My "A-ha!" moment last week

I had an "A-ha!" moment last week. It stemmed from months of emotional struggle attempting to juggle a new environment at the office and a new phase of motherhood managing the hang-ups of a boy trying to be a man preparing to enter tertiary life.

I drew on the comfort from a friend who advised last year that I should stop being so hard on myself and to seek solace in new pursuits like taking up courses for self improvement.

My "A-ha!" moment came last week when I had decided to heed that advice and signed up for Tarot reading lessons. The appeal to me, laid in my perception that it was easy enough, wasn't time consuming as it took up only 2 weekends of my time, and I remembered being described as intuitive.

What I didn't know was that it was an extremely brain-draining course filled with intense emotional hard work and numerical sophistication for a hard-nosed, non-numerical person intent on not expending brain power during a weekend. And it was such an expensive course that I was surprised they weren't handing out bursaries.

I also did not realize that the weekend without the family at my side was decidedly uncomfortable and I forgot that the person who described me as intuitive years ago was Joel, when he skipped Sunday school for weeks whilst hiding out at the church canteen, hoping that I wouldn't find out.

So I went for my Tarot reading course with an opened mind and a receptive heart. I worked very hard that weekend and was surprised that I actually enjoyed the course tremendously. I found the stories behind the Tarot extremely fascinating and the myths surrounding it, intriguing. My Tarot teacher even said that I was intuitive and highly sensitive, hence that made it easy for me to tune into the energies of people whom I read the cards for. I felt very proud because throughout my school life, I was the renegade who copied my classmates' work and studied for the exams the day before the paper. I also had no interest in anything depicted in numbers unless there was a dollar sign in front of it. However, last weekend, I nailed every reading that required my interpretation of timeline.

My friends laughed at me or looked at me quizzically when I told them that I studied the Tarot. I would too if I were in their shoes. Some of them have asked me to read their Tarot a few days ago. I haven't had any complaints from them thankfully. I thought they had rather enjoyed the process as much as I did.

I graduate next week after another weekend completing the advance Tarot course. The girls at work and the boys at home joked that I should don my Hermes scarf on my head and brandish a pair of bangle-sized hooped earrings and be the "party trick" at social events, the "official mascot" during holistic festivals, set up a table at company dinner and dance events and busk at the MRT stations. Very funny.

So I will end this blog post by sharing my favorite Tarot card from the major arcana suit - The Empress. The Empress describes a person full of love, sense of nurturing, a generous and giving spirit. She brings warmth and comfort to everyone and everything she touches. She signifies an abundance of new life and encourages you to embrace life and all the goodness it brings.

I like that positive energy the Empress brings and hope you will embrace my new pursuit with the same open mind and a generosity of heart.

Postscript: After sharing this blog entry on Facebook, my friend in New York asked me to do a "long distance" Tarot reading for her. It was my first experience. However, after interpreting the cards and sharing it with her, she told me that I was "spot on accurate". It felt good to be giving her something from my heart.

The Office

Today, the girls and I moved our offices from the 14th to the 10th floor. The move was done within 2 hours. I liked to think we were quite efficient because we had cleverly moved our stuff to the new premises bit by bit over the last few days. However, the truth was that half my team were in the company for less than 2 years. SK for example, joined us only about a month ago, so all she did was to saunter down to the new office with her laptop, pencil and a rubber.

Being in the company for barely 2 years, I am not sentimental about leaving our old premises on the 14th floor. However, what I would miss will be our crazy lunchtime bantering at our little pantry, sharing a good laugh, exchanging gossips and occasionally venting a morning's worth of stress and frustrations over a packed lunch.

The old office on the 14th floor was, well....old. I remembered when I started work with the company on my first day, just barely 2 years ago, I was confronted with a huge red banner with a motivational quote printed on it just by the front door. I can't remember what the quote said now, so it must have been quite forgettable even then and throughout the 2 years.

I was also taken aback by the high partitions separating each workspace. I thought then that it was quite parochial, and set out to remove the high partitions. I told the girls that I did it so that I could see their beautiful faces, but later, they caught on to the fact that I felt so lonely behind the high partitions and needed to have people to talk to. Being confined to an office in solitude and near deathly silence for a few months almost drove me to find a way to unlock my window so that I could jump out for fresh air. It came in handy too, that with the partitions removed, I could see when the girls brought goodies like chocolates from home, so that I could accidentally hijack them.

