zynfandel

my deep thought of the day

2009-10-21T19:27:00.002+08:00

Me: there's a whole group of women like that
I: very reflective
I: spiritual
Me: reflective to the point of self-absorption
Me: it's like a mirror
Me: wow i feel like i just said something really deep
I: i think its the result of not having much (or any) sex

the problem with facebook

2009-10-15T18:07:00.000+08:00

is that when you want to gloat about something that involves someone else who is your friend on Facebook, you can't. So you have to do it here!

poor car.

2009-10-09T16:01:00.002+08:00

I banged my car today. :( And of course it had to be my dad's car, rather than my own car, because life is like that. Then again if it had been my own car I probably wouldn't have banged it because it's so nice and compact and has no problem taking tight corners.

But I've realised there really can be a bright spot in everything, even the banging of a car. Because of this incident, I now have the contact for a nice car workshop, which is an essential Emergency Number. And I didn't sit down and cry for half an hour, which is what happened the last (and, confusingly enough, first) time I banged my car. So I guess that means I am stouter of heart now, and more apt to blame the carpark pillar than to blame myself. Also two accidents in four years of driving is not so bad, I comfort myself.

Maybe I'm just in a good mood cos the weekend is here and I can finally try to bake my fruit cake and chocolate orange cake! Yay!

i have never questioned love

2009-09-17T11:22:00.003+08:00

Shamelessly stolen from Rachel, who borrowed it from Captain Corelli's Mandolin:

Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.

wishb

2009-07-30T22:58:00.004+08:00

People have been expressing concern over my last blog post and while I am grateful for their comforting words, it occurs to me that perhaps I should clarify what I meant.

I know that weddings can't be perfect and that the marriage is what really matters. The previous post had nothing to do with that at all. I was simply expressing frustration that people whom I paid to do things were not doing them well, and I hate that. Ordinarily I would just cut my losses and find someone else to do what I wanted, but the wedding deadline makes that impossible, and so this frustration is wedding-related. It doesn't actually mean that I'm unhappy with how the wedding is going. It just means that, as usual, I have to watch as people do things that I could have done better myself. Apart from, of course, my patient boyfriend and eminently capable bridesmaids.

Other than that, wedding prep is going marvellously - thank you to everyone who asked - and we'll see you next Saturday! :)

naming and shaming

2009-07-29T15:46:00.006+08:00

With nine days to go before the wedding, I am so stressed I am sick. These are the people responsible.

1. Bridal Veil by Michelle Huimin

From start to finish whatever positive experiences I've had with them have been overshadowed by feelings of disappointment. The first sketches they gave me for a wedding dress were clearly unimaginative standard drawings that they churn out for every bride, and everything I wanted to change about the drawings would have cost more money. In the end, after a lot of back and forth-ing, I found a dress that I could be happy with. Of course this dress will be replicated ad nauseum for other brides; I've already seen one version. By the time I got round to designing the evening dress I was so worn out I just went with one of their usual designs. I'm planning to wear it for an hour at most. It's plain boring. In order to make it more interesting I agreed to have a longer train, which makes me a sucker for paying an extra $500. This is my biggest single wedding regret.

Not just that, but the make-up artist they assigned to me is lousy as well. She did horrible make-up for me at the trial, which I didn't realise until I hired Liren Neo to do my photoshoot make-up and the difference was so significant I was prepared to pay her an extra $1k so she could replace my (free) Bridal Veil make-up artist. And when I called the Bridal Veil make-up artist to find out when she could come down on the actual day (why do I have to call HER??) it turns out she can only make it 45 minutes before my day's programme starts, because she has ANOTHER bride to do before that. So I either settle for 7.45am and rush the make-up by 8.30, or I have to start at 6.15am. WTF.

Screw Bridal Veil. Nothing but headaches. I tried to complain about them in the Singaporebrides thread but my post was removed because the spineless moderators said it was defamatory. It wasn't. Screw them too.

2. My Mandarin Collar

Worst cheongsam experience ever. This one actually really did come the day before my photoshoot - at 9pm, to boot. It was too loose. No time to alter. Ruined my photos. Also, they screwed up the first version and wanted to charge me for that in addition to the final dress. I hate them.

3. Angelique Boutique at Centrepoint

Ordered my bridesmaids' dresses from here. Not a single one fit on the first try. I've had to go down practically every weekend for the last month and a half just to keep altering and refitting the dresses. But so far I haven't found a single place that makes good bridesmaids' dresses.

People who have made my life easier:

1. Lynn from MySummerScents

The florist decorating my solemnisation venue. She's very nice, and so are her photos. Quick responses and generally efficient demeanour. We'll see.

2. Ng Sen from Marina Mandarin

Absolutely awesome woman. Perhaps the only person I have met in my life who is as super-admin as me.

3. Pretty girl with short hair from ExpressPrint in Chinatown

Did a great job on the solemnisation invites, one of the biggest highlights of the wedding for me.

4. Esther from The Card Room

Also did a great job on the tea ceremony invites, plus threw in these gorgeous shiny thick envelopes for the cards.

5. Helen from Kentrich Printing

Super job on the dinner invitation inserts with next-day completion. Love them.

5. Ted Collection

They are designing a cheongsam for me, which, from what I have seen so far, is set to be my favourite dress out of the bunch. Still, it's only nine days left and I haven't seen the finished product yet. Potential for disaster: 50%.

6. Hun Leng from Raffles Town Club

Efficient and thorough. So far my tea ceremony is likely to be the smoothest event of the day.

Okay that's it for now. But this list is sure to be updated soon.

why this show rocks

2009-06-04T00:50:00.002+08:00

Kitty: (sleepy) Why do all you gay people work out so early?

Kevin: (indignant) "All you gay people"?? *pause* Because after 6 all the treadmills in front of the mirror are gone.

recession schmession

2009-05-23T10:58:00.002+08:00

On Monday, in a tortured fit of curiosity and self-flagellation, I put our new condo up for sale on a property website with an asking price of $30K more than what we paid for it (to cover our costs and make a small profit). I didn't expect much response, but over the next few days the calls kept coming in - although most asked for a discount. But this morning someone matched our asking price (within a week!), so we started looking around for a new apartment to see whether it made sense to sell this one.

And I was really taken aback to find that in the two months or so that I haven't been looking at the classified ads, property prices have gone up again! In our particular condo development, a unit on the #1x floor (I love these property agent tactics) is going for MORE than the price we paid for our condo on the #3x floor! I told our potential buyer that our asking price has gone up and they matched it again - but now I dowan to sell already.

