When Dogs Meow

Party

2008-09-27T14:44:00.002+08:00

A friend of mine invited me to a rather interesting event last night-- Chivas Live at the defunct River Valley Swimming Pool.

Coming from a bad week, I wasn't really sure if i would enjoy an outdoor clubbing event (the too-expensive Giles Peterson World-Wide fest at the bloody Odean Towers carpark and Loof proving once and for all that open-air venues and Singapore humidity does not a good night out make). Plus I was told to come in my 'swimmers'--- I so do not have a beach body right now. Plus my sun burn was peeling so it was long sleeves for me :(

But the minute I hit the Clarke Quay area, I was just overwhelmed by the whole atmosphere and festivity. It was just pumping (is that a very 90s way of talking?) F1weekend and the Riverfest, throngs of people, the F1 showing at the Bungee Bar, and the beats pumping from the RVP area -- I was getting psyched up despite myself.

URA/STB are actually doing something right in jazzing up the night scene in Singapore-- this year alone, I've been to a number of truely unique and enjoyable night-time events-- Night at the Museum, the Riverfest, some of the Arts Fest (or was it Waterfest) things. (I don't usually gush but gotta give credit when its due)

After waiting in the sweltering queue for an hour (where I started my night of gawping at sexy men), we were finally in!

Whistles, water, glow-sticks, tatoos were dished out, as the hospital tag ID thing was slapped onto your left wrist.

Free flow Chivas with green or white tea, red bull and other mixers. A, of course charmed the (male) bartender into emptying half a bottle into 4 cups (and we had 4 cups each)--- thats equal parts of whisky and mixers. No, make that 3 parts Chivas, 1 part mixer. It was like Cocksoc (thats Cocktail Society for you) in uni days all over again, with better drinks.

So, holding 4 cups each (kopitiam uncle style, with fingers dipping in the drinks), we were off to find a grass patch to plonk ourselves down and guzzle with abandon. P immediately converting her dress into a sarong, revealing her crochet bikini-- very beach chick.

The dance floor was the emptied out swimming pool, with 'rain' sprinklers at regular intervals. Our slippered feet were squishy in the mud. Being a bit of a music philistine, I wasn't quite sure whether vocal trance would be my cup of tea (not really liking beng-trance). Gorgeous men with perfectly spiked hair, carefully nurtured tans and fantastic bodies (if not 6 packs, at least well-toned) were everywhere, making A nervous, and me, a drooling oggler. Sexy stuff.

Even saw a few familiar faces, and minor celebrities (too bad no Chua En Lai) and started a surreally semi-cerebral discussion (well, as cerebral as you can be after a few drinks) about LKY, architecture of toilets and the state of government with a former journalist.

Maybe it was the whole rain-from-the-heavens and wind in the hair (er, courtesy of wind machines) feeling, being well lubricated from the whisky-green tea mix or just being able to club legitly in comfy slippers rather than pinchy heels but it was a wicked night out!

p/s: with age comes restraint. I didnt go mad with the drinks even though they were free. Shocking!

Running

2008-09-23T22:45:00.002+08:00

The big 60 has really hit me hard.

Trying to shift some of that extra tummy weight, I ran for a quickie run, despite my beef horfun still sitting resolutely in my stomach 2 hours after the deed was done

Know I know why its called a spare tire-- filled with liquids, rather than air!

Heavy!

Look back in WONDER

2008-09-22T19:54:00.003+08:00

I've never really been an arts connoisseur.

Well, once upon a time, I did do some artsy things-- primary school choir, ballet and piano, and dance performances, I even managed Sec school theatre (SYF even!), threading the floorboards in sweat-stained outfits from eons ago and thick caterpillar uni-brow make-up (unfortunately, at that tender age, and even tender-er emotions as a teen, i quickly discovered the importance of looking good and how, looking like a boy, I could only be relegated to villain roles).

At that time, I fancied myself somewhat artsy borak, regularly attending plays and performances at the Substation, drama centre, arts films at the Picturehouse. I loved Lit in school and still read voraciously (although my taste in reading material is now somewhat more easy-reading chick lit than the Kafka and Lawrence that I bravely attempted in my youth).

In Uni days --NY, I would seize the opportunity during my off-days to go to MOMA, the Guggenheim to immerse myself in art (my favs are the Rubens, and Warhols). Europe--I loved the frescos and Byzantine art in Florence, even as I struggled to understand the biblical stories behind them.

Yet somehow along the way- perhaps it was the aversion to appearing pretentious (I dislike how affected and histrionic "arts people" are), or maybe my philistine brain refusing to process anything not in my face, I kind of lost interest, preferring crowd-pleasing musicals or laugh-a-minute spoofs and slapstick plays which did not require much thinking..

Or, as I like to comfort myself, i started to be more interested in people and the REAL culture of life in all its richness and techicoloured glory, rather than what is interpreted and twisted within an inch of its life, discernible only to the artist or chereographer (which is why I hate poetry, have never been able to appreciate language for pure language's sake). Art which speaks to the viewer. I never was one to subscribe to the school of thought that art is what you make of it. Hey, who am I to say anything-- I'm just a heartlander!

And so it was the case at the Singapore Biennale where I was to undergo an "education in the arts"-- so said my photographer friend-- one of them pretentious types!

The theme was Wonder

And boy did I wonder why the hell some of the pieces were there and how they fit under "Wonder". Maybe thats why its called Wonder

Since when did Club 21's t-shirt collection qualify as an arts piece, housed as it may be in a makeshift Colosseum made of containers?

A rock wrapped in reflective paper suspended in the air is supposed to trigger wonder at the interactions and juxtaposition in concept of a heavy rock floating? Hah! Call that Art? It might mean something to the artist but it just left me ahem, stone cold..

I'll blog about my fav thing at the Biennale once I have had the chance to do some research on it.

Yes, I'm not THAT much of a peasant. I DID like some things...

National Day

2008-08-16T00:14:00.005+08:00

"Auntie! Auntie!" A unfamiliar voice, thick with a foreign accent, sailed into the kitchen.

Thankfully the kitchen telly was busted, so the hesitant call could be heard loud and clear, above the (too) quiet clinking of forks and spoons against porcelain plate.

My mother paused mid-mouthful, her ears pricked up suspiciously, as the voice came from the back of the house, rather than our front gate.

"What was that?"

She waddled out to the backyard to investigate.

She soon came back bearing a delicately patterned dish, filled to the brim with a curry. Tumeric yellow gravy in a glistening pool of red oil, piled high with a generous mould of mutton chucks, it smelled faintly spicy and rather more exotic than the watery chinese chicken curry we were having for dinner (a coincidence!)

Turns out the construction workers living next door (our neighbours were renovating) were having their own mini national day special dinner and had thought to share their cooking with us--- my father had once told them that their curry smelled good, and they had remembered this, and were offering to share some with us now.

Funny how we have become strangers to kindness and goodwill. We were touched by their thoughtfulness and not a little shellshocked. For a minute, we did not know how to reciprocate. After some discussion (I thought we should give them some of our curry, but my mother had some performance anxiety over how her curry would be received by them), we settled on giving them a NTUC plastic bag of plums and strawberries, and some of my mother's cheesecake.

I can't remember the last time someone had done something nice for us who had absolutely nothing to gain from it and felt rather ashamed of the unkind remarks I had often made (proudly, even) about visitors/guest workers/general populace from the sub-continent. (Bangladashis? Pakistanis? Indians? I didn't even think to ask my father where this group of workers were from-- funny how we just lump them under the rather derogatory term of "Banglas")

I felt this incident especially poignant, that being National Day and there being all this talk and furore about an inclusive society to new migrants, the need for foreign labour and talent and all that. Who is to say that we are better than them, just because we were here first, or have more cushy jobs, or get them to call us Sirs and Ma'ams? We certainly have much to learn about human decency and neighbourly behaviour (I couldn't resist) from them.

Long after yet another forgettable National Day parade has ended, the fireworks (and a few million of our tax payers' money) gone up in ashes, the National Song no longer playing on loop on the idiot box, I'll certainly remember this as one of my more humbling National Day memories. A reminder to look beyond nationality, race and socio-economic status and start to value mutual respect and kindness for the people around.

Inspirational messages 2

2008-08-11T09:14:00.002+08:00

JK Rowling at Harvard June 2008

The Fringe Benefits of Failure, and the Importance of Imagination

President Faust, members of the Harvard Corporation and the Board of Overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and, above all, graduates.

The first thing I would like to say is ‘thank you.’ Not only has Harvard given me an extraordinary honour, but the weeks of fear and nausea I’ve experienced at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight. A win-win situation! Now all I have to do is take deep breaths, squint at the red banners and fool myself into believing I am at the world’s best-educated Harry Potter convention.

Delivering a commencement address is a great responsibility; or so I thought until I cast my mind back to my own graduation. The commencement speaker that day was the distinguished British philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock. Reflecting on her speech has helped me enormously in writing this one, because it turns out that I can’t remember a single word she said. This liberating discovery enables me to proceed without any fear that I might inadvertently influence you to abandon promising careers in business, law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.

You see? If all you remember in years to come is the ‘gay wizard’ joke, I’ve still come out ahead of Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step towards personal improvement.

Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today. I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the 21 years that has expired between that day and this.

I have come up with two answers. On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure. And as you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called ‘real life’, I want to extol the crucial importance of imagination.

These might seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but please bear with me.

Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience for the 42-year-old that she has become. Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.

I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels. However, my parents, both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that could never pay a mortgage, or secure a pension.

They had hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature. A compromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern Languages. Hardly had my parents’ car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor.

I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out for the first time on graduation day. Of all subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.

I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view. There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you. What is more, I cannot criticise my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty. They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience. Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is indeed something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticised only by fools.
What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.

At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing examinations, and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.

I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known hardship or heartbreak. Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence of unruffled privilege and contentment.

However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure. You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for success. Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far from the average person’s idea of success, so high have you already flown academically.

Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.

Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun. That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution. I had no idea how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality.

So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had already been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.

You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all - in which case, you fail by default.

Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way. I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly above rubies.

The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more to me than any qualification I ever earned.
Given a time machine or a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement. Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two. Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone’s total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.

You might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared.

One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed much of what I subsequently wrote in those books. This revelation came in the form of one of my earliest day jobs. Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in my early 20s by working in the research department at Amnesty International’s headquarters in London.

There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them. I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their desperate families and friends. I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of kidnappings and rapes.

Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to think independently of their government. Visitors to our office included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what had happened to those they had been forced to leave behind.

I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.

And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since. The door opened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the young man sitting with her. She had just given him the news that in retaliation for his own outspokenness against his country’s regime, his mother had been seized and executed.

Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.

Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I saw, heard and read.

And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before.

Amnesty mobilises thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have. The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners. Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet. My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.

Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people’s minds, imagine themselves into other people’s places.

Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathise.
And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are. They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.

I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do. Choosing to live in narrow spaces can lead to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters. They are often more afraid.

What is more, those who choose not to empathise may enable real monsters. For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.
One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.

That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people’s lives simply by existing.

But how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people’s lives? Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities. Even your nationality sets you apart. The great majority of you belong to the world’s only remaining superpower. The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders. That is your privilege, and your burden.

If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped transform for the better. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.

I am nearly finished. I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21. The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children’s godparents, the people to whom I’ve been able to turn in times of trouble, friends who have been kind enough not to sue me when I’ve used their names for Death Eaters. At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister.

So today, I can wish you nothing better than similar friendships. And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom:

As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.

I wish you all very good lives.
Thank you very much.

Inspirational messages 1

2008-08-11T09:06:00.002+08:00

Adrian Tan's speech at NTU's CS graduation ceremony

Life and How to Survive It

I must say thank you to the faculty and staff of the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information for inviting me to give your convocation address. It’s a wonderful honour and a privilege for me to speak here for ten minutes without fear of contradiction, defamation or retaliation. I say this as a Singaporean and more so as a husband.

My wife is a wonderful person and perfect in every way except one. She is the editor of a magazine. She corrects people for a living. She has honed her expert skills over a quarter of a century, mostly by practising at home during conversations between her and me.

On the other hand, I am a litigator. Essentially, I spend my day telling people how wrong they are. I make my living being disagreeable.

Nevertheless, there is perfect harmony in our matrimonial home. That is because when an editor and a litigator have an argument, the one who triumphs is always the wife.

And so I want to start by giving one piece of advice to the men: when you’ve already won her heart, you don’t need to win every argument.

Marriage is considered one milestone of life. Some of you may already be married. Some of you may never be married. Some of you will be married. Some of you will enjoy the experience so much, you will be married many, many times. Good for you.

The next big milestone in your life is today: your graduation. The end of education. You’re done learning.

You’ve probably been told the big lie that "Learning is a lifelong process" and that therefore you will continue studying and taking masters’ degrees and doctorates and professorships and so on. You know the sort of people who tell you that? Teachers. Don’t you think there is some measure of conflict of interest? They are in the business of learning, after all. Where would they be without you? They need you to be repeat customers.

The good news is that they’re wrong.

The bad news is that you don’t need further education because your entire life is over. It is gone. That may come as a shock to some of you. You’re in your teens or early twenties. People may tell you that you will live to be 70, 80, 90 years old. That is your life expectancy.

I love that term: life expectancy. We all understand the term to mean the average life span of a group of people. But I’m here to talk about a bigger idea, which is what you expect from your life.
You may be very happy to know that Singapore is currently ranked as the country with the third highest life expectancy. We are behind Andorra and Japan, and tied with San Marino. It seems quite clear why people in those countries, and ours, live so long. We share one thing in common: our football teams are all hopeless. There’s very little danger of any of our citizens having their pulses raised by watching us play in the World Cup. Spectators are more likely to be lulled into a gentle and restful nap.

Singaporeans have a life expectancy of 81.8 years. Singapore men live to an average of 79.21 years, while Singapore women live more than five years longer, probably to take into account the additional time they need to spend in the bathroom.

So here you are, in your twenties, thinking that you’ll have another 40 years to go. Four decades in which to live long and prosper.

Bad news. Read the papers. There are people dropping dead when they’re 50, 40, 30 years old. Or quite possibly just after finishing their convocation. They would be very disappointed that they didn’t meet their life expectancy.

I’m here to tell you this. Forget about your life expectancy.

After all, it’s calculated based on an average. And you never, ever want to expect being average.
Revisit those expectations. You might be looking forward to working, falling in love, marrying, raising a family. You are told that, as graduates, you should expect to find a job paying so much, where your hours are so much, where your responsibilities are so much.

That is what is expected of you. And if you live up to it, it will be an awful waste.

If you expect that, you will be limiting yourself. You will be living your life according to boundaries set by average people. I have nothing against average people. But no one should aspire to be them. And you don’t need years of education by the best minds in Singapore to prepare you to be average.

What you should prepare for is mess. Life’s a mess. You are not entitled to expect anything from it. Life is not fair. Everything does not balance out in the end. Life happens, and you have no control over it. Good and bad things happen to you day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. Your degree is a poor armour against fate.

Don’t expect anything. Erase all life expectancies. Just live. Your life is over as of today. At this point in time, you have grown as tall as you will ever be, you are physically the fittest you will ever be in your entire life and you are probably looking the best that you will ever look. This is as good as it gets. It is all downhill from here. Or up. No one knows.

What does this mean for you? It is good that your life is over.

Since your life is over, you are free. Let me tell you the many wonderful things that you can do when you are free.

The most important is this: do not work.

Work is anything that you are compelled to do. By its very nature, it is undesirable.

Work kills. The Japanese have a term "Karoshi", which means death from overwork. That’s the most dramatic form of how work can kill. But it can also kill you in more subtle ways. If you work, then day by day, bit by bit, your soul is chipped away, disintegrating until there’s nothing left. A rock has been ground into sand and dust.

There’s a common misconception that work is necessary. You will meet people working at miserable jobs. They tell you they are "making a living". No, they’re not. They’re dying, frittering away their fast-extinguishing lives doing things which are, at best, meaningless and, at worst, harmful.

People will tell you that work ennobles you, that work lends you a certain dignity. Work makes you free. The slogan "Arbeit macht frei" was placed at the entrances to a number of Nazi concentration camps. Utter nonsense.

Do not waste the vast majority of your life doing something you hate so that you can spend the small remainder sliver of your life in modest comfort. You may never reach that end anyway.

Resist the temptation to get a job. Instead, play. Find something you enjoy doing. Do it. Over and over again. You will become good at it for two reasons: you like it, and you do it often. Soon, that will have value in itself.

I like arguing, and I love language. So, I became a litigator. I enjoy it and I would do it for free. If I didn’t do that, I would’ve been in some other type of work that still involved writing fiction – probably a sports journalist.

So what should you do? You will find your own niche. I don’t imagine you will need to look very hard. By this time in your life, you will have a very good idea of what you will want to do. In fact, I’ll go further and say the ideal situation would be that you will not be able to stop yourself pursuing your passions. By this time you should know what your obsessions are. If you enjoy showing off your knowledge and feeling superior, you might become a teacher.

Find that pursuit that will energise you, consume you, become an obsession. Each day, you must rise with a restless enthusiasm. If you don’t, you are working.