Our new offices on the 10th floor was spanking new. It came with all new furniture, new phones that looked like the control and command deck of the Star Trek Enterprise, new pantry furnishing including an espresso-maker and pretty ergonomic chairs. It was a nice and refreshingly opened office. The only catch was that they had squeezed 6 departments into that floor space. Joy. We have to learn to live like a family under one roof. While I had to get use to getting spooned at the little pantry while making a cup of tea, the folks there had to get use to my rather loud disposition.

That explained why I had odd stares today by folks from the other departments around the corner when I was laughing so loudly with the girls during our usual bantering sessions. I was also met with stares of sheer fright when I hollered at Joel over the phone. I tried to look for the ladies room but barged into the gents' instead by mistake, only to be met with a shell-shocked bloke at the urinal who had probably wet his pants when he saw me. The pantry was also quite a distance away and I had probably trained for a marathon from that walk from my desk to the pantry only to find that there weren't any paper cups anywhere near the coffee machine. So I had to train for next year's marathon by walking back.

The relocation was a good thing and in many ways, it signaled a fresh start. I have decided that I wouldn't be less loud and brazen in the new office environment. In fact, it's a good opportunity to influence the rest to get louder and more brazen.

The comic value of the Oscars

The Academy Awards have annually been a laugh a minute for me. I can only think of the Ms Universe pageant as a close rival in the comedy stakes. The Oscars this year was by no means an exception, with predictability painted all over, akin to Joel's silica gel collection. There was of course, the usual pre-event speculation in the entertainment columns of most newspapers suggesting who might be a winner for the best actor and actress awards. I questioned the rationale for that. It was obvious that the cardinal rules that guaranteed a sure-win would be to portray a dead or dying dignitary ( think Helen Mirren in The Queen and Colin Firth in The King's Speech) or to portray a person with a disability ( think Dustin Hoffman in RainMan and Daniel Day-Lewis in My Left Foot). And actresses have the additional route of opting to portray someone strong and feisty to effect the same outcome ( think Sandra Bullock in the Blind Side and Julia Roberts in Erin Brokovich).

As I write this blog entry, the best actor and actress awards have yet to be announced. My vote goes to the dashing Jean Dujardin for his role in The Artist ( just because he is so handsome) and Meryl Streep for The Iron Lady because it's Meryl, whom I have always admired for her acting skills.

Over the weekend, there were the pre-event tips across social media that spun wisdom on everything from food to fashion. An example was "how to have a great Oscars home party - the best recipes to tantalize your Oscars night". People actually themed a home party around the Oscars and pretended that they were having canapés and champagne with the stars? It made my Tarts and Tartan-themed party during Hogmanay last year look like a kindergarten tea party.

Another expounded the "do's and don'ts" when walking the red carpet. I found it difficult to fathom how complicated it would be for one walking the red carpet to grin and wave daintily while stopping in front of the cameras to pose by arching the back, lifting that chin, putting one leg forward and placing a hand on the hip. I do that quite frequently at the Marble Slab ice cream parlor near my office, in the hope that the lady behind the counter gives me a larger portion of violet crumble, my favorite ice cream topping. Then, it also helped that I learnt the art of an oscar-worthy performance of welling my eyes in self-pity from Shrek's Puss in Boots. It came in handy from time to time when I was requested to submit my budgets at the office.

I watched the awards for the clothes. All that red carpet finery, most of which did not belong to the actresses, was what most people tuned in to the Oscars for. I enjoyed the Oscars fashion parade best. It possibly generated more buzz than the Oscars itself. This morning, I enjoyed watching the stars sashay, gush, and giggle for 2 hours as they strolled down the red carpet, some with gowns so massive they required their own red carpets. When the actresses showed off their frocks, they provided me with a strange sense of comfort to know that fashion stylists and designers, like some of my advertising agency art and creative directors, don't always get it right in spite of their claim to creative perfection.

This year, black and white colors ruled with a few hits and misses. There were two actresses who looked like they were going to fly off to the Tron Legacy 2 auditions. They were Judy Greer in a sequined black and gold number and Shailene Woodley with her Valentino couture skin-tight white gown. And Rose Byrne in her shiny black toga-styled Vivienne Westwood seemed to have just come from the auditions for The Sludge. George Clooney looked predictably gorgeous in his Armani suit and was so clever to accessorize with a gold-clad Stacy Kiebler who looked like a walking Oscar statuette beside him. That's telling the Academy like it is, George, " The Academy and it's cheap gold trinket can go stuff itself. I've got myself a life size walking and talking one."

