Screw you guys, I'm going home...

Well, not really. But that's the kind of day I had today. Shouldn't the grass be greener here? It IS a tropical climate, after all.

There is no Banana Republic Here

It's no secret - I'm not built like the typical Asian woman. I'm a little bit curvier than most of them, which makes it a little bit tougher to find clothes that fit right. That being said, it is also no secret that I am sort of a slob (and kind of klutzy). I didn't bring much with me over here, and in less than two months I have managed to ruin both of the plain black t-shirts that I brought. I didn't think I would have a problem finding a new one, but no such luck. Bfaw (best friend at work - even though she is no longer 'at work' with me, she will always be bfaw) has been putting together a package to send me (I love love love mail!) so I asked if she wouldn't mind throwing in a couple of replacement tee's. She said no problem and headed off to the mall with another buddy from work. I got an email from her later telling me that not only did they find the shirts, but that they were, get this, made in Singapore. Heh. Glad I could liberate them from the United States and bring them back to their homeland.

Crazy D

Today is my birthday, so if I post anything today, it should probably be something introspective and thoughtful, like what a great year I have had and goals for the next one, right? I was going to do just that, but then I encountered some information that was much more interesting: Crazy D is engaged! Before I get into the details of who Crazy D is or why the engagement announcement is shocking, let me just say that I really don’t want this blog to become a forum for me to discuss my lovelife (or lack thereof), but some of these stories just seem too amusing for me to pass up. However, lest you get the wrong impression, let me set you straight: my social life is really pretty boring and has been for a while, despite what some of these snippets may indicate. (Aren’t you impressed that I just used the word ‘lest’?)

Anyway, Crazy D. Ok, many of you have not heard of Crazy D because my interactions with him took place shortly before I moved here. He is a guy in Otown who contacted me at the beginning of June on mspace. His message passed my screening process (see previous post) so we exchanged a couple of emails. We talked on the phone a bit, and although I thought that there wasn’t an outrageous amount of chemistry, he seemed like a nice guy. The thing was, we talked several times over the course of a week or two (most if not all calls initiated by him) and he never once asked me out. It got to the point where I really just didn’t want to talk to him, because I didn’t actually know him, so it was getting weird. Just when I was about to give up on him, Crazy D asked me out. Unfortunately, I was going away for that weekend so it wasn’t going to work, but I told him I would call him when I got back. Right after I got back into town, I was informed that I would be moving to S’pore within two weeks. I told Crazy D, but let him know that if he still wanted to meet up before I left, he should call me.

Well, he called and we tried to get together a couple of times, but between packing and work and trying to see people I actually knew, it just didn’t work out. Less than a week before I left, we made plans to have a late dinner. Crazy D said he would call me at 8:00pm and we would decide where to meet. Knowing that I would be eating later, I didn’t eat after lunch at work. I got home around 7 and got ready. Guess what? 8:15 and no call. So, being the aggressive (and hungry) girl that I am, I called him. Here is a reenactment of our conversation:
Syrah: Hey. Hows it going?
Crazy D: Great! Do you still want to meet up?
Syrah: Sure.
Crazy D: Why don’t we go for a walk around Lake Eola?
Syrah: Well, I thought we were going to get a bite to eat. I’m pretty hungry.
Crazy D: Yeah… well I just ate.
Syrah: Ooookaaay. Well why don’t we go somewhere and grab a drink and some appetizers?
Crazy D: That sounds good. Only I’m not going to drink.
Syrah: You’re not going to drink? Why? (I knew he drank.)
Crazy D: Well, I have to get up really early tomorrow to bring my dad to the airport.
Syrah: Ok, well tell you what. It doesn’t sound like tonight is going to work out, so why don’t we just reschedule?
Crazy D: Why????
Syrah: Well I am pretty hungry & you’ve already eaten & I don’t really feel like chowing down in front of you if you’re not going to eat.
Crazy D (and this is exactly what he said, very seriously): Well, it’s either now or never.
Syrah (stunned by this ultimatum): Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. Call me if you ever change your mind.

