just minishorts.

Oh the pain's gone, so no worries about that. Couldn't reply to the messages because I was busy checking out some other stuff. But I'm fine.

I just popped by to talk about the other news I found out. A very close friend told us last night that he was planning to get married at the end of the year. He told me this during the New Year celebrations and at that time, I was rather shocked. After all, they've only been dating since October last year.

And then I remembered, she's 27, he's 28, they're of course, of marriageable age. Since they're in love with each other, marriage is the obvious next step.

I think about relationships and what they mean to us at different points of times in our lives. I have friends who've been together for over 15 years and finally got married just recently. And then here's a pair who's only been going out for less than a year, and deciding to tie the knot at the end of 2006.

Obviously the difference was this: for the former couple, they started dating when they were only 14. Tying the knot 15 years later makes complete sense, doesn't it? You can't very well tie the knot after 6 months when you're only 14 years old, you won't be financially independant, and your maturity might not be at an ideal level, right?

I guess when you start off as high school sweethearts at the age of 16 or so, being together prior to a marriage probably entails several years of getting used to each other and finally deciding 'you're it'. But when the biological clocks start to tick, around the age of 27 to 35, love takes on a new definition, and it really isn't that strange to see people getting hitched after just a few months or a few weeks of being together.

After all, do you really need to be in a relationship for at least two years to decide whether the other person is ready for it?

It came to my attention that some people think that I am waiting for Eric to pop the question, I mean, after all, we've been together for about one year plus, and in a relationship that has its ups and downs, I'd like to think that this is one of my most serious and matured relationships ever.

Well, yes, and no. I'd say this, I think I'd be very, very, very flattered if my boyfriend does suddenly get down on his knees, so to speak, and ask if I'd like to spend the rest of my life together with him.

But if that scenario really happens tonight, I'm not quite sure how I'll react to it. I don't think I'll be jumping at the proposal in joy and saying yes immediately, and then rush online to gush about how Eric's proposed (finally!). You see, as much as I do dream of spending my life together with him forever, for now, there are so many things for me to consider: career, education, and money of course. Even if he did propose to me tonight, we'd probably need at least two to three years of saving up to be able to start our own family together.

The ultimate question remains this: at 25, am I really ready to be married and have a family of my own?

Besides, I'd like to have some time to let the new realities of life sink in around me first, and that is something that I have to do on my own. That's not to say that I don't feel the pressures building up around me yet, after all, many people around me are settling down with families of their own. Amongst girlfriends my age, our conversations revolve around how our partners are treating us, and the excitement and anticipation of wondering 'what's up for the next date'. We share and confide in each other in strangely petty issues, and blow tiny molehills out of proportion, because our fears are real, our concerns are real, our feelings for that special someone are real. We're all in love, and that's a joyfully right ingredient in the formula for relationship success.

Yet at the end of the day, am I ready yet?

I considered that question last night, whilst trying to push away the slight discomfort of 'OMG OMG OMG they're getting married before I do', and then I had to be utterly honest with myself. The problem with me now is just this: I not ready at all. Life has just begun for me, and I haven't really quite learnt how to live it alone, yet!

Life? I'm just living it today, and while Mum's constant strange questioning of, 'So is this guy the right one?' occasionally causes me to throw little fits, I'm still learning how to make it in the world alone, and I intend to do a bit of that for a while before deciding to take the plunge.

That topic so heavy, I change it, ok?

I have a bit of a tummy ache, ok it's a lot, a lot of pain, it comes in 5-secs-per-jab-in-the-belly kind of thing, but but but … go toilet cannot come out.

AND I HAVE A MEETING IN HALF AN HOUR.

DIE OR NOT DIE OR NOT DIE OR NOT?

GAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

At the weekend I met up with a few people who were quite, really, impossible for me to define.

We were having dinner, and this person wanted to order a dish that contained beef. The husband, was more accomodating, and noting that I don't take the meat, said that we could order Pork, Fish and Chicken dishes instead. I said it wasn't necessary, but the kind man insisted–it was his decision after all, he was the guy who would foot the bill, and then he asked me, 'Is it the smell?'

My answer was simply, 'I just don't take it.'

The wife wasn't very nice at all, she sulked and then she said it, 'You must learn how to take beef, my dear, we're Christians and we have to take beef.'

Wow. What an interesting revelation. I didn't know that God said in order to prove my allegiance to him, I have to eat beef.

But before this, an interesting note about myself: I don't take beef because of my upbringing. My mother's a devout Taoist and goes on vegetarian meals twice a month and on other religious occasions, and we never ever cook beef at home.

My dad's a devout Christian and he takes beef occasionally. He has never faulted my mother for her religious choices, and never ever, ever, taken beef in her presence. I walk in my dad's shoes, except I'm not exactly a very devout Christian, so to speak, because I do not do very Christian things, and occasionally, in my quiet times with God, I ask him about Kuan Yin and question the strange things in the bible… (Dear God, why did You have to be so contradicting and, er, wordy?).