Also our car is now selling at $10K more than what we bought it for three months ago. What is wrong with these people? We're in a recession! They are nuts!

on shoes

2009-05-21T17:54:00.002+08:00

Me: I can't decide between the Louboutin and the Manolo leh

Unnamed friend: every girl deserves a louboutin

Me: every girl also deserves a manolo
i must say i'm not v fond of jimmy choo
not v nice the designs

Unnamed friend: oh please choos are so SATC first 3 seasons

Me: lol

Unnamed friend: blog that !

Me: that is a very long "so"
okok

Unnamed friend: no no
j to the k

Me: you have these really cute phrases all the time
learn from mtv ah

Unnamed friend: some say mtv
some say gep control group in express
...
its whats motivates me to think harder
short dick = buy ferrari, short height = be aggressive, fail gep test = try and be the funniest man in the room

interesting observation of the day

2009-05-18T18:04:00.002+08:00

Facebook shows 7 of my "friends" having birthdays this week - I've never seen so many listed in a single week. But none of them are people I would send birthday messages to. This leads me to the conclusion that I don't really like people who have birthdays in the middle of May. I always knew there was something to horoscopes!

are wentworth miller and luke macfarlane dating??

2009-05-15T22:00:00.004+08:00

OMG I think my heart just exploded with squeeeeeeeeee!!

my favourite thing at bedtime

2009-05-10T02:04:00.002+08:00

is to go to sleep in the middle of a book. I try to avoid finishing a book right before I sleep, because then I don't have that delicious feeling of saving some book for the next day when I wake up. The downers will say all good things must come to an end, but I like the idea that some stories will never be over. If you can sleep every night completely at peace with no ties to the world, there's less reason to wake up again the next morning. Or maybe I have that the other way around - if you have no more loose story ends to tie up, you can die anytime without worry.

But a worry-free life? What fun would that be? :)

cheongsam chores

2009-05-07T16:40:00.003+08:00

I think it all boils down to me being too greedy.

See, I really want a nice cheongsam for my wedding. I was going to wear it at the tea ceremonies at my house and Shiyao's in the morning, so I thought I would get something breezy and light and knee-length so I could show my legs (heehee). So I designed my own and got a shop here to make it. But they screwed it up with the wrong fabric (appears to be a miscommunication) and a weird design at the back (because they said my original instruction was undoable). And now I'm trying to decide whether I should just settle for it or get a new one made, which would cost anything from $500 to $1200 more.

And also my own requirements have changed. Now I'm thinking, maybe I should have made a full-length one so I can wear it at night also, during the goodbye reception. I saw a gorgeous full-length cheongsam at a shop the other day and I can't stop thinking about it. But having to change outfits a second time during dinner (I already have one change: wedding gown for first half and evening gown for second half) means I will have less time to mingle, and if I get all sweaty wearing the cheongsam during the tea ceremony I don't really think I want to re-wear it at dinner anyway.

So now I'm trying to see if the original cheongsam I made is salvageable, in which case I will just wear that for tea and not wear a cheongsam during dinner and try to forget the beautiful full-length cheongsam that flirted with me. But if it turns out that I can't save my first cheongsam, then I can make another one. Which would be too late for my photoshoot at the end of this month anyway.

Sigh I knew it. Plan so far ahead, still got screwup at the end one.

avoiding home has its benefits

2009-05-05T00:05:00.002+08:00

It started off as a crap day - I woke up feeling sick and was late for work, and the moment I turned on my laptop it died on me. When I went to see the doctor I had to wait for half an hour, and then the receptionist let the guy who came after me go in first, which made me so pissed off I walked out. Lunch was a crappy rushed affair of takeaway duck noodles because I had a facial appointment. And although the facial was not too bad, I forgot to pay for the "ampoule" and have to go back on Wednesday to do so. Wrote two forgettable stories and was given a 8.30am assignment in town tomorrow - the worst kind.

But then I had a couple of interesting conversations and a good genuine talk with a colleague during dinner that made me feel strangely sad but happy at the same time. I had time to spare before meeting Shiyao at 11, so I dropped by the Coffee Bean near his house to have tea and read my book. And as I opened the door to the al fresco seating area, tray in hand, Philip was on the other side, and I laughed at the sheer ridiculous coincidence of it all. Later Dom, who had been having dinner across the road, came by.

The little moments that make you feel alive.

happy

2009-05-02T01:19:00.003+08:00

There are a lot of things in this world I have to be thankful for, but primary among all of them are, I think, my friends. I've been told, repeatedly by people who believe they have "better" friends, that my friendships are not as strong or as real as theirs. But time and time again I realise how wonderful my friends are, both as friends and as people, and how lucky I am to have them.

On open-mindedness

2009-04-24T22:11:00.002+08:00

People say being open-minded is a good thing. But they also say you should have values. So how do you reconcile having fixed standpoints on certain issues while saying you're not closed off to all other alternatives?

For a while, but especially recently, I've been struggling a lot with this. And my conclusion, decided only about two hours ago, is that you can only be as open-minded as your intrinsic values allow you to be. At this point I'm sure some people will say there's no such thing - or at least there shouldn't be such a thing - as "intrinsic" values. Individual experience creates some values, society dictates the rest. So values are only as universal as the majority decides at that time.

But I believe that individual values are formed at a relatively young age, say during your teenage years, and that they don't change much after that, barring extenuating circumstances such as a sudden traumatic episode. So you can try to convince yourself to be as truly open-minded as possible, but the scope of that possibility has already been determined fairly early on. By "open-minded" I mean being able to understand, accept, AND adopt the views in question. For instance, if you are "open-minded" about other people having an abortion, but you wouldn't do it yourself; if you are tolerant of polygamy, but you would never enter into a polygamous relationship - that's not "true" open-mindedness by my (deliberately narrow) definition.

The sort of open-mindedness that allows you to let other people have their own views while staying convinced of your own is a compromised open-mindedness, which is what most of us live with. And I think that in order to really feel comfortable with and get close to someone, they have to have a similar version of open-mindedness as you. Having to explain why you hold certain immutable values - pro-choice, pro-gay, pro-monogamy - is healthy, but feeling forced to always justify them to someone who really doesn't understand because he or she doesn't have that value (and, often, doesn't want to) is just too draining to be beneficial in any way.

on writing columns

2009-04-06T19:53:00.003+08:00

When I started writing my column last year, I had no idea what sort of columnist I would be. Of course I hoped I would be a good one, but more than that, I wondered if I would acquire a persona, a character, an alter ego. It's probably still too early to say, but I think the one constant feature I try to put into every piece is humour.

