Tedious, tedious shopping...

While a bit of time away before I start calling schools again. Five more minutes. For the teachers to walk from their classroom to their staffroom.

I have squashed all inclination to shop ever more--or at least for the rest of this month--after the Big Hunt for the Huay Huay Dress with my mum on Tuesday. Don't ask me to look at clothes again. No more, no more. Having accidentally stumbled into a shop with an overenthusiastic auntie insisting that I try on every piece of those... those... those... LOUD! coloured! sequined! glittering! painfully huay huay dresses, bulldozing all my protests-- "No girl, you must try! You don't know how you will look until you try!" After dress number 2, of which she took much pleasure in playing dress-up with me, pulling here and tucking there, I was quite done with the entire affair. Told her, with much vigourous head shaking, that I really really do not fancy this kind of... uh... clothing... no offense to the tastes of that designer son of hers who thinks that ooohhh-how-sweet-you-look-like-a-perfect-little-barbie-doll-princess, which is exactly what I do not want to look like, because I am by no means skinny enough to carry it off nor mature enough to look go in extremely oriental-flowered-styled-sequinted-shimmering-figure-wrapping-front-dipping-back-baring designs, thank you very much. *shudder*

Very tedious, going in and out and in and out of all these random shops in town, trying out weird combinations of clothing that one does not usually consider wearing. It does get remotely amusing, however, then whenever my mum or I pick up a huay huay top the salesgirl nearby would instantly approach my mum--"Would you like this in your size, mam?" only to be told that "Actually, Miss, we're looking for something for her." "Oh." *momentary silence* "How about the plain tops, Miss?" *sigh* "No, actually, I need a flowered top for a performance..." "Oh! For dancing?" Goodness. This must have been scripted, I tell you... Wonder which is more tedious... trying on the same kind of flowered dresses from different shops all over town or answering the same questions from different people all over town. -_-
Anyhow. I got my dress. After a four hour walkathon. So I shall stop whining about it and spare everyone a earful =P Was out with Shell the following day and my eyes were automatically straying to anything that's remotely flowery. *cringe* But at least this time we were out to scout for nice plain tees... Ended up with mugs and earrings and things like that but no clothes. Hm. But anyhow it was good to see Shell again, even if it's only for a couple of hours. =)

Frivolous pursuits aside ;P Was reading my weekly newspaper a couple of days ago, and came upon a really really good article. It's actually a prize-winning commonwealth essay piece entitled What the Modern Woman Wants. It's a very local, very perceptive, very beautiful piece of writing... Do go and read it--P24 of Sunday Times. Goodness, it's been so long since I've read a narrative essay, and such a poignantly moving one as this. Gives you space to ponder upon her story--how it reflects our life, our pursuits, our values... I quote:
Now her daughter was too clever for her and the old woman wondered why she had prayed like that. The gods had been faithful to her persistant prayer, but the wealth and success that poured forth so richly had buried the girl's roots and now she stood, faceless, with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors by only a string of orgami banknotes.....
Her daughter often mocked her for worshipping porcelain gods... But her daughter had her own gods too, idols of wealth, success and power that she was enslaved to and worshipped every day of her life... All the wants her daughter had would slowly suck the life out of her, and leave her an empty soulless shell at the altar... Gosh. Let this be a reminder that this is what I must never never be, in this horrifically materialistic, success-oriented world =( If there is one thing I cannot bear, it is the sheer emptiness of... of... well, of purpose, of love, of living, of life. The girl in the story will never find true happiness until she understands that it is the intangible things that truly matter, that which is firmly planted in the depths of our hearts. Like her mum's self-sacrificial love for the daughter who wouldn't even care.

*blinks* Oh well. Just go read it, and tell me what you think. And reflect... it might work wonders for the following prac when we do 'Seasons of Love' =) Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes, five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear... so often do we tend to squander them away, so recklessly. *sigh* Time to work it out and piece things together again, girl. Every minute, every moment, to be woven into your life, to fill up the little empty holes... To make for a more wholesome rather than hole-some life, yes? =)