The butter to my bread

So, the benefit of writing a blog is the complete freedom of worrying if someone will actually read it.  There is no "Oh, am I interesting enough for someone to care enough to read this?" or "How can I get more people to my site?".  No, with a blog, it doesn't really matter if you have no readers or thousands, it's free so you can just post to your heart's content.  No need for advertising or patronage, as long as you can man up to the feedback, you're in happy camper land and can post, post, post until your heart's content.

So, where does that take us today? Well, it's about 12am here on a Saturday night and I have had a decidedly low-key night. Last night I went to a black tie event (I'll catch you up on my RIDICULOUS dress story and the exploding ink soon)  and dragged my ass in around 3:30am. So I figured a low-key night was perfectly acceptable.  I started the night with lots of lotion for my very sun burnt skin (I still have not gotten a handle on the fact that I am 1 degree away from the equator here), then opened a bottle of delish wine and ordered in. While waiting for dinner, I decided I would finally suck it up and watch"Julie, Julia". Not my typical type of movie, but the wine was flowing,  it is 80 degrees outside with an amazing wind and hanging in my gorgeous apartment, I decided I could handle a cheezy night.

Now, for those of you that know me well, you certainly know that I am by no means a cook. From my fire-rice-crispies to always-burnt-toast, cooking is by no means a strong point in my life. So the movie was really more of a time holder to get to Inception that anything else. I started watching, thought it was cute and laughed in all the right places, as intended.  Cute, maybe a little too over the top movie, on a good Saturday night,

Then, I heard the statement "you are the butter to my bread". I won't say angels sung because that would just sound, well, simple, but it was really that moment. You've certainly had one of these moments - one where you realize everything that everyone around you has been striving for and telling you to strive for is just not quite right. That there really is more than filling some gap in your life with a partner that you may, or may not, be with you in 6, 36, 72, or 126 months since realistically you just got together to plug the "what I am doing and where am I going?" kind of moment.  One of those moments that really makes you question your whole future relationship path.

Seems a little much from just watching "Julie, Julia", right ? I know. But sometimes things just hit you. In Singapore, my dating status is of utmost important to people. It's part of knowing who I am as a person and getting to know me outside of work.  I get questioned tirelessly about whom I'm seeing, do I have children, etc.  Drives me nuts, but it's just part of the deal here. So, up until this point I've just kind of accepted it and moved to the next event. And then tonight....

Tonight.... In the movie, a statement is made that the partner is the "butter to my bread".  Think about that. What does that really mean? It means to really appreciate the butter, you have to have good, delicious bread and the butter makes the bread taste even better. Amazing butter still tastes like crap on crappy bread, right?  So, you need to have good, solid, constantly delicious bread to really be able to appreciate the phenomenal butter than can come your way. The butter can take your bread to a whole new level, expanding you to something better than you ever imagined. But, to do that, the butter needs to be amazing ON IT'S OWN, and the bread needs to be fantastic ON IT'S OWN.  Together, you can take things to a new level of amazingness, but you have to be fully amazing on your own so that the extra can bring you both to the next level.

Existentially annoying, I'm sure. But I'm OK with that because this is a blog, as we discussed before. I mean, I'd love it if you liked it, obviously, but if you don't, I just stop writing. There's an amazing amount of freedom in that!

So what am I walking away with tonight? I am excited to be the most well-baked, delicious piece of bread possible. And I'm willing to make the effort to be that bread. And I understand, that when the most amazing pat of butter walks by, it's a story of how phenomenal we can be together - we're both fantastic on our own, but together we're unbelievable. I love that. So much better than the whole silly "you're my other half" kind of thing. I mean, who really wants to just be a half of a whole????

How do you spell annoying in Chinese?

As you know if you read this blog, I am quite happy in my new adopted city. Beautiful city, great people, fun things to do and so far can't-beat-it weather. Overall, I'm super pumped I moved here and can't wait to see what this year brings my way.

That said.... well, I am starting to find the little things that just annoy you. I knew it was coming - the honeymoon phase has to fade at some point I guess.  So, let's play "what annoys the hell out of Stephanie", shall we?

1. For gods sake, please BACK UP when talking to me. I am an American and I thoroughly enjoy my personal space, thank you very much. This isn't consistent throughout the island, so my guess is it is a cultural thing only in certain groups which I haven't quite figured out yet, but either way - This is MY dance space, this is YOUR dance space. No freaking spaghetti arms!
2. Yes, I ate. I eat everyday. It was good. I will eat again tomorrow. Hopefully it will also be good then. Again, I appreciate that it is just a way of showing caring and it's like me asking how are you today, but for some reason it just annoys the shit out of me. Silly I know, but I never claimed to be perfect.
3. Where the hell is all the humus?? Is someone buying it in bulk and hoarding it from me??? I need humus for my crackers damn it.
4. No one gets my (hilarious at least to me) references. When I'm talking to my team and no one responds, my cute little "Bueller... Bueller..." elicits nothing but blank stares. What the hell, that's one of my favorites!
5. Shopping on the web, a personal need, is pretty much non-existent here.  I guess since shopping is practically the national past time, it doesn't quite lend the same cache as hitting up one of the gorgeous malls, but come on! There is nothing better than being able to purchase items at 3am when you can't sleep. Let's get with it Singapore.
6. Why are my bananas hard? (internal chuckle) Bananas should be delicious and tender, not hard and somehow bitter. How do you even make a banana bitter?
7. Yes, I like spicy food. It's not a national event that I am a pale American that likes spicy food. Don't look at your friends with that "sure chicky, whatever you say" look and wait for me to suddenly spit my food out because it's just too hot for my poor little mouth.  That being said, I do love it when people give me major props for eating it and liking it, kind of like winning an award for breathing or something, so maybe I'll let that one go.
8. Stop hovering around me when I'm signing the check. People don't tip here, so I know it's not that. Do they think I'm going to suddenly shoot out of my chair with my unsigned credit card slip laughing with delight that I escaped yet again? I don't understand it and it's annoying, so stop it.
9. STOP taking the good stuff out of my movies and shows on TV. We're adults damn it and if I want to see someone's ass or hear a few curse words, that's why I pay for cable. I'm okay with the corruption of my morals, so let's just leave it at that, k pumpkin?
10. Where are the recycling bins? Aren't we on an island? Where the hell is all of the trash going??

