time in routine – ie. weekends = boyfriend and nobody else comes in between – I started thinking… Is he the one?

Don’t worry, I’m not a “The One” hunter. I don’t believe in the knight in shining armour, I don’t dig the whole true love thing, honestly. But I can’t deny how foreboding all these negative examples around us.

Sugar and I are in the process of getting a flat. And I’m excited by the fact that I’m getting to do up my own home… from the dark bedroom to the walk-in wardrobe to the photoshopped centre piece I’d love to incorporate within the living room (I’ve always wanted to be a designer!). We’re even in talks of getting the engagement ring (my mom has volunteered to bring the bf to her jeweller). By the way, I think I’m going to get to choose my own ring, just in case! Sugar has had a quite a few misses when it comes to… female fashion.

So, what makes us think we can stay together?

I’ve shocked many people with the “no kids!” talk. Frankly, I really don’t mind having kids, provided we have a combined disposable income of about… S$15,000? And I’d like to take care of the kid myself, so it means Sugar will have to come up with an annual income of S$180,000? AHAHAHA.

I’m not the “oh I’m so scared it’d hurt”. I’m not a perfectionist, but I don’t want my kid to be under-treated in any way. I want him/her to have the best, I want him/her to be able to develop his/her talents at a tender age, I don’t want to have constraints.

So that sums up my theory of “no kids!”. Which makes growing old a scary thing.

I’m big on insurance policies. Because I’m functioning like I’d not have a kid to pay for my dentures and medical bills in the future.

And today, when I bugged Sugar for an answer to “why he thinks our relationship will last”, he managed a “because we haven’t killed one another yet” and went on with a better “I want to grow old with you”.

That’s really sweet, and I really love Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler, but what does growing old mean for a young couple like us? Without kids? What are we supposed to go to on weekends? Are we enough to keep the relationship going at 50?

Kids are scary. They cry, they poop, they have weekly spelling tests in school.

I don’t like that at all.

So what’s to become a childless marriage in 30 years’ time?

And why is this making me doubt marriage!?

Now, I realised the root of the problem, it’s not that I’m not sure about Sugar (altho he could be richer, funnier and less into tech gadgets and gangster shows on Crime and Investigation) it’s that I fear growing old!

Omg, I am one messed up person.

And I believe Sugar will get there someday… and be able to accompany me to concerts and plays and learn how to drink wine and… drive a nice car. Truthfully, besides these little things that are lacking (which are really not life and death), he’s a darling. He’s kind-hearted (most of the time), he respects my family (even tho he has pulled black faces before them previously under various circumstances) and makes me feel like I’m the smartest, funniest, most charming person on earth. HAHA.

So, I guess that sums it all up. Joanna isn’t afraid of getting married. She’s afraid of growing old.

She also happens to be afraid of children. So much so, she doubts she’s able to juggle being a mummy and an employee at the same time because that’d make her murderous and suicidal at the same time.

EEEK.

To the rest of the couples out there… Know what you’re in and know what you’re getting into.

And getting married means I can move out! Yeay!

Well, I’m not banking on him to get me any imitations or dabao any dimsum back home. Truth is, I’m torn between letting him gain more exposure and selfishly wanting my perennial weekend partner in crime to be back. He’s become my favourite person to hang out with, I’ve been extremely glad my bf comes close to being my bff. Of course, he pisses me off sometimes (many times), that’s what friends do. And that’s what makes our relationship so special. If he were my bff, I’d definitely had cheered him on, like how I’d cheer Prasad on anytime if he’s given such a great opportunity. But as a lover and someone dealing in the romantic eco-system who also resides in the sphere of le familia, it is hard. The following weekends will never be the same and worst of all, there’s Vesak Day. It’s just like how they say festivities make people more homesick than ever. While I’d have been planning on what to do on the strategically placed public holiday, I have my Mom to embrace. She’s packed her bags (with my help) and skirted off to Hainan Island on my Dad’s behalf. One strong woman, she is.

The thing is, I hate waiting for phonecalls. Sugar is supposed to be back in his hotel room following dinner with some colleagues. But he has not. And I’ve been waiting. My mind is a hotbed for freak accidents, and that is why I live life so carefully. I’ve always got this thought that anything we do, can lead to our death. Like. Climbing down the stairs, like being stuck in the lift while it plummets… Anything. My mind if an over-imaginative mess.

Well, I shall tuck in now and wait obediently for the boyfriend’s call. After all, it’s his first night in Shenzhen, I ought to cut him some slack. And I need to up my stakes in the bargain. The sweeter I am, the more brownies I can extort from him later.

BAHAHA.

Can you come back pls, Sugar?

Life to me is a simplistic pie. There’s a chunk for career, one for family, another for romantic relationships and one final portion for my own personal development. Each of them is heavily governed by varying levels of pride, suspicion, jealousy, optimism and pessimism. Of course, as much as I want to be a fatalist, I’m no Jekyll and Hyde. And I’m not as morbid as I imagine myself to be. All the negative feelings I once held so dear and lauded them as my very “unique selling point” have been diluted to become pawns of painful realism. Be practical. Dollar and cents. Input and output. At the end of the day, what is in for me?

