monoceros blogsIt's been twelve days since the wedding, and Lin Kiat and I are now half a world away from the place where we married.
We've been telling people who've asked that being married is "surreal, but nice", a phrase used in one of our favorite movies.
The wedding weekend went by quickly, and I seemed to be running on adrenaline those two days. (Well, I seemed to be doing that already in the week leading up to the 19th.) Here are some high points (in no particular order of preference):
1. Watching my parents place the veil over my head.
2. Having my oldest and closest girlfriends Des, Van, May and Joan dart about my room as I was getting made up on Saturday morning.
3. Being thankful that I made the right decision to choose my god-sister, Aimai to be my unofficial bridesmaid. It was also great to see her hamming it up with the above-mentioned ladies-in-waiting.
4. Handing my mom a rose just before I took my place beside Lin Kiat at church.
5. Laughing out loud as my dad stepped and stumbled over the train of my dress after he handed me to Lin Kiat.
6. Exchanging our vows and rings (and thankfully, not making any major mistakes).
7. Listening to the beautiful choir made up of our friends and my brother, Randy.
8. Eating dinner at Spageddies in Millenia Walk on Saturday night. Lin Kiat and I had a peaceful dinner on our own and we seemed to be in the eye of the storm, that calm place that exists for moments before everything would sweep around us again on Sunday.
9. Writing my speech while having my hair done (okay, this wasn't really a good thing, I should have done it ages ago, and since I was panicking everything came out garbled, including my handwriting).
10. Walking into the ballroom and seeing my brother on the piano while Mogan sang the song "She". They'd kept this as a surprise, and it was a good one. A lot of people mentioned later that they thought it was a CD playing!
11. Listening to Chris's speech about Lin Kiat. Chris and his wife, Amy, flew out from Michigan to be with us at our wedding. After me, Chris was the person who spent the most time with Lin Kiat during our Ann Arbor days.
12. Watching my oldest friend, Vanessa Tan, up on stage as she made fun of me and said good things about me in the space of four minutes.
13. Admiring the beautiful ballroom that Conrad and Audrey of By Candlelight decorated for our dinner. We had an unconventional rectangular bridal table and white lanterns on each table.
14. Watching all our friends and family members enjoy the dessert buffet (which Lin Kiat and I could not join).
15. Talking to as many people as we could; laughing; hugging; taking pictures.
16. Getting back to our Presidential Suite at last to eat some food packed from our dinner (during the banquet,I'd only had two prawns, some duck skin and a bit of soup).
17. Being surprised by the bottle of champagne, strawberries and rose petal bubble bath that Conrad had prepared for us.
18. Being married at last! (I don't have to look at bridal magazines any more!)
I took this picture a few nights before the big day - the rings are still sitting tight in their boxes and this was the program that I read several times, hoping that I would remember what I had to say during the service.
Green is an appropriate color - I felt so green planning this wedding and wondering how to make everything work. Thank goodness most of the two days went well.
More thoughts soon...must clear mess in room, now that we've lugged everything back home.
The clock reads 9.11. It's still peaceful in my room where I'm writing this. Ennio Morricone music from the film Love Affair plays and the day outside is cool from the morning rain.
My mother passed me a letter written on the paper we bought together in Florence. My father was quiet as he went about his own duties. My brother is already at the church preparing the choir and getting his guys to ready everything else.
Somewhere Lin Kiat is waking and remembering what he has to do.
So many thoughts, my stomach in knots. I know my mind is getting worse when I start writing in verse!
This is what it feels like. Something beyond a thrill, yet calm somewhere in a small, private space within my soul. God is near. And all those whom we love, who've passed on, they too know what this day means.
I wish I could keep writing, but I have to wash my face now and do some push-ups to wake my muscles up!
In another twenty-four hours, I will be seated before my mother's mirror and will be in the middle of a hair and make-up session. I can't believe how quickly the week has passed. My Monday morning stroll by the beach seems an age ago. I've already hit the surreal stage.
Last night's rehearsal was intense, tense but beautiful. The flower girls and page boys made us all so proud. They smiled, they obeyed and they walked. My father did his most important task well (he got it right on the first try without any instruction) - he took my hand and unhooked it from his arm, and then placed it in Lin Kiat's palm. Even the lady helping us rehearse was impressed by my dad. You'd think he'd done this before!
