bleah
Day 2 of this media convergence course that I'm on starts in about half an hour, and I'm very much not looking forward to it. It's not the instructor's fault, he's a really nice guy who's trying very hard and, to his credit, he keeps replacing guest speakers for each course if there's been negative feedback about the previous speakers. But the whole course has neither structure nor objective and it feels like a massive waste of time.
The only bright spot are gems like this conversation that took place yesterday, between a fellow classmate I shall call GEY and a guest speaker I found myself judging a lot. She looked to be in her 40s, obviously very pretty once and still bearing the vestiges of handsomeness; but yesterday the well-cut forest green shift dress could barely hide her straining tummy and thick flesh coloured bra strap that kept threatening to slide down her arm. She also had that non-native-speaker-of-English thing going on, dropping articles and switching plurals and singulars. Don't get me wrong, I didn't dislike her or anything, just that she so clearly represented a subset of middle-aged females that I felt compelled to take note of every feature so I could store it in my make-sure-I-never-become-like-this archive. It's bursting.
Anyway, conversation. Woman is a reporter/editor at a news wire agency.
GEY, raising hand: I just want to ask about your agency's formulated way of writing articles. Why do they have to be so formulated? How do your reporters feel about producing such formulated articles all the time?
Woman: What exactly do you mean by formulaic (slight emphasis).
GEY: Well, your market reports are very formulated (growing emphasis). They all start by saying the market had ups and downs today, that is obvious, the market has ups and downs every day. It's so formulated.
Woman: Ah, I think I know what you mean by formulaic (doggedness starting to show).
GEY: Yes, why are they so formulated (refusing to give up)?
Woman: We have to put out the articles very quickly, so sometimes it can seem a bit formulaic, but it serves our purposes.
GEY: But how do your reporters feel about such formulated articles? Do they think it's real journalism?
-clear threat of descending into ugliness interrupted by instructor-
I love it when people think they're right and refuse to be gracious about it. So exciting, like courtside seats at a gladiator arena.
Ok damn back to course.
posted by zyn ::
9:29 AM ::
2 Comments ::
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today's agenda
I remember when I first started work, almost three years ago now, I was sent to interview this one fairly senior guy at a fairly large multinational company. I was so junior then that I didn't even have a beat, and although I'd done some research I was quite clueless about the way the whole industry worked. So I started off the interview by asking him a few background questions about his company. To which he replied: "You don't know all these things? Didn't you do any homework at all before coming here? Why don't you go back and find out all this first and then come back when you're done?" And the interview ended there and then.
While he wasn't wrong in saying that I didn't know much about what I was doing, he falsely assumed that he mattered enough for us to do another interview with him. The interview never happened; even now, we seldom have stories on the guy or his company, though of course I don't flatter myself in thinking it's because of me.
At that time I felt completely humiliated and crushed. I walked out of the interview and hid somewhere to cry; the PR woman was nice enough (or maybe embarrassed enough) to call me later and apologise for her client's behaviour. My colleagues kindly told me to grow a thicker skin.
I'm not sure I've succeeded in that, but I've never cried again over work. Maybe it's because the criticism has become less about me than about the people who are criticising. Today I found out (from our expat photo editor, of all people) that there was a thread on an expat forum where contributors were flaming me by name because of something I wrote. The only thing I felt was a sort of surprised glee, like, hey! Someone knows my name! The forum posts were rather unpleasant, which is probably why they've been taken down now. If I'd known, I would have saved them somewhere, just for posterity.
So that's my maybe half an hour of fame on the internet. I'll try to provoke another soon, let's see if that lasts an hour!
posted by zyn ::
9:47 PM ::
6 Comments ::
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how to save a weekend
The moment I woke up on Saturday morning I knew the weekend was going to be horrible. I'd somehow come down with the flu overnight and my friend Bonnie from America-Algeria-Taiwan (it's complicated) was coming to stay with me for two days, and I was going to have to entertain her while feeling completely exhausted and miserable.