This often makes me come across very flippant. To some extent I think this reflects myself in real life. Very few things in life are so important to me that I take them ultra-seriously and can't see any humour in them at all. In everything else there is wit; tragedy and comedy, after all, are two sides of the same coin.

But with each column that is published, I realise that everything I treat with levity is someone else's deadly serious topic. People are always keen to "put me right" and "set me straight". And despite my best efforts to keep my ego in check, this rankles. The thought that a reader has missed my point and yet condescends to reeducate me is irritating to no end.

Of course there is also the possibility that I'm not as hilarious as I think I am - just because I make myself laugh doesn't mean everyone will feel the same way.

Fortunately (for my ego), for every hate mail I get, I usually receive on average 1.5 fan mails. This means that there are still more people out there who have a sense of humour than otherwise. And I think that is the one thing I've really learned from writing this column - not to take anything for granted. There are lots of intelligent people in the world, and some of them read what I write! And then they write back, and have something else interesting to say!

I realise this entire entry is rather cocky to begin with, building on the assumption that most of the other people in the world are less smart than me. Perhaps I will write a column about that and get more hate mail than fan mail. But in the meantime, the little spark of joy I get every time someone articulate writes in to say they enjoy what I write is probably the closest thing to true happiness I've ever experienced in my life.

blue sky holiday

2009-03-31T20:32:00.002+08:00

The only thing worse than having a bad day is having no one to drink with at the end of it.

Lately I've been having a lot of bad days. I don't know if I've gotten more impatient or everyone has gotten stupider, but I keep losing my temper, especially at work. This morning I shot off an angry email to a copyed who changed my story after I left the office yesterday, and then at night I yelled at an incompetent PR.

Life is getting too stressful. I just need to be alone.

poem rhyme-off

2009-03-05T16:26:00.004+08:00

One of my earliest memories of Shiyao is of him frantically trying to finish writing enough poems in JC1 to submit to some creative arts programme. Chief among those was a poem about milk bottles, which neither of us can remember clearly now but to which we always refer fondly. Today we attempted to recreate the poem in our respective styles (Shiyao: angsty moralism, me: cheap superficiality).

Shiyao:
milk bottle, milk bottle
how i want to throttle
you slim white neck
before i throw you back
and gulp down calcium
that was not in my nestum
but when you are dead and broken
and long forsaken
you still bare your barbs for all
especially those who on you fall
so remember this, people:
a broken milk bottle is still lethal.

Me:
bottle, bottle, full of milk
your liquid goes down smooth as silk
but as a drink you lack some cheer
i should have bought a bottle of beer.

wedding stuff

2009-02-16T23:21:00.002+08:00

Perhaps I'm becoming bridezilla but I find that I don't really have anyone to obsess about my wedding with these days. My mum is still throwing fits over the no church thing, my fiance is, well, a guy, and my bridesmaids are all busier than me.

So I have decided that you, my probably-can-count-on-one-hand blog readers, will have to suffer.

First up: colour theme!!! This is a real headache. On the one hand I would love to have white and red, since it's national day and all, and it's striking, and the hotel has a lovely dramatic red theme. That also means I can have my dream bouquet of dark red roses and carnations or - *cross fingers* - calla lilies. But then it seems not very original, and also maybe a tad overkill to have so much of such a strong colour everywhere.

So then I was thinking white and a lighter colour. Orange, maybe? Yaoyao does like orange and it's quite unique. But orange is a hard colour to pull off for my poor bridesmaids, who will all have to wear orange dresses. Blue would be dreamy but Yaoyao doesn't like blue and apparently every bride and her mother goes for blue. Maybe yellow, it's bright and cheery and easier to handle in general. But imagining a yellow bouquet is very... *non-committal so-so noise*. Then there's Heffalump Purple, which can double with pink, and that could be quite cute. Hmmmm.

Ok colour aside, there's catering to consider. As the programme currently stands, albeit wobbling on shaky legs, we have to hold two wedding lunches-cum-tea-ceremonies, one at Yaoyao's place and one at mine. I'd love to get a caterer that has wedding-themed packages but the minimum is usually 100 people and we don't have that many guests for lunch. Yaoyao is dead set on a cheap caterer with a budget of $6 per head. Sigh. I suppose at a fairly reasonable $1k each lunch this is not really worth agonising over though.

Then there's photos. I don't think we can do table shots for all 40 tables, but then I feel like our guests will feel a bit cheated that there's no concrete product to take away from the wedding. Our hired photographer will probably focus on capturing "moments" and maybe we can squeeze in table shots if we're very very efficient. I wonder if our photographer will mind or if we should get a friend to take table shots - how hard can they be? Lol.

Aiyah I go think about this while I level to 80.

Feedback form to 91.3 FM

2009-02-04T00:21:00.002+08:00

Hi,

I was listening to Hutch's programme on my way home just now, at about 11.30pm, and I was appalled at his on-air manner. When I first tuned in I heard him call a listener (I think his name was Brian) to chew him out about some feedback that Brian had given on Hutch cutting songs short. Brian said it showed disrespect for the singer. But Hutch told Brian that if Brian ever cuts off his songs halfway on his personal iTunes, then it's "hypocritical" to tell Hutch not to do the same. But there is one big difference: Hutch is on air. This is a public playlist. I absolutely agree that it is disrespectful to the singer to cut off the songs halfway. No other DJ I have heard does this as abruptly as Hutch does; the best DJs, in fact, know exactly when to blend the end of the song into another song or some conversation. This is something worth learning.

The other thing I take issue with is Hutch's attitude towards callers - it's downright offensive. Calls are answered with a brusque "Hello?" without so much as a "You're on 91.3 FM." Obviously the caller will venture another "Hello?", at which point it would be nice to say "Yes, you're on air" rather than reply with another obnoxious and obtuse "Hello?"

After enough "Hello?"s have been said, the rest of the exchange (it would be heresy to call such rude interaction a conversation) is punctuated on Hutch's end with curt and snippy syllables: "Ok", "Ok", "Yeah", "Cool".

I heard one caller ask "Can I dedicate a song?" - clearly a polite prelude to the actual dedication - only to receive the scoffing answer "Of course you can, man, it's a dedication show." Surely there is no need to be so sarcastic.