The small choir group put together by my brother rehearsed too. They sounded marvellous. All six singers were miked up (with no small assistance from Bert, one of the members of Akatones) and our friend, Peiming (PhD student in piano, no less!) played on the electric piano. Lin Kiat and I sat on our chairs and looked up to where they were singing. I'd never felt so happy - sitting next to my fiance in church and listening to the most beautiful hymns.
Monday blues? Not for me today. I got out of bed early (way earlier than I normally do for work!) and went to the beach with my mom. We walked the length of Bedok Jetty and met an old family friend who was fishing. While my mom talked to him - a fellow retiree of seventy - I looked out to my right, and there, rising like metal fingers in the morning light, were the buildings of Shenton Way and Tanjong Pagar. That won't be familiar territory anymore. And it made me glad.
I turned back to the water. The sun was strong and made the water clear (as clear as it can get around Singapore), so clear that I could see hundreds of tiny fish swimming energetically near the surface. A ship was slowly moving out to sea. Birds wheeled above - okay, crows, not pretty birds. A small wind was blowing.
Later, my mom and I stood in the water and let the cool waves gather round our ankles. We picked shells and found four live 'remis' - they're very much like mini clams, and as they lay in my palm, one tiny white shell lifted open. I freaked out (read: shrieked) and it quickly shut itself.
It was a good morning. Best Monday I've had in months!
The guest list is shaping up into a decent one despite a number of drop-outs. I'm sad that some good friends won't be able to make it - either to the church, or to the banquet or both. But I'm pleased that we'll have some special guests who played very important roles in my life:
1. Mrs. Luse, my piano teacher, who didn't whip me into shape for my Grade 7 and 8 exams, she drew me gently into shape. She never raised her voice but always guided and persuaded. She has excellent skills of persuasion - when I first studied under her, I expressed clearly that I had no wish to take another piano exam. A year later, I somehow signed myself up for Grade 7, which is a big deal since I'd failed Grade 5 and had barely passed Grade 6 under a teacher who left me with zero good memories. I scored a distinction for Grade 7 and didn't look back.
2. Father Ambrose, the funny priest who inspired Lin Kiat and me at our Engaged Encounter weekend. It's a pity his mother, who was my father's English teacher, passed away many years ago and cannot be there. I remember spending Christmases with her and her family. My parents were at Father Ambrose's ordination so it's great he should be at the wedding.
3. Our family dentist, Dr. Wang. He's been seeing me since I sprouted my first set of teeth, which I still believe was better than my present one.
Seating everyone perfectly in tables of 12 is a logistical nightmare. Everyone wants to sit with someone in particular or maybe someone doesn't want to sit with another person, and that couple should really sit with that person and...and... . I can draw links between everyone and still end up with gaps that cannot be filled or a table with only nine people.
Speaking of links, here's a mind-blowing one:
One of our guests, Dr. Seow, a leading orthopaedic surgeon, is a close family friend of Lin Kiat's; he happens to be treating the mother of our florist; and our florist happens to be the best friend of my god-mother (also my witness) and is also the god-daughter (or maybe the florist's sister is the god-daughter) of my mother's best friend from school!
Seven more days of planning and fiddling with the list. Seven more days of dress fittings, meeting friends and rehearsals and ringing up vendors and making arrangements with the church. Seven more days of fright and fatigue.
Wait, I think it's six days. When Saturday arrives, it will be showtime.
Friday was my last day at work. I'm still an employee at the Press, but that only means I'm getting paid till the end of the month. By Friday evening, the desk was cleared, sufficient photos were taken, and I sent my last email from the office account. *sob*
Of course, I've conveniently forgotten all the I-need-to-yank-my-hair-out-or-kill-someone moments and remembered only the damn-I-like-working-here parts. I had a big desk and fast computer (forget about the CRT screen that played no small part in the increasing levels of my myopia), I worked on the second level of a nicely refurbished shophouse (never mind the lack of windows and natural lighting), I had a nice neighbor called Barney (I'll forgive him for his constant Word or Excel queries), there was can't-get-any-more-local-than-this food from the Chinatown market (I'll close one eye to the ever-present crazy characters and spit that booby-trapped the path I took to the market each day) and a good CD shop with quirky titles and low prices (never mind that the shopkeeper doesn't speak English. She smiles, and that's better than perfect English).
Two Thursdays ago, on the fateful day of my interview at the Embassy, I returned to the office to a homey lunch setting in the large storeroom of the office. Several of my colleagues had planned a different kind of lunch for a quiet Thursday. Different in the sense that we sat round a table and shared dishes ordered from the coffeeshop next door (we were also using the chairs from the shop).