The flu didn't get any better until maybe two hours ago (it's midnight on Monday night now), but the weekend turned out to be pretty great, thanks completely to the efforts of my wonderful family and my equally wonderful boyfriend. They kept Bonnie fed and happy and amused in air-conditioned car comfort while I was blowing my brains out through my nose.
My wonderful boyfriend also spirited me around town today for undercover work: scouting out showflats and insulting property agents. And he patted my head while I stuck tissue up my nose and carefully didn't say anything when I gave him wrong directions three times to City View @ Boon Keng. And then he bought dinner home for my stranded siblings and patiently ate all the fruits (three plates!) my parents put in front of him.
Now I'm all sleepy and contented, even though I look like rudolph the bloody red nose reindeer.
posted by zyn ::
12:01 AM ::
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my day today
Today was one of those super-productive days that I haven't had for goodness knows how long, and I didn't realise how much I missed it until it hit me in the head. I remember working late, last time, on three or four stories at one go and frantically banging out paragraphs on whichever story I suddenly felt inspiration for and refueling on tea and retreating for a smoke every five minutes, not so much for the nicotine high as for a chance to look away from the computer and clear my head.
I don't smoke anymore. I'm glad. But I also haven't felt the other kind of high, the work high, for a long time now.
It's 2am but I don't really feel like sleeping. It's the curse of the weekend, you think you can make up all the sleep debt soon so why not just accumulate a bit more now. (Like credit cards, towards the end of the month. Damn those bastards.)
I'm feeling quite nostalgic now. Maybe cos I met Josh for drinks tonight, which is also two things I haven't done for a long time: meet Josh and have drinks. He just came back from Philly and so much has changed there. Apparently the college buffet I frequented in desperation in my first days at college has disappeared; the 24-hour diner and old books store and the pharmacy round the corner from where I used to stay have all relocated. I really really miss the place... I don't think I've felt like that about Singapore, ever.
On the bright side, there are always new places to explore. Like Japan!! Can't wait can't wait can't wait. It will be my fourth holiday in a year. How crazy is that??? Sydney in August, Taipei in November, Hong Kong last month and Japan next month. Sydney was sweet, Taipei was comfortable, Hong Kong was fairly shit, but I have very high hopes for Japan. Except I really have to work my ass off before I leave. I have a guilt complex about taking holidays.
Maybe I'm blogging now to create the illusion in my own head that I have a lot of free time, because from Saturday onwards life gets a little crazy next week. My Colorado cheerleader friend from my exchange semester in Beijing is coming to visit this weekend and she's staying with me and I'm slightly terrified that I won't be up to the task of entertaining her for two whole days. Then Monday I have to work very hard at relaxing, cos the few days after that will probably be nonstop work. It's not that I don't like work, I suppose it's just that I wish there was more of the kind of work I like to do.
Ok there's a bee buzzing around my room terrorising me so I have to go dive under the blankets and pray it goes away.
posted by zyn ::
2:04 AM ::
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hong kong
Back for four days and all I can think about is that pair of CK shoes that I didn't buy at the Club21 outlet (yes my friends there is a Club21 outlet and you should all go. Now).
Like every experience, you remember after it only the best parts: the cool weather, nonstop shopping, good food; watching cheap DVDs in our sparkling hotel room with the pause button repeatedly pressed for commentary; the Club21 outlet (have I mentioned that yet?). Maybe that's what gives us humans hope in life - short memories.
HK also got me thinking about friends. So many of them are circumstantial - school friends, college dormmates, colleagues. You keep in touch after it's over, but it's never really the same. This weekend, for instance, two of my college roommates are marrying each other, people I haven't seen for over a year and will likely never see again. Fortunately there's the flip side: I met two of my Harvard friends in HK whom, even though they're not Singaporean, I've met up with more often than any of the Singaporeans I went to Harvard with. And an old friend from Beijing is coming to stay with me next weekend, despite the fact that we haven't seen each other for five years.
The handful of people that still bother to keep in touch with me after all these years are the only ones I can really call friends. And that's already more than enough, to meet more than one person you can be yourself around. So I count myself lucky and accept that from here on, the chances of meeting people who can become real friends will just get smaller and smaller.
posted by zyn ::
5:39 PM ::
3 Comments ::
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