I'm writing in because I like the songs on 91.3FM, and I think it would be a waste if the listening experience was ruined by rude DJs. I hope something can be done about this.

keeping it real

2009-02-02T00:04:00.002+08:00

Judging from my last entry, it's safe to say that while I agonise over crafting my columns coherently and compellingly, I have no such compunctions when it comes to my blog.

Still, one must make the effort, if only for posterity and that certain self-loving kick that comes from reading old entries.

I had an unglam day today. Woke up early to play frisbee with xh at East Coast, then we presented our sweaty stinky selves at 1 Twenty Six for brunch. The food wasn't bad, although my favourite brunch place remains Tin Hill at Sixth Avenue, if only for the memories. And it really is quite hard to finish off four fat slices of french toast, even if they're fairly tasty. If I ever open a brunch place, my menu will offer half-servings of everything so people can pick and choose. Who really eats a mound of pancakes for breakfast without eyeing their friend's grilled sausages covetously?

While we were there a work contact walked in to the restaurant, all dolled up in designer togs with angmoh bf in tow. She waved at me and I, acutely conscious of my untidy ponytail and cellulite-displaying short denim shorts, waved sheepishly back.

Having set the au naturel tone early, I decided to do without makeup for the rest of the day. (I can't remember the last time I went out in public without makeup, apart from the gym etc, but it's been months.) I drove my dad to the airport for his flight to BKK, then had a happy domestic day shopping for cars and buying dinner home for my family. Despite my naturally high levels of insecurity, I found the anonymity afforded by dowdiness surprisingly liberating. If you don't care how you look at all, it does free you up to care about other things. But there's the obvious trade-off, of course.

PASS

2009-01-28T23:05:00.001+08:00

PASS PASS PASS PASS PASSSSSSSSSSS

unmerry christmas

2008-12-26T03:06:00.003+08:00

The thing that still annoys me the most, after all these years, is that editors assign you something and give you a deadline and after you break your back trying to deliver it on time they either kill the story or push it back. Gotta love this job. I'm going to sleep.

"why i hate geps"

2008-12-24T11:49:00.003+08:00

by P, an "express stream boy with complex"

(On X, a mutual friend):

he has this method of talking
that used to irritate me
he likes to be stark
and surprise people with his comments with a straight face
i dont understand
why they have this notion of being offbeat-ly interesting
as if every conversation is another this is to this then that is to that gep test they have to randomly associate out of
ok la jk jk
dont angry
gep good gep good

Don't Be Stupid

2008-11-29T17:45:00.003+08:00

Lately people have been going around slamming DBS for its choice of Christmas charity: Focus on the Family, said to be an extremist right-wing evangelical anti-women anti-gay anti-choice anti-premarital-sex establishment. How it manages to be anti so many things at the same time is anyone's guess, but I suspect it took lessons from my family.

These same people who are unhappy with DBS are suddenly bringing up all the bad press the bank has had in the last few months, including the High Notes saga and the massive retrenchments. I suspect they don't really know what they're talking about; they probably just read newspaper headlines and are now throwing everything together into a chapalang argument.

First I must say that I'm not a DBS fan. I have a couple of accounts with the bank, for convenience more than anything else. The company has bad customer service and dislikeable corp comms.

Still, I don't think they came off very badly in the whole High Notes fiasco. Yes, they were the only local bank to have issued Lehman-linked structured products, but when they did they were praised for being creative and keeping up with the times, unlike other "conservative" banks. It's only now, when the unthinkable has happened, that suddenly everyone needs a direction in which to point a finger. While other banks and brokerages may not have created their own products, they definitely distributed them just as happily. Mis-selling is the main issue here, and I don't think DBS engaged in more of it than anyone else. In fact, after the news broke about the structured products, DBS was the most upfront and transparent about the value of the products, and one of the quickest to move to compensate investors. It is untenable to single out DBS for more blame in this particular area than any other bank.

As for the retrenchments, I really don't know why anyone blames companies for retrenching people in bad times. Recessions are all about the survival of the fittest: weak firms are rightly weeded out, as are those who aren't pulling their weight within a company. Of course there are those who are unjustly retrenched because they're unpopular or unlucky and their bosses jump at the excuse to fire them. But I still see no reason why a company should take any flak for trimming the fat in order to survive. And DBS does look like it's gorged during the good times, so it only makes sense to go on a diet now. I do feel for the 900 people who were laid off, but chances are most were middling middle management who were getting paid more than they deserved.

Finally, the charity. Surely any company has the right to choose which charity it wants to support. I mean, if I hated animals and SingTel decided to donate money to SPCA, I wouldn't switch phone providers just because of that - as long as they continued to give me good service and not cut off my connection randomly to punish me for my anti-pet ways.

I am very skeptical that all these people who are against DBS' charity decision and have joined the facebook group/signed petition etc etc will really give up their DBS accounts. If they do, all respect to them. But if not, are they making empty noise and confusing issues just to draw attention to the fact that they're gay rights supporters? If so, why are they doing that? Surely there are better avenues to show support?

(Btw J, this is not about you at all - I've been hearing so much about this topic from a myriad of people that I need to vent for a while. I have every faith that you of all people would cut up your DBS cards. (: )

you know you love me

2008-11-25T15:25:00.002+08:00

I'm supposed to be writing an analysis but I can't start cos my brain is stuck. Maybe if I write about Gossip Girl I will unstuck it!

First I must say that Gossip Girl is one of the few highlights of my life these days. Work work work study study study GOSSIP GIRL EVERY TUESDAY! When it doesn't show for some reason, like this week, I become uncommonly anguished. Fortunately I have gotten hold of the first season DVD boxset just in time for my one and a half weeks of leave starting tomorrow! Screw the CFA.

Why I like Gossip Girl:

1. Everyone is so ridiculously good-looking. I feel a bit bad now about judging people who watched The OC last time. Obviously Blake Lively and Leighton Meester are goddesses, and Chace Crawford is like sex on legs, but I can even sort of see the appeal of Penn Badgeley, and Ed Westwick is my new obsession. I love how he's started saying everything in sotto voce and never worries about whether people can hear him.

2. Everyone wears ridiculously nice clothes. Blake Lively could probably look good in a sack but we never get the chance to find out.

3. Everyone can act. Except maybe Chace Crawford, but if you look like that you don't have to worry about having any other talents. But I think that's a major reason Lipstick Jungle and Cashmere Mafia failed - there was no chemistry between the characters and they all felt like they were pretending to be friends. Here everyone really is pretending to be friends because you don't know who's an enemy, and it's totally believable.