Most of you will end up in activities which involve communication. To those of you I have a second message: be wary of the truth. I’m not asking you to speak it, or write it, for there are times when it is dangerous or impossible to do those things. The truth has a great capacity to offend and injure, and you will find that the closer you are to someone, the more care you must take to disguise or even conceal the truth. Often, there is great virtue in being evasive, or equivocating. There is also great skill. Any child can blurt out the truth, without thought to the consequences. It takes great maturity to appreciate the value of silence.

In order to be wary of the truth, you must first know it. That requires great frankness to yourself. Never fool the person in the mirror.

I have told you that your life is over, that you should not work, and that you should avoid telling the truth. I now say this to you: be hated.

It’s not as easy as it sounds. Do you know anyone who hates you? Yet every great figure who has contributed to the human race has been hated, not just by one person, but often by a great many. That hatred is so strong it has caused those great figures to be shunned, abused, murdered and in one famous instance, nailed to a cross.

One does not have to be evil to be hated. In fact, it’s often the case that one is hated precisely because one is trying to do right by one’s own convictions. It is far too easy to be liked, one merely has to be accommodating and hold no strong convictions. Then one will gravitate towards the centre and settle into the average. That cannot be your role. There are a great many bad people in the world, and if you are not offending them, you must be bad yourself. Popularity is a sure sign that you are doing something wrong.

The other side of the coin is this: fall in love.

I didn’t say "be loved". That requires too much compromise. If one changes one’s looks, personality and values, one can be loved by anyone.

Rather, I exhort you to love another human being. It may seem odd for me to tell you this. You may expect it to happen naturally, without deliberation. That is false. Modern society is anti-love. We’ve taken a microscope to everyone to bring out their flaws and shortcomings. It far easier to find a reason not to love someone, than otherwise. Rejection requires only one reason. Love requires complete acceptance. It is hard work – the only kind of work that I find palatable.
Loving someone has great benefits. There is admiration, learning, attraction and something which, for the want of a better word, we call happiness. In loving someone, we become inspired to better ourselves in every way. We learn the truth worthlessness of material things. We celebrate being human. Loving is good for the soul.

Loving someone is therefore very important, and it is also important to choose the right person. Despite popular culture, love doesn’t happen by chance, at first sight, across a crowded dance floor. It grows slowly, sinking roots first before branching and blossoming. It is not a silly weed, but a mighty tree that weathers every storm.

You will find, that when you have someone to love, that the face is less important than the brain, and the body is less important than the heart.

You will also find that it is no great tragedy if your love is not reciprocated. You are not doing it to be loved back. Its value is to inspire you.

Finally, you will find that there is no half-measure when it comes to loving someone. You either don’t, or you do with every cell in your body, completely and utterly, without reservation or apology. It consumes you, and you are reborn, all the better for it.

Don’t work. Avoid telling the truth. Be hated. Love someone.

You’re going to have a busy life. Thank goodness there’s no life expectancy.
______________

Love, from a 18 year old's perspective

2008-07-21T23:58:00.003+08:00

extracted from an email exchange between 2 kids, on the cusp of something new, something old, something hopeful? I can't help feeling the earnestness and honesty that us jaded 20-somethings can't quite recall.

"Oh well, I guess you can't hurry love...it always comes in the most unexpected times, with people you would never expect to find love with. Maybe you think you have the ideal lover in mind down pat, but when someone comes and hits you in your face, the most logical reasoning can fade into a whirl of soft light and dizzy highs...and alarm bells fade away into the distance. I'm saying this now only because I'm awash in a sea of nostalgia for a half forgotten liaison..or maybe its brain damage from overheating!(school work does nothing for my diminishing brain cells and hair..I'm shedding!)

Nowadays, I crave stability and devotion and simplicity, but I can't help remembering times when nothing mattered but being together, no matter how tremulous the relationship was, how fragile and fleeting..the precious minutes snatched together held my world together, gave me a little sanity, rush of adrenalin and defiance to the world. And I'm not sure I want anything else but that fire, short-lived but beautiful forever.

But I also envy what I am sure was what you went through, untainted, selfless love, trust and understanding, whereas I was always plagued with insecurity and hopelessness. Isn't it lovely to see one of those couples hand in hand, so comfortable together, arguing over little things you know they don't mean. Yeah, I guess I really wish for that too..I guess I just gotta pretend I'm not looking.:) Hey, I think I sounded really poetic in parts, kinda a cross between a Graham Greene novel and a trashy paperback romance..but that's me dramatising my own little experiences, which I bet would just sound mundane in its true form unprettied by polysyllabic words! And I bet I sound just as desperate as you, if not more, so don't worry!

In the mood for love

Hard Gay

2008-07-20T11:16:00.002+08:00

The husband of Initial D's Anne Suzuki in his day job. Wooooooooooooo!

loveless= aimless? (rambling, ambling post)

2008-07-13T21:18:00.003+08:00

After an uncommonly fun bbq cum gathering one night, p and i ended up on msn the second we reached home.

According to p, of the 8-9 people at the gathering, 4 of the 28 year olds (2 of us included) were still "aimless"

the rest were:
1) a high flyer with a hot gf
2) and 3) married to each other
4)leaving for masters tog with bf who was similarly academia bound

leaving 4 of us who were:

i) and ii) in unsatisfactory jobs with (only) mildly more promising postings coming up but nothing else to look forward to. hence prone to being prone to eating snake and other such psychosomatic symptoms. Suffer from commitment issues--laughed off as "5 min rule" and "Geny Y-ness" but really with more deep seated consequences for relationships and such.

iii) happy in his workplace (gasp! the shock), no gf (slightly misogynistic attitude towards women, but thats just policeman for you). a bit slacker 'tude towards work but not unforgivable

iv)pursuing a masters in clin psych (i.e. invested2 years of her 18 years-ness and coughed up cold hard cash into her forte and interest). See above about dysfunctional relationship style and commitment issues as well.

Somehow does being in a relationship make one more settled or at least gives a general direction in life? Or is it just pushing one's nose closer to the grindstone of life?

Do irregulars somehow fit each other or are we reinforcing each other to continue on this middle-age deliquency?

Cyber cliques

2008-07-13T12:07:00.002+08:00

Since time eternal, it has always been human nature to want to be among like-minded friends and to have your viewpoints and thoughts reaffirmed by them. Having others agree with what your say and believe will only make it easier for you to believe that your perceptions and beliefs are reality. And who doesnt like being agreed with?

Hence, in an ideal world and when you have a choice, you tend to gravitate towards like-minded people, people who tend to believe in the same causes, have the same logic, like to do the same things.

And the advent of the Internet has only served to reinforce this very fallible tendency.

With the proliferation of blogs and websites on any topic that you can wave a mouse at, sites where you can watch any programme that you want, you need never watch the telly or read a broadsheet again. Whether for entertainment or for news. That is, unless you want to. You need never have to hear a dissenting voice/be bored/have to endure a inane commercial ever again as you visit only the sites whose viewpoints you agree with, stream videos that you actively search for, read about topics you are interested in. At the same time, you shut out those which are as enticing to you as Econs lectures in JC. (Unless you are the sort who reads the Economist for fun-- in which case, no judgement)

Your peers send you an email attachment, headed with the subject "This is really funny!" You open it, watch the attached video, and send it on to the people you know would appreciate this brand of humour. It might be a bit bawdy, so you don't send it to the prudes in your midst. But you might send a mushy Readers' Digest like story to the saps though. Such parsing and selection by the people who know you best once again perpetuates the kind of information that you receive. (of course you don't count those who mass-mail those generic cute-dogs/bad-luck-if-you-don't forward-this-mail/george bush emails which you delete anyway without reading)

Sooth-sayers might argue that such behaviour patterns might cause extremists to group together, reinforce and reconfirm each others behaviour but who cares about extremists anyway right?

Isn't it strange how we are all one big, inter-connected (cyber) family, yet still all in our own little worlds?

not quite there

2008-07-12T17:18:00.003+08:00

Its been ages, but really because I can't get the walking-round-in-circles-outta-my-head out of my head so nothing really that I want to blog about.

Except to say that I really AM quitting the bottle now. (Yes, C, i'm said it before, but I'm saying it again) After a toxic night of durians, paella and Bellini I was totally winded by either stomach flu or a dodgy virus.

Its a sign!

From the Director of Sepet

2008-05-22T22:15:00.001+08:00

A sweet ad from a director who is more like a sour tart

Weight gain

2008-05-20T21:39:00.003+08:00

I'm resigned to the fact that I'll never be 52kg again.

Barring tapeworm or severe food poisoning.

Was talking to a 30-something and she "reassured" me that after age 25, one slowly starts to go all pear shaped (literally, not figuratively). The weight gain and flab development will plateau off until you hit your thirties, when another ascent (or descent) into fatty bombom-land beckons.

Great. So glad to know its not just me.

On the positive side, people have been commenting on my better dress sense. That's because, not having been able to fit into any of my 14 pairs of size 10/12 Topshop/Ms Selfridge/New Look black pants without looking like a stuffed dumpling, I've had to do a major closet clean-out and unearth dresses and skirts to wear to work.

Geez. Am I starting to look/sound like SM or Mich?!

No answers

2008-05-19T11:03:00.001+08:00

Got this article off some online magazine. Doesnt say very much more than what we already know and offers no answers. Are we destined to be a generation (or 3) of very unbalanced and unsatisfied workers?

THE FUTURE OF WORK

Introduction
In the last 20 years, globalisation and the rapid development and adoption of information and communications technology (ICT) have altered the nature of work and its outcomes. Some parts of the world have evolved significantly from the Fordist working arrangement of regimented work which was clearly demarcated from workers’ personal lives, into one where work is becoming de-standardised.

This issue of Ethos Perspectives looks at how certain key drivers like changing demographics and the use of ICT are changing the workplace and re-shaping workers’ expectations. Increasingly, work will transcend time and space as workers interact with one another through ICT on a 24/7 basis. Non-traditional work arrangements such as flexible work hours, part-time, temporary work are replacing traditional work arrangements. These blur the line between work and personal life. Apart from being a means of sustenance and economic advancement, work will also become more important in shaping individuals’ personal identities.

Global demographic changes have caused the nature and character of work to evolve and become more complex. This will continue to be the case in the future. Increased longevity has a direct and significant impact on the profile of the workforce. Older workers will form a larger proportion of the workforce, and they may increasingly have particular needs, such as caring for very aged parents. At the same time, more retirees are looking to be re-employed, but with some flexibility in their work arrangements, so that they can continue to enjoy the economic and social gains from work.

At the other end of the spectrum, the advent of the "millennium" workforce adds a new dimension to work. The "Millennials" are broadly defined as those born in the years 1980 to 2000 and are just entering the workforce. Unlike the risk-taking Baby Boomers, or cynical and disengaged Generation X-ers, Millennials tend to be more civic-minded, politically engaged and hold more progressive values. For this group, work is an extension of their identity and values and therefore, their job choices will be greatly influenced by their personal choices and lifestyles.

Changing family structures have also led to a proliferation of household types such as dual-income families, single-parent households and singles, overtaking the traditional model of a male-centric, single-income household. These add to the diversity of needs, demands and lifestyles that today’s workers bring to the workplace.

The future workplace will become increasingly employee-centric as work becomes more "de-standardised". Work is becoming increasingly personalised as work contracts and arrangements are increasingly individually negotiated and customised to the individual’s needs and preferences, and the individual is empowered to assume greater responsibility of his/her development. Companies are also more willing to adapt job scopes and roles to capitalise on the strengths of a particular individual.

Such a "customised" workplace imposes different kinds of demands on managers. Managers will have to move away from a traditional, top-down, command and control management style, to one that is more flexible and adaptable. Managers will need a deeper appreciation of employees’ diverse demographic profiles, values and sources of motivation, as well as the overall work culture, instead of taking a one-size-fits-all approach. Strong people skills and the ability to foster alignment while harnessing diversity within the team, will become key managerial competencies.

While work in the future presents great opportunities, it also possesses risks and challenges which can have repercussions if left unmitigated. Ironically, the same ICT that facilitates flexible work arrangements and provides individuals with more control over when, where and how they work also "extensifies" (lengthened working hours) and intensifies work. Individuals are likely to experience some negative effects of extended working hours and intense work demands on their physical and psychological well being, in the form of stress, burnout, hypertension and other ailments, which could reduce their productivity.

The twin ills of extensification and intensification of work also encroach on an individual’s private times and spaces and potentially weaken family bonds. In the less optimistic scenario, this can in turn lead to a series of social problems—dysfunctional families, broken families and delinquency amongst children. The cannibalisation of private times and spaces can also have an adverse impact on social capital, community involvement and volunteerism, as individuals become less involved with their immediate community and the society at large. Coupled with the increased individualisation of work, and heavy use of virtual forms of communication, people may become increasingly isolated, both at work and within the society.

So what can be done to mitigate the risks and harness the opportunities of work in the future? Experts argue that to do so will require a significant shift from the current emphasis on work flexibility that often targets mainly the younger segment of the workforce, to focus on the broader concept of social sustainability of work. The interdependency between employees’ work and personal lives must be examined holistically, rather than viewed as antithetical entities, from the perspective of all members of society rather than just through the lens of young families and working mothers.
Socially sustainable work practices should address the needs of the workforce holistically and could include universal support such as greater opportunities for job training and education to boost the quality of human capital and labour force participation, or the provision of sabbaticals to allow individuals to pursue further education or their own interests. This can provide reprieve to employees and counteract rising pressures from extensified and intensified work, particularly as they face the prospect of a rising life expectancy and longer careers.

However, this concept of social sustainability of work is likely to remain a contentious issue as work practices and culture need time to evolve. While many corporations in the US and the Scandinavian countries may have embraced a more flexible working model, more changes are needed to ensure that work practices are sustainable over the employee’s career. Many smaller enterprises are concerned even about the first step towards offering a flexible work environment—as this may involve large investments in ICT and human resource reforms. Employees also have to navigate real tradeoffs concerning career development and remuneration.

Governments have a role in promoting work that is not just flexible but socially sustainable. They can put in place human capital policies that support and promote continued education and skills upgrading. They can help to fund and promote socially sustainable work practices. They can also put in place legislation to protect flexible workers from being unduly disadvantaged, for example, to safeguard their entitlements and benefits in a manner that is commensurate to their work contribution.

Comments/Analysis
The future of work will have a significant impact on all countries, including Singapore. Working arrangements and employment practices of the future, can help to increase labour force participation (especially amongst women and older workers), improve labour productivity and better realise our human capital potential, thus adding to Singapore’s economic competitiveness. It will also make Singapore an attractive place for global talent.

These can also put Singapore in a better position to cope with various social challenges. Higher employment amongst the elderly will help to enhance their retirement adequacy and also improve their social inclusion. Holistic policies that help young parents better integrate work and their family responsibilities could also help women stay in the workforce and improve fertility rates. Workers who are better able to cope with the demands and pressures of work will also be more engaged with the community, which contributes to social capital.
In recent years, Singapore has been encouraging employers to put in place work-life strategies. Our policies—and how extensive and holistic they are—will have to keep pace with global trends in human resource management, so that we can remain a competitive and attractive place to work. The government, employers and workers will need to work together to define the parameters of "socially sustainable work" in Singapore’s context. At the same time, Singapore will need to be mindful of inequalities in the future workplace—between full-time workers and non–full-time workers, between top talent who have more bargaining power for when, where and how they work and those who are simply drawn along by the vicissitudes of the evolution of work.

That lovin' feeling

2008-05-14T00:13:00.003+08:00

A happy day today.

No qualifiers, no throwaway remarks or asides to cheapen the feeling.

Finished the last PSC of the season. Yay!! Sick of waking up early on sat mornings, and burning the candle on both ends surreptitiously to write some half-past-six, samey report. Let the money roll!

A tart-loving Filipino kicked off a good day by dedicating a recipe-blog entry to me. Dubious Portuguese tarts but they looked yummy to a person who had suffered through a $7.80 unsatisfying brekkie. (Back at you, T!)

Flowers! Lovely when they are unexpected, to cheer you up (even if you aint sure what its supposed to mean)

Best of all, meeting up with bestest old girl friend from out of town. I miss gossiping about boys, shopping, drinks and being so very bimbotic. And ooh, Hyatt has amazing Grey Goose and FRESHLY squeezed apple juice cocktails (reminds me of Oz, p, and Tris :P)!

Annus Horribilis

2008-05-11T22:12:00.003+08:00

2008 is turning out to be terrible

My "ren yuan" is going down the drain.

Unable to form deep and meaningful relationships (PSCspeak), I have grown accustomed to skimming the surface and having sweeping and frivolous conversations only. Thus it gets hard to have serious talks about things that really matter.

Work is one obvious problem. How to give feedback upwards tactfully and impactfully? I obviously do not know, and this is freaking me out about having jeopardised my own job prospects. Splendid!

Secondly, what passes for a pseudo-relationship is just languishing in mixed-signals land because of my communication and intimacy issues. Not wanting to get too close, or let others be too close. Not helped by the fact that too much pride and ego issues on his side, concerns about passing "the window of opportunity" etc, new revelations and old rumours. Is this more trouble than its worth??

I would like for just some sort of stability in either situation. Or even just some form of a resolution so that I can move on. Need to take responsibility for moving things but question is, how to build up the courage to do so?

Mind and Body

2008-05-06T22:14:00.003+08:00

2nd last PSc! That means its blogging time.

