Archive for October, 2008

Our guodali is happening in a few hours and I am anything but exhausted. Nope I didn't take anything to stall the impending period, and the breakouts are starting (damn period why do you have to come just around the wedding?).

My mom's empty nest syndrome has gone on hyperdrive – hah, can you believe her? She asked me whether I would have lunch ready for me after the ceremony, and all I said was 'Don't worry Mom,' and she went ballistics.

'What don't worry? I know you are very clever and you have everything all figured out, I'm just asking if you will have anything to eat for lunch on that day…'

'Of course mum, we ordered food so you don't have to worry…'

'You really don't have to talk like that ok. I'm just asking, it's not that I want to worry about you ok, I know you know how to take care of yoursef, just answer properly, why must you talk like that?'

…

OK best to stay quiet. I think Eric has learnt to stay quiet whenever I shrink into my bridezilla mode (I swear I'm only bridezilla on ONE person and that's Eric so he takes all the flack, the dear boy!).

…

Planning for the guodali has been one of the major contributors to our wedding stress. About a month ago when we met up (both our families) at a restaurant to discuss the 'pinkam' (dowry), my mom went 'Just give a token.'

Deciding what exactly 'a token' is has been a huge headache. Because there isn't a figure told, Eric can't decide what's right to give – too much and you'll be seen as showing off, too little and God forbid, people wll say that he didn't give my mother 'face'. Damn these Chinese traditions. Why do we have to go through them?

Some of my friends have been asking why do we Chinese see the pig as so important on weddings? And how do we get the pig across the roads to the other house?

Here's the answer: You put it in the car boot. No really, seriously, it's not a live pig, It's a roasted one, and the guys family is supposed to put the pig into the car and drive it to the bride's house. No, the groom is not supposed to come for the guodali. Yes there are other things included besides the pig, my mom asked for the two bottles of wine, and apples and oranges, a dress for me, the kaluipeng (marriage biscuits) and etc, and all of this are arriving at my house…

Of course the brides family isn't supposed to just take the things and sit tight. There's the 'huili', since the Chinese are very particular that we always give in return. So the pig that comes to my house will have its head and its tail chopped off, where my family will keep the BODY, to be chopped up and given to friends and relatives as a celebration of my impending marriage. The part where the body used to be will then have a basket of two bottles of honey, two bottles of F&N Orange, some apples and oranges (taken from whatever we received), a belt, a wallet and a pair of pants for Eric and etc…

In days long past the pig wouldn't arrive before the wedding, but instead, the parents of the bride would be looking out for their daughter's visit home along with the arrival of a pig. The pig, in chinese, sounds like the word 'pearl', and the pearl is a symbol of the girl's purity. So a satisfied groom's family is obliged to send the pig informing the bride's family that 'thank you yah, your daughter is really really a good pearl virgin, we liked it'.

Traditions. Yes, we Chinese have very strange ones.

These days we take the pig ON the wedding day itself, but my mum decided to get a little more creative, and to save time, we're taking the pig during the guodali. So, I GET ROAST PORK to eat tomorrow!!! Yay!

I'm both excited and nervous at the realization that my singlehood is about to come to an end very, very soon. We were chatting at Jaya32′s Pappa Rich toda, my fiance, his best man and myself, chatting over a very strange concoction of lychee cincau, when Eric asked the best man why hasn't he managed to stay in a relationship, or whether he actually plans to get married one day.

'I am not putting off the possibility that I will get married one day, but I need to find the right woman,' he said. So I chipped in,

'What happened to the one you were dating earlier?'

'I couldn't stand her complaining. I guess there's the number one criteria, I really can't stand a woman who keeps complaining.'

Eric grinned and then patted him on the back, 'Oh hoh hoh, good luck man. TRUST ME, EVERY WOMAN COMPLAINS… tell me when you do find one who doesn't.'

Stupid dungu of a future-husband I have.