4. Even the parents are hot. Except maybe Bart. I think I'll model my wedding dress after Lily's.

5. Blake Lively. It just keeps coming back to her. The way she can balance being blonde and perfect and 36DD with being super nice and having realistic teenage problems. She's my second girl crush this year (the first being Olivia Wilde, but that's in a completely different angsty hot girl sort of way) and that's already two more than I had last year.

What I don't like about Gossip Girl:

1. Aaron Rose. It's not a coincidence that his name rhymes with "gross". Surely Serena has better taste than that.

2. Jenny Humphrey. Too angsty. Not pretty enough. And she talks too fast, I have to keep rewinding to hear what she's mumbling.

3. Vanessa Abrams. Pretty, but too holier-than-thou. Not a fan.

If I haven't made you the slightest bit curious about Gossip Girl at this point, I am a failed writer and should throw in the towel on my analysis right now. I am, however, comforted by the fact that I have already made two converts to Twilight (that deserves a whole other blog entry).

Four more hours and I can go home to watch Gossip Girl!

xoxo

losing my ego

2008-11-19T10:10:00.004+08:00

Sometimes I wonder if anything in life is worth the effort you put in. You can earnestly try until you die, but there will always be someone who gets recognition simply by being more insistent, or a better suck-up, or just better-looking.

I guess the key, as always, is to keep lowering your expectations. Every time you get disappointed, it's a clue that you still believe you deserve something - when the truth is that nobody owes you anything, no matter how much you do.

I realise that now. Eckhart Tolle would be proud.

heffy burpday baby

2008-11-19T00:54:00.002+08:00

So the weekend was a smashing success, thanks especially to Shiyao's friends (who all turned up on time for dinner, even if they didn't quite yell "surprise!"), his family and the many lychee koolers. I'm glad to report that Marina Mandarin rooms are immaculate (bodes well for our bridal suite next year) and the spa (St Gregory's, no less) is equally good. Now to see if we can cry recession and get the catering people to throw in a couple of free massages for our wedding.

I must say that Shiyao's family is really, really nice to me. Not just his parents and brother, but his aunts, cousins and even his awesomely imperious grandmother. Already I've had more real conversations with her than I've ever had with any of my grandparents. She makes me want to wear knee-length floral skirts all the time and sit demurely without crossing my ankles. It's nice to feel happy about marrying into someone else's family.

I think part of why I enjoyed the weekend so much was because it was the first leave I've taken since June. Even though I was studying half the time, it felt so light and free not to have to worry about work. I think I really need a longer break from the office. I still like what I'm doing - even more so now that I'm covering two beats - but the people mix has completely changed and I'm tired of spending my days in a place where I don't really have any buddies left, and there are even people I want to avoid. But there's no point feeling sorry for myself: two and a half years will pass quickly enough and then I can do something that, even if I don't like more, will probably at least pay enough to make life outside of work better.

不想再怀疑自己对不对

2008-11-04T11:13:00.002+08:00

Every year I am allowed three mistakes at work. I've just made my third (fourth, if you count anal idiots who make their own mistakes then blame you for them) in the first three months of the new year. This means I have to go nine more months without a single error (unlikely) or get my bonus docked next year (very likely). It's a depressing thought.

Probably because of this I'm very unenthusiastic about work this week. I feel like taking off to a beach somewhere away from everything that is unhappy and just lying in the sun with a cocktail. Or holing up in a hotel room with gossip girl season 1 and a bedful of fluffy pillows. Or spending a day shopping in Daikanyama. Or furniture shopping. Or just random shopping. You get the idea - anywhere is better than here.

Goodbye, dear friend

2008-10-09T09:50:00.001+08:00

Friday, 03 October 2008
Chee Soon Juan

Dear Mr Jeyaretnam,

I visited you one last time on Tuesday. I've never seen you so peaceful and contented.

This is such a change from all the years that we've been working together. I remember how bitter we felt sitting in your rented apartment at Orange Grove Road after the 1997 elections. The place has since been turned into swank, upscale serviced-apartments. We were drafting a letter to the United Nations to ask for the monitoring of future elections here.

It was a tedious job recounting everything that had happened: the hounding of Tang Liang Hong, the threats made against voters, and the gatecrashing of polling stations by ministers. The task was made lighter only with the delightful combination of the savoury Indian vadai and Earl Grey you served.

I remember also asking you about the copy of Long Walk to Freedom by Nelson Mandela sitting on your coffee table. You said that once in a long while, there comes a man who achieves greatness without having to cause the suffering of others.

On another occasion, my wife and I visited you at another rented house. From the outside, we could see a few of your shirts hanging by the window ledge on the upper floor. Mei said that she felt sorry that you had to do your own laundry at your age without anyone sharing those chores with you.

This reminds me of the time when we were driving along Serangoon Road and you wanted to stop by to pick up a bunch of flowers. I had asked you what the occasion was. You said it was your wedding anniversary and that your late wife, Margaret, would have liked the bouquet.

Then there was the time when we visited New York City. I was surprised when you mentioned that that was the first time you had set foot in the US. We had checked into this small hotel and struggled with our luggage along the narrow and dingy corridor. And as I fumbled for the key to open the door, I heard you mutter to yourself: "Oh Ben, what have you gotten yourself into?"

My heart sank when I heard you say that. I was feeling a little depressed myself and I was hoping to get some cheer from you. Seeing you so despondent made my own morale wobble.

But I knew that you were feeling depressed and anxious because of yet another lawsuit. As we put our weary heads on the emaciated pillows, you said that they didn't just want to win politically but were determined to also crush us personally.

We made a pact that night that while we may not yet be able to beat them politically, we would not allow them to defeat us on the personal front. They may take away all our possessions, but they will never take away our will to speak up. And then you said that we needed to rest as “tomorrow's another day that we have to fight.”

The next morning I came out from the shower and saw you reading the Bible. We talked a little about the Book of Ecclesiastes. Then you knelt down by the bed to say a prayer and I joined you. We prayed for strength and sustenance.

Rejuvenated, we went down to what New Yorkers call a “deli” for breakfast. I remember you asking me what a bagel was and I said that it was the American version of the vadai. You chortled and we mouthed down a couple of Ham and Cheeses. Actually, I did. You found the bagels a little too hard.

During breakfast we talked about setting up an NGO to advocate transparency and democracy in Singapore. When we came back, we had a bit of a laugh seeing how the gentleman at the Registry of Companies squirmed as he tried to handle our application for the "Open Singapore Foundation".