Lots of health scares recently. Ezcema returning, the oily scalp which Sam exclaimed at, the rapidly mutating blubber-- so psychosomatic.

So I decided to make some health resolutions and actually wrote a blog entry on it. Ultimately, I decided not to post the entry, cos that would mean me having to meet (or rather fail to meet) some KPIs.

And true enough, the resolutions that only me, myself and I knew, were busted in a couple of days.

Here they are (revised version)

1. Sleep early (not bad, have managed to hit the sack by 12 so far, except sat, which doesn't count)

2. Exercise 3 times a week ( Managed a badminton session-- although i don't see that happening again soon! and a swimming session-- so FAIL!)

3. Eat healthy and cheaply-- there is inflation going on! Not too bad in meeting the target here. No doubt cos the tooth was acting up, and had to have soft food.

4. Hardest to meet-- no alcohol. Promptly busted that on Sat (5 margaritas? And I was on antibiotics some more). Have since lowered my expectations-- no more than 2 units per sitting. And NO drinking on consecutive nights

5. Relaxation-- swimming is my relaxation. And I should rethink my aborted meditation attempt to attain internal nirvana.

Will update on status again.

After the PSC!

Great expectations

2008-05-06T20:54:00.003+08:00

I havent been very happy at work recently.

In fact, things got to a head today, and I stormed out for a cool down break at 1130, after a particularly rude (on my part) exchange with the boss.

I wonder if it is our expectations. What do we expect to be doing? It has been drummed into our heads since we were small, to do well in school, get a decent honours, and snare that great job.

Check, check and erm, check?

What makes a good job? Theoretically, I should be one happy bunny-- a decent pay package, a *gasp* dare I say it, good bonus, and even some fan mail. M says he is so proud of me, working in the PMO, EDITOR in shining golden letters and all. (I hope he wasn't just being ironic.)

Then why why why what made me storm out of the office leaving a trail of f****s in my wake (and startling a passerby who had just crossed my path?)

Is it (the lack of/inability/possession of)
1) recognition
2) to save the world
3) some sort of intellectual stimulation
4) good boss
5) good colleagues
6) reaching maslow's top most need-- self actualisation aka the 10th stage of nirvana

1) Technically , yes, I have that. patronising tho it sometimes seems

2) At the rate I'm going, I'm killing the world with the electricity powering my laptop, printing of ridiculous documents for some stupid certification which means jack, plundering rain forests printing 100,000 copies of a magazine that pp only want cos of the free gifts.

3) does writing minutes (exposure), being liaison officer to some snotty ang moh (exposure), organising meetings with PSes (stretch goals) count? So stimulated I could actually write a paper on nuclear physics now

4) Best boss in the world. Micro-managing, incompetent, stupid and stupider. Best boss in the world

5) My only real friend is leaving :(

6) Need I say more?

yet, my boss once said to me "All you youngsters, want to achieve so much, so fast..you gotta lun" or something.

I heart my job, you know?

Article

2008-05-04T21:22:00.000+08:00

I like the last line :)

Turn-ons, turn-offs, desire varies widely among men

By Anne Harding
Wed Apr 30, 4:52 PM ET

Men aren't all from Mars when it comes to their sexuality, a new study from Kinsey Institute researchers shows.
Among the revelations from their focus groups in which men talked about what influenced their sexual desire and arousal: one man's turn-on is often another's turn-off; an erection doesn't always signal arousal; and not every guy wants to jump into bed at the drop of a hat.
"We're probably from a whole bunch of different planets," Dr. Erick Janssen, an associate scientist at the Bloomington, Indiana-based institute and one of the study's authors, told Reuters Health.
"We don't tend to -- from a research perspective -- sit down a lot with men or groups of men and talk about such intimate topics, such as what influences...sexual desire and arousal and the topic or the question of where in all of this the penis comes in," he added. "This is one of the studies that attempted to do that."
Janssen and his team set up six focus groups in which 50 men between the ages of 18 and 70, most of whom were white and heterosexual, talked about what aroused them sexually and what enhanced or inhibited their arousal. The findings are published in the Archives of Sexual Behavior.
Men reported getting erections without necessarily being aroused, while some men, especially older men, said they might become aroused without having an erection. Some used masturbation as a way to "fix" it "when something just feels off," or as a "great way" to get out of a funk.
Many men said feeling confident and good about themselves often led to feeling sexually aroused (while "feeling scruffy" had the opposite effect). And for many men, a self-confident partner was also more desirable than one who didn't feel good about herself. In addition to a nice body and a pretty face, many men found intelligence "really attractive" and "a big turn on."
Mood and feeling emotionally connected also influenced arousal for men, while a woman's scent was key for some men, but not others. However, an "overwhelming majority" said that being outdoors, for example on a camping trip or having a picnic, boosted their sexual desire and arousal.
Taken together, the findings provide a much more nuanced picture of men's sexuality than is promoted by men's magazines, Janssen pointed out. "There's huge variability among men in how easily they're turned on or turned off, how easily they experience sexual desire and arousal," he explained. "The differences among men and the differences among women are much larger than the average difference between the sexes in almost anything sexual."
In fact, the researcher added, as many as 30 percent of women may be more easily sexually aroused than most men. "This study's challenging the idea that men are simple," he said.

SOURCE: Archives of Sexual Behavior, April 2008.

Psychosomatic

2008-04-29T14:12:00.002+08:00

Its amazing what your body tells people who really shouldn't know, about your lifestyle.

No, I don't mean that.

Visited Sam yesterday and was told that I had a scalp so oily, my hair was practically swimming (Don't you hate it when people with the least English somehow manage to be so succint and yet descriptive?)

And he said that I needed to be not so stressed, sleep more and stop drinking. I was like omigodicantbelieveyoujustsaidthat!

Earlier, the dentist told me my teeth grinding was a sign of stress or excessive snacking. In my case, probably both.

You just can't hide anymore!

Always clarify

2008-04-27T19:33:00.002+08:00

Usually I'm quite avoidant, can't make up my mind fast enough, or don't ask enough questions. And that causes a lot of angst and agonising.

Take yesterday. Someone told me something about what someone said about me. Or so I thought. I was so shocked I didnt asked any questions and proceeded to avoid the issue by, of all things, watching "The Hottie and the Nottie" and "Young and Dangerous 3".

But gravity of the matter finally forced me to clarify with the informant. After 24 hours of worrying and ruminating (can see 2 new wrinkles), I decided to get the details.

And realised it was a misunderstanding (you see, I was so traumatised that I deleted the message before reading it properly). Much ado about nothing.

Well, not nothing, it didnt give any clarity about the problem in the greater scheme of things, but at least this didnt add another dimension to the trouble!

Closure (refreshed)

2008-04-17T23:34:00.004+08:00

Dinner with MH today for our quarterly "let's try to be friends" meeting.

First thing that shocked me-- he slummed it out on public transport, as he had sold his car.

And he revealed that he had started seeing someone. From the bottom of my heart, I feel happy for him. For some strange reason I could not stop grinning. It was almost like a hearing a bit of gossip about someone I didn't know. i hope it didnt come across as over-compensation cos it certainly was not. Bugged him for a photo and she is definitely a babe. Sweet and demure kind (He has learnt his lesson with manly, independent lasses). He is even opening doors and all that now. Something that I couldnt teach him in 3 years plus, he has started doing in a month!!

Somehow on the bus ride home, I felt a tinge of sadness for the monkeys in his car (he had never removed them even after we broke up.) I wonder where they are now?

It figures, I dont mourn the man, I mourn the monkeys?!

2008-04-13T21:31:00.001+08:00

God: Hello. Did you call me?
> > Me: Called you? No.. Who is this?
> > God: This is GOD. I heard your prayers. So I thought
> > I will chat.
> > Me: I do pray. Just makes me feel good. I am
> > actually busy now. I am in
> > the midst of something.
> >
> > God: What are you busy at? Ants are busy too.
> > Me: Don't know. But I can't find free time. Life has
> > become hectic. It's rush hour all the time.
> >
> > God: Sure. Activity gets you busy. But productivity
> > gets you results. Activity consumes time.
> > Productivity frees it.
> > Me: I understand. But I still can't figure out. By
> > the way, I was not expecting YOU to buzz me on
> > instant messaging chat.
> >
> > God: Well I wanted to resolve your fight for time,
> > by giving you some. In this net era, I wanted to
> > reach you through the medium you
> > are comfortable with.
> > Me: Tell me, why has life become complicated now?
> >
> > God: Stop analyzing life. Just live it. Analysis is
> > what makes it complicated.
> > Me: why are we then constantly unhappy?
> >
> > God: Your today is the tomorrow that you worried
> > about yesterday. You are worrying because you are
> > analyzing. Worrying has become your habit.
> > That's why you are not happy.
> > Me: But how can we not worry when there is so much
> > uncertainty?
> >
> > God: Uncertainty is inevitable, but worrying is
> > optional.
> > Me: But then, there is so much pain due to
> > uncertainty.
> >
> > God: Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.
> > Me: If suffering is optional, why do good people
> > always suffer?
> >
> > God: Diamond cannot be polished without friction.
> > Gold cannot be purified without fire. Good people go
> > through trials, but don't suffer. With that
> > experience their life become better not bitter.
> > Me: You mean to say such experience is useful?
> >
> > God: Yes. In every term, Experience is a hard
> > teacher. She gives the test first and the lessons
> > afterwards.
> > Me: But still, why should we go through such tests?
> > Why can't we be free from problems?
> >
> > God: Problems are Purposeful Roadblocks Offering
> > Beneficial Lessons (to) Enhance Mental Strength.
> > Inner strength comes from struggle and
> > endurance, not when you are free from problems.
> >
> > Me: Frankly in the midst of so many problems, we
> > don't know where we are heading..
> >
> > God: If you look outside you will not know where you
> > are heading. Look inside. Looking outside, you
> > dream. Looking inside, you awaken. Eyes
> > provide sight. Heart provides insight.
> >
> > Me: Sometimes not succeeding fast seems to hurt more
> > than moving in the right direction.. What should I
> > do?
> >
> > God: Success is a measure as decided by others.
> > Satisfaction is a measure as decided by you. Knowing
> > the road ahead is more satisfying than knowing you
> > road ahead. You work with the compass. Let others
> > work with the clock.
> > Me: In tough times, how do you stay motivated?
> >
> > God: Always look at how far you have come rather
> > than how far you have to go. Always count your
> > blessing, not what you are missing.
> > Me: What surprises you about people?
> >
> > God: When they suffer they ask, 'why me?' When they
> > prosper, they never ask 'Why me'. Everyone wishes to
> > have truth on their side, but few want to be on the
> > side of the truth.
> > Me: Sometimes I ask, who am I, why am I here. I
> > can't get the answer.
> >
> > God: Seek not to find who you are, but to determine
> > who you want to be. Stop looking for a purpose as to
> > why you are here. Create it. Life is not
> > merely a process of discovery but a process of
> > co-creation. You are my co-creator.
> > Me: How can I get the best out of life?
> >
> > God: Face your past without regret. Handle your
> > present with confidence. Prepare for the future
> > without fear.
> > Me: One last question. Sometimes I feel my prayers
> > are not answered.
> >
> > God: There are no unanswered prayers. At times the
> > answer is NO.
> > Me: Thank you for this wonderful chat.
> >
> > God: Well. Keep the faith and drop the fear.. Don't
> > believe your doubts and doubt your beliefs. Life is
> > a mystery to solve not a problem to resolve.
> > Trust me. Life is wonderful if you know how to live.
> > 'Life is not measured by the number of breaths we
> > take but by the moments that took our breath away!

Friends and lovers

2008-04-13T14:21:00.003+08:00

Maybe its post-holiday blues, work stress or the sheer irritation at 1 full month more of pscs, but I kinda fell into an emo mood this week. By Thur, people were asking whether I had even been on holiday or not, seeing how dishellevelled I looked (that, and my hair needed conditioning)

Having adjusted fairly well after my sometime-lesbian partner (I'm kidding) p left our sunny shores, I was frankly quite surprised at the sense of loss upon returning to Singapore. The 5 little days that we had spent together, without a single worry (although she had assignments due, and me, a little incident involving a hangover and an internet cafe) really made me realise that easy conversation and true comfortablity(?) with old friends ain't something you get everyday.

For the past 2 months (has it only been 2 months?!), while I did manage to meet new people and am having fun on night outs (I must admit I did enjoy Fri's karaoke session very much), its a kind of superficial/hollow happiness that cannot replace the meeting of like-minded minds (Our thoughts so truely parallel and all that)

What do you get when you put together commitement phobes, a lot of ambiguity and anyhow signals any which way?

Culinary adventure...

2008-04-13T13:21:00.008+08:00

into obesity, guilt and lean pockets.

But boy was it good while it lasted!

How to escape fish and chips in Oz? The best thing at lunch was the calamari, which I forgot to take a picture of, since we gobbled them up in double quick time.

Thick, juicy chips were the order of the day, even in a posh restaurant. And they went swimmingly with....
rich, creamy lobster lasagna. I love tomato cream sauce! Everyone was wiping the plate clean- it was THAT good.
How not to have fresh, raw oysters on the Gold Coast?

Have your ever seen such HUGE cous cous? My main was catch of the day with mussels on a bed of cous cous.

Some Bayshore bug which is supposedly famous on the Gold Coast. No it ain't a bug, its a alien shellfish.

Yarra Valley vineyard, where we stayed the night. I had chicken, which was so not worth it. But the cheese platter was really good, esp the soft cheeses. Wish I had some of J's mom's Quince jam to go with it tho!

Wanted to cut down after 1 week of over-eating, I opted for something light and soupy. Well for AUS$8, that char siew, siew yok noodles was anything but light.

Luscious Affairs, one Melbourne suburb

One of J's haunts-- luscious affairs. I had the beef and burgundy pie. After waiting for 20 min, cos of the blackout caused by the worst gale in Mel in the past 10 years. It was well worth the wait. Now, I wish I did have that chocolate cupcake to go along!

Ayuma Japanese, another Melbourne suburb

One of the best chirashi's I've had. The rice was mixed with ginger juice for added zing. Chock-full of very very fresh swordfish, sweet prawn, tuna, salmon, tamago, salmon roe etc.. A set comprising the chirashi, salad, miso soup and chawanmushi was only AUS$28! Bargain!

We also had swordfish sushi. Huge slices of fish, the edges were lightly cooked (with a blow torch?) This was only ho-hum.

Teahouse, Melbourne's Chinatown

Fab roast duck and Chinese broccoli, served Western style i.e. divided into individual portions. The skin of the duck was perfectly crispy and the the meat soft and melt-in-your-mouth. Best of all, none of that crap dark sauce you get when ordering duck in Singapore. Love the Cantonese style!
The piece de resistance-- $100 crayfish (aka lobster) noodles. Pity that they cooked the lobster within an inch of its life. Kind of masked the freshness of it. But a fitting end to my food tour none the less!

Demoralised

2008-04-11T09:54:00.002+08:00

One week back from the holidays and boy is the good-will and mellowness dissipating faster than you can snap your fingers.

Its really not the work, which admittedly is less taxing than last year.

So it must be the politicking and skulduggery going on in the office. How much energy goes into crafting the email just so, designing an argument, so that one wouldn't come across as being pushy and bitchy, yet standing firm and protecting oneself from being gobbled up (makan-ed) by the shady characters lurking in dark corners?

Pretty Place sans Devils really was a Disneyland which ill-prepared me for this treacherous rain-forest where boulders and wild animals could come any direction and trajectory.

Trippin'!

2008-04-06T20:00:00.004+08:00

How many ways can you blog about the most fantastic holiday?

In terms of the whale of a time spent with old friends and meeting new ones?

As a gourmet culinery adventure sampling the finest and freshest down under?

Or macham a school trip learning about wine-producing, cheese-making and wave erosion?

And let's not forget the fab shopping to be had down-under, the strong aussie dollar notwithstanding. 2 words: Factory Outlets!

Then again, there is always the ubiquitous factor of WEATHER-- gales (worst winds in Mel in 10 years), mini hurricane (somewhere in Brisbane), a very rainy Surfers' Paradise anyone?

My name is Rachel, and I'm an alcoholic

2008-03-23T09:34:00.005+08:00

I've been blogging more these days. Been chained to the computer for PSCs, but somehow the mind tends to wander. Still in writing mode, so expanding that energy in blogging about inane things instead.

Anyway, noticed something interesting whist reading p's recent blog entries about her increased religiosity. Now, sometime late last year, P was responsible for reducing my dependence on alcohol, and at the same time, introduced me to the joys of supper (Something like giving me Subutex to ween me off Heroin). At the same time, she was also meeting me half-way by going for more drinking sessions than she was used to. St James even became her second home, champagne, her poison of choice. Perhaps this was a function of both of us being liberated at the same time, but I guess we were influencing each other's lifestyle choices unconsciously.

So when she moved overseas, things changed somewhat. She found herself housemates who were devout church-goers, and rekindled her relationship with Christianity. I, er, am seeking comfort in alcoholic beverages again.

And horror of horrors, I actually am starting to enjoy St James. That's 2 times in a row I didnt have a yucky time there. Yesterday was really good, in fact. For the first time, I stayed in Dragonfly longer than 5 minutes and discovered that dammit, I'm a Lian at heart. A 90s one at that. Who knows the words to Red Dragonfly (a late 80s hit by the Little Tigers). And enjoys Hennessy with green tea. Alot.