Okay, deep breath..... ahhhh I do feel better.

Brazilians, Bars and Bikers

My title is just a nice little executive wrap up for the week. Definitely starting to settle in and get into a groove. This is the first week I've really had the time to truly explore, beyond just the small jaunts I've had in my short time here. And I have new pictures to prove it (click on the pics at the bottom of the page!)  Friday I found the expat bars near my house (post about that fantastic experience below) and today I hit up the Muslim quarter and then went to the Chingay parade down on the water. The parade celebrates the end of Chinese New Year and is quite a production - over 8000 people from all countries and cultures, a FAIR (I'm a little bit obsessed with fairs, as many of you know), outdoor concerts and then an all-night street dance party. My feet are ready to fall off my body and I need a nice long soak in the hot tub, but my belly is full with beer and ice cream, I have some gorgeous new handmade jewelry and I finally found some cropped pants that don't make me look like I'm just waiting for a flood. Good weekend, I must say.

Now, if you're paying attention, you're probably thinking to yourself "wait, didn't she mention something about Brazilians?" Indeed I did, but this Brazilian is of the non-torture type. Today, I finally embraced the fact that regardless of how much I try to just go with the humidity here and try to be grateful that at least I have curly hair, 80% humidity = frizz. And since I'm a single girl in the city and ready to start playing the wonderful game of dating, there just can be none of that.  There is just no way to look hot with frizzy hair.  So I found an amazing hair dresser and threw down a gulp-inducing amount of money for a Brazilian blow out on my hair.  (Natalia, you were an inspiration!)  I have no idea how it will do since I can't really do anything for another day because you can't get it wet, but if it can do what I've read it will, I am going to be one happy little chickie... with gorgeous frizz less hair.  Let the dating begin!

Off to bed. Sending lots of love to everyone and wishes for a good weekend!

Well color me happy!

Thought I'd do a little exploring around my neighborhood to start the weekend off and suddenly the bar god sent a little bit of happiness my way. Bless him.

Anyway, when people hear where I live they always tell me what a good area for mingling and bars. I've seen some cute bars and all, but I honestly just thought maybe Singaporeans were a little starved for entertainment because while the bars looked fine, nothing was screaming "you must come here, meet people and enjoy a frosty beverage!" Then tonight, I found it. I turned down a street I haven't explored yet. Suddenly, I hear glass clinking. Then, slightly buzzed laughter. I felt I was on the right path and started to speed up. Well, actually I practically started sprinting (the thought of a good frosty beverage can do that to you). I turned the corner and lo and behold, it's bar Mecca! They're everywhere, with lots of expats, music, outdoor seating and, drum roll please!... Happy hour!!!!!!!!

Sending a little prayer of thanks to the bar god. You done good, real good.

Oh, that's what "rainy season" means

Since I've arrived in this gorgeous city, everyone keeps talking about how it's the rainy season. By now, I've seen my share of tropical storms and know that it's a little cooler than what I understand the rest of the year will be like. I bought my multiple umbrellas like a dutiful Singaporean and went on my way, thinking people were maybe a little overactive to the whole rainy season affair while I laid out by the pool day. Then came Saturday. It began with a massive thunderstorm that woke me up that morning and poured all day. No big deal I thought, I lived in Florida for nine years so I'm quite experienced with a stormy summer day. Bounced around town with my super cute new umbrella and went on my way. Then Sunday came - starts with a burst of lightening that made me wonder if living on the 11th floor over a pool was such a rockstar idea. But again, being the slightly annoying Positive Polly I can be, threw on some rubber-soled shoes, grabbed my umbrella and away I went. Monday, it rained so hard I could barely see outside my window at work. Hum, I'm thinking, this IS some serious rain. Luckily we don't seem to really have to much of an issue with flooding here or I'd be more worried. Right? Right??????????

Today, I finally get it. Rainy season = rain that kicks your silly sun's ass whenever it feels like it. Beautiful sun in the morning to start your day? It's just a tease, just enough to make you think ahhh, no more umbrella for me today. Nope, that's just a trick so that you forget your umbrella when you're running late for work and don't worry about turning back around to get it because the sun is out. And what, dear reader, does that get you? Ruined heels, wet-dog hair and pants that leave nice little puddles whenever you stop at someone's desk. Now that I'm finally dry I can laugh and say that yes, I finally get it. It's the rainy season. Carry a damn umbrella.