So, what are my plans for the future? It really means what is there in the future for me? I’ve never been a good practitioner of self-determinism; I’d very much prefer to leave myself buoyant to fate. I’ve never gotten what I’d set out to achieve or chosen. I’ve learnt to settle for second bests, or the bearables. And when someone asks me this profound question, 2 months away from my 25th birthday, I’m lost for an answer.

I’d want to be a make-up artist, a hairstylist, a fashion designer. But where am I?

And I’d always aspired to be in marketing, to be writing, to be known for my flair. But somehow, things have been thrown off tangent – I’ve been thrown off tangent. But I’m enjoying the company, the learning process.

But then, is this what I want to do for the next 10 years?

Seriously, I don’t know. What I do know is that in the next 5 years, I want my own place, a car and work life balance. That’ll be when I’m 30. I’d been candid of this desire on my very first interview session. And I remain as that. I might be with Sugar, we might have a place in Punggol with dark walls and chandeliers, and 42inch LED TVs bought on whim and have a rainshower installed in my bathroom. Sugar could pick me up from work. We’ll go to my parents on weekends for a short get-together. Our bunny, maybe the second after Pony moves on to bunny heaven will have his own room. I’ll have a room dedicated to a superfluous amount of shoes, bags, clothes and accessories I do not wear. I’ll be at managerial level, I’ll be picking up a masters. I’ll start lecturing part time at a tertiary institution. I’ll finish writing my 3rd book. Be known for my quirky takes on plays, movies, whatever. Really?

You see, I know what are the end products I am aiming for, but I don’t have the routes mapped out like Google. So what would my career path be? So what would Sugar be working as? So who would be taking care of my ageing parents? Who’s going to take care of me when I’m old? I hate kids.

I’m at a point where I’m choosing to escape from my mirage of problems. I don’t know what to say but health is a great issue in my life at the moment. Health of others, health of my own, maybe. I don’t know. I might be thrown off tangent, once again. So what’s the point of planning? So what’s the point of goals and promises when nothing is ceteris paribus?

Optimism is only for the blessed, let’s just say that. I’d just live life like a roller-coaster ride – just close my eyes and wait for the 360s to be over.

Love Sugar more this year.

Sorry for being the phantom girlfriend. Any busier, I’d become your imaginary friend.

Of course, there were moments where I felt belittled, or that all that I was known for, appreciated was the very bane of my existence in the industry I’m in. Well, I would say, I feel grown up. Whether its true, is unimportant. Maturity, after all, is a state of mind. Let’s save ourselves from the philosophical bullshit.
So from rushing down to a god forsaken location with no semblance of public transportation whatsoever, after work, to having a 10-minute interview session that crumbled me, to sobbing on the cab back, telling myself it’s ok to die any moment now, to suddenly realising the experience accumulated from the very jobs that gave me zero-satisfaction paid off. To all the psycho-bitches and bastards in the world, look who’s having the last laugh now.

Some things remained constant. Brother still a perfect boyfriend, Dad still sick, Mom still the OCD mother who never fails to put you down and redeem herself with little thoughtful acts (though rare, they’re somehow existent), to Sugar and I heading into our 4th year, having spent 60bucks on silly-ly unsuccessful BTO applications, to the rapid growth but perennial uber-cuteness of my bunny, I appreciate the fact that, my life is still pretty much in tact. Even though dramas poured on us on the home front, sob-fests, disappointments, frustrations, angst on free-flow, my life is still, good in general.

I guess from here, you know where my priority lies. Sugar asked me this morning, “What is your new year resolution?”. I have many. Not exactly resolutions, but serious to-do tasks. In order of importance….

1. Earn alot alot alot of money

2. Get promoted

3. Lose more weight

I’ve pretty much established myself as a materialistic, superficial bitch. All the other useless stuff like sorting out my wardrobe or tidying up my room don’t count. Because those are not things that will gratify me. They are plain utilitarian.

As you can see, my major goal in life is to earn loads of money. Because in my world, many things are impossible without that. Hospital bills, check-ups, insurance coverage, housing, shoes, utilities, SCV cable TV, clothes all need money. And being able to pay for them makes me happy. Because it means my parents don’t have to pay for them.

Sure, money can’t make you happy. But money can ease worries, alleviate problems, cure ailments. It’s the one thing that I believe in. Before I earn enough money to not work, there’s nothing called self-actualisation. Ford and Taylor would have loved the rational economic man in me. I am mercenary that way.

So, my biggest hope for 2010 is, to get more money, be recognised for the sacrifices I make, for everyone around me to be free of pain.

And like how my little life always works out otherwise, I’m happy where I am, even though I didn’t only take the road less travelled, I didn’t even choose it.