Where is the AA when you need it?

I lust, I want, I need

2008-03-21T21:54:00.006+08:00

Good Friday bright and early, T and I headed out to Shang Palace (followed IMMEDIATELY with The Line) for ladies' tea,

After that, we decided to blow our bonuses on some shopping (I wanted some bling, he wanted a teacup).

So we wandered around a rainy and crowded Orchard-- Zara, Mussimo Dutti, Wisma, Wheelock, Taka...Somehow, I just couldn't bring myself to buy a single thing. Nothing caught my eye. I wasn't even willing to fork out $15 for a brow trim.

Since when did spending money get so difficult? Maybe as one gets older, material things don't appeal quite so much. Or maybe you realise just how hard it is to earn that money. Or perhaps you realise the trip/ high you get from possessing something that "you just had to have" is just too fleeting. Once you attain it, it suddenly doesn't seem so special/feel so precious anymore.

And that seems to apply to a number of things. That coveted job, the desirable guy, the dress hanging in the shop window. Nothing seems so perfect anymore once you get your grubby little hands on it. Perhaps its the association with your own flawed self that tarnishes its shine and makes it just that little bit less desirable?

My lustable item de jour: A very sexy little ring (also known as jewellary lingerie) from Dior. J'adore!

One Step

2008-03-16T22:38:00.006+08:00

Maybe it's PSC season, but all that asking of open questions and evaluating of personality profiles has got me thinking about my self-proclaimed "communication issues". Coupled with my re-watching of SATC episodes in anticipation of 1 May and I have a full-blown therapy session going on in my head at any one time.

This afternoon, H and I went for the tree-top walk, despite the rain and the scores of SOC and army (red berets?) officers combing the forest, with helicopters whirling overhead, no less.

The long walk was naturally conducive for us to have a good chin-wag about self-analyses and social observations (she's always introspective and asks open questions)

Amongst other things, we talked about not being ourselves in front of different people, and if that was hypocritical, how tiring it would be to keep it up all the time. To me, its just a coping mechanism so that I won't have to be myself (insecurity mah), but to her, she felt that if she can't engage in a proper conversation with someone, its the other person not being on the same page.

The discussion got me wondering if the reason why I find it hard to communicate to people is linked to just that-- not willing to talk about myself too much.

Its an Asian thing? Not to impose myself on others? On a nurture thing? My parents never caring much about my opinion? But I realised I never had this problem in JC, yabbing on the phone 2-3 hours each day about, I don't know, stuff. Maybe Carrie had it right when she said that with age, you just get too cautious and less willing to trust.

Later in the night, Holly called cos she found my MSN tags were depressive. So sweet of her! I told her that everything was fine and dandy, she asked if I was sending out subconscious SOSes. I here I thought I was being witty/wickedly funny. Damn. Hey, who is the shrink here anyway?

Being in that sort of mood, I rehashed the whole conversation and she had simple pearls of wisdom. You will communicate appropriately when the time is right, when you want.

I guess blogging about this is one step in the right direction towards getting me more open? Low-risk exposure.

Multiple personality disorder

2008-03-12T19:58:00.008+08:00

Yesterday, my department went to another Ministry for a work-related event. This being a Comms event, I was there earlier than the rest. Later, when one of my colleagues arrived, she was told by one of the registration people (her personal friend) that we were upstairs already. Including a tall, handsome guy.

Now, my colleague was rather puzzled, because she didn't think any of the guys in the office fit the bill (mainly the handsome part). Working by elimination, it dawned on her that her friend had meant me. Woo-hoo! I is handsome! Yes, a handsome man in a skirt and pearls. Interesting.

Later at lunch, my colleagues were saying, that they knew they could definitely tell me the truth, as I would not be offended. After all, I assumed various personas from time to time (mainly unflattering ones, yes, I've cornered the market on that). In fact, most of them knew me as some variation of a "lesbian Muslim man who wants to be a black woman".

Sometimes I wonder, am I a confused girl?

After all, there are elements of true in all of the above. Yes! I've contemplated the virtues of drinking from the fairy-cup, am fatally infatuated with Mats and once spent a number of months hanging out in Duane Reade in the black part of Brooklyn!

And of course, this ain't the first time I have been mistaken for a fella -_-''

Speed Dating (cont'd)

2008-03-09T22:30:00.004+08:00

So, the 8 guys I met.

I think there is something inherently flawed about the utility of speed dating, as people's facial recognition surely cant be expected to be so good right?

As it is, I can't put a face to a name for any one of them, and I remember the faces to only two. One because he looks exactly like my brother-in-law. The other, was really quite cute (Dunno what he was doing at a SDU event)

So some distinguishing characteristics:

No 1: The neurotic guy. "Brother-n-law" was talking about the fengshui techniques in his old kampung house, and how the water should flow past the door, towards a certain angle. Interesting stuff. Neurotic guy was all serious and actually asked him to DRAW it out so he could see whether the water flowed from "left to right" or "right to left".

Later, when writing his email address on the flourescent pink card the SDU lady had given me, he commented "you should choose a lighter colour paper, or use a pen. Later you can't read what I wrote.

"But nevermind, I write very hard."

(Cue eye rolling. But I had a good bonding moment with the other guy at the table over this)

No 2: The towkay. Regaling me and the other civil servant at the table about this overseas postings in Thailand and Sarawak. Alarm bells started ringing when he talked about how well he enjoyed his thai posting, esp since he was living just outside Pattaya, home to ladyboys galore. Then he talked about how he almost had to do time for watching illegal er, cock-fighting in Sarawak. Fortunately he got away by pretending not to know the laws of the land. Erm, NOT a good tale to tell people you just met (one of whom is a Prisons Officer, of all things). Integrity hey?

In between the trying hard to remember to ask open questions and maintaining eye contact, I actually enjoyed some of the conversations. And as H would say, this was certainly an excellent opportunity to observe social behaviour, and the dating game in full swing. T said that one girl was really keen on him, trying to find out all his vital stats and personal details (he is 6th avenue pedigree, after all!), whilst apparently A was charming all the girls (and one guy) with his gregariousness and er, pink shirt. And Im of course is a PR King so he had all the girls laughing at his jokes. And I actually got some follow up smses too. Not bad for a total wreck!

Speed Dating (I think)

2008-03-09T17:14:00.003+08:00

Im and I had been meaning to visit the Lourve Greek exhibits for ages. So when A told me about this high-tea cum guided tour of the exhibition, we decided to go for it. Never mind that it was organised by the SDU Unit of MOE. We figured there was safety in numbers.

The first sign of trouble was when T smsed me "Come quick! This place is over-run with civil servants stuffing their faces with cheap food!"

The worst had yet to come. Arriving half an hour late, we realised that we had to sit at tables of 4, and that there were designated seats with our names on it. Sinking feeling-- but that could have been due to the fact that barely any food was left at the buffet table. And they were not replenishing either.

I was asked to sit with Im and A at first *whew*. But our uncouth laughter soon drew attention from the fierce chaperons (all ex teachers and principals, what to expect?), who were suspicious of our over friendly behaviour. What can I say, NIE has taught them how to spot mischief!

So I was banished to a table with 2 utter strangers. And forced to make conversation. Social loafer that I am, it was excruciating making small talk, especially with men who I didn't know from Adam. I called in all my micro-counselling skills and open questions like you wouldn't believe. Either I looked revolting that day (I was running very late) or am a really bad conversationalist, because if I didn't work my ass off, the silence would have been deafening. It didn't help that in the background, I could hear raucous laughter coming from A and Im's tables. They were charming the pants off the ladies, the social butterflies. Damn them. :)

And switch.

Every 15 min, we had to GIVE OUT our contact details and "make new friends". The guys had to move on to the next table, and it started all over again.

All in all, I met 5 engineers, 1 prisons guy, 1 teacher, and 1 guy in Oil and Gas. Annabel Chong has nothing on me.

(More on the guys later......to be cont'd)

What are we like when we are drunk?

2008-03-09T12:12:00.004+08:00

Last night, was at a very lovely cocktail place, the Hyatt's Mezza9 Bar, where luscious muddles, martinis and mojitos (my new drink of choice) were to be had for $10 a pop. And you get free bar snacks. Unfortunately we got there with only 20 min of Happy Hour left so only got to have one snack, some Japanese style fish cakes and delectable moked root veggies with a wasabi-mayo sauce.

The drinks were really pretty strong (which was exactly what we needed after a rather traumatising afternoon tea). I had the grape muddle-- a vodka based mojito apparently, and of course the original mojito. But tipsy T got a little too high on his chock-lit martini and so I had to have his passionfruit muddle as well. It was that or carrying him home k?

As I said *hic* the drinks were rather strong, so by the time we had stumbled out to have dinner at 9pm at the always reliable Jap restaurant next door, I was talking just a tad more loudly than usual.

All these drinking got me thinking: what are we like when we are drunk?

I've heard some truely traumatic stories:

A uni friend puking into rice cooker (the BIGGEST container available in the house), after she had already puked several times into smaller bowls and filling them up. Her "I want to vomit" immortalised in one of those soft toys where you can record messages, by her housemates.

A uni senior getting so drunk she fell on her head and had mild concussion (my first taste of medical students)

A friend, on her 21st, dancing like the energiser bunny until she finally passed out cold on a freezing nottingham street, and had to be carried by a random group of strangers into the taxi, straight to A &E. She has never touched drink ever again. No mean feat considering she still lives in London.

P and her amazing out of body experiences whenever she gets drunk.

And the best, and the worst. A guy, trying to impress a girl, downed way too much alcohol and desperately needed to vomit. Not wanting to "lose face" in front of her, he never told her he needed the bathroom. To her horror, realised the poor guy had been puking into his hand and even swallowing whatever he could back down.

Yes, drinking. Never again?

Is this ME? Is this YOU?

2008-03-05T18:59:00.003+08:00

I first read this article in 2001. Still fresh, green and idealistic, I read it and literally wept in the terror that this was how my life would pan out. Recently came across this article again and somehow, this just seems to be my reality, my right now. Is it resignation, learnt helplessness, pragmatism or age? Or has reality changed? Things might seem to be better than when this was written. The maverick may now be welcomed, even celebrated. But how much of this is still true?

By Colin Goh & Joyceln Woo

Former lawyer turned writer/cartoonist Colin Goh and educator Joyceln Woo
are married and have been living in New York for the past three years.

COLIN & JOYCELN: We fell in love and in June 1998, we got married - true
Singaporean style. The studio photography, the clothes, church, the dinner
and the hundred of guests that we had never met before. What happened to us
after that was not so typically Singaporean. Here are our stories.

JOYCELN: As a child, I could never sleep the night before the first day of
school. The night before my first day of teaching was no different. I
didn't know what to expect but I knew that I was going to help kids learn,
be the best teacher, and make a difference.

At my first staff meeting, the principal screened an image familiar to all
new schoolteachers - the Prism. Like a magical crystal ball, the Prism told
many things. It could predict how well students entering secondary school
with 4 subjects at PSLE would do for the `O' levels. With the Prism, we
could evaluate each student's potential grade in literature based on
his/her PSLE grades and then tell if our school had "added value" to the
child's education.

Looking into the Prism, the principal announced that while she was
concerned about the various aspects of development - Intellectual,
Aesthetic, Moral, and Physical - "This year, our school will focus on the
Intellectual." By this, she meant that as teachers, we should all ensure
that we stretched the potential of the students so that they performed
"better than expected" at the `O' levels. I noticed in the subsequent years
that we never decided to focus on any other aspect of development. There
was never an Aesthetic, Moral or Physical year.

The conversations in the staff room educated me considerably about the
concerns of teachers.

"Oh, I heard you bought the new condo in Bukit Batok, that's a good
investment."

"So which piano school are you sending your child to now?"

"Do you want to go buy diamonds with us, we are going to buy diamonds this
afternoon."

In my naivete, this came as a shock. Why weren't teachers talking about
helping students learn or improving instruction? And when they WERE talking
about improving instruction, it was invariably:

"So what questions do you think will come out for this year's `O' levels?"

"Yes! Yes! I spotted the right questions!"

"You have to make sure your students write 5 `compositions' and do 5
`comprehensions' this semester."

And when questions were asked, the answer was inevitably "Can't change.
That's what the principal wants to see."

The culture in the staff room was a mix of different groups:

- the Tai-Tais, women who had married well-off husbands, and who admired,
respected and competed with each other for their Ferragamo shoes and Louis
Vuitton bags.

- the few unmarried men who were mothered by the Tai-Tais as they were
regarded as "good" men (i.e. hardworking and honest) but ironically
insufficiently compelling marriage material (for why on earth would a
functioning, virile, desirable man become a teacher?).

- the married men who usually lived in HDB flats (unlike the Tai-Tais and
their non-teacher husbands), who generally kept to themselves.

- the older single women who were diligent in ensuring that all forms are
handed in on time and helping students who need extra help get the
preferred grades. They were usually more conservatively (and cheaply)
dressed, and did not generally interact socially with the Tai-Tais.

- the expatriate teachers who were generally avoided by the other teachers
and not expected to do very much because they either could not be trusted
to do the work, were too difficult to communicate with, or were too
troublesome to work with. And when they got together, they made plain their
disdain for Singapore and its school system of which they were a part.
Stereotypical as it may sound, those I'd met had invariably come to
Singapore either to heal from a broken marriage (in which case, getting
involved with a local woman usually came with the package), or had fled an
unsuccessful career so they could return home and say, "I spent a few years
in the Orient."

- And the young teachers, bright-eyed and bushytailed, who believed they
could make a difference, and who usually started out immensely popular with
the students. They organized extra activities which they were not required
to do, sat with students for long hours when they had problems, and
generally tried to innovate with teaching. The Tai-Tais usually tried to
matchmake the young single female teachers with single men they knew, but
never the single male teachers. Seasoned teachers generally sat back and
placed bets on when the neophytes would eventually burn out.

I didn't know a single lazy teacher - everyone was extremely hardworking,
taking work home, often physically running around as they hurried to
different parts of the school. The teachers hardly had time to rest and
reflect. It was as if we had been trained to work hard, but not to think.

What unites Secondary 4 teachers is the common goal of ensuring their
students score well in the `O' levels - preferably better in the subject
that they teach rather than in another subject. Success is defined largely
in terms of how many As produced in their class.

I remember one year distinctly - the school had done well in history and
the Sec 4 history teacher was jumping up and down in glee, like she had won
a war. On the other hand, the students hadn't done as well in literature
and the teacher was walking around with her head down, wishing that the
bulletin board with the results didn't place the teacher's name next to the
results of each class. While everyone congratulated the history teacher on
doing well in spotting the right questions, we all didn't know what to say
to the literature teacher. We sort of patted her shoulder as if someone had
died.

And for non-Sec 4 teachers, our overriding concern was assigning the
required number of tests and exercises and grading them. Each semester, all
our students had to submit binders containing their completed and graded
assignments. And each semester, the teachers would spend several days of
class time ensuring that the students had everything in place, as the
submission of completed binders were a factor in a teacher's evaluation.
The binders would disappear for months because it would take the Head of
Department that long to go through the binders and count how many
assignments had been completed. It didn't seem to matter if the teacher had
taken 5 minutes to grade each composition or 30 minutes to make sure that
the students received meaningful feedback. What was important was that the
assignments were there.

I felt both angry and guilty that my idealism constantly came up against so
many artificial obstacles. I felt that the obsession with bookkeeping and
papering over any mistakes, real or perceived, allowed neither time nor
space for innovation.

Further, the mania to deliver standardized results trumped the notion of
harnessing individual potential, of the teachers and the students.

Worse, I felt I could not raise these issues. There was a culture of
silence.

My experiences are not about bad principals or teachers in particular. It
is about ways of being and seeing that represent to me, the Singapore
legacy that I have inherited. The principals and teachers that I talked
about are not to blame individually - it is just so difficult to be and to
see otherwise in the busy-ness, routines, and duties of our everyday lives.

I decided to leave to pursue graduate studies. Teacher education in
Singapore is tilted more to the vocational than the intellectual and I
wanted the space, time and knowledge to help me articulate and frame what I
was thinking and feeling. On a more pragmatic level, I knew that nobody
took the feelings of groundling teachers seriously and that people would
probably listen to me more if I had a doctorate. I was disappointed, but
still hopeful.

COLIN: I remember my first visit to New York. I had just graduated in law
from University College London, and had several months before I was
scheduled to take the English bar exams. Where most of my friends had
chosen to do attachments with Singaporean law firms with the prudent aim of
acclimatizing themselves with the career-to-come, I was paralysed with a
single, terrible thought:

"These are the last few months I'll ever have to indulge my youthful
passions."

In an impulsive moment, and much to my parents' annoyance, I blew every
last cent I had and wangled myself a place in a cartooning course at
Manhattan's School of Visual Art. I had been cartooning for The New Paper
for several years by then (my comic strip The Concrete Jungle continues to
run in their august pages), but had no formal training.

I chose Manhattan because it was supposed to be the cynosure of the
creative world, and most important of all, where Marvel and DC Comics had
their headquarters. Where else would one study cartooning but in
Spiderman's territory?

