i'm getting ready for my halloween party tomorrow. it would be my first ever dress up halloween party and i am feeling a mixture of excitement and dread. excitement since this is the usual feeling one gets when you try something the first time, most especially knowing full well you're bound to have a blast. dread since my "costume" requires me to layer on loads of clothing, a last minute idea courtesy of melloida, that would require the least effort on my part to prepare but still convey a very uncharateriscally-me feel. i sure hope i don't melt under all of that ... more so, i sure hope people get what i will come as! scary!!!!
though i was tickled of seeing my image on the mirror as i did my dry run for tomorrow (details had to be ironed out you know), i did however have to ruin the fun by entertaining a thought that my rather ridiculous reflection elicited.
though not necessarily a depressing thought, it seemed like a pressing issue then and i would just like to throw the idea into the wind and see where it would land.
i found myself one day eating at a dimsum parlor in chinatown one morning. despite having grown tired of eating chinese, dimsum remains something i find difficult to give up, most especially when eaten as breakfast. nothing for me pampers the soul more than a steaming serving of dumplings or hakaw, paired with a hot pot of jasmine tea. anyways, as i was savoring my morning meal, i took notice of my environs.
the parlor was jammed packed with people, most of them fresh from tai chi. groups of ladies and men from different associations, all sharing an age old tradition of dimsum. i sat there alone on my table, the youngest of the lot, and watched them cackle away like chickens in a coop, laughing, gossiping, arguing. they teased each other in fookien about their latest aches and pains and who's condition was the worse. they talked about current events and where best to invest their money in. they competed to grab the bill as it came, claiming it was their turn to pay and threatening ill fate to whoever would disagree, jokingly of course. this is the usual atmosphere in almost every dimsum parlor you go to in the morning, a sea of activity almost of market place intensity. yet amidst this lively display sits another group of people, barely noticeable. they sit quietly on their tables, almost like they are oblivious of what's happening around them. you often find them at the tables at the farthest ends of the parlor, either dining alone or in a shared table with fellows like them. these are the lau a-pe's and lau ang-kongs, the old parlor patrons.
i watched these stoic old men and wondered how i would be when i reach their age. i pondered what fate would have in store for when when i too am like them? would i find myself in their shoes as well, what ever it was? will i be happy? content? successful? would i be alone? would there be a family i would have raised? would i have children then to call my own or even grandchildren? would i have someone to take care of me when i am old and grey? were these things valid for me to think about, knowing full well that my situation is different? will i be a disappointment since the family line could end with me?
suddenly, my dumplings and hakaw tasted flat. too bad there was no one with me to compete in paying the bill.
these were my fears.
angkor had the same. we both work to save.
mark said we should open a home for the aged, gay and fabulous.
i don't mind the idea... i don't think i would want to be old and alone. i just hope that they leave the decorating to me.