It’s uncanny how life nudges me here and there, on and off, and I end up always at somewhere that, really ain’t too bad. Let me show you.

When I was 6, my Mom tried to enrol me into Red Swastika Primary, which was one of the more… branded ones around. I failed. So I got into Gongshang Primary, like my brother.

When I was 10, there was P4 streaming. I wanted to get into EM1 and be the cream of the crop. I did, but I went into the 2nd class instead of the first.

When I was 12, PSLE. I chose St Nicholas Girls’ School as my first choice. I ended up in Anderson Secondary School, dyed my hair at 14, became the biggest AH LIAN WANNABE in Northern part of Singapore.

When I was 16, O-levels. Finally, I entered St Andrew’s Junior College, my first choice. But I flunked Higher Chinese. I wanted to take History, Maths C, Econs. But there was no such option. So I chose a 4As course, History, Lit, Math, Econs. I flunked Math so badly, I dropped it. I ended up with History, Lit, Econs.

When I was 18, A-levels. I scored an A for Literature at A-levels, the very subject I’d never wanted to take. I got a C for History and an E for Econs. And a bloody A1 for Chinese AO.

When I was 19, there came university application. I applied for NUS. I wanted to read Lit. My score sucked. My GP was a joke of a C6. I was helpless, took up a receptionist job, resigned to being a blue collared worker. And then I got enrolled into SIM’s University of London course. My Mom’s friend’s daughter told her about it. Private schools were out of this world to me at that time. I’d gone to Stansfield before that, obnoxiously wanting to major in Lit. Almost killed my Mom with my stubbornness. I settled for a Business course. Bloody Business course and started a week later than everyone else, missing orientation, and introductory lessons altogether. Have I already mentioned I flunked Econs at As?

When I was 22, I graduated from SIM-UOL with a 2nd Upper Class Honours. Not too bad for someone who’d never wanted to take up Business at all. In the end, I fell in love with it. I loved International Business, I loved Corporate Finance, I loved that false sense of self-importance when you learn about the stock exchange and major MNC’s corporate strategies. I aspired to be a marketer, but my marketing module was a borderline tragedy. Upon graduation, I yearned for a job in an FMCG company’s marketing department. Needless to say, 70% of the female graduates in my league wanted the same damn thing. The remaining 30% wanted to work in banks. I ended up in a media agency. Left after 3 months.

When I was 23, I got into Kodak. I left after 9 months. Had a short stint at an interactive agency.  Joined the interior design firm that taught me how to survive in a treacherous environment. I left after 6 months. Looked for a job that allowed me to end work at 6pm.

And then, I turned 24. I landed a job in a shipping and logistics MNC that payed well, allowed me to end work at 6pm. The recession got the better of me. They froze hiring just when I was about to ink the letter. I was jobless. And then the very person who wanted to hire me and then was forced to not hire me, passed me on to her BFF – the one who made me cry on my way back from the job interview. I joined the company after all. And now I’m working with a bunch of crazy people I love so much, have a Boss who drives a real Mercedes (unlike that certain someone) and am feeling satisfied with my job performance like never before.

My life is a sad clump of twists and turns to some. But I call that blessed. To fall but never hit rock bottom. That is luck in itself.

Are we ever good enough? Even when we reach our KPIs or when we fail to reach 12 months of that in 1. Is it an intrinsic flaw of ours? Are we only snide and witty when we’re bitching?

And there comes the challenge of public speaking. But seriously, how many of us are toastmasters, debates, or even, quarrelsome? Peace-loving creatures we are who also have a penchant for resigning to fate. Unglamorously, extremely LL. Euphemistically, tenacious.

So, as we head into the new year in fortitude yet dampened spirits, coupled with a sense of foreboding tragedy, is it OK to stop asking ourselves that question? Can we ever settle for contingencies? Can we live with ourselves to disappoint others?

And ultimately, and most dauntingly, are we cut for it, at all? Are we making futile attempts to mold ourselves into a form that is too big for us to get a good shape? Or are we spread to thin that we’re going to snap?

Well, my life has never been smooth sailing. And I’ve resigned to that. Cheating my very own sobriety, telling myself challenges are only for those who are strong enough to overcome them. When that fades away, just like how those painkillers wear off after 3 hours, can we bear with this pulsating pain that so often reminds us that we’re trying to fill size 10s with bound feet.

Does resigning to fate make us less complacent? How do we balance angst and guilt? Why can we play one down yet suffer helplessly in the other?

Too many questions, no time for answers, and I guess I have to head for the bed now.

The last two weeks were terrible. I was ill-treating the boyfriend. This weekend was so much better. Sugar drove me to Punggol and Boon Lay Meadows. I have a rather overwhelming gut feel about Boon Lay Meadows. I think I might just get it. Omg. Please don’t let this happen to me.

Well, that’d be terrible. So terrible. Urgh.

I’m gonna treat him better.