Those few months were the most mind-blowing of my life. By day, I was
either sequestered in a musty sketching Brazilian women or wandering the
varied New York neighbourhoods. By night, I hung out with the other
residents of the international hostel I was staying at - a diverse crowd of
students from Argentina to Kazakhstan and everywhere in between. I had
always thought Singapore to be a model of diversity and cosmopolitan
progress, but over countless milkshake- fueled discussions in East Village
hangouts, I felt like the proverbial mountain tortoise.

It was also the first time I began to question the path I was about to
take. I was meeting people who were taking chances and simply following the
dictates of their passion, whether it was art, dance or securities.

I had studied law largely because it was often cited it as the next best
thing after medicine, which I knew I'd be awful at. Besides, SM Lee was a
lawyer. What better endorsement could a Singaporean have? Despite being a
published cartoonist and writer by then, I never thought about a career in
the arts. It was a completely nonexistent option.

What was worse was that my parents never forced me into law. I just read
their minds, I guess. Besides, all my friends seemed to be doing it too. It
was the Singaporean Dream.

I also remember in my first year in law school, my parents telling me about
SM Lee's now seminal "If I were an undergraduate" speech, where he told JC
students that were he a student now, he would not study law; he would be an
engineer, join the civil service, then obtain an MBA and thereafter enter
the private sector. SM Lee had switched from Coke to Pepsi. There was a New
Dream.

For a moment, I thought, well, if I'm yesterday's man, I might as well
deviate from the path altogether. However, that year, the Singapore
government decided it had too many lawyers and restricted the number of
recognized overseas law schools. A rumour began spreading amongst the legal
undergrad community that it wouldn't be long before they didn't recognize
British qualifications altogether. We had to hurry and enter the Singapore
workforce as soon as possible, before we were shut out. (As we now know,
the rumour was unfounded, and Singapore now admits it needs more lawyers.)

Nevertheless, out of prudence, I shelved any thought of changing fields and
became a barrister, then an advocate and solicitor of the Supreme Court of
Singapore.

I joined a large law firm, again largely because it was commonly believed
that it was good to bloody oneself in the trenches of the giants. I
practiced shipping law, again an extremely prudent choice, what with our
being the world's busiest port. Further, it was perceived as exciting
because shipping lawyers often had to go out to sea to arrest ships. (In
truth, arresting ships is not vastly different from what loansharks do when
they hang pig's heads on debtors' doors.)

I had a decent, almost enviable, income. I had to keep telling myself that,
because the lifestyle was neither decent nor enviable.

Clients called me at 2 am in the morning. The High Court Registry nicknamed
me "Mr. 5 O'Clock" because I regularly filed papers right under the
guillotine, never of my own volition. My only pleasure was catching up on
industry gossip while waiting in line to argue before the court registrars.
There was not a single Chinese New Year holiday where I would not find
myself in the office. My parents only caught fleeting glimpses of me early
in the morning when I rushed to work, or late at night, when I stumbled in,
surly and mentally exhausted. I saw Joyceln, then simply my girlfriend, for
a few precious, stolen hours on Sundays.

But I had the job, and more important, the income. They brought me a
measure of social acceptability. Parents' friends would nod approvingly,
non-lawyer friends would remark how much lower their salaries were. I made
enough to afford membership in a club I never had time to step into, and
for season parking in town. I had credit cards and designer ties. I could
share war stories about work that might have seemed glamourous to
non-lawyer friends, weaned as they were on a diet of Ally McBeal. I was in
the secure embrace of the Singaporean Dream.

My epiphany came as I was descending the gangway of a very large oil
tanker. At a height of ten storeys or more, the gangway abruptly slipped
its moorings and fell several feet. I found myself in mid air for several
terrifying seconds. Luckily the crew managed to secure it again. As I
retrieved my dropped manhood, I saw bits of the vessel fall into the sea
below. If I had not held tight to the chains, I would be dead.

When I told my colleagues about it, no one batted an eyelid. It was simply
one of the hazards of the job, like the long hours and the symbolic
fellating of clients. Some even quipped, "Who says law isn't exciting?" But
working late that night in the stale air of my office, surrounded by musty
documents and lit by the sickly iridescence of my computer monitor, I knew
I had to get out.

My brush with death made me reflect on my life, as I suppose all encounters
with the reaper must do. I realized I was unhappy. Not
weeping-and-gnashing-of-teeth unhappy, just that dull ache of
uninspiration. Yet, on paper, I should have been completely content.

My conviction was reinforced when I passed my boss's office and saw her
toiling away. Much more senior, she was still keeping the crazy hours of a
junior lawyer. She had a brilliant mind, equity in a giant and prestigious
firm and a sizeable income, but I realized that I didn't aspire to her
lifestyle. And she was by no means unique.

If I did not aspire to be my boss, then what was the point? My life
stretched before my eyes, and I did not want to take another step in its
direction.

I then made a classic Singaporean evaluation: if I'm going to suffer, then
by god, I'll suffer for more money. I figured American lawyers make the
most money, so that's where I'll go. I decided the fastest way to do this
would be to do a one year Master's degree, preferably in an Ivy League
university, since it would provide me ingress into the American market.

I spoke to Joyceln, and told her that the only place I wanted to go was New
York, because I wanted to recapture a little of that energy I had felt
years ago. Despite some reservations (New York has a not wholly undeserved
reputation), we both applied to Columbia University, New York's only Ivy
League university. Miraculously, we were both accepted.

We quit our jobs, got married, emptied our bank accounts and left
immediately.

JOYCELN: When applying to do my doctorate at Columbia's famous Teachers
College, I spoke to several professors at the only education institution in
Singapore to find out about possible financial support. I had intended to
study curriculum and technology, and felt my experience teaching as well as
a stint designing educational software in an IT firm would be valuable.

However, the door was abruptly slammed in my face when I was told over the
phone, "If you are not in computer science, and not a first class graduate,
there is nothing we need to talk about."

Perhaps spurred by anger, I worked like a demon at Teachers College and
earned several academic awards, including a doctoral research fellowship
which covered both tuition and a stipend, and came unencumbered by any
bond, moral or otherwise. The myopia with which I had been treated had
ironically turned out to be a blessing.

I even met with our Education Minister when he visited Teachers College. Of
the questions he asked me, two stood out: "When are you going back to
Singapore?" and "When are you going to have babies?" It hit me that I had
never spoken to the Minister when I was teaching in Singapore. I wondered:
am I valuable to the country only after I leave?

COLIN: Armed with a Masters from Columbia Law School and the grandiose
title of "Harlan Fiske Stone Scholar" which Columbia had over-generously
bestowed upon me, and having passed the New York bar exams, I knocked on
the doors of some of the largest law firms in the world.

I recall one battery of interviews being carried out in a large hotel,
where prospective lawyers would shuttle in and out of the rooms, each
occupied by interviewers from the firms.

A fellow prospector asked me, "Which other profession requires you to
shuttle from hotel room to hotel room?"

"Prostitution," I remarked, and we both laughed. It proved a prophetic
statement, for when touring the offices of prospective firms, instead of
feeling pumped, I felt horrified by the all-too familiar office layout, the
mounds of paper spilling onto the floor, the designer suits thrown over the
backs of chairs.

The last straw came when a partner of one Midtown firm patted me on the
back and said, "I think you'd be perfect to help work on our port project
out in Saudi Arabia!"

It suddenly hit me that I was not embarking on real change at all. I was
merely rearranging the furniture. Like a good little boy, I had made all
the pragmatic, sensible decisions and it was about to push me into the
abyss. I was still trying to achieve the Singaporean Dream, except
overseas, and on a larger scale.

Well, not exactly.

It was then that I understood the difference between the Singaporean Dream
and the Singaporean Plan. And what is the difference? I suppose the Dream
has to be one of searching for peace and the liberty to conduct one's life
as one sees fit.

That's probably what my ancestors sought when they left China: the
governments of the Ming and Manchu were ruthlessly restrictive of
cross-border commerce, the lifeblood of my ethnic Hokkien and Teochew
forbears.

And no doubt it was the Dream, fueled by hard work and courage, that has
made Singapore the indisputable commercial success it is today. And our
story is a wonderful one: the Little Island That Could.

However, invariably once people attain success, they start to canonize the
steps they took to achievement. This is how Dreams become Plans, and how
one hegemony replaces another: the search for peace and liberty becomes get
into a good school, then a good university, then a stable job, then buy
property and stock. The problem is, then what? There is nothing inherently
unique about the Singaporean Dream. The American Dream of life, liberty and
the pursuit of happiness is substantially the same. (And especially in the
upper middle class, the American Dream is fast becoming a Plan too: prep
school, Ivy League, Wall Street.)

But what to me gives America more hope is that they still celebrate
mavericks; they may never find happiness, but their liberty to pursue it is
sacred.

My experience in Singapore was, however, very different. There were always
people telling you what and how you should do things, and imposing
penalties for deviation. There were 'right' schools, 'right' professions,
'right' strategies.

Of course there are those who would argue that ultimately, the choice is
one's own and that there is nothing to prevent one from doing what he or
she wants in Singapore. After all, isn't it one's fault for caving in to
peer pressure? I would humbly submit that while theoretically true, such an
argument betrays an ignorance of the combined workings of hegemony and
power.

The issue is how expansive the reigning ideology is. In Singapore, the
dominant view is to do whatever works (whatever that may be, and regardless
of who it worked for). In New York (I won't pretend that America is
homogeneous), the prevailing view is that everyone should find what makes
him or herself unique, and capitalize on that.

Manhattan is smaller than Singapore, yet there is space for both Wall
Street Wizards and Alphabet City Shamans to coexist. Despite occasional
border skirmishes, there is recognition that the city would be a lot poorer
if everyone marched to the same drum.

An overly romantic myth? Perhaps. But that such a myth could persist in a
hostile and cynical environment like New York, was encouraging to me. And
anyway, the 'fulfilment' promised by the Singapore Plan was equally
illusory. In a competition of myths, I chose the one that gave the most
latitude to one's passions over the one that indulged one's fears.

JOYCELN: I think the most striking thing about New York is that so many
people here are in transition. They don't know where they are going to be
or what they are going to be doing in 6 months' time. But they are all
working towards their individual dreams, in their own individual way, and
not according to some mandated blueprint or destination.

The receptionist in my building is also an actor. I recently met a waitress
who was a graduate student in philosophy. I have classmates who are not
only still at work, but who also shoot films whenever they can.

Until New York, I didn't know I could be poor and still volunteer to help
others who are more needy than me - not tomorrow, or next year, or when my
income reaches a certain level, but today. I now tutor the children in my
neighborhood who need help but can't afford to pay. I didn't know how great
it feels to be able to write, and express my anger, worries, and joys. I
didn't know that if I am dissatisfied by policies, I can get together with
others to express it. Just last week, there was a public school that was
boycotting a state-mandated test because the test was taking away precious
instructional time. What a novel idea! I didn't know I was not alone, that
there are other Singaporeans who think like I do, who want to make a
difference but who are afraid and are so used to being silent.

COLIN: The insidiousness is this: in adhering to the Singaporean Plan, I
was acting pragmatically, but ultimately, dishonestly. As late as the
interlude between pupilage and practice, I had written a play that was
performed for the Singapore Arts Festival Fringe, for which the British
Council had sponsored me to attend the Royal Court Theatre in London's
prestigious theatre school. Further, throughout my years of practice, I
also managed to continue cartooning The Concrete Jungle. While I enjoyed
writing and drawing, never for a second did I think this might be a career.
Worse, I felt compelled to downgrade their importance in my life.

First was money, then pleasure. It was simply un-Singaporean to think one
could get pleasure without money, or that working should be pleasurable.

But now I refuse to postpone my dreams any further, and shelve them under
some misguided notion of pragmatism. How often was I told as a child by my
elders, "wait till you grow up," "wait till after exams", "wait till after
you graduate". I do not desire to wait until I retire. I might not make it
that far. I refuse to be a walking mid-life crisis in the making.

But living one's dreams is difficult because it is a lone undertaking.
There is no such thing as shared dreams; they are personal creatures. And
while my peers are making partner and buying cars, I live in rented student
accommodation and scatter my work to the ocean of ublications, hoping for a
bite. Thus far, I have only been published a couple of times, far from
being enough to pay the rent. Yet I do not feel despair. Trite as it may
sound, I recognize that life is about the journey, and not the destination.

JOYCELN: In Singapore, a considerable amount of talk in education has been
about continuing to be competitive in the global marketplace. Singapore
seems to have done well in this respect - we have consistently come in
first in the International Math and Science Study.

But in tandem with the fear of losing out on notional global
competitiveness is the willingness of many

educators, policy-makers, and parents to "train" the young to delay their
dreams, desires and play for a future goal, to "wait till after you finish
your homework," to "wait till after the exams" while at the same time
plying them with material bribes.

On the global front, it is ironic that the US is trying to emphasize
academic standards while Japan, who also finished in the top ranks of the
International Math and Science Study, is trying to cut down on the
curriculum to allow more time for play. Both cite global competitiveness as
heir reason for doing so. One wonders as a country, whether we are
listening to the everyday experiences of our own children, parents and
teachers, or simply responding to some speculative construction of what is
needed to be competitive. Can anyone say for sure what's needed? Only a few
months ago, countries cried out for schools to produce more dot-commers. A
look at the roller coaster line that is the NASDAQ should be cause for
circumspection.

There are signs that children in Singapore are straining under this ethos.
Recent newspapers reports have reported that parents are spending an
inordinate amount of money and time to send their children for after-school
tuition so that they can achieve better results; scoring high marks in
tests and exams have been found to be a top concern for students; the
average 10 year-old has been found to spend 6 hours in school and up to 8
hours on homework and tuition each day, and, students have been reported to
experience physical reactions such as diarrhoea and asthma attacks during
or just before exams. Is this education, or child labor? Has scoring well
in tests become the reason for tests themselves? How do teachers, parents,
and teachers begin to imagine our lives differently?

COLIN: I think it is important not to wholly discredit the Singapore Plan.
It worked for some and may yet work for others. However, it is also true
that the road to hell is paved with good intentions and that it is always
an error to confuse what is with what ought to be.

JOYCELN: Consider these 2 stories. Which is closer to yours?

You wake up everyday and work from Monday to Friday, and often, Saturday
too. If you finish work early, you and your partner go to your parents'
place for dinner and see your child for a few hours.

If you work late, you buy a packet of char kway teow from the hawker centre
but eat it at home because it's too warm to eat there. You're not crazy
about the job but you know that if you keep at it, you can afford a car in
3 years' time, and in 5 years' time, buy a condo close to the primary
school you want to send your kid to.

Your conversations with people are either for the purpose of networking,
work, or for familial obligations you cannot avoid. On weekends, you play
golf with your friends at your country club or watch a movie with your
partner. Once a year, you go on a ten day vacation to New York, London, or
Paris, and when your children are big enough, Disneyland.

Alternatively, you wake up and you have no idea what is going to happen
today, tomorrow, 6 months or a year later. Ironically, because of this
uncertainty, all possibilities exist for you. You can be the Prime Minister
of Singapore, you can make a movie, you can cook a meal you have never
cooked before, eat at a place you have never eaten before, you can color
your hair red, you can skip instead of walk, you can volunteer at the
school you have always wanted to volunteer at, you can write a book, or you
can have a baby even though you don't have a maid. You have conversations
with people who set your heart palpitating and your mind on fire. Your
weekday is not so different from your weekend because everyday you are
thinking, creating, and more important, imagining.

Most of us recognize the first story and its pursuit of the 5 Cs of "cash,
condo, car, country club, credit card." It is the Plan, which imposes a
conclusion on you, and you work in order to make all the pieces fit. A bus
stop advertisement I saw recently said it best: "We spend all our youth
chasing money, and when we attain it, we spend all our money chasing
youth."

A Dream, on the other hand, carries you on its wings to worlds that your
heart and mind have never known.

COLIN: My fault was accepting that the Plan would naturally work for me.
One doesn't have to accept a legacy one inherits. I was complicit in my
unhappiness. I did not question enough, whether it was my elders, the
government, newspapers, consultants, whatever. I foolishly let others make
up my mind for me. I rather fear I am not alone in this folly.

If there is any blame to be laid, it is the upholding of a compliant,
unquestioning culture; that some people should never be challenged because
of age, status or whatever. It is not solely the establishment's fault; all
political parties are entitled to play politics. But it is wholly our fault
for not fighting for what we believe in.

COLIN & JOYCELN: Criticism and disagreement is not treason, and our words
emanate as much from our dissatisfaction with, as our love for Singapore.
We simply believe that we are more than our legacy. This is the dream of
immigrants everywhere, whether they arrive in Singapore or on Ellis Island.

Don't talk to me

2008-03-01T11:42:00.005+08:00

Read a rather interesting article by Ravi Veloo today. Some time ago, I discussed this with P, on whether MSN had affected our ability to communicate well with others. She thought that MSN had bridged the gap between her and others she would never had spoken to up, close and personal, I thought it reduced the need for face to face communication, and hence I had become tongue-tied in real life.

Well according to the oldies, we certainly aren't communicating at all! 20 smses, does not a conversation make. And there certainly is truth in that. How is it that one can carry on an email marathon (maybe because its preferential to doing real work during office hours) and sms relay for 6 days of the week, but during a one hour lunch break once a week when you meet, you struggle to find things to say? Is it because our brains have become too used to only one mode of communication that all the 'noise' of having to read facial expression, body language AND think of witty things to say temporarily stuns the brain and renders it useless?

