spits and swallows.

My mother always taught me how to be sure that a guy really loves you. To put it briefly, the symptoms are the guy would do anything for you.

Back in her days, she would have numerous guys calling on her. They would write her poems, or bring her fruit baskets that are large enough to go around all 11 members of her family. She never lifted a finger, she said, never called them back, never asked them out, never gave them promises, but they kept coming nonetheless. And the most resilient, most persistent man became my dad. Because if you go soft on them, she warned in an energetic oratory, if you serve them and lull them with the convenience of your generosity and submissiveness, you will never know how far they would go for you. You would be trapped with a man that would not treat you the way a girl deserves to be treated. It is Woman’s Destiny, she says. We must be passive.

I always thought that I thought the advice was lame. You know those stories where teenage girls are determined not to end up like their mothers and suddenly sometime in their adult life find themselves acting exactly like mom? Well… there you go. I think as the questions become more complicated, you have only two choices: do as you were told its best to do, or invent your own untested formula. And that’s where all this storm inside is coming from.

Going Solo.

Oh today. Attended a ceremony the president was attending in Solo, the National Solidarity Day Event. It was at an open roofed football stadium at 11.00 noon, and the place was swamped with plump ladies from the Social Department all dressed up to the nines. I could not help but notice the one sitting next to me had extremely protruding front teeth, which her red-painted lips could never quite conceal. The air smelt of sweat as the onlookers watched the opening: an army of parachutes landing on the field, almost all of them missing the big yellow mark.

My boss still nowhere to be seen or heard, I hung out with the reporters instead. Their looks are to be doubted, these unkempt, lanky haired journalists, but the minute they ask you a question you know they can be deadly. But today I need not fear, for they were as bored as I was. The event bore no news, and some of them were only in it for the free trip home to Java.

Every trip has a reason for being, something you can bring home in your mind, and this time it was the reporters I made friends with. They’re probably the most knowledgeable people in the world on the merit of knowing what happens the minute it happens. And yet unlike the most knowledgeable people in the world, they’re extremely approachable. Ask them what they think of an issue and they can immediately give you a modest analysis based on their simple but intense observation. And they’re always honest about what they think. You can learn a lot from people like that.

So based on the above, I’m happy to report that my first solo trip to Solo proved fruitful!

I will be an excellent mother.

Female colleague is making ridiculous high-pitched gurgling noises at the boss's baby.
I fail to see the point.

Week Three.

So I go on my first business trip, and the destination is St. Petersburg. It’s winter, and our breath comes out misty white as we walk through the quaint lighted streets. Russian girls in black leather stiletto boots and fur coats walk briskly past. After work was completed, for a blissful hour I walked as the city closed down for the day. The next day was trapped with colleagues, sight-seeing beautiful St. Petersburg, on a tour bus.
I almost died of boredom.