Some actresses who chose to go with colors did it with style like Michelle Williams' classic Louis Vuitton Ferrari-red gown. It was expected of size 2 figures like hers to look flawless. And I always believed that if one do not have a size 2 figure, then one should carry a well-cut dress which shows off one's best assets. And example is Viola Davis' green Vera Wang bustier dress. I reckoned she needed a chisel and hammer to remove the sticky tape from her breasts later. And if one is size 22, like Melissa McCarthy, chiffon is best avoided. Her Marina Rinaldi number accentuated her massive frame and that sequined cinched waist just hollered, "Look! No waist!" it didn't help that her shoes were made by Atwood, " my best friend," she gushed. She claimed the shoes came inscribed with a note that said " to my best friend Melissa", I hoped it also said " Maximum load weight: 5 tonnes."

In fact, the event fashion critiques were not any better. Honestly, can someone explain how Kelly Osbourne with her copper colored hair and raccoon eyes could get on the panel of Fashion Police? She made her equally raccoon-eyed, straggly-haired dad look like Brad Pitt after co-hosting the kids' sleep-in with Kate Gosling.

So you see? What a laugh. The live telecast of the 84th Academy Awards was a great way to start my otherwise boring Monday morning.

Postscript: As expected, Jean Dujardin and Meryl Streep did win the best actor and actress awards respectively.

I am proud to be part of this company today

It's a moment of pride for me today when the company announced a stellar performance in the FY2011 annual results. During the analysts' briefing this morning, I hung on to every word from the Regional CFO's address. Now, I am not "numerical". I still add and subtract with my fingers, and did not realize there was a difference between a scientific calculator and a regular one. Yet, I mentally processed every number reported and closed my eyes in satisfaction when the Regional CEO mentioned that one of the contributions to the sterling performance was attributed to the launch of a specific product last year with a strong marketing plan.

My team and I had a part to play with that plan, and it gave me a lot of satisfaction to know that the long days, late nights, some exasperated moments, the laughter and tears throughout that period from strategy to implementation was all well worth it.

In the last 2 years, I have had many rough moments in the company when I sometimes questioned if I was just an insufferable "Ditzoid", destined to peddle "fluff" around technically sophisticated products and label the effort as "Marketing Communications". I sometimes felt like the unimportant and best forgotten "step-sister" of the sales process, best to be wheeled out only to add some color, copy and pretty images to the advertising and the brochureware.

However, as I was managing the press to announce these results today, it filled me with immense pride to be in this company as part of a team that had contributed to the great results. Gradually, my ridiculous self-doubts dissipated.

After a sleepless night and a grueling 13-hour day dedicated to the results announcement, I came home from work to a couple of bright-eyed and cheery people waiting to finally spend some quality time with me. I resolved to take David and Joel out for ice-cream to celebrate a successful 2011, knowing that they too had to put up with my mental absenteeism and often cranky disposition in the last couple of weeks as we prepared to announce these results.

Postscript: Apart from the fabulous A-Team, I dedicate this blog entry to 3 friends, RN, AM and PH who have made this success possible. It was humbling to be in the trenches with you guys.

I am not a sociopath

I have just been reminded that the Royal Caribbean cruise vacation I bought Mom and Dad, sailed today. Joy. If anything, I truly felt the excitement for them....and I am excited for myself. With my parents away all week that can only mean 1) less nagging via text messages from Mom, 2) no probability of Mom showing up at our home unannounced to a half-naked David attempting to hide his nipples with his fingers whilst opening the door, 3) no probability of Mom and Dad questioning why I have starved their beloved and only grandson when all I had done was to accidentally finish his bar of chocolate in the fridge and 4) no probability of having a row with them over my third rate parenting just because I had grounded their beloved and only grandson for doing something stupid.

Some months back, Mom and Dad had suggested that we organize a family vacation. So I bought them a cruise vacation, without me. The thought of spending a week with the "Addam's Family" in a vessel that has no "exits" was rather nauseating.

With Dad's limited mobility, a cruise was the best vacation option that offered him all the trappings of a luxurious holiday, from fine restaurants, a movie theatre, staged performances, a casino, a gym, a swimming pool and various sporting activities like rock climbing. As rock climbing, swimming and gym do very little to excite my rather adventurous Dad in a wheel chair, I thought a marathon meal-round-the-clock type of activity might. And the lady at the tour desk had promised me that Dad would be delighted by the scrumptious food available all day at the different dining rooms on board the ship. So that's Dad taken care of.