But then again, even though I am supposedly more in my element, writing on my faceless blog, or discussing it over MSN, Ravi still sums it up better. I guess the oldies do have something over us!

sorry, what did you just say?

The young are not communicating with each other, not even on the Internet

By Ravi Veloo

THE sexy young thing in the very short denim skirt spread herself across her boyfriend's long legs as they sat silently on the MRT train zipping to Bedok that night.They didn't talk. Not that they were angry at each other. She was after all slumped across his thighs. Then at the station before Bedok, she got up, no goodbye or farewell kiss, and simply walked away.She whipped out her handphone and so did he immediately as she minced to the long queue for the escalator, joining those ideologically opposed to using the stairs to go down. He was texting with speed.

Ah, I thought. So this is how they communicate.They have private conversations by SMS, the way our colleagues these days use office email to talk to the person sitting right next to them.But what's this? He was still texting and receiving, but she had put her phone to her ear to make a call. So they were still not talking to each other!

What is it with our new young? So young and already so bored with each other? You may say, well, they were texting someone. So they were talking to someone, if not each other.But how meaningful a conversation can you have on SMS?

I have seen groups of teenaged schoolgirls in Burger King, up to four at a time, all on the phone at the same time, texting someone else.Go to any McCafe and you'll see young couples or groups like in the old days. What's new is this: They, too, aren't talking to each other.

I saw one couple in their 20s, she was actually knitting while he was surfing the Net. Another young couple, he was reading the newspaper! They were all like some old couples who had run out of fresh things to say.

I saw another group of four, two boys and two girls, early 20s. They were each reading a comic book in Chinese.In a coffee hangout at the Singapore Management University campus on a Saturday afternoon, a group of two girls and three guys, maybe students at that university, maybe not: One guy was reading a magazine throughout, and said nothing. Got up only to find another rag to read.Never mind how rude it was, that just makes you wonder.

Even Brad Pitt must make some effort to entertain and engage Angelina Jolie. Why were these girls letting a pock-marked guy treat them like wallpaper?

The notable economist Paul Krugman wrote last week that he thought communism fell not because it was flawed but because people had lost faith in it. Capitalism, he pointed out, is a system that works even if you don't believe in it because it feeds on selfishness, not selflessness.

Maybe our young are what we reap from the seeded culture of crass capitalism, which is particularly intense in Singapore where the safest passion to pursue is the dollar.

Driven essentially by self-interest, our young give true meaning to the word iPod — yes, they are one.

Is it any wonder that even on the Internet, most of our young are blogging, basically keeping a public diary, rather than engaging each other in forums in an alternative space?

Even on the Net, the young are just talking to the wall. Why do they call it a community, just because a stranger or two drops a comment in the response box?

Perhaps larger countries can afford this. But a small country, dependent on human resources, had better find a way to encourage more talk, so we can have more informed opinions, so we can have more ideas and maybe more leaders in more fields. All meaningful acts begin with an opinion.Where shall we start?

Well, maybe not with the young. They don't seem to have anything to say

Beauty World, cha cha cha

2008-02-24T21:50:00.005+08:00

Like many trannies before me, I have fallen in love with the Bugis area.

The shopping is fabulous and the food is divine, dah-ling!

5 pairs of shoes in the village, at $10 to $15 a pop-- where to get such a deal?

Being on course there for 5 days over two weeks has really emptied out my pockets.

Apart from the shoes, there was also the little matter of a Topshop sale. Add on a lazy afternoon wandering around the divine Haji Lane, which is fairly inviting with its faint scent of sheesha and entrepreneurial capitalism, and you have a maxed out credit card and a guilty conscience worse than the Indonesian haze.

But it was gorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgeous all the same!

Baby Sophie's first CNY Open House

2008-02-17T11:58:00.007+08:00

Shing Yi's CNY open house cum Princess Sophie's First Month celebration.

Presenting Princess Sophie. Someone remarked that with a name like Sophie, she would certainly grow up to be "bohemianly gorgeous". I say, she would definitely turn out a Winona Ryder (no, not the shop-lifting part, I mean as how she appeared in Edward Scissorhands) look-alike, whimsical, dreamy, floaty, and probably an artist of some sort.

Mother and daughter. Any resemblance?

Sophie opens her eyes just as we all pile into the house, 3 hours late. The lady doth not protest too much at all the strange aunties carrying her, and inspects HT with the kind of wonder that only babies can do so charmingly.

LC said that this was definitely the highlight of her entire CNY. Baby Sophie looks so snuggly and comfortable cuddling up in LC's arm, drifting in and out of our conversation the whole time.

Sophie dozes as mummy shares the gory details of a 27 hour labour(!). And goes on, and on....

and on and on and on.....She's learning fast to get used to the nagging!!

A Commercial Celebration

2008-02-14T22:16:00.002+08:00

It was interesting reading the build-up to Valentine's Day in the local press and on the internet. It must be some sort of pact amongst the mass media and retailers to force it down consumers' throats, the importance of spending time, effort, and most importantly, money, on your partner every Feburary the 14th.

And in a way, a lot of us buy into it. When you are about 18 that is. I definitely remember feeling anxiety about whether I had a date, or when I was seeing someone, what the perfect gift should be, when I was 18.

But this year, wandering around the mall today, I noticed that celebrations were not as festive as you would think it would be, if the papers were to be believed. Nary a unfortunate boy with a bouquet of flowers in sight. No table-for-two settings in the restaurants, no love struck couples creating fire and traffic hazards. Even those $39,000 Valentine's Day packages had not been snapped up (like that would surprise anyone).

Have we as a society seen through the hype? (Or are people just worrying about the rates of inflation and the CPF annuities programme?)

For me, V Day night was just another good night msn-ing my potato and other friends :) It is the company that counts!

Our group is shrinking further

2008-02-12T18:15:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, U, KW, char and I gathered for a impromptu Bukit Timah-ers dinner at Al-Ameen. It was the first time we had gathered since potato flew down under, but the same topics flew over the stingray, nasi goreng and pratas. The usual hometeam bitching, KW and P, KW and SWF , U and P.. etc All very relak one corner :)

But that night, walking home, I was struck with a thought. With char heading off mid-next year, our little group would be losing another member again very soon. Oh no! I can't imagine that happening!

Disappointment

2008-02-07T14:09:00.000+08:00

I guess one thing that festive occasions do to you is to make you more pensive.

During the duty-bound CNY first day lunch, my little nephew Kieran (the only one of the next generation) was the centre of attention (or rather, the diversion from awkward conversation). Really, babies are most useful during such family gatherings. For that reason alone, I am supporting the government on this one!

Anyway, after the first 10 minutes, everyone kinda lost interest (yes, not being maternal runs in the family) and wandered away to have lunch. My mummy however, continued to play with him (she, technically, is not a Quek and hence much better with children), and he, reciprocratively receptive to her (my mummy is still the most pretty lady in the room mah). Which prompted my coz to say "eh, your mum is definitely wanting her grandchildren", which of course started me on my whole lesbian thingy.

The first thought that I had was guilt-- because of the worry I caused my mum over the last few months. And also that this year would be the first in YEARS that I don't have plus one for reunion dinner. I know she would very much like for me to be settled. But instead here I am gallivanting away like I was 19 again.

The 2nd thought was that she just wanted to be away from the drivel and small talk going around the table. And I know she feels uncomfortable with my dad's relatives, who never really accepted her (being the wife, and hence second class citizens and all). Yah, talk about dynasties.

But then, I wondered (and this is linked the first point about guilt) if to her, the child symbolises all that is good and perfect. Not yet tainted by the world, influenced by grownups with their greed, agendas and schemes. If he wants something, he will ask for it. If he is unhappy, he cries. And if he likes you, his smile can light up your world (for that fleeting seconds before he turns his attention onto something else, that is).

I wonder if she is disappointed in all of us, for turning out so different from what she expected? I cannot imagine the pure happiness one can feel when you hold someone so new in your arms, a clean slate? Someone to pin your unfufilled hopes on? Pregnant with possibility, your own armful of clay to mould any which way you want. Surely she would never have imagined us to turn out to be how we are. Outwardly happy and successful (my bro and sis anyway), but somehow, damaged, quietly resentful (isn't that what we always are with our parents?), sullen even.

Is it any wonder she would rather turn her face away from us, her burdens, her unfufilled dreams once again, and would rather look at the future and hope once again.

The guilt as usual, acts up. Break out the champagne please.

Happy Chinese Year!

Modern interpretation of Chinese New Year

2008-02-07T13:49:00.000+08:00

is it about the Chinese that we like to inflict all sorts of emotional blackmail and unhappiness on each other? Its almost like a badge of honour how much suffering or torture one can take.

Chinese New Year is one such example. A largish group of people with nothing in common but blood are forced to gather once a year to fake well-wishes on each other, exclaim over how fantastic/successful they have grown over the year, when behind each other's back, they are checking watches and passing snide remarks over how bad the cooking was/how fat the other has become/why 3rd cousin is still left on the shelf. Everyone is forced to exchange packets of money, but you know some brain work has gone into planning such that each family doesn't make a loss (e.g. if you have 3 children, give red packets of $15 to the 2 children in the next family, who will in turn give your children $10 so that you break even).

The concept of family was probably something more relevant in the past where extended families stayed together, each helping out in the household. In the modern world, with people scattered all around, sometimes in different countries, friends are almost always closer than family members. But one is always made to feel guilty about wanting to spend time with friends during the festive season (if one is chinese, of course), and thus there is a perpetual sulk going around the reunion dinner table.

I may be proud of being Chinese (and as I always say, overcompensating for my parents' lack of regard for traditions) but this is one Chinese thing I can never get.

Addendum: http://uk.reuters.com/article/lifestyleMolt/idUKARM03994420080130?pageNumber=4&virtualBrandChannel=0&sp=true

CNY looms. Yuck.

2008-02-05T14:57:00.000+08:00

But some kind sales girl in Sino London actually called to return my phone to me. What a star!

There is hope for the world :)

I'd sing about it but my throat hurts. Ouch.

An all-round bad weekend

2008-02-03T22:44:00.000+08:00

My annus horribulus has officially began.

Was dreading 2008 but so far it had been pretty decent (work aside that is, but since I have already decided that work shall no longer be the centre of my life, that has ceased to be so difficult to handle).

Until this weekend.

It started off, as with most of my bad days, with poor public transport. Taxi from my house to 6th avenue costs $8.20! It's only a 10 min drive, but the bad weather plus jam along jalan anak bukit made every inch excruiatingly expensive!

Oh wait, backtrack...I went for a course on presentation skills on friday, which should have been a breeze, but it reinforced the fact that my training skills have all but disappeared. Friends from pretty place sans devils would know that training was my pet area and something I took pride in for doing well, but i just couldnt bring it during the course. WHY??? My only skill has died!. HOW?

Later in the evening, I had a pretty decent dinner with T at E-sarn, and caught up with C for the first time in a LONG LONG time. Met his baby for the first time. (So glad you finally agreed to let me see 'em!! :P) So happy for him, he really looks so blissful, in love, grounded and far more mature.

That night was also P's farewell. Way too much champagne, and for the second time in the week, supper (gosh two rounds of supper in one night, in fact). There goes my new year resolution but what the hell, its not likely I have any more supper..cos I dont have any more supper kakis!

As I said, champagne and cheese prata (er, as well as GT, Chivas and chicken wings) are just not on, and I spent Sat in bed, sleeping off the bad karma of the week and mooching about.

Sunday was a real nightmare. Lost my mobile in a very crowded Orchard. God knows how. And when tried to call later, no one picked up. Sigh. What a goner. And got on this marathon bus ride to airport which took FOREVER. So long, in fact, that I made friends with an ah beng on the bus. (i think we bonded over our matching bleached locks). I was super distraught cos I was one hour late and didnt know P's flight no, airline, or where she was having dinner. Thank god I had some vague idea as to the TERMINAL she was at, otherwise die liao! It would be just like me to miss seeing her for the last time!!

Plus, I forgot to bring her the card I had written painstakingly. Somemore its not the font 40 LOTS OF LOVE cards that I usually write.

So anyway P, if you get to read this, once you are settled in, give me your address and I'll send you the card. Miss you already!

Bimbotism

2008-01-28T22:58:00.000+08:00

I ain't fighting it no more. I is bimbo! Especially when it comes to gadgets. Have been bio-ing this super chio but I know super impractical laptop. The Asus EEE. Its so obvious that the marketing is targetted at techno-phobic ACASAV (act cute act sweet act virgin) girls like me. The name itself stands for Easy to Work, Easy to Play, Easy to Learn. But I can't resist! It only costs $600 although the amount you have to pay to add on storage space, DVD player etc will probably add up to a couple hundreds.

So cute right?! The perfect gift. No wonder it was sold out in Singapore! I don't really like the pink but Asus ain't toning down on the cutesy factor. Thats for sure

Look how tiny it is! The screen is only 7 inches! The spare change from $1k that you get will prob have to go towards a new pair of specs.

Too bad there is no red colour. I would be so sold on it. It costs as much as P's camera only lor!!

The boring, practical, I-know-I-should-get-this option is this blah Dell. $1.1k, inclusive of GST and delivery. All the men I consulted told me this is the best option. But since when did girls go with their brains? I am still regretting buying that oh so practical, plain vanilla silver cam I got. Zhng already looks so cannot! The look on CP's face when he saw it was priceless. I think credibility went down 15 notches.

*yawn*

Tarted up and spicy

2008-01-27T20:40:00.000+08:00

Don't you just love tarts? Especially those sweet-sour ones with just the right shade of erm, tartness?

My quest for the perfect strawberry or lemon tart continues. But my camera just never follows.

I think the perfect fruit tart is one with a tangy soft custard centre on a sturdy, yet crunchy base. Generously topped with lots of fruit with a thin sugar glazing. Either that or a slightly burnt meringue.

Kind of how I like my girlfriends as well. Made of strong stuff (I don't like 'em too "gu niang" with a penchant for complaining), with a slightly wicked core (all the better to bitch with, my dear), but still sweet and a little fruity('cos little girls should be made of sugar and spice)

Holly visited. As usual, was trying to get her to boost the economy by shopping and eating loads.

At the Banana Leaf Apollo, Holly finally got to eat Fish Head Curry. She took 2 bites and proceeded to develop a sour throat, fever and flu-like symptoms, but not spicy enough for me :(

As soon as she recovered the next day, I brought her to fortify herself with 4 eggs, egg jam and peanut butter toast, and milo. No wonder she looks pained!

EMO

2008-01-22T23:14:00.000+08:00

Thanks to stupid T's melancholy, I suddenly feel that I'm going on a down swing. (easily influenced) Well I guess the high from the holidays had to come to an end someday. Feel so aimless about work. I'm not working it, sista (as Tyra would say) ! Not looking forward to CNY. I hate CNY!! P is leaving in 2 weeks, and I am feeling the solitude already. Tired tired tired. Holiday blues. Someone give me so TLC :(

Solitude- quotes and questions

2008-01-20T22:02:00.000+08:00

Can one truely desire solitude?

Why then the bad flack:-

"All humans are frightened of their own solitude. But only in solitude can we learn to know ourselves, learn to handle our own eternal aloneness."

Is it aloneness or loneliness that we have to learn to live with?

And are we ever truely alone? Physically alone, alone with your thoughts, or alone with all the distractions that distract you from your own uncomfortable thoughts and anxieties? Of futility, mortality, or the possibilities of drowning all by your lonesome?

"Solitude is the mother of anxieties."

Does your mind wander (wonder) when you are alone? Day dreams or worse-case-scenarios? Do you do scenario planning or work through a table-top exercise in your head whilst you are at it?

"In solitude the mind gains strength and learns to lean upon itself."

If only we could all attain such nirvana?

"Solitude, though it may be silent as light, is like light, the mightiest of agencies; for solitude is essential. All come into this world alone; all leave it alone"

That's rather final, isn't it?

Dating advice

2008-01-15T18:55:00.000+08:00

Sometime back, upon becoming single again after more than 3 years, I had asked a couple of friends how the dating scene had changed and what the dating goalposts were. Out of random curiosity only since I look like a troll so obviously this is not directly applicable. Anyway, my friends were not very useful considering they were:

a) Married

b) Just broken up also. On the same day

c) Men (who are usually quite useless at such things)

None of us really knew if acceptable practices were the same as they were half a decade ago, what the societal norms are or if things had moved light years ahead. Also there is the confounding variable of age. What is acceptable at 27 may not have been at 21. Or vice versa. (the later being a more likely scenario)

So I attempted to approach this problem in a more scientific manner.

Lit review
Using female magazines as a benchmark of market sentiment, it seems as if everyone and their sister is in a dating frenzy and getting plenty. Discounting glamour, marie claire and other wanton American/British magazines (cos we all know that angmohs are more, ah, open than us), even the local titles like Her World and Female and heck, even Women's Weekly made the whole Singapore dating scene out to be super vibrant (which makes one wonder why SDU and all those dating agencies are sprouting up like mushrooms, even on facebook)

ok.....