After rejecting the term "Foundation", "Institute" and a couple of others, the ROC finally allowed the use of "Centre". Thus was born the first human rights NGO in Singapore.

We left New York and you headed south to Florida to visit your son. When you returned, you bought my daughter a little pink teddy bear. It squeaks when you press its tummy. When she was a little older, we told her who bought it for her. She named it “JB Bear" because she couldn't quite pronounce your name.

My wife said that it was funny to think of this cute little pink bear and picture you at the same time, a big elderly man with bushy hair and your trademark "mutton chops". You always made her jump a little whenever your voice boomed through the phone: "Is that you, Mei?"

Several months later, your worst nightmare came true. You were found guilty of defamation again and you now had to vacate your seat in Parliament for the second time. I remember talking to you on the phone after your appeal was rejected. You sounded so crestfallen.

I had asked you if you wanted to talk, but you said that you just wanted to be "alone for a while." The next day we met for lunch near your office at North Bridge Road. We got into a heated argument. I had asked you not to continue paying the money and playing into the hands of Lee and his people.

I knew you were angry at me for saying so, but I also knew that you wanted me to be honest with you. Through the years, we have had our clashes and disagreements. But we always knew that we were locked in spirit and that we would always remain true to each other and to what we believed in. No matter how serious our disagreements, we always stood on the same side.

As you lay down to rest, democracy is not yet at hand. But don't you ever believe those who say that your fight on earth was irrelevant and personal. Nothing could be further from the truth. You have inspired an entire generation of Singaporeans and we will keep the fight going.

We will keep on reaching for that star in the black sky, that shimmering distant star of liberty. If we are closer to touching it, it is because we stand on your shoulders.

Your legacy and walk on earth will not only remain but it will grow. You have left a void that cannot be filled.

I think of that night in New York when we pledged not to let them defeat our persons. You've kept your end of the pact. They may still have the power but, boy, you sure showed them what a fighter for truth is. You leave us with honour and dignity, no one could buy you over and no one did. And even though you did not possess millions in your bank account, the treasure which you have stored is with you today and forever.

Goodbye, Ben, I will miss you.

But even as I mourn your death, I celebrate your life because it has touched mine. You have fought the good fight and now you have been called home to rest. They cannot hurt you anymore. Until we meet again, dear friend, I will always remain

Yours in Justice and Freedom,

Soon Juan

weddingtalk

2008-10-07T17:54:00.004+08:00

I've been consciously not blogging weddingtalk so as not to turn into one of those people who can only, well, talk about their wedding. But maybe it's time to update, if only for posterity.

Not that there's really much to update. We've chosen our hotel, in what is the Best Deal Ever, with a free bottle of wine per table, waiver of wine and liquor corkage and two nights' stay in the bridal suite. I love it.

The only other thing we've done so far is to book our wedding videographer. They're really good, by which I mean they're really funny. They have sound and action that goes together, rather than those romantic black-and-white videos with some love song playing in the background as people move in slow motion. (VDB if you're reading this, classic is good too!)

Also what I like about our videographer is that the firm consists of girls. I like to hire girls. They're more conscientious and efficient. Guys tend to bluff and bluster and cut corners. Stupid guys.

Which is also why I'm 99% decided on my bridal studio, which features one main female designer. It's not 100% because (1) it's not the cheapest (2) my dress idea changes by the day now. I hear the designer also tends to be a bit prima donna but, hey, better than a lazy guy.

Sadly, this theory does not appear to hold for lawyers. We have engaged one by the name of Poo, who has the double misfortune of not just being named after feces, but also actually being shit at her job. Actual sentences that came out of her mouth today:

"You want to change the agreement? Aiyah. Have to write to them you know, then they have to write back. You all just sign this agreement first, then I see whether can change."

"I'll get in touch with you next week lah, but just in case I forget, which is quite likely! Haha! Maybe you call me to check."

WTF.

the end of the world

2008-10-06T22:54:00.005+08:00

appears to be imminent. Yet I still want a tailor-made wedding dress. Are my priorities all mixed up? I'll opt for the cheaper photographer though.

Anyway I have come to terms with my condo. It's a bit like my husband. Comes at a cost - but I would be sad if I had to give it up.

[added]

Okay but clearly some things have to go. This has moved beyond technical recession to real recession. Is it wrong that part of me (the non-condo part) is excited about seeing everything collapse in real life?

Things that will have to go:

1. My super-expensive gym membership
2. Magazines
3. Pedicures
4. My super-expensive cooking classes
5. The KitchenAid 5-quart mixer in pink, which was going to be my Christmas present to myself, boohoohoo

On the bright side, furniture and cars will be cheaper when we finally need them! Assuming our salaries don't get cut too much. Oh well.

my sunshine

2008-10-02T11:39:00.002+08:00

When we bought our condo, I was fairly certain prices would hold fairly steady, barring a recession. Now I feel like those Minibond investors with their stupid credit event.

But every time I go into a panic attack over it - which is only once every half hour or so - I just call Shiyao. And every single time he calms me down. It's our dream starter home, he says, which is true, or at least as true as it can be when you buy a property off a floor plan. At least we're very minimally leveraged, so we'll never have to worry about negative equity. Interest rates will stay low for the foreseeable future now that recession looms. And fortunately we have no money in stocks (I'm too poor, he's too cautious).

"Worse comes to worst," he says blithely, "we just wait for the market to crash and buy another place cheap and rent this one out lor!"

Money come from where?

"We have savings what," he counters. "We're only using CPF to pay for this one, so save the rest! Anyway, life is meaningless."

Gotta love that logic.

I'm eating M&Ms

2008-09-25T17:23:00.001+08:00

We're all going to die anyway.

how much difference a year makes

2008-09-22T21:19:00.003+08:00

I should probably work harder next year.

* * * * * *

I would have left it at that, but cryptic entries are really annoying. Anyway what I meant was that I didn't work very hard this year. I pulled my weight, I think, and maybe more than the people who see this as a 9-to-5 job, but not much. I'm very lucky - at this job, I always have been - but surely the luck has an expiry date. I'll work harder, I promise. You know who you are.

duh

2008-09-15T21:41:00.002+08:00

It's the kind of day journalists live for - banks collapsing, oil prices tumbling, share markets plunging. Of course I did none of those stories. Instead I wrote about a church that is increasing its investment in a lifestyle hub.

Lol.