Then there's granny. Last I heard, she was not into swimming and rock climbing too. Her favorite sport is mahjong. The lady at the tour desk did mention mahjong when I asked if there were more challenging sporting activities other than rock climbing. She also mentioned casino. Granny's eyes lighted up like the neon signs at Las Vegas when she heard that the casino in the ship was world-class. Well, at least with 2 adventurous old folks to look after, Mom would know where to find one. No one's going to get lost on this ship.

Then there's Mom. Mom's idea of a vacation is to wheel Dad into every restaurant and join him in his "foodathons". The luxurious spa and beauty facilities offered in the ship do little to excite her. Food does. And the best thing about cruise dinners is that the dinner service comes complete with nightly staged performances. Mom loves that. She would sit at her table, mesmerized by the music, the costumes and the dancers. I am quite sure that secretly, she wished she was a glittering bustier-clad dancer with 5-inched heels and feathers in her hair.

So I am happy that I have sent them all off on their cruise vacation and even happier that I haven't joined them. I can't possibly think of a worse nightmare than to be stuck in a ship with my parents, granny, uncle and aunt, David and Joel, and with no where to run. How claustrophobic! I am not a sociopath but really, some space would be great. My idea of a great vacation is at a secluded beach surrounded with just the warm tropical breeze, rolling waves and miles of powdery soft sand. From time to time, I might tolerate 1 or 2 vendors selling me a sarong and possibly David singing with his ear phones on or even, Joel pestering me for money to buy a paragliding session.

However, on the whole, I would love a vacation with as little people around me as possible. After all, isn't a vacation meant to allow one to recoup and recharge in the environment of relative peace and quiet? That's why I didn't quite enjoy Siem Reap with the hordes of tourists descending upon the temple ruins and the cheap margarita bars everyday.

At this juncture, I would like to affirm that I am not a sociopath. I just appreciate a lot of space around myself. A mental picture of bliss to me, is hovering above the Iguazu Falls with just my co-pilot ( preferably a handsome one) and myself in a helicopter, or walking across the hills in the Scottish highlands with David and Joel... preferably with my blackberry in tow.

I hope the family are having a great time with the Royal Caribbean. Maybe when I am less selfish with space, I might join them some day and you might spot David and I camped out in a wee corner of the ship, far from the maddening crowd, each nursing a colorful alcoholic drink dressed with a fancy mini umbrella and a small signage strapped across our backs that read "I am an Ogre. Get out of my swamp."

Still maneuvering changes

I had probably one of the most difficult weeks ever at the office last week. And I do not think it would get any easier in the next few weeks, but I know that every step of the way, I draw strength from my experience, my skills, my team, my family and the conviction to always "do the right thing in the right way".

The air of uncertainty exacerbated by the management changes at the office had been unsettling. When I first read the proverbial writing on the wall last November, I was driven to put my head down, put the metal on the pedal and get the work done. That was probably the only thing I could do at that time to manage the situation and get the girls at the office to focus on the road ahead. Then when the management changes were implemented a couple of weeks ago, the reality hit home very hard. There was a new world order in the office and I had to work within the constraints of that new order. Being away on vacation for a week at Siem Reap did not help but it gave me some time to mentally and emotionally cut my ties with what I had come to be familiar with and embrace the new situation.

A couple of years ago at the last job, we were put through a "response-ability" training as part of management development. It was conducted by that genius Paul Stoltz from Peak Learning. It was possibly the best investment the company had made after my green belt six sigma certification I had received at American Express. That "response-ability" skills came in handy for what I am currently experiencing at work. They were invaluable in helping me to adapt to the new management style, work at my goals and steer my team towards achieving our targets and objectives.

The girls at the office had been a wonderful source of support. I imagined that they must have felt so unsettled with these management changes, yet they put their heart and soul into each task that they were managing and supported each other through the daily juggling of work stress and management changes.

As for myself, I viewed the management changes as an opportunity to step up to the plate and "do the right things in the right way" with my skills and experience. It was also a test of my resilience and adaptability to change. Years of experience and Paul Stoltz's training taught me that when I come face to face with a bump on the road, I should always find another way to get to my destination.

I noticed that I have become quite vocal at senior management meetings. It was my way of governing my work with openness and honesty irregardless of the management changes. I wanted them to know that what they see is what they get, and that I am a consummate professional, passionate about driving the business in the right direction.