Method- Qualitative
Since I dont have that many friends, I couldnt really do a survey. So I settled for doing a poll.
N less than 10.
Age range: 24-retirement age
Racial composition: Mainly chinese, but got others also
Nobody seemed to bat an eyelid at office romance, cheating, one night stands, random hook-ups. My, has the world changed. And you thought that Singaporeans were conservative.

What the heck, just plagerise!
Anyway, I kinda lost interest in finding out more. Maybe it was the disappointment in the promiscuity of fellow-country men. Or something.

But last night, I was flipping through Feburary's Cleo. (Hey, don't judge me! It was a one year free subscription when I subscribed to Newsweek ok? It was either Cleo or Reader's Digest, which has uplifting stories of joy and miracles which I haven't been able to stomach since I was 15. Although the jokes are always quite good)

And found a timeline which pretty much sums up dating advice for lost sheep! Enjoy the richness of the advice!

It was titled: Exactly when to do what with your men (cue mental image of 16 year olds taking down notes)

1st date: Kiss on cheek (no tongue), cyber-suss out (e.g. facebook, friendster, google him)<-- very with the times

2nd date: Sexual inneundo, kissing (tongue allowed)

4th date : Talking about family dysfunctions (i like this one!)

2 weeks: sex (sure or not?), intro to friends

1 month: pda (huh, you can have sex before holding hands? what a topsy turvy world)

3 months: letting him see you without makeup on (again, you can trade bodily fluids but cant let him see you with naked face??)

4 months: baby talk (no idea this was a milestone)

9 months: peeing when he brushes his teeth (hmmmm)

One year: Sex toys, anniversary celebration (maybe got relationship bet the 2)

Ok got to caveat that Cleo's target age group is 17-25 (so why the hell they advertise clothes which cos $1000 is beyond me. got pp buy meh?).

Something else that struck me: they ne'er give advice when is the best time to say 'I love you', but they tell you that at 3 months, you can say 'I love you' doing sex and not freak him out. At nine months only THEN can you say 'I love you' on a regular basis. I wonder if this says something about people's concept of intimacy and closeness?

Smitten by shopping

2008-01-13T20:27:00.000+08:00

A couple of weeks ago, or maybe it was just last week (can't remember, have blocked out the traumatic memory), 3 men told me off about my dressing (inappropriate, too casual, shapeless, sloppy). Such criticism is perfectly acceptable coming from girl friends, who tend to have better style, but when it comes from straight men, (especially those not known for being snappy dressors themselves) it practically borders on therapy-inducing.

The bone of contention for 2 of the criticisms was, among other things, this:

[Can't a girl wear flip flops any where anymore? 75% of the population (at least) live in them over the weekend right? (The other 25% in fugly crocs. So which is the lesser of the 2 evils?)]

And hey, at least these are not loud flowery beach slippers-- I thought a discreet grey made it acceptable for town, or at least, supper at Bukit Timah. No?

But since I don't believe in CBT anymore, I decided to indulge in a spot of shopping therapy instead. I had kinda dropped 'shopping' from my list of hobbies over the past two years, esp in Singapore (desire to look young mah. Wnfortunately, I had probably confused looking sloppy with looking young. Or maybe its just plain laziness to dress up. Or conservative/disapproving/bored bf. Or just laziness).

So, the bulk of my purchases for the longest time were from Topshop. Most times it is easy to pick up a couple of passable pieces from there if I was desperate for something to new to wear, rather than have to go through piles of clothes elsewhere but Topshop does get expensive if you buy cumulatively. And with at least 50% of my wardrobe from Topshop, its gets a bit samey after a while. Plus the clothes are not of particularly good quality. And too many skinny teenagers in the shop which can't be good for the ego. (I dont remember ever being so cool and pretty at that age!)

Well, push definitely came to shove with all that negative reviews, having put on 5kg as well as all my clothes having lost their shape in the wash (re: see above about quality). So I rekindled my love for shopping this new year.

Uh-oh.

Some spoils--

Topshop necklaces

FCUK boxy grey cotton blazer-- great for the office, and balancing out big bum ( hopefully)
Peep-toe shoes. Check out the cute striped in-soles! I already own a pair in blue, but chanced upon this pair in black, with a petal motif (the blue pair had a geometric print). A snip at $25 (my blue pair was $50 from Far East!!)
My new religion
Nicholas black polka dotted work shirt with cut-out waves at the sleeves

jacket: $75 (50% off)
shirt: $135
shoes: $25
necklaces: $19 for 2. What a steal :)

Happiness as measured by good buys: priceless (although a salesman at the CD shop told me the necklace was too big. He was one to talk. His bug eye black rimmed glasses was practically screaming Look At Me!)

Bank account: anorexic

Rubber Stomach

2008-01-07T20:46:00.000+08:00

My appetite has resurfaced with a vengence!

Buffets (Seoul Garden, Pizza Hut's Bigga Betta Buffet, Gengis Khan etc) used to be my thing when I was younger. In my heyday, I could down up to 12 large slices of pizza, plus dessert, and piles of barbequed beef.

Then in Uni days, cold wintery nights were the perfect excuse to order thick chewy Domino pizza, or steaming hot sweet and sour soup (plus extras, like, oh, the nasi goreng, salt-and-pepper squid, beef hor etc) from Hong Kong House in Beeston, or gorge on Sainsbury's dark choc digestives dunked in hot tea. (B's house was always too big for the heater to work properly)

And when I had my own house, A and I would forever cook way too much paella, "risotto", green curry and pig out in front of Big Brother or Sex and the City. With lots of white wine. (hey, we didnt have a heater, so we needed to keep warm somehow!)

But somehow along the way, my prowess for eating kinda dissolved. Until it resurfaced like Jaws last christmas. For no good reason, I couldn't get enough food. Esp if it were late at night. Blame it on the HK cafe near my house for getting me started! I'm starting to miss the claypot mincemeat eggplant stew and that beautiful roast duck now.

Last night for example, was a real disgrace. I had 5 meals in 1 day. And I wasn't even on course in CSC. (thats when 5 meals are acceptable 'cos they provide legit tea breaks). And the heaven's were aligned to make my NY diet dream just that, a dream!

1030-- 1 choc muffin and some buttery bread

1130-- Lunch: Fried beehoon

1600-- Milk tea and a hot dog

1700-- More HK food when we discovered a new HK Cha Chan Teng on the way to the toilet. So innocent! Wanted to go to the toilet but had to let us discover this place by mistake!! Super rare to find chestnut desserts in Singapore, and of course Yeung Ji Gam Lu, so we had to have that. Then we discovered they also had savoury stuff. We figured it was near enough to dinner, so why not check out their fish rice with corn sauce, and throw in our ubiquitious fried chicken for luck!
(I liked the motion effect of the people at the moment, its like time stood still for this photo! Either that or I took a long time to take it!)

1900-- Was off to the Night Safari but just before leaving, we worried that I would get hungry and that food would be too expensive in the zoo. And anyway, I had been lusting after Swenson's choc fondue after seeing it on P's blog. And it was God's will, a miracle, whatever you call it, that there was NO QUEUE at Swenson's at Park Hotel.

So they humoured me with this:

Crayfish laksa..yum, but not spicy enough

Choc fondue. It looks cute, but was wayyy to sweet. Blah!

After the safari, I managed to resist supper (yay!) but couldn't help but polish off the last of the grapes and pineapple tarts at home. But since it was after midnight, technically that counts as breakfast, not supper.

Right?

Lazy

2008-01-07T01:10:00.000+08:00

Slightly more than 6 months since the end with MH, I've finally managed to come clean with myself what some of my problems were.

No mean feat, considering I've always been a little more than masculine in my locus of control. I brushed it aside as a lack of shared goals. Joked about how I can't deal with someone who can mispronounce 'zero' and 'umbrella'. And always about how he could never understand or communicate with me the way my friends can.

But things have happened which made me realise that perhaps I could shoulder a bit more of the blame. Namely, my laziness.

I hate to say it, but my mother was right, as always, about the fact that laziness would be my downfall. Her context was my getting 85 marks out of 100 for primary school maths. According to her, I could be getting 100, but was always too lazy/careless to do better. But apparantly, this laziness applies to my social interaction patterns as well.

It explains why I always enjoy big group outings, even if the planning and logs are a nightmare. At least when in a group setting, you get to social loaf and need not think too hard about making intelligent conversation and being interesting the whole time.

Laziness also explains why I like drinking and clubbing. No meaningful conversation needed. 'Nuff said.

And also explains my failed relationships. I get lazy. To think about what to do and say. How to better improve or invest in getting to the next level. To communicate. And usually leave it to the other person to work at it.

I could blame it on my upbringing. Everyone who knows me or has had dinner with my family knows the state of my's family communication. We have practically attained Nirvana there. We don't need to talk to each other to know what each other is thinking. Namely, to finish dinnner asap and go back to our respective rooms. Whole christmas dinners have passed without a word passing through my lips.

So I hate it when people say to me "we have to talk", or when I am put in a situation where I have to get in touch with my inner emotions. Definitely NOT in my comfort zone

But enough with blaming the family. Nature vs nurture and all that. After all, I was supposed to be teaching my clients communication skills etc etc. No wonder I had to leave after a while. The dissonance was messing me up!

Seriously. I think I should be a man. Communication patterns, comfort level with emotions, looks-wise, height. And of course. Sloth. I fit the bill, man!

Tempted to pick up piano again!

2008-01-06T13:00:00.000+08:00

腳踏車

路小雨

不能說的秘密

A New Year's Resolution

2008-01-01T12:47:00.000+08:00

Knowing myself, I'm won't be shooting for the moon in the hope of at least reaching the stars. Something more attainable, like touching my toes, is what I am hoping for. So yesterday was quite literally, my last supper. Start as you mean to go on, eh?

Bitter-sweet and creamy. An apt description of the year that has passed..(ok, not sure about the creamy part.sounds a bit dodgy)

Golden fries-- I swear I'm just a social fries-eater! I didn't even really like fried food much before!! But it's almost an addiction now.

I'm not even gonna pretend to resolve quitting booze

No 1 on my NY resolution list: To stop with the fried food and supper already.

Other random resolutions: Find seamless cotton underwear (because I am so fat now that even the seamless synthetic ones I bought in thailand are causing the "4 butt-cheek" effect); be less unkempt (I can't keep being mistaken for a guy or IMH patient); procrastinate less; be less secretly autistic (I mean, not to be an open autistic, but to be less autistic)

Enjoy the rest of the holidays! (i.e. half a day more)

*click to see us dance*

Year of travelling, in pictures

2007-12-31T16:20:00.000+08:00

HONGKONG

All that mango at Moon Ki

My fav dimsum

JAKARTA

Official dinner at the ambassador's house. The catering was ho-hum but got to see my fav Mat Anwar

SHANGHAI

"Yuan Yang" Hotpot and beer on a cold day

Chinese crepes with chives, salted veg, mystery (ie I don't wanna think about what it's made of) sauce and you tiao

Bao fresh from the steamer- steamy!

Who can resist fried food?

Bestest ice dessert

* no photos from Changmai 'cos didnt have my cam then :(

The Last Day of the Year

2007-12-31T14:41:00.000+08:00

31st December

For the last few months, I have been trying to avoid thinking about the future, about 2008 and about Life (in general). Enter the avoidance strategies: constant going out and keeping late nights. Basically acting like a 17 year old again.

Hence the bad skin and extra 3.8 kilos. Ohmygod.Somebodyhelpme.

On reflection, this year has been a rollercoaster of highs and lows.

My top 5:

1. New job

Great start, met a wonderful mentor, learnt alot, made some headway, but now its getting to be a real drag. A N shape curve if I ever saw one.

2. Breaking up with MH

It was bound to happen sooner or later. It was the impending commitment that set the alarm bells ringing. I'm proud that I stayed strong. My only regret is not having the courage to step out sooner. Couldn't have done it without the support of potato and other friends. But cue my mother starting with all the "getting old" nonsense. Now, that's a first as well. Maybe her limit is 27?

3. Trying out something new. Crepes anyone? We need to do it again real soon.

4. Bleeding friends

L, R, YH and soon to be P. All leaving to better themselves, for a brand-new future. I'm so scared about 2008. Who will I hang out with to drink, eat chicken wings, shop, bitch and cry to? I need a transfusion pronto!

5. Rising panic about my future. About at neck level liao. 29 Oct 2009 is not that far away. I still don't know what I wanna do with my life, let alone know what to do to get there. My inner Hamlet is not helping either. I need to stop with the reading of fashion magazines and gossip websites and start thinking about, I dunno, MBAs, match-making or getting Lasik or whatever !

But I think I'll remember 2007 as a year of friendship.(I sound like one of those pp who are going to commit suicide!)And I'll have a chinese beer to drink to that :)

Christmas Eve

2007-12-25T12:29:00.000+08:00

Recently, my boss told me that in order to avoid any racial or religious sensitivities, one should not mention "christmas" in any official correspondance. "Happy holidays" is safer and less offensive.

But I disagree. Isn't it strange that in a land where the traditional holidays are Chinese New Year, Hari Raya and Deepavali, Christmas is really the one festival where EVERYONE gets very, erm, festive and go on a giving and eating binge, and celebrates collectively? Well, that sure appears to be the case for most people I know, and definitely for me (Apart from Hari Raya that is).

My theory is that there is no baggage of having to meet up with people you don't want to (just claim that you don't celebrate x'mas) in the name of tradition, then proceed to hang out with people that you do.

This Christmas Eve was wonderful, in a very sweet and non-toxic way. This must be the first Eve in a long while where I wasn't squeezing with some sweaty crowd in a heaving club, or queuing a ridiculous 2 hours to get in (oh! the folly of youth!), then waiting 3 hours to get a bloody cab.

Instead, we went to LA's very nice new house for R's yummy sausage stew, delicious non-gammon-ny ham and the best FRIES! They even made Sangria in pretty bottles (one watered-down one for P, another one for the rest of us). All that hospitality is making me want my own place even more!

It was a rather random group of 7, but what with the credit-card monopoly game, fat neighbour with jiggly man-boobs and just the right amount of booze, everyone was feeling sanguine and mellow. And we even made it home at a respectable time.

Happy :)

2007-12-23T21:02:00.001+08:00

Seven Sisters

2007-12-23T12:33:00.000+08:00

On the 4th day of X'mas my true love gave to me,

7 aunties a-playing...

with one, very handsome little boy

Good Intentions

2007-12-22T12:00:00.001+08:00

The road to hell and all that.

Day 3 of the holidays and any thoughts about my waistline has been thrown out of the windows. I should be doing a Bluelist of the best fried chicken wings in town instead. And eating them after midnight somehow always makes them taste far better than any sauce can. Even creamy-dreamy martini-lemonades have been relegated to second place for me now. ( Can anyone remember where K said the best chicken wings were again? Must check it out!)

P/S. Speaking of good intentions, mummy dearest bought by a four-leaf clover thingy for X'mas. Yes, I hear you loud and clear!!!

On the 2nd day of Christmas

2007-12-21T11:24:00.000+08:00

I'm loving this feeling of almost freedom from work. Another day of laziness beckons..

Miss L so much!!

Maybe it's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder, or all those whisky-ginger ales (can't seem to run away from ginger this time of year) were working their magic, but yesterday made me realise that there ain't never gonna be a replacement for true friendships (esp those which have lasted through the dark ages of glasses, bad skin and fire-proof uniforms.

Talking last night at Wala's really brought back the good old days of marathon phone calls. Hey, the outfits may be more upmarket (hers anyway), the hair more chemically enhanced, the waistlines a little more muffin-top-like, but the rapport and understanding is still vintage.

I guess I should be thankful for small mercies--that she is in HK and not NY or something. Come back more often, girl!

First Day of the hols

2007-12-20T19:08:00.001+08:00

Was meant to go to Sentosa today. It was always gonna be a long shot; this being the monsoon season, but was really looking forward to getting a tan!!Talk about wishful thinking.. We even had it all planned out, wines, cheese, bruschetta, wings.

But it was nice. Ended up in Wiener Kaffehaus (which is mercifully now at Bt Timah!) for Taboo, then Good Luck Chuck at Vivo. Movie was not great, seats were worse. But love the song anyway..

Xmas dinner with family, and drinks with L to follow later. I'm digging this hols baby! (can't help but rub it in. Viva la liberation!)

2007-12-17T00:33:00.000+08:00

R flew off today. Today, she looked younger than I have ever seen her, girlish and glowing (the alliteration!). Shining with the anticipation of a new beginning, pregnant with possibility.

Mixed feelings.

I guess its sad that someone who I have loved, breathed and shared so much with since 2 Jan 1993, is leaving (its interesting though, how I didnt feel that way in 1999..I guess only the one left behind feels that-- but i also feel bad, that I didnt spare a thought for those who I was leaving behind then). The airport scene is so Love Actually in reverse.

Happy: cos at least one of us is gonna live the life that we have been talking about for the longest time. She is the only one who really understood, empathised and desired the same future (God, do I sound lesbian or what)

Apprehensive: Don't know when she will be back, if she will be back, is this the beginning of the end of our friendship (is it selfish to think this way? when should have my eyes trained on the bigger picture, and her future, rather than something as small as a friendship?)