Then I hung up.
And called bff (fka: bdm) and asked him if wanted to grab a bite. He said he had already eaten, but would keep me company. (I don’t mind being the only one eating if I actually know the other person.) And then bff told me that my response to Crazy D was that of a man in a woman's body, which i think was supposed to be a compliment of sorts. Anyway, less than a minute after I got off the phone with bff, Crazy D called. “C’mon, don’t be that way. Let’s just meet up. I’d really like to meet you,” he said. I told him that I already had other plans (he didn’t believe me) but that I would call him some other time. Yeah, well, Crazy D didn’t get the hint and kept calling over the next few days, even when I said that I would call him if I was free. I don’t remember exactly what we talked about during our last conversation (it was short), but I do remember being annoyed because he seemed cranky that I didn’t have time to meet him. (Hello – I didn’t have time to see half of the people I WANTED to see before I left.) That was June 25th (the day I sold my car, because I was talking to him while I was driving bff’s car).

And I hadn’t given him a second thought until today, when I was rummaging through people’s profiles on mspace and came across his and discovered that in less than two months after we last spoke, he has become engaged! Shocking. And she seems normal. (Although you really can’t tell online, can you?) I wish them all the best in the world and I hope that things work out for those two crazy kids. As a very wise Bloom says, "God makes 'em and pairs 'em."

Diabeteversary

It has been exactly 17 years since I was diagnosed with the 'betes (type 1 version). On one hand, I cannot believe that it has been that long, but on the other, I hardly remember not being diabetic. Every year on my anniversary, I stop and reflect on how thankful I am that I have diabetes as my chronic illness, and not something worse. It is serious, but it is manageable. And I am thankful that I am living now, and not 60 or 50 or even 40 years ago, when it wasn't so easy to manage. I have been able to live a very 'normal' life so far, and I think part of that has to do with science, part has to do with my personality, and a lot has to do with my mother.

When I was diagnosed, nothing changed in my life from the first 8 years. I was not treated differently by her or the rest of my family. Diabetes was never an acceptable excuse for anything. Can't clean your room because your blood sugar is low? Sit here, drink some oj & eat some PBCs (heh - peanut butter crackers for those not in the know) and then clean your room. Snack time? Eat a Frookie. (Terrible cookie made with fructose.) I never felt different. It never crossed my mind that I couldn't do something because I was diabetic. I went to sleepovers. I played sports. I was left home alone after school. My mother never showed me that she was afraid to let me do any of these things. (She later told me that she was terrified and spent a lot of time crying those first few months. I had no idea.) I just continued what I had been doing, except I stopped and took a shot every couple of hours. Even that never seemed like a big deal. I always did it myself, so it never interrupted my routine. In fact, shots even provided some amusement. My little brother's best friend was deathly afraid of needles. When I was around 12 years old, I would purposely leave the needle in my arm and walk around the house and laugh at the look of terror on his face. (I was a sick kid, I know.)

So even though diabetes never felt like a big part of my life, it is a huge part of who I am. I don't know what I would be like if I weren't diabetic. It has given me a very strong sense of my body. I think it played a large role in forming my independence. Also, because of diabetes, I have made some of my closest friends. And some of the best moments of my life have been spent with these people. And me having diabetes has changed other people's lives as well. Sgt. I from Rochester probably wouldn't have ever gone to CC if I wasn't diabetic. My brother wouldn't have met his first puppy love girlfriend if I wasn't diabetic. I wouldn't have met my friends in Tampa if because I wouldn't have known Sixnip.

So that's my tribute to Diabetes for this year. If I could go back and not be diabetic, would I? I am not entirely sure. Pancreas, keep doing what you're doing - a whole lotta nothing - here's to another year without complications.

I found one.

A gray hair. My first confirmed one. The other few seen before may or may not have been actual gray hairs; they might have been highlights, or at least that is what I told myself. This one, however, is truly a grey hair. I know this because I have been so bad at getting my hi-lights touched up, that the first three inches of my hair closest to my roots is brown, while the rest is a combo of blonde & light brown shades. So this sucker totally stuck out when I spotted him today. (Incidentally, my panamama, la lady di, has no gray hairs. She has wonderful naturally blonde hair. My elusive dad is going gray. Another fabulous trait I have inherited from him apparently.)