At the end of the day, like I had mentioned in my previous blog entry, I have no apologies for my brutal honesty. Over the years, I have been climbing the corporate ladder at a pace of 240km per hour, sometimes trampling over my fellow colleagues, my friends and my family in the process. At the age of 42, I have realigned my priorities and I definitely no longer have anything to prove. However, I am grateful that everyday, I am doing what I love tremendously.

Getting paid for it is a bonus. Being surrounded by a great team and a wonderful family is a blessing.

Postscript : When David read this blog entry, he said to me, "every company you have been at, you've always had a mentor. It's your turn to be one now". I love David for being my best friend.

This is not a food blog

"No, sorry, we are not THAT Crazy Angmo who owned a western food stall in Bishan". "No, The Crazy Angmo has not reopened for business."

I would like to emphasize that this is not a food blog.

These are just some of my replies to some messages that I had been receiving via Facebook from strangers as well as friends who had asked if we were the same people behind The Crazy Angmo. The Crazy Angmo, incidentally, was the name of a western food stall that was located at Bishan, but had closed down since. For a start, The Crazy Angmo was owned by an Australian named Paul Crinis. My crazy angmo is a Scot. "Same same but different," I replied to one of these messages.

In fact, I had not realized there was indeed another " Crazy Angmo". A quick search on google after the first message from a stranger appeared in my inbox confirmed this. Thankfully, the photos of the other "Crazy Angmo" depicted someone skinnier, fairly pastier, dark haired and definitely bore no resemblance to mine. That Crazy Angmo was Paul Crinis, formerly a tennis coach who had worked in Singapore.

For what it's worth, Paul Crinis had decided then, that beyond his talent as a tennis player, he had wanted to share his Australian culinary delights with Singaporeans by setting up a western food stall in the heartlands. Yes, he was crazy enough. Any semblance of western food to my fellow Singaporeans is Chicken Chop, much like Sweet and Sour Pork is to our Western friends. Today, I am still trying to figure out which part of the chicken is its chops.

David and I did toy with the idea of setting up a "healthier food deli" a long time ago. Now, that would have been crazy. For one, David and I cannot bear testament to the food we would have served. A healthy drink to us, is a Vodka Orange for whatever vitamin C it had with the inclusion of the orange. If David and I were to set up a Western food stall, we would have ended up eating everything that we could have sold for the day instead. Or worse, we might be hauled away and locked up by the food health authority for serving Haggis. So we canned that crazy idea.

Nevertheless, while pouring through various food blogs that had done reviews of The Crazy Angmo then, I came across mentions of many equally crazy angmos who had also set up food stalls in the heartlands too. One sold German sausages, one sold French food, another sold pizza and pasta, and yet another sold Belgian waffles. I am not sure if these stalls are still around but Botak Jones definitely is. I don't think anyone can be crazier than Botak Jones' owner Bernie Utchenick. I have known Bernie since he had opened a jazz bar at Boat Quay years ago. It was a frequent hangout for my friend and ex-boss LJ and I who had spent many wonderful nights dancing to the beautiful music played by O.D. and his band. Then Bernie opened a restaurant at East Coast Park which was yet again another frequent hangout for my rugby team mates and I. I know Bernie had as many failed businesses as he had successful ones and I applaud him for his "crazy" courage. I am so glad for Bernie, that Botak Jones has mushroomed into many outlets dotted across our little island and Bernie has also finally become a Singaporean. Not quite a crazy angmo after all.

When I started this blog, I searched in my mind for a blog name that attempted a near accurate description of who I was as the writer. And because the blog was about my observations of the comedy that surrounded my life, that near accurate description, I felt, had to include David.

If you had read my first blog entry, you would have remembered that the phrase "crazy angmo" was coined by the neighbors when little old ladies or children within the estate pointed to an unfamiliar sight of a pasty-white, burly blonde bloke that is my husband and calls out "chee sin angmo" or "crazy angmo". This was not confined to the heartlands, I can assure you. When we were living in a townhouse sharing a swimming pool within the estate, nosy kids literally pressed their noses against their windows while staring at David floating in the bird-bath sized pool looking like a polar bear exhibit. They would continue to do so until their mothers yanked them by the ears from behind the curtains, muttering "chee sin angmo".

So, I gave birth to "the crazy angmo and his angry wife" as a snazzy way to capture the comedic life of the Ash Family. I want to re-emphasize that it is not a food blog.

Anyhow, with all the research I did about the crazy angmos who had opened their food stalls in the heartlands, I made a mental note to find an angmo food stall personally run by a fellow crazy angmo to have dinner at.

However, don't ask me to write a food review, as this clearly isn't a food blog.