Chinese New Year

CNY this time round is a period of great discovery, of relatives that have remained relatively elusive to me for the past decade or so. I am startled by the sheer numbers of primary associations that existed for me in this wonderful primate kingdom that I belong to.

Really, I knew that I was an uncle long before this, but an uncle to so many nieces and nephews, some even older than me? I would be much ashamed at collecting ang baos from them (but no doubt I will), if they ever get married before me. Now this is truthfully a very possible scenario, to which I bear certain feelings of ambivalence.
And I’ve not started on the cousins that existed without my permission or knowledge. There is a certain criminal property in either me not knowing their existence, or their very existence itself, and I am tempted to think in the manner of the latter, for I think myself faultlessly righteous most of the time. Nevertheless, I think it might be a good thing to rekindle whatever sparks possible between us, as seen from the many problems and dilemmas that Chris encountered on accounting for guests for his wedding dinner.

And oh , how I love the old aunts who brings up certain thought of familiarity that has dulled in me over the years. They marvel at my coming over for lunch, like I’ve not seen them for many many many years, which was quite to the letter of truth that way. They proposed monuments erected in memory of me if I had not had the time to come for this new year’s lunch. But what guffaws and blushes they break into, when I wheedled them with inaccurate wild guesses on their age, the guesses being conservatively discounted for the sake of Chinese New Year. Never failed to coax them into giving me attention generously. I am, after all, an Auntie-killer. ;)

Saw Yus on the bus while coming home and we had dinner and a casual walk-and-talk together. He’s going away for studies soon (15th) and he admits he’s rather a wussy where emotional farewells are concerned. I guess everyone’s a bit of that, but with enough farewells and heartbreaks, I’m sure our hearts will be callused enough to not beat so erratically. Always look to the future, and the past will not have a hold on you. Or so they say.

We had a meaningless seating at the MRT station, marveling at the different people living their different lives that moves parallel to ours: the disgruntled uncles/aunties grimacing and lamenting about a life meaningless spent on unrequited loved ones (children or spouse); the scantily clad ah lians looking for a future with their ah bengs on white horses; the seductively dressed women determined to make a killing out of (and of) their future husbands (synonymous with prey in this context); the intellectual-looking gentleman who has no idea of what’s going on in the minds of their Singaporean counterparts mentioned previously; the repulsive-looking Casanova-wannabes; the bespectacled girls who have long declared their contempt to the ideas of finding true love in this shallow society; old gits ogling at young girls who are trying to declare some fashion statements for the new year; normal-looking people living their normal lives with normally loved ones; and young loveless individuals seated at MRTs trying to get others’ perspectives of life itself, rather then spend time creating a new perspective out of their sorry lives.

Much ado about nothings.

A piano recital of Desperado mellowed me on my speakers tonight, and I ask myself the same question that I’ve asked myself for many moons, and will ask for many moons to come.