I'm not complaining though. My brain is fried.

new leaf

2008-09-10T20:06:00.000+08:00

Stolen from panaphobia:

"We have come to think of taking offence as a fundamental right.
We value very little more highly than our rage, which gives us,
in our opinion, the moral high ground. From this high ground
we can shoot down at our enemies and inflict heavy fatalities."
- Rushdie

meaninglessness

2008-08-29T23:52:00.000+08:00

I am blogging from a cab that is bringing me home. How awesome am I?? Or, more accurately, how awesome is my E71??

I feel the need to blog now because I am disillusioned with mankind. Rudeness, it seems, is the new black to a population that doesn't appreciate the elegance of black. Everywhere I turn these days I am assaulted by bad service, queue cutters, insolent taxi drivers and lazy PR people. I told off people from all four categories today, and while I feel a bit better, my despair at the state of the world has also grown.

Today, I see only bleakness in life. Perhaps bryan has drawn the longer straw after all.

reader feedback

2008-08-25T20:24:00.003+08:00

Lately I've been getting a lot of hate mail. Hate mail is amusing, but stupid mail is more amusing. Below is one of B's:

"Hi, in regards to your great article dated aug. 19, please enlighten me on "exports heading south...", which country in the south you refering to? Thanks."

B's clear-eyed self-restrained reply:

"Hi,

Thanks for your interest in the story.

What I meant by "exports heading south" is that they are shrinking. I did not mean to suggest that Singapore is sending more goods to Australia or South Africa. That said, you can check out IE Singapore's website and from their report, you can get more information on trends about Singapore's top export markets.

Cheers

B."

the original

2008-08-18T15:06:00.002+08:00

“LOVE don’t cost a thing,” Jennifer Lopez once famously sang.

What she neglected to mention, however, is that weddings certainly do.

Over the last few years, I’ve watched friends my age get married and marvelled at how they pulled out all the stops, from custom-made animated videos to sunset yacht parties.

Now that it’s my turn next year, I’m marvelling instead at how they managed to pull all that off on a combined income that still qualified them to buy a new HDB flat.

My own wedding will be as fuss-free as it gets: just the traditional hotel dinner and a simple solemnisation on the same day. Still, it will probably cost as much as my entire salary last year.

It’s not difficult to see why youths these days are taking longer to walk down the aisle. Many unmarried friends say they just don’t have enough saved up.

Part of the reason is that with today’s inflation, even a small wedding can be a costly event. Every time a bride-to-be hears wedding bells, the bridal industry hears the ka-ching of their cash registers.

According to my unscientific but extensive research, the average cost of a weekend hotel banquet has gone up 5 to 10 per cent between this year and next, crossing the $1,000 per table mark just in time for my wedding dinner.

This usually doesn’t include wine, now a wedding staple, which will set you back another $1,000 or so. Expect to fork out at least $3,000 for photographers and videographers to document the special day.

Then there’s the dress. Bridal gown packages from the one-stop shops in the heartlands now cost upwards of $2,500; I haven’t even dared to ask about the designer creations I drool over in the bridal magazines.

Wedding rings – wedding rings! those little bands on your fingers! – don’t come under $1,200 a pair. My fiance and I have taken to walking into jewellery shops and demanding to see their cheapest choices. Needless to say, we don’t get very good service.

But the main reason why people pay so much for their weddings is simply because they want it all.

Yes, parents are often blamed for the “mandatory” wedding banquets, but today’s young couples are the ones who order the personalised videos, devise unique themes, and plan three dramatic entrances with three different outfits.

Problem is, most of their friends are also new entrants into the workforce, which means their well-meant dinner hongbaos probably cover only the cost of the appetisers.

Despite the exorbitant mark-ups on wedding purchases, most couples shrug off the cost, saying the once-in-a-lifetime event is worth every cent to celebrate their love.

One friend even toyed with the idea of having her bridal photos shot overseas for a extra-special touch. The cost: $15,000.

But my question is: if you have true love, do you really need the big wedding?

After all, you could get married for as little as $26 – the fee that the Registry of Marriages charges for a marriage license.

Ironically, young starry-eyed couples just starting their careers are those who want the splashiest weddings. I know of a couple in their late 30s who did away with the pomp and had a simple church service and dinner, happy enough to have found love when they least expected it.

Ms Lopez’s own wedding, to singer Marc Anthony in 2004, was a low-key affair that cost US$50,000 – probably an amount the famous couple, both well-acquainted with failed marriages, considered modest.

As for myself, I’m lucky enough to have a partner who constantly reminds me that it’s the marriage, not the wedding, that really matters. And I’m happy to say that the cost of love – while not exactly nothing – is much less than I would have thought possible.

* * * * * *

It's 3pm on Monday. At last count this column has earned me seven positive emails, and my property story on Saturday has garnered two negative ones (one reader thinks I'm too bullish, another thinks I'm too bearish). Maybe I should switch beats. Hey! Maybe I have.

sunshine

2008-08-11T22:52:00.001+08:00

It never fails to astound me how much you can love another person.

stupidos

2008-08-01T15:47:00.004+08:00

Doing what I do - and, especially doing what I do, which is aiming to be startling and contrarian and revelatory as often as possible - you get a lot of hate mail. I believe I've said before that I like hate mail. And I do, whether it's flaming on forums or straightforward emails with LOTS OF CAPITL LETTRS N BAD SPELING. At least people are really reacting viscerally, and they always respond nicely when I reply.

What I don't like is when people send me threatening emails based on their interpretation of something I've written. These people tend to think they're worth something. They could be lawyers, or government stooges, or company spokespeople (although the last is quite rare, private sector businesspeople tend to be a bit more savvy). They send "official" emails, and expect you to cower in fear and apologise. Not only do I refuse to apologise - seeing that I've done nothing wrong - I always draft a biting email response that ultimately I am discouraged from sending. That's fine. But I want everyone out there who's ever written a threatening email disguised as a "concerned" or "official" missive to know this: You are not scary. You are not even correct, most of the time. If you believe you derive some sort of associative power from the big important firm or agency under whose auspices you write - you are wrong. Above all, you are worthless.

That's all I wanted to say.

none are more hopelessly enslaved

2008-07-29T21:41:00.007+08:00

Lately I've been thinking a lot about freedom, seeing as how I have none of it. Not that I'm complaining, because that would make me one of those people who pile their days with activities and then whine that they have no time. Nor am I boasting about my important busyness, which is what the whiny people are actually doing, of course.