Anyway, this discovery comes at the perfect time. As you may know, my birthday is on Wednesday. (I am telling you this so that you will remember to wish me a happy one next week. I love love love it when people remember my birthday. And yes, you can do it both ‘my time’ and whatever time zone you may be in.) I am going to be 26. I was ok with this until I started thinking about it. And occasionally during the past few days, I have had to try really hard to resist having one of those typical girly “Aaaaahhhhh, IamgettingoldIwillbealoneforeverandmystupidclockistickingandIwillnever
getmarriedorhaveafamily and what the hell am I doing in Singapore when I should be in the US settling down” crises. (Ok, so maybe the first part is typical. I will admit that the Singapore part is completely my own.)

But, like I said, I generally love my birthday. And the rational part of me knows that life is not a race and what I have going is great – great family, great friends, great job, great opportunities, great sex…ok, well maybe not enough great sex, but that’s a whole other topic for discussion… and that life will happen when it happens and whatever is meant to be will be. But the completely irrational part of me is all angsty about ‘missing out’ on things in the states while I am here. And I am reading this stupid novel right now, The Notebook, which is all romancy and mushy. I didn’t even like the movie so I don’t know why I thought I would like the book. The reading material combined with the fact that someone (ahem, Captain – and yes, you are stuck with the nickname whether you like it or not) told me that I need to hurry up or I am going to be a 51-yr old cat woman makes me uneasy. Not just because I am doomed to be alone, but also because I am very allergic to cats, and the thought of being alone with hives is just depressing.

No Danger Here

Two new friends (one british and one swedish) were talking about a recent day they spent at the beach. They had gone swimming at night and had been pretty far out and started to panic that sharks would get them. To calm themselves down while they made their way back, they were joking about how S'pore is so safe, that if a shark came along, someone would swoop down and save them. Everyone laughed and then the one local girl with us said, "Well, don't worry. There aren't any sharks in the cove anyway." We asked how she could be so sure. "Well the government fenced off the area with a net, so sharks aren't able to get in." They've thought of everything.

HR Nightmare

I was reprimanded for being out of dresscode this week. "What were you wearing?" you may wonder. Well, I was wearing these very cute white cropped pants, a v-neck mint green sweater & slingbacks with a small heel. I sort of resembled a chic leprechaun. The issue with my clothes? "It's gotta be the v-neck," you're thinking, "Her t*ts were totally hanging out." Wrong. It was the pants. I was pulled into someone's office and told that my pants weren't effing long enough. Aaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiieeeee. My boss's reaction when I told him: "What? Those pants? You're kidding, right?" Sigh. I give up.

The talking to came from the same woman who when I met her, I was making small talk and asked if she was married. She said no. My next question? "Do you have any kids?" She looked at me like I had three heads and answered, "No. I just told you I wasn't married." Oh. ok. right. At this rate, between my slutty outfits and my suggestions of pre-marital sex, I am on the fast-track straight to the principal's office.

The Problem with a Start-Up (or Why I Will Never Get a Date in S'pore)

The problem with a start-up is that nothing really happens the way you expect it to. Chances are, everything you spent hours analyzing, proposing, and putting into place as a procedure, will ultimately need to be completely revamped and re-implemented in a very very short period of time. I am working on a start-up project here, and I knew these things coming in, but I had no idea to what extent the chaos would be. This has resulted in your good pal Syrah working more hours than she ever dreamed possible. We’re talking 12 hours a day, at least 6 days a week. I’m not telling you this to have you feel bad for me and say, “Oh Syrah, that’s stinks. You work way too hard,” (because I don’t, and I am not the only one doing this) but to give you a little background.

One of the effects of this is that I have had very little free time to spend on non-work related tasks, and what free time I have had has been spent eating & sleeping (and I’m not doing enough of either, incidentally). So, what this means is that certain chores have been neglected for a few weeks now. This includes: unpacking my new apt, doing laundry (good thing I brought enough clothing to last me at least two weeks), ironing, working out, and doing anything to my hair that requires more than washing and throwing it into a ponytail. Wearing makeup? Forget it. I know – it is not a pretty picture. The more time that goes between days off, the more disheveled I look. Which brings me to today. My day off is tomorrow. And since today is a Saturday, I spent even less time than usual getting ready this morning and simply threw on a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee (from when bdm pushed me during Gasparilla – hehe, just kidding, bdm. I know that I tripped on my own accord.), sneakers, a black t-shirt with an ever so small stain on it that I hoped nobody would notice, and pulled my hair up into what can almost pass for a fashionably messy wavy updo. (almost).

