NRIC re-registration

My old identity card has been rendered invalid, with just a tiny hole punched through it by the immigration centre woman who was trying to be a little too chatty. I was trying to refrain from furtively taking a snapshot of the card with my camera phone - for memory's sake - when the woman handed it back to me. Boy, was I glad to keep it. The face staring back at me was charcoal-black, from months of sailing under the hot sun in my first year at junior college. It was a face that I wanted to remember. Maybe because she looked so young.

At the same time, I was pleased with my new identity card, which I got done with MUCH fuss. First, my photo was rejected because they said, get this, there were "shadows behind my ears". I mean like hallo, you didn't specify in the letter that the background had to be shadowless. So like after paying $10 for a bunch of 8 passport-sized photos, you're telling me to retake? No way. 

On the suggestion of a friend, I decided to use my camera phone to shoot a picture of the now-useless faceshot, and email it to the immigration department with a stern note stating how upset I was. This was after I had a useless conversation with one of the underlings who didn't really know how to handle my problem. I think if they read in between the lines, they probably knew I was going to See My MP if they didn't do something about it. It worked. The very next day, I got a call saying that they had fixed the shadows with Photoshop and everything would be ok. Yay.

I was even more pleased when my wait at the centre for the IC was no more than 10 minutes. These people are super efficient now. During the short wait, I looked around to see who, like me, had turned 30 and were waiting for their new IC. I think even more than that, I was trying to see how many were unmarried. It was something that I couldn't stop myself from doing, and comparing. What to do? I'm still human. :)

Congruence

Congruence is key to a wholesome being who is able to take charge of himself or herself, to be free to make choices that are empowering...

-To be aware of what is in the unconscious

-To acknowledge that it is ok for me to feel this way, even though I don't like to feel that way

-To appreciate the connections between my problems, the cause and effect of them

-To accept what has happened, and what is

-To act, to change...to accept what fits, and to put away what doesn't

My understanding of Virginia Satir's beliefs is as above. I want to be in touch with myself, because I need to. Many people don't dare to get in touch with their yearnings, of being validated/accepted/loved, because it makes them feel so naked and vulnerable. So they escape. I'm glad that my journey of growth is still continuing. I will never be 100 per cent congruent. But I'm working towards that. And through it, I hope to impact the ones I love.

Sweet kid on the block

Me and Rawtbhik. Yes, R-A-W-T-B-H-I-K, the sweet kid on the block. Malay, but with some Chinese blood somewhere up there, and a really rocker-cool-father who owns a barber shop. Six years old, and loves playing in the void deck with his nek nek (grandma) watching over him. Every time he sees my mother, he goes "Aunty Yellow Car!!!". When he sees me, he waves and calls "Aunty" sans "Yellow Car". On Sundays, he waits in anticipation at his 2nd floor unit window (french windows) to catch me walking briskly along the footpath downstairs. He will shout "Aunty!!!", before waving frantically with a megawatt smile. I always look back, and give him a big flying kiss, to which he never fails to return with an even bigger one.

The other day, he was playing with his friend, a six-year-old girl. Let's call her N. I casually asked both of them: "So which school are you in?" N immediately announces: "I am from Iman Kindergarten. I am from the best class. The highest of the three classes."

All this while, the little boy looks at his friend in wonder, jaw slightly dropping. I turn to him, and try my best to ask my question in a tone that doesn't demand for some achievement on his part. I say: "Which school do you go to?"

The sweet boy pauses really long and hems and haws, before volunteering: "I don't know the name, but it is at the corner shop there..."

It's really ok Rawtbhik. Enjoy your corner-shop-there school. You deserve to have fun. It's no fun being in the top class, if there ever was a top class in a kindergarten.

A Beau(tiful) Playlist

I have fallen in love with a song called Beautiful World, written and performed by the people of www.beepmusic.com.sg, a local Christian music portal with free downloads. As I typed in "Beau" to look for it in my iTunes playlist, a whole bunch of Beau(tiful) songs turned up. And they make a beautiful playlist indeed...

You're Beautiful - James Blunt

Beautiful Saviour - Planet Shakers

Beautiful World - Beep Music (Starfish)

Call Me Beautiful - Ginny Owens

Beautiful - Bethany Dillon

Beauty in Walking Away - Marie Digby

A Beautiful Mess - Jason Mraz

Social work

This May marks my third year in social work. But it feels like it has been five years. The amount of work I have done, the number of varied experiences I have been through, simply overflows out of the three-year period.

In a conversation I had with my boss yesterday, she asked: "How long have you been involved in xxx project?" I replied, without batting an eyelid: "Four years." Then, we both burst out laughing. How could it be, when I had joined the organisation only three years ago?

The work tires me sometimes, but I am still going on. Social work used to be such a mystery to me. But today, I know that there are so many variations of it - community outreach, group interventions, clinical therapy, advocacy, research and the list goes on. And, within all these variations, there are so many models you could learn from, so many different frameworks of thinking you could use, so many different target groups you could work with.

I think as for now, I roughly know what I would like to focus on. I will continue to think through it. Because it's time to take stock, and plan what happens next.

And in the midst of this trying-to-think-in-the-busyness, I must say I love my workplace.

For its frequent steamboat/potluck lunches, homestyle (where we just dump food brought from home or bought from NTUC into a huge steamboat and eat for lunch.) For its not-shy over-the-cubicle conversations (where we just shout across the office in our daily conversations.) For the surprises I receive on my wall or desk, even pc desktop, when I am feeling down cos of work (where my colleagues trick me into calling a strange number that has the person at the other end playing a Mayday song to cheer me up).

And really, I think best of all about this workplace, is the genuineness that everyone shows towards one another. I guess, when you team up to help others, you need to help yourself first right?

It's been a great ride so far. I hope to keep going, and riding...

Everybody cooks a little something

Today, I headed to dsd's home to cook dinner with her parents. It was pretty cute, cos we each contributed one dish. dsd with her yummy pork ribs with rosemary, her mother with homely lotus root soup, her father with prawns in a tomato-based sauce, and my stir-fried spinach with hae bee. It was nice, the whole experience, with the post-dinner loooong walk and chat. :)