After lunch, I darted to the pantry for some Chinese tea and returned to the storeroom to be surprised by two large giftboxes and a camera flash. Farewell presents! The only good thing to come out of leaving a company (okay, there are other good things, like being freed from stress and responsibility - temporarily)! Karen darted around like a paparazzai photographer, and everyone watched intently as I opened my presents. I had to confess that I was very moved, although I may not have convinced anyone because of my nature to be very expressionless when people do nice things for me (I don't know why). Benny kept egging me to cry, but I told him to be quiet. It was a good day that day.
Friday was rushed, too short and too sad. By the time I left the office, there was only Gina and Annie, the editor-in-training from India. Gina was particularly quiet and emotionless, and so was I. I expect we both didn't want to get into any histronics. I said my goodbyes and turned off the lights on the editorial side of the office floor. Before I stepped out the door, I turned to look at my desk, a large shape caught in shadows. It looked exactly the way it did on my first day on May 2, 2001. Vast, empty and waiting to be filled. Not by me this time.
Goodbye, Cambridge!
This is a not-so-long-ago photo taken of me when I was having my groupie moment, chatting up Mimi of Neri Per Caso and making full use of my two years of Italian lessons.
This is the Elvish engraving on the inside of Lin Kiat's and my wedding bands. Just thought I'd put it up for anyone who's curious.
It means "my life and my love" - the two things we're pledging to each other on July 19th.
My passport was returned to me in the mail with a huge envelope stapled to one of the pages - TO BE OPENED ONLY BY U.S. IMMIGRATION OFFICER AT PORT OF ENTRY. Wow, I wonder what my interviewer put in that letter. It's actually my I-20 - a form from the university that proves my admission - and probably a note saying, "This girl's a bit of a stutterer."
Stammer and stutter I did during the interview at the US Embassy last Thursday. The long wait did nothing to help my nerves as I watched other hopefuls approach the windowed counters and get barked at by a woman who was friendly and hostile with different people. Two boys behind me were muttering to each other, "She got it! Not sure if that guy will." They were trying to predict who would get their visas approved and who would be told to return another day.
I refused to have my own inner debate and listened to the type of questions the woman was asking students headed for the US, silently preparing my answers if I were to be asked the same. Apart from this, I observed the crowd that milled around as numbers were called out and whole families summoned to the counter. There was a young woman insisting for an immigrant visa so that she could be with her American boyfriend/fiance who she claims has offered to pay for her education. But, she added, they would return to Singapore together in a year's time. The woman behind the window insisted equally vehemently that she could not give her an immigrant visa. After a few more minutes of the girl repeating her situation, the woman relented with a condition that the girl present herself to the Embassy in a year's time to prove that she has returned.
By the time it came to my turn, the crowd was a lot smaller and I was a lot hungrier. I went up to the same woman, hoping for friendly treatment; I'd noticed she was particularly nice to a young Japanese girl with an American accent. I smiled and said "Hi!" She ignored me and said, "So, you went to the University of Michigan six years ago, graduated two years ago and have now decided that it wasn't enough and you want more education now."
"Er, yes, I do."
"Who will be paying your fees?" Her voice was louder now.
"The university. Michigan." My voice was softer now.
"What?"
"I have a scholarship. It's in the attached letter." Pages turning. There it was.
She eyed me with her beady eyes. "Why is the university paying for you? Is this a scholarship for foreigners? How did you get this?"
"I...I...The university offers some form of financial aid to incoming MFA students. And I...got this because I sent in my work and they...erm...liked it and gave me the fellowship." I really wanted to say I got it because the program gives fellowships to certain students whose work the admission board likes, but I didn't want to sound like I was bragging. I didn't plan to but I guessed that no matter how it came out, it would sound like bragging to her, and I was at her mercy and needed to make her tolerate me, if not like me, which I knew was already out of the question.
Well, I was approved after several more minutes and walked out of the cold, cold building into the afternoon rain. Land of the free? I felt like an insect in a chamber.
I wish they were suede, but they're just leather. My shoes for the wedding weekend - look out for that flash of pale blue beneath the hem of my dress as I walk down that aisle!
I got the design off a pair that Reese Witherspoon was wearing at the premiere of Sweet Home Alabama. Her shoes were in black velvet - very pretty - but seeing as how I can't wear black shoes at my wedding, I settled for a pale blue - something blue, after all!