I took a quick break half-way through the day to go to the atm at the bank in the lobby of my building (which is actually two 40-storey towers connected in the lobby). As I was getting my cash, I heard two Australian-sounding people behind me chatting. As I left, I looked at one of them and thought I recognized him, but since I only know a few people outside of coworkers here, I figured I didn’t know him. Plus, he didn’t look at me like he knew me. Then it hit me…I did recognize him. He is this guy from NZ who I have never met, but who I have been emailing with on mspace.

Digression: I don’t make a habit of meeting people online. (And I am not on any dating sites.) And of the handful of people I have met online (it is hard hard hard to make friends without using the internet in a foreign country), I have only once ever been the person who initiated contact. (Yes, bdm, my bff, you hold the title of one and only) If someone sends me an email, I have rules about who I respond to. If the person doesn’t use my name in the email (ex – Hey Sweetie, Hi!), makes any references to how I look or what they’d want to do with me, or writes the email as though it were a text message (ex: U seem v. nice. Can we b frenz?), then there is no way that I will respond.

The atm Kiwi (guy from NZ) had written me a very nice email with suggestions of things to do in s’pore and suggested we have lunch sometime since we work in the same building. I gave him my number recently, but haven’t heard from him yet, so let’s hope that a.He didn’t recognize me when he saw me today (I was looking quite different then my cute pics on mspace) b.He didn’t notice the stain on my shirt and c.If he does call & we decide to meet, I find time to brush my hair so that he doesn’t realize that I was the homeless-looking girl at the atm.

This One's for you, MJ

This post is mostly for MJ because lately I have encountered a couple of S'porean meat products that I know she would enjoy. And if you think it is unfair that she gets a post all to herself, well...I haven't heard of any of you buying tickets to come and visit. (Buckler, if you read this, I don't know enough about the pickling scene to write you a tribute post, but I do know that they have pickles available at Subway here. Oh, and I get great pickeld veggies with this pineapple rice dish at the cafeteria in my building.)

Anyway, the foods that make me think of quasi:
1. Satay. They have it here everywhere. I haven't tried it yet, because I have been slightly opposed to satay since you made me eat at that Indonesian place in heska Praha (on our first night after that pervy old man flashed us maybe?) where there were fruit flies all over our bottle of wine. We ordered satay and it was good, but It gives me the creeps thinking about those flies. I'll try it when you're here though, I promise.

2. Jerkey. The jerkey here is called barbeque pork, but its not like anything you'd find back home. I pictured pulled pork, when in fact it is served in thin sheets. It is sweet and delicious. The Wendy's brought me to what they claim is the best BBQ pork stand in the city, and I believe them, because they are the Singapore experts. Quasi, I will bring you there. I remember your love affair with jerkey a few years ago & I know you will love this stuff.

As a side note, the Wendy's have been making an appearance for the last few posts. Let me just clarify so that you don't get the wrong idea. Their names aren't Wendy, and I unfortunately can't take credit for that nickname, but they are my new S'porean pals who are a great time and know everything about everything in this city.

Happy Birthday Singapore!

Today is SIngapore National (Independence) Day. Singapore is now 41 years old. And let me tell you, this is a big deal here. They have been practicing for the parade (which actually seems to just involve festivities in a stadium showing off the army and singing but no parading around the city) for weeks. The military planes have been doing drills every weekend. There have been commercials on TV advertising this event. The most memorable one is actually this catchy song sung by a very beautiful woman, which goes something like, "And I will sing a song of hope; a song of peace; a song of harmony. And I will know, wherever I may beeeeeeeee, you will always be a part of meeeeeee". Its more like a music video than a commercial and it lasts a couple of minutes. And they have been playing it constantly on all three of the channels I get on TV. (I don't have cable yet, but I would bet they've been showing it there too.) People have been displaying flags everywhere. So yesterday, when my coworkers were leaving, I wished them a happy National Day. And they laughed at me. Apparently people don't do that here. And then they started making fun of me by wishing each other a Happy National Day.

So I celebrated by going to the twins' house and having a steamboat, which is a typical asian meal, kind of like fondue except you cook the food in boiling broth, which is then a base for soup. It was delicious.

Happy National Day!