I look at it this way. We women, we have this need inbuilt into us, or maybe as Eckhart Etolle calls it, our pain-bodies have resulted in us being severely dissatisfied beings that just have to seek for opportunitiees to keep ourselves feeling pain all the time. And as a result of being in pain, we make noises about it, so yes yes, we complain, we rant, but we look at it as a way of expressing ourselves, its how we communicate something.

So if you're male, single and looking for more than just sex in a woman but want someone who doesn't complain, dude, think of the voices as wind in your ears, and if it hurts your drums too much, imagine that you've grown imaginary wings that can flap the noise away. Or if your girlfriend or wife's nagging voice is starting to annoy the shit out of you, surprise her and look at her, and then tell her, 'does it matter, I LOVE YOU no matter what…'

Or just keep quiet and pretend to pay attention. Come on, if we girls can pay attention to you when you talk about how big a model's boobs are, or how fantastic it is to have a manifold intake installed into your car, and how lovely those latest RM6k rims would look on your racer, I'm sure you can give us THAT little bit of space to let out all the steam in the air. My Eric does that, whenever I'm stressed at work because my staff's a little too dense to understand my instructions or my boss requires me to do something strange and completely out of sync with normal practices or whenever my mom annoys me because she complains so much, or whenever I go shopping and I find out that they're not offering any discounts on a bag I have been eyeing for weeks, I will call Eric and throw all my pains in the world to him.

He listens to me bitch and rant, and he allows me to scold him and shout at him and complain about how lousy he treats me  (but he treats me well lah), because he knows I'm there for him to listen to him rave about cars, and car magazines, I'm there for him to discuss which actress has a better body (Jessica Biel is so whoa), and I'm still there even though he says I've got thunder arms.

So we take some, we give some, is a cliche that is oversaid but definitely necessary. There's a whole lot of other idiosyncrasies about staying in a marriage that previously both Eric and I have never explored before. Trust, among a few things… but that's something to talk about in another post altogether. But there's this little thing I learnt about men and women, in general, is that we are way way different communicators. When a woman is quiet, withdrawn, and requests to be left alone, beware,she's really really angry. If she rants and raves and screams, annoying as it is, it is actualy really really easy to take her out of her rage.

And its the opposite for men.. When a man is quiet, withdrawn, and requests to be left alone, it means he's really happy. Now doesn't that revelation makes you think God has a very naughty sense of humour when he made us such opposing communication types?

I never thought it would be this difficult, leaving you, after so many years together, just you and me, the two of us. When Dad left, I remember the difficult times, the tears, the conflicts, the shouts and the insults we throw at each other. More like siblings than mother and daughter, that's us, our relationship, and then now, in less than a month, I'll be moving out to start a new life with the man I love.

Silently, I'm in tears, here, as I type this because, as much as the joy is overbearing, the pain is really unbearable. My friends they tell me, 'hmmmm that can be quite difficult' but the truth is, difficult is an understatement. Because I REALLY REALLY REALLY love you very much, even though sometimes I may hurt you, and sometimes it can get difficult because I want to find my own direction too, but you are the best mother I can ever have.

I love you for giving me the space to grow up, and for encouraging Eric and I to find our own pad to build a home together. I think it must be really hard for you, Ma, because it's starting to get difficult for me now. Sometimes I close my eyes and I think of the times we would sit down and talk about your friends, and then we'll talk about what happened at my office. Or the times I'd sulk because the herbal soup that you spent so many hours boiling was too bitter for me.

I know I can visit you daily, my home's just a 20 minute drive away, but it's not the same – the thought of you staying alone at home, sleeping alone, it gets unbearable, and it drives me to tears. So yes, there's not just tears of joy, but there's tears of real pain, and it really really hurts.

An ex-colleague, he was talking about his daughter's wedding a month back, and he had tears in his eyes as he said, 'Rasa sayu je, tapi I'm happy she's married, dia perlu jaga keluarga sendiri, I pun tak nak dia balik setiap malam ke rumah saya, but yes, rasa sayu.'