The shoe people couldn't replicate the rounded toe or tapered heels in the picture so I compromised with a sharper toe and an old-fashioned heel that is a little more stable for walking - very important since I have a phobia of stumbling. I guess I better get my dress soon so I can practice walking. *gulp*
Yesterday, Lin Kiat and I spent an afternoon folding and trimming the inside pages of our church program booklet. We made 180 copies so that amounts to 900 sheets of paper. We were so pooped we ordered pizza and watched Ocean's 11 to unwind.
Today, my mom, two good friends from my choir days - June and Xinyi - and I set out to bind the booklets. I'd already had the covers printed together with the church invitation cards so we just had to put the covers with the inner sheets, tie them up and voila! Okay, not so easy. I knew from the start that it would take a lot of labor, so I roped in my two friends.
A lot of thought went into how to bind them in a practical but tasteful way. After deliberating for a few weeks, I finally settled on silver thread on the spine. Then I proceeded to the next stage which involves selecting the right type of silver thread (Lin Kiat and I did this last weekend). There are two ways to use thread on the spine. One is just tying the thread in a knot and bow along the spine and the other is piercing two holes in the spine and threading the silver twine through the holes and then tying a knot. I selected the two-holes-in-the-spine way because I felt the other method would have the pages slipping and sliding despite the thread along the spine.
Naturally this better method would involve more work - making the holes in the spine. My dad came to the rescue with a little hand-gadget that is impossible to find these days. On occasions like these, my dad's penchant for unusual gadgets really saved the day. This one doesn't even have a name. I punctured the holes by squeezing the handles (like pliers) to lift the needle, placing the papers beneath the sharp needle, letting go - in went the needle, out it went as I squeezed the handles again - and then, there was a perfectly rounded hole. My palm was also aching because of the spring in the gadget. I had to squeeze the gadget four times for each booklet. So I had to do this 720 times! My palm is still sore as I'm typing this.
Well, Xinyi and June helped with the hole-puncturing after seeing my red and bruised palm. They had been tying the threads while my mom put the finishing touch on each knot - tying more knots on the basic one to form a tiny rosette.
We finished just in time for dinner, and after a hearty meal, I sent my friends home (they live really close by, and I knew they would be tired after this afternoon so I wanted to get them home fast to recover!) and then arranged all the booklets in a box. Ready and waiting for July 19th!
Three days ago I received a letter from Hearst Magazines stating that the magazine that I have been subscribing to has ceased publication. Victoria magazine's June issue was its last. Now, although this kind of news isn't as mortifying as say, a refusal of a student visa or a job rejection letter, it did stun me for a few moments.
In the late summer of 1997, my family and I were on a road trip in New England, a sort of holiday just before I was to begin my first semester at university. I can't recall which state we were in but I remember well the meandering roads and the darkening skies as we hunted for a place to stay for the night in the countryside. After driving for some two panicky hours, we chanced upon an old but inviting victorian inn. Very quaint and very what-are-you-waiting-for-come-inside. We slept well and after a hearty breakfast we sat in the large waiting area (I can't remember if we were waiting for anything, perhaps for our stomachs to digest our breakfast) and my father passed me a magazine, saying, "Here, I think you might like this." It was a thin, rather tattered copy of Victoria with splendid photos and wonderful prose. The magazine featured warm, lovely living rooms and gardens, interesting book reviews and a good article on the beauty of lilies-of-the-valley.
I sent in my subscription form as soon as I started school in Ann Arbor and have been reading the magazine for some six years now. When I returned to Singapore after my stint in Italy, I continued my subscription and even got Lin Kiat's sister hooked on the magazine. Victoria wasn't really Martha Stewart or House Beautiful. There was something unique in the mix of articles - books, beauty, gardening, cooking, starting your own lifestyle shop, artists, poetry, travel - that made readers feel at home and also as if they were being sent off to a cafe in Paris or rural Tuscany where they were to pick mushrooms.
I'm a little disappointed that I won't be able to go back to graduate school and renew my subscription for the magazine at my new address. I am glad that I've kept every issue since November 1997. One May issue, in particular, had an article that gave my dress-maker a strong idea of how the embroidery on my wedding dress should look.
Another writer reports the end of Victoria. Read her article here.
Summoned to the American Embassy! I'm finally getting my interview tomorrow morning. I shall wear my smartest black skirt, a dun-colored shirt and sensible heels. Little make-up, even less jewelry and good posture. It is, after all, stated on my application that I am a textbook editor. Best to look the part.