You see, I've no problems in driving Mum to the temple, and I have no problems in lighting joss sticks in memory of my dead grandparents. I'm no problems in bowing my head in respect to images and deities of the Lord Buddha. I've no problems in helping my mother fold the papers for burning on her religious festival–it is a mark of respect ANYWAY, and I have certainly no problems in helping my mother prepare the fruit and flowers for worshipping on big days like the 'pai tee kong' during the ninth day of CNY, and bringing her out for vegetarian dinners on the 1st and 15th days of the lunar calendar months. Sometimes, for the heck of convenience, I go on vegetarian diets too, and sometimes, it is refreshing to be vegetarian–I've even contemplated it several times before, and God knows you don't have to be a Buddhist to turn vegetarian.

Haven't I prayed for Mum to accept God too, (so that, for Heaven's sake, she can start eating beef)you ask, so that I don't have to do the strange things she does like arranging the fruit and chicken for the altar? I've prayed for that, oh yes, that's one of my prayers for the 2006, but I'm not the type who, God-forbid, EVANGELIZES, my mother, and I am definitely not the type who'll say that she's worshipping a mere image of a dead person who might-or-might-not-exist.

Besides, I've seen miracles happening in the Taoist belief too, and surely there has to be a connection somewhere in the great spiritual divide–something that none of us as feeble, human beings wrapped in the flesh can comprehend right now.

Surely the differing beliefs in the masses has to be God's will, of some kind, and we know my mother has the free will to choose. So no, I don't question, I don't judge, and I don't say that she worships stones and dead people. (To put it crudely,Jesus is a dead person too, and we worship him anyway, right?)

It's her choice, and whatever she chooses is between God and my mother, and I have no right to dabble in that area. All I can do is to do my best to be a good daughter to a single mother, who is trying very hard to understand the reasons why I'm going to church again after five years. God knows it's hard for her to accept the fact that I'm returning to Christianity again, but if she can come to church with me sometimes, and allow me my personal choices in life, it's the least I can do–respect her choices and do my very best.

And here's the deal, apart from not taking beef, I also don't take mutton, nor deer, nor ostrich nor rabbit… I also do not take petai, and bitter gourd. Why? I don't know, I just don't take these things, and I don't want to try them.

Maybe I'm allergic to these things, maybe it's the smell. I don't know, but I don't eat these things and I'm not an adventurous person… and look, I'm not even forbidding people to order them in my presence… I'm not asking for everyone to accomodate me. And besides, I'm not the one who grimaces in horror when someone orders peashoots, I'm not the type who goes, 'Yuck I don't like spring onions,' and cries foul when people eat foods I don't take in front of me.

All I ask, is a bit of respect, and keep those holy-than-thou definitions of what makes a good Christian to yourself, please. How other people pray, how other people decide to revere their God(s), that's up to them, who are we as humans to decide and judge, and teach?

I know that even if I were a practising Buddhist, and I still took meat on religious festivals, I'd be offended if some holier-than-thou monk-wannabe comes up to me and reprimands me for chewing into a morsel of prawn. Imagine this, 'You must not eat meat at all, you're a Buddhist, a Buddhist shouldn't take any meat.'

I mean, hello? You wanna be holy, your choice, if I have to sin and be punished by God, now please, leave that to God and leave me alone.

What we all need, is a little bit of respect. You don't even have to tolerate my choices, you can judge and criticize me if you like (and say that not taking beef makes me a bad Christian hurhur), but please, do not do it in my presence. You can say bad things about me behind my back, you can tell God to please pray for my lost soul for the choices I have made (maybe pray, dear God, please help Claire understand that she does not know you very well because she refuses to even try beef). But respect means keeping rude words to yourself, and not saying these things outloud, and all good Christians should really learn how to do that the right way.

I am back.

The trip was very…er… family oriented. It was like a HUGE meet the family affair squeezed into a 3-day-2-night stay, and food of course. Apologies to the peeps I promised to call, I didn't get my roaming fixed up so you couldn't get me, and I was stuck with Eric's family almost 24 hours (minus the hours that I had to sleep and bathe), so we'll have to postpone that makan-session till the next time (probably this year too, no worries).

Plus it rained like mad in Singapore.

It's back to work today.

Gah.

So it starts, the long weekend.

I've got a bus ride to catch tomorrow morning, and will pop by JB just in time for the good Cowboy's wedding. I'm dragging the bf along, whom I'm certain is going to feel very, very out of place at a table that consists of bloggers, and bloggers.

I'm particularly looking forward to meeting Mr Gabriel Seah in the flesh, and laugh about the irate behaviors of certain human beings on both sides of the causeway–or rather, how some people always choose to allow their anger to elevate to unnecessary levels that require the demonstration of idiocy and lunacy. Feelings was never a trustworthy ally to have, but most people tend to rely upon it still.

On the other hand I think I shall quite like the idea of not having to drive for a few days, and hopping on to bus and speed train services that are clean and efficient for a change. And the shopping, if my money permits me. I'm looking forward to bak chor mee the way I like it: without the ketchup, because I tend to have a certain respect for having my food in all its authenticity, and Hainamese Chicken rice of course. If I manage to find out the differences between Prata and Canai, I'll come back to tell the tale, ok?

Otherwise I think I'll mostly be trying very hard to survive claustrophobia in spicky-span Singapore, especially if you come from the city in a kampung like I do, and can only spare time for island-cities once a year! At least Singapore isn't half as bad as Hong Kong when it comes to the crowds, so that's something to look forward to.

See you Wednesday!