Monthly Archive for June, 2007

I remarked to Jay as we took a walk today that I was afraid of taut telephone pole wires snapping and cutting me in half.

“You know what you need to do? You need to start a blog called Dot’s Irrational Fears and list all these fears that are in that little head of yours,” he said. “Start with the fence one.”

The Fence One.

I have an irrational fear that chain link fences can break from the tension, recoil, and stab me in the eye.

“It’s not your irrational fears that will kill you, it’s the ones you don’t know about,” The Wiseman Jay sayeth.

“Fine, so what’s your irrational fear?” I asked.

“I don’t like to place my toothbrush on the countertop unless it’s protected in some way.”

There is a reason I love flying.

And believe it or not, it’s the food.

As I’m usually starving when I get on, sawdust would taste good at this point.

But really, what I love is the little “Surprise!”

It’s like playing a meal lottery. You don’t know what you’re getting, you don’t know what it tastes like, and the dessert is always a mystery. How fun!

Admit it, it invariably tastes waaaay better than you imagined.

I also learned a new thing called Economy Plus on this trip. It was worth every extra dollar. Hello Extra Five Inches! I’ll never slum it in Economy again.

And I know it’s two months late, but I’ve finally uploaded Singapore vacation photos!

Disclaimer: Jay was REALLY singing karaoke in that photo.

“All roads lead to pork.”

—Anthony Bourdain in Ghana, after eating something Porkful on the No Reservations series

My friend Daniel walked into the office recently and said, “You cleaned up your desk.”

I think it was a compliment.

You see, I haven’t really cleaned up my desk as re-arranged my mess into piles.

Kinda like this.

So what if the only place for my phone is on my old CPU and that I take notes on little post-its hidden under my keyboard?

Because people with desks like these know exactly where everything is.

I dare you to ask me.

“So how would you feel if I never took your name?” I ask Jay over dinner.

“I support whatever you do and I’ll be okay with whatever you decide,” a diplomatic Jay answers.

I’ve been thinking about my name after the case of mistaken identity and passing off as a Holland.

I told Jay that in Singapore, it’ll be very unusual for me to be a “Holland” or him, a “Ho.” It’s just the way stereotypes and perceptions work.

I mean, how many Asians do you know have ang-moh last names? Or an ang-moh with an Asian name? At least in Singapore? But here, there are far more mixed kids or adopted families that you can never assume what people look like vis-a-vis their last names.

I’ve always written under the name “Dorothy Ho,” and besides, when I introduce myself as Dorothy Ho, it reflects my cultural identity to a certain extent, and I’m proud of that.

I know very few Singaporean Chinese women who change their names after marriage. I think part of it is that no one really cares, and the other part is, it’s unheard of to change your Chinese name and mix and match your Chinese given name with your spouse’s Chinese surname.

The creation of a Chinese name is a complex algorithm of number of strokes, and sounds, and characters. Right?

Jay and I pondered the implications of various permutations and hyphenated last names, and decided, at the end of the day, it matters only if you make it matter.

It could have been worse—if he was a “Pimpin’” and I was a “Ho,” imagine what our kids’ last names could be.