Numb: Not the first, nor will she be the last to leave me these 2 years. The decision was really last minute, so she was way too busy in the last month or so anyway settling stuff, tying up loose ends. To a certain extent, it was a transition, getting used to not having her around, on speed dial (cobwebs on my phone)

Unsettled: Last couple months have been rocky, with some grey clouds hanging over our heads. And with my amazing communication and avoidance issues adding fuel to fire, I really hope that the bells are not tolling for us.

Not really motivated, but something to the effect: Gotta do something with my life, this cannot be it. But what?

Who is screwing who?

2007-12-16T11:54:00.001+08:00

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

Philip Larkin~This Be the Verse

Monkey= Sexy Boy

2007-12-16T11:49:00.001+08:00

Confirmed what I always knew. Monkies are the epitome of cool

Cancer- My Chemical Romance

2007-12-13T22:01:00.001+08:00

You Are No Longer Young

2007-12-10T23:05:00.000+08:00

So said Mummy Dearest: "Get a decent man and settle down"

Buying me wrinkle cream for X'mas

Thanks Mum!

Version 3

2007-12-09T23:40:00.001+08:00

The original Mariah Carey version

My Chemical Romance

2007-12-09T23:29:00.001+08:00

Rock Version

All I want for X'mas is you

2007-12-09T23:09:00.001+08:00

Version 1: Kid's version
(I love Love Actually, actually!)

Ladies' Tea

2007-12-09T21:21:00.000+08:00

Wanted to go for a good binge and bitch session with T at the Ritz.

The bitching went on unabated, but we were pissed not to be offered the home-made vodka until right at the end (And T had to ask somemore! Hmmph!)The chef also got our orders for ice-cream wrong...so much for star service!

Food was only so-so for the price. Way too much gingerbread in everything!

Confirmed!!

2007-12-05T22:30:00.000+08:00

Now I know why I never got chatted up and offered candy on friendly filipino bus rides like Y and P, or get approached in Malacca, Chiang Mai and everywhere else like H and A. I HAVE A LONNGGG FACE!

Recently met this person. As is the modern ritual, she added me on Friendster and Facebook, and of course I checked out her profile, her Multiply site and her blog.

Being a bit of a camwhore, she had tons of pictures up, including the occasion we met (a supper trip across the pond).

Anyway, she had a photo of me up, and she said that I had a long face. And the photo was super unflattering--I looked so bored/unfriendly/bad mood..geez!She wasnt even trying to be bitchy or vindictive. Just an innocent comment.

Which makes it worse!!

2007-11-27T19:21:00.001+08:00

最初的梦想 (2)

2007-11-25T13:33:00.001+08:00

最初的梦想

2007-11-25T13:10:00.000+08:00

如果骄傲没被现实大海冷能拍下
又怎会懂得要多努力
才走得到远方
如果梦想不曾坠落悬崖
千钧一发
又怎会晓得执着的人
有隐形翅牓
把眼泪装在心上
会开出勇敢的花
可以在疲惫的时光
闭上眼睛闻到一种芬芳
就像好好睡了一夜直到天亮
又能边走着边哼着歌
用轻快的步伐
沮丧时总会明显感到孤独的重量
多渴望懂得的人给些温暖借个肩膀
很高兴一路上我们的默契那么长
穿过风又绕个弯心还连着
像往常一样
最初的梦想紧握在手上
最想要去的地方
怎么能在半路就放
最初的梦想绝对会到达
实现了真的渴望
才能够算到过了天堂
绝对会到达

MELANCHOLIC

2007-11-12T23:21:00.000+08:00

How dysthemic can one get yet without ever quite plunging into depression?

Old and New

2007-11-06T17:30:00.000+08:00

Looking towards the future, and looking back at the past?

Somehow, the present always seems to be transient. More of a pitstop in between the two, always infinitely more appealing to live in than the present.

1000 years

2007-11-04T21:24:00.000+08:00

The magic number? These days, passing the 10 year mark calls for a celebration already

1. FIR

2. Shin

3. Wu Bai

Sour puss

2007-11-01T01:17:00.001+08:00

I have a new love---- sour plum jasmine green tea with/out pearls!

Strong considering I usually hate sour plums with a vengance!

Priming 201

2007-10-28T14:13:00.000+08:00

Mortality

2007-10-28T13:45:00.000+08:00

My mummy would be going for hip surgery soon. The extra bones in the hip area have been causing her some grief and she had been having a creaky knee for the longest time. Finally, a doctor made the connection and would be doing some fine tuning. Hopefully after that, she would be able to walk without a waddle and a limp anymore.

But hip surgery! isnt that what you read about in the papers as a little old lady procedure? Since when did my mummy become a little old lady?

I guess in my eyes she is always 30-something and pretty. The most outstanding mom with the best dress-sense compared to all the other aunties waiting for their kids in the school carpark. (My pri sch male classmates always had crushes on her even!) Then, she had the energy to bake all those chiffon cakes, lemon meringue pies, pizza, my fav black sauce chicken. She was formidable wielding the cane and breathing down our necks to complete 10 assessment books per subject and giving us a hiding if we dared to come back with less than 80 marks (which I did of course, many times!)

When did she grow old without my realising? Was it when I was going through all that teenage angst in school? Or away in England, having the time of my life? When I was always more preoccupied with friends and boyfriends? Or all those weekends and late nights where I'm not home-and leaving her to complain that cooking for 3 is just too "masak masak" for her to bother?

Looking at her through a stranger's eyes, she would be just like what NC and Amy are to me-- good-natured and motherly clerks, whom you always feel aggrieved when the big bosses make them fetch and run (the only difference is that she would tower over most people, including the boss).

Isnt it just sad that I don't show the same concern for my own mother?

Les Triplettes de Belleville

2007-10-28T01:50:00.001+08:00

This is a pretty neat Canadian cartoon. Very not-Disney!

Its raining (wierd) men

2007-10-28T01:07:00.000+08:00

Whats an appropriate reaction to someone who calls you 10 times a day and smses panicky messages when you don't answer any of those calls?

I'm guessing: diverting those calls to IMH?

funnee

2007-10-18T19:55:00.001+08:00

Gosh! They should show this during cog psych classes to demonstrate the power of priming!!

My Precious

2007-10-08T19:25:00.000+08:00

This is getting tired

2007-10-01T12:30:00.000+08:00

I've kinda regressed to my Nanyang days, looks-wise, that is. On a whim, I got Sam, my flamboyant hairstylist, to crop my hair way too short--short sides and back...back to the days where Nanyang girls still had to have ear-length boyish cuts that robbed us of any femininity (unshaven pits notwithstanding)

So why I voluntarily went back to the dark ages I cannot understand.. (speaking of which, surfed onto the Nanyang website...the girls are much more presentable now!)...Sam's sweet-talking be damned!

Anyway, was at the Geylang Serai Hari Raya bazaar this weekend, and the predictable happened. Was mistaken for a "Sir"....by the dendeng (a halal spicy beef bakwa) seller. At first I thought she was talking to my friend, but she called me "Sir" again after I paid her!!

Already tried to preempt this by putting in more effort into blowing the hair and putting on eye make-up, but perhaps the machik thought I was cross-dressing? But then again, with all those emo Malay boys who kohl their eyes these days perhaps it was hard for her to tell?

Sigh...

Weighty Issues

2007-09-25T20:20:00.001+08:00

This was the best and worst weekend ever...in terms of binge eating, that is.

Friday was working from home, and went to Bt Timah Plaza to grab lunch (nothing to eat at home as usual)-- after virtuous tofu soup and rice, I decided to indulge in black Korean noodles, which I had been eyeing for the longest time...so that's 2 lunches at 2pm!!

Then at 6pm, met up with some colleagues (and one ex-colleague) at Marmalade Pantry..it was mainly for the 1-for-1 booze although the bill came up to $50 per person anyway!! Despite my not-so-violent protests (my will is not what it used to be) to having a main course, I couldn't resist the mushrooms. So I order scrambled eggs and sausages to go with the mushrooms. Smart.

Being at Marmalade Pantry, how can don't eat dessert? Slightly more virtuous lemon tart (you know how I love tarts!)

Not to mention a Mimosa and sangria for the additional lashings of calories and sugar!

Saturday, feeling guilty and inspired by ES, I decided to go swimming. After a grand total of 10 laps, I went to tan and jacuzzi-d the rest of the afternoon, before having a sweet crepe and then an Indian buffet with HT!! There is this great place in Chinatown point called Anna Lakshmi where you get vegetarian food and drinks (North and South Indian curries, 2 kinds of rice, naan, chapati and potatoe balls, sweet dessert, lassi and masala tea), buffet style, and you pay what you want--its a charitable outfit, and the waiters are just so gentle. (hint: give about $20 as a rule of thumb)

Sunday, ZQ cooked up a storm! Nudey Balls (sounds so wrong, but I can't remember the spelling)-- made of 2 kinds of cheese, drizzled with butter sauce (gorrrrrr-geous), a yummy risotto and grilled fish, and durian tiramisu by T, washed down with martini lemonade. And promptly went home for dinner of breaded pork chops.

Feeling absolutely gluttonous and bloated, I decided to "Detox" on Monday (note to self--never diet on a work-day). 2 apples and 2 energy bars--washed down by copious amounts of water for breakfast and lunch...weak and pale-faced, I wandered in the nearby shopping centre trying to get fruits--and finally settled for grapes, only to be told by a colleague that grapes are heaty and high in calories -_-''

I need to try harder!

*credit photos from T--whose blog I lifted the photos from :P

And other times you feel like this....

2007-09-21T11:32:00.000+08:00

Don't you feel like that sometimes?

2007-09-16T12:46:00.000+08:00

Mummy dearest

2007-09-11T22:15:00.000+08:00

My mummy went to Alexandra Hospital for your her check-up today. Whilst waiting for her turn, guess what she saw but my grinning mug-- the hospital had thoughtfully provided the magazine for waiting patients She was like "Wah! My daughter leh!"

It's funny and it's sad, this situation. She doesn't even know what I do for a living but has to find out through means like this.

But she was sweet to ask me for 2 copies to keep anyway. I guess what MH said was true-- mothers still love you the most (despite fugly studio shots and crap writing)

Epiphany?

2007-09-09T15:14:00.000+08:00

Life is a journey towards what one deems the most important.

And sometimes the first hardest step is to know what one wants.

Sometimes, we need to constantly remind ourselves to enjoy, and to fully maximise the unexpected twists and turns, or chances, that come our way in that journey. Do not dismiss it with impatience, as tedious detours or deviations from what our eye is unflinchingly trained on. For life is not only about that one goal but making the most out of every experience. And there can be nothing as despairing and empty as that hard trek of yearning and striving, when the end is not nigh (yet).

Do not try too hard to achieve that goal, for you might miss some things of importance, right in front of you as you gaze impatiently pass it. There is something to be learnt from every thought, action and event.

And above all, know that knowledge, and words can be taught, but wisdom has to be felt, learnt and come from within. What can be written or said in words, are nothing but half truths, for who can articulate the deep abysses of the human mind?

The tallest order of not--to live, and leave life, without regret.

Downswing

2007-09-06T21:17:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, met up with turtle, frog, lamb etc. Lamb is going away for studies. Leaving next Friday for L'borough. Did'nt quite sink in until the durian had :) And turtle is most likely going to be submerged (down under) next year.

Had lunch with S today. She is rather depressed. Her new supervisor is coming in soon. Someone I know. Its not good news for her. She is stuck and needs to go. But she can't.

Just now, was reading Luan's blog and feeling utterly low. After being stuck in back-to-back meetings the whole afternoon, having received a bad work-related sms at 8pm and then reading about her Tube (mis)adventure, I really really miss London life. I want to ride the Picadilly and have to breathe in the polluted smog whilst brisk walking to work too!

Tomorrow I am meeting up with R to try and 'help' her with her interviewing skills. She is very likely going away to France and never coming back.

3 bad days, one common thread

Never am I hating the caged animal feel and dreading being the only one left behind more than now...

Monkey, lamb, turtle, frog

2007-09-02T20:46:00.000+08:00

A full eight months after leaving the mythical islet called Pretty Place sans Devils, Monkey revisited the place she used to call home, to pay a visit to scary patterned Turtle , little "I have identity issues" Lamb and Frog-frog ("call me Kermit").

You see, distant thunder was rumbling again, and there were murmurings that two of the remaining animals were about to leave the Pretty Place sans Devils to live in the drug lord ruled tropical islands and the rolling highlands yonder.

How nostalgic it was for little monkey! It was as if nothing had changed since those eight moons ago..even the blue-clothed trolls guarding the island recognised her hairy limbs and asked where she had been. And reminded her to wear identification at all times in the heavily guarded islet...some things never change....

Listen!

2007-08-30T23:45:00.001+08:00

A child tells us, with amazing clarity, the truth that strong nations and prosperous countries hide. Why do we not listen, even 15 years later?

Friends

2007-08-26T21:01:00.000+08:00

Can't continue my monkey and turtle adventures since turtle has crawled under a rock and hid the evidence.

So anyway, this Friday, two incidents made me realise (oh shock and horror) that I know way too many public officers! (not that this is bad, but need some yin and yang mah)

Incident one:

I had been attending a course for the past couple of weeks, the participants of whom are all public officers. I started the course only knowing 1 person on the email list (who is from the same department)-- but during the course, realised that everyone (including me) are separated from each other by a few degrees.

Some examples: Girl A was my secondary school classmate, who is the JC mate of Guy B, who is the cousin of Guy C, who works in the same building as me and a few others. Girl B is the girlfriend of Girl C's cousin. Guy D and I were in a musical production when we were in secondary school (I was a 'passer-by A', he was a 'baddie'). He also just went on a trip with my ex-colleagues (public officers) before. When I was telling YX (another public officer!) all these, she told me that she knew Guy D as well from IRC when they were in the same college! The links go on...Public Service is damn incestuous!

The other incident was when a old uni friend from Hong Kong msn'd me. His boss was interested to come to Singapore to look for business opportunities and he wondered if I had any business contacts to introduce to him. Cracking my brains, I realised that no!-- I didnt have any private sector contacts I could introduce to him from the aeronautical, pharmaceutical, or ANY industry for that matter.!

SAD lah!

Blue in the horizon....

2007-08-19T01:23:00.000+08:00

And nature was also telling monkey and turtle to practise survival tactics in a hostile terrain--namely to find food, shelter and rest-- all the better to be prepared against any potential dangers out there.

But instead, monkey and turtle were distracted by something a deep bright blue in the horizon! It was shrouded in mystique and heritage, and the two weary travellers were sure that much was to be gained by investigating what it was.

Joined by a group of other curious animals (also from foreign lands, no doubt), they were pleasantly surprised to be met by a wise old beaver, who shared the story of the bright blue treasure and its many whispered secrets.

Monkey and turtle take on the world!

2007-08-15T22:03:00.000+08:00

Confused and dazed, hairy limbed monkey and scary-shelled turtle stumbled out into the vast wilderness, where many horses were kicking up a huge racket. Just as they were at their wits' end, a very nice giraffe came up to them and offered friendship and advice on how to explore this strange land.

He told them about where all the nice food was (preserved fish and fresh greens for turtle, and coconut desserts for monkey). He also offered tips on where to find and visit the foreign monkeys and turtles in this land. Unfortunately, while giraffe (with long neck, and even more long winded)was talking, turtle grew increasingly agitated..the call of nature was too strong........

Animal adventures

2007-08-13T23:36:00.001+08:00

One day, hairy-limbed monkey and scary(OCD- inducing)shelled turtle decided to explore beyond their little islet, which so oft described as red (although it is really mostly green and grey).

They set out on a cold, dark mechanical horse, which rode with urgency throughout the stormy night, stopping only the graze at the side of the road or to rest its tired legs.

On and on the horse persevered, and with it, monkey and turtle...who finally, out of sheer exhaustion and cold, fell asleep, only to wake up to a huge cacophony of noise....

(tbc......)

Lessons from Mr World

2007-08-09T16:26:00.000+08:00

Today we were trying to have a crepe party, in honour of our nation's birthday.

Then we got distracted by Mr World 2007 on Channel 5. Trust the TV station to bring in the sleaziest shows which are guaranteed to bring in crap (not crepe) ratings!

The quality of the contestants was rather uneven. It is kinda like watching Ms Singapore Universe, or the infamous "pork chop" Ms Hong Kong pageant, where you kinda wonder what the point is.

This got us thinking...

What IS the criteria of joining? Cos surely a beautiful mien (or dress-sense) is optional (some look like they have been run over by a truck).

or this:

Then we concluded that there must be only 2 criteria:

1. Six pack

2. Set off gay-dar alerts into overdrive

In all honesty, the type of activities that the organisers had the contestants participating in were seriously dodgy, designed to promote close body contact amongst contestants, or even hand-holding at one point. The contestants looked elated and a little too excited for comfort at the aspect of 'brotherly' hugs and muah-muahs.

Oh well, one world, one dream eh?

the eventual winner--Spain

Fortune-telling

2007-08-06T22:14:00.000+08:00

Here are some pearls of wisdom from fortune telling class:

1. Want to tell if a person owns landed property? Measure the space between his/her eyes and brows. The larger the distance, the more likely they belong to the 15% who don't live in flats (Don't confuse this will over-plucked ah-lians brows)

2. High cheek-bones = bossy boots

3. Draw a line vertically from the top of eyes towards ears. If eyes are "taller" than ears, means the person would strike it rich.