post 28. christina sends me a letter i wrote

itx interesting sometimes to look back and see the stuff i used to write, to see the evolution or degeneration of my writing style. also, itx kind of a fragment of time captured on virtual paper, a reflection of the way i used to think.

so when christina mou said she still had all the emails i sent her before, i was very surprised and oddly touched that someone thinks so highly of my writing. then i shamelessly begged her to resend one to me so that i can take a look at what i wrote.

so here is one letter i wrote to some friends in the states before i flew here to perth. it must have been more than 3 years ago. i am still so touched by mou's action.

itx titled: of potatoes and other stuff

cooking has always held an subliminal attraction for me. to take fresh raw materials, and to chop and slice and dice, and in an frenized orgy of fire, heat, oils and butter, blend the various smells and tastes into a dish to whet the senses and nourish the heart- that has always seemed to me on a level with the divine, the act of creation through destruction, an experiience that is electricifying, mysterious, and yet quite mundane. that is why good cooks rate higher in my book than lawyers and doctors. and that is why i really hate bad food; restaurants that serve food smothered in overpowering gravies and sauces so that you can't even taste the food, should be shot and sent to burn in hell. that is also why my friends find it a pain to eat out with me. hahaha.
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> to make it up to them for their long-suffering patience, i didn't mind too much when i had to prepare some food for a picnic. it doesn't sound very generous until you take into consideration a)they didn't bother to inform me until the afternoon before the picnic and b) the picnic was supposedly to celebrate (are they THAT happy to see me go?) my leaving for autralia for studies. shouldn't i, as the object of celebration, have to do nothing but show up and saunter around?
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> at the end of the day, i learnt some things. preparing food is exhausting. from the selection, the preparation, to the final consumpation of the food, the process is more tiring than i expected. it took more me out to prepare twoscore sandwiches and a salad than to run for five klicks. when you run, you can at least expect a second wind; in cooking, you can't even let up for a while with no respite in sight.
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> at this point, you're probably wondering what the point of this letter is. no, itx not really about cooking. the point of this letter is, i believe that everyone would like to mark the start of a new period in their lives with some commerative action, whether it be to go on an alcohol-fuelled night of debauchery and revelry or a quiet picnic by the beach. and it is usually best when shared with friends and people near and dear to the heart. what i'm trying to say, through all my wanderings and meanderings, is that, through this poorly-worded letter, i would like to share with you all this closing of one chapter in my life, and the start of a another.
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> (if you thought that was long and convulated, imagine me trying to say it. i write better than i talk, so if i were to really try to say it all out, you would all still be hearing me talk about eggs and salads. as you can see, pc, i still have not rid myself of the habit of beating around the bush.)
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> so before i leave on the 26th, i thought i should write to you all. the older i get, the more i identify with my heritage. the younger me would have just packed and left, with at most a curosry goodbye note, and letx not have all that so long, farewell bullshit. i was quite anglonized in my thinking, and i could never understand why the chinese took so long over goodbyes. in one of the rare few chinese novels that i have read (Wu Song Kicks the Crap Out of Some Tiger), the host sends our protagonist off, walks with him to some inn, lingers over a few cups of wine, walks with him some more, and finally cries when he has to turn back. i thought that was the gayiest thing ever, and swore that would never happen to me. better the stoic cowboy way of blowing town without saying goodbye to anyone. i was secretly embarassed by all things chinese, and good riddance to all those rituals and meaningless courtesies. goodbyes are, however, more than a form of courtesy; they are a form of reassurance, reassurance to those who are leaving that those who are left behind will be safe and well, and a mute achknowledgement of our mortality. to have met and known, is that not something precious and to be treasured, for who knows when we will meet again?
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> i have talked enough by now, if not too much, so let me end here. i hope that this finds you all happy and well, and i hope to be able to hear from you soon.
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> and in case you were wondering what potatoes had to do with all this, well, i still have a basket of potatoes left and i was planning to have baked potato tomorrow.

i don't really remember what picnic we had. i am terrible in that way, in that i forget things quite easily. oh wait, actually, itx starting to come back some. i think it was a picnic at sentosa that i had with gary, crystal, lynn and her bf i think. and for some reason, lynn went swimming in the sea and there was a bottle of red in there somewhere i think. hmmm. i am sure that happened, but not sure if it was the picnic i was writing about. i remember the sun was going down and hmmm, crystal's sunglasses or something. did she break them. lol. too long ago.

well, it was quite strange reading the stuff i wrote. itx like reading a familiar stranger's writings, not quite alien but then, not quite your own. i think i wouldn't say "gay" anymore and probably tone some things down too. but i really like "Wu Song Kicks the Crap Out of Some Tiger." that is vintage me. ^^ oh even then, i already liked running. cool. :p