What I'm doing is wondering why I don't want to be free.

Because we all have a choice, really. Every day we trade in some freedoms for others - the freedom to wake up at noon, for instance, for the freedom to have money to spend. The freedom to say anything you want for the freedom to go about your business with no one whispering behind your back. The freedom to eat uninhibitedly for the freedom of being skinny. Those are the primary tradeoffs - so mandatory, so easily rationalised, you forget you ever had a choice.

What about the smaller ones? The freedom of underperformance forfeited for the impossible satisfaction of being a perfectionist. The freedom of anonymity given up for the desire to stand out. The freedom of ignorance lost in the compulsion to have an opinion.

(My fiance believes that only the Joker, with his unencumbered ways and unhinged mind, is truly free. But is even that true? People who are genuinely mad are trapped in a world that makes no sense to normal people. Those who pretend to be mad already admit their constraints with their facepaint and oversized personalities. The Joker exists only because Batman does; his explosion on the scene is permitted because Gotham "deserves a better class of criminal" to offset the better class of law enforcement. His self-identification as Batman's nemesis is his biggest limitation - if Batman were to disappear off the edge of the earth, the Joker's licentiousness would lose its meaning.)

Obviously, very few of us are free. (I won't say "none", curbed as I am by my need to maximise accuracy.) We're afraid of what we would do if we were really free to do anything we wanted; or worse, of realising that we really have nothing better to do after all. Perhaps the best we can hope for is a person, or a place, or an activity, that lets us act as freely as we want to. It could be, after all, that only by sensing our boundaries can we know what it's like to be free.

the light at the end

2008-07-19T01:11:00.004+08:00

The last three weeks since I got back from Japan have been really stressful, and the worst part is I feel a lot of it was self-induced. Apart from the whole getting married buying house booking hotel ahhh which dress ahhhh etc, I had to deal with bizarre family meltdowns and full-time national day stories. Fortunately the bulk of the national day work is over, my family has gone back to normal (or so it seems), and for everything else, I have really good friends and an amazing fiance.

In fact, the highlights of my last few weeks have been realising anew what great friends I have - people who aren't afraid to tell me if they think I'm making a mistake and yet are willing to support me through my ultimate decision. And even above and beyond that, friends who don't even question, but trust that I know what I'm doing. Friends who are genuinely happy to help with whatever I may need, on whom I can truly rely. For that I am sincerely, humbly, eternally grateful.

Getting married has also opened up a whole new world, particularly on the bridal forums, where people seem to have invented their own language: "When is ur AD? Which BS u use? HTB say only MTM, no OTR. PG haben choose yet." OMGWTFBBQPOLARBEAR.

Ok hubby is looking over my shoulder. GTG. You snooze, you lose!!

the story

2008-07-11T10:20:00.002+08:00

It's about time I write it down.

We're in a little town just outside of Kanazawa. The date is June 23, 2008 - Day 12 of what has been the best holiday we've taken together. (We've been on a lot of holidays, actually: Sydney, HK, Taiwan - and that's just in the last 12 months.) The town is an onsen town, and there is nothing to do but onsen. Dutifully, we onsen. At least, I onsen, and Shiyao takes photos. Onsen onsen onsen, photo photo photo until dinnertime, whereupon we retire to our little room and I plonk myself down on the only real chair in the room. Everything else is tatami mat. I'm not a big fan of tatami mats. They leave lines on your butt.

Dinner arrives, a feast of fish so fresh it was wriggling five seconds ago. I happily stuff my face while Shiyao, as usual, takes photos. After dinner, there is nothing to do. Too roly-poly to move, I suggest we stay in and watch Fullmetal Alchemist on his laptop the whole night! Yay! But Shiyao has other plans. He wants to take a walk and catch the sunset. Slightly reluctantly, I say okay.

Thinking that we're walking around the block, I agree to stroll out dressed in nothing but our yukatas (dressing gowns) and slippers. Five blocks later, we're heading towards the pier with no doubling back in sight. Shiyao is on a photo roll - at first I'm game, but as it grows dark, it gets cold, and scary on the pier with sinister black sea merging into ominous black sky. For some reason, he keeps pointing to this luxury hotel next to the pier, with what must be stupendous waterfront views, and saying: "Aiyah we should have stayed there; there so nice!" After I reassure him several times that I love our little tatami-matted onsen hotel, I give him a kiss and head to a nearby, inland, well-lit bench, in what turns out to be "park" called Waku-waku.

It is, therefore, to Waku-waku Park that Shiyao returns from his photo excursion, and it is at Waku-waku Park that he takes out a ring. I've turned my back to pack up his camera, and from behind me he says: "There's one more thing." I turn around - and there it is, dazzling in the dark, sparkling with successful surprise. At this point my memory fails me. Reportedly I say: "Is this a joke?", followed by "Are you sure?" several times. Finally, slightly exasperated, he convinces me that he's serious (he'd bought the ring two weeks ago and asked my parents for permission the night before we left), and as he gets down on one knee I say a sniffly yes.

property agents are stupid

2008-07-04T10:54:00.002+08:00

Agent: This project is walking distance to Boon Keng MRT.
Me: Where exactly is this project located?
Agent: Oh.. St Michael's Road.
Me: That's not walking distance.
Agent: I don't know if you are familiar with St Michael's Road?
Me: Yes, I am.
Agent: Erm this project is just behind One St Michael's, so you walk to the main road take you three minute, walk to the MRT station from the main road take you about five minute.
Me: No, I've walked from One St Michael's and it takes at least 10 minutes to get to the station.
Agent: Depend on how fast you walk. For me, I walk quite fast. Because life is fast-paced. For us, for property agents, we must walk fast.
Me: ....

You can have all these grand predictions about when the market is going to fall and make big plans to buy at the low point, but the truth is, when you have to buy, you have to buy. Just close your eyes and pick a freehold project, next to an MRT station, in an area near to the city with some upside potential. We're going to see One Leicester on Sunday, hopefully that's the answer!

he asked, and i said yes

2008-07-02T23:58:00.004+08:00

Okay I think I've told everyone I need to tell personally, so now it's time to tell the world: I'm engaged to the guy I love! Could this really be the happy ending they speak of in fairytales? It gets easier to believe each day.

Of course it's really only the beginning - of the house hunt, the in-law problems, the rest of our lives. But I think we can do it, together.

Most optimistic post ever!

I have discovered

2008-06-11T16:00:00.002+08:00

another good thing about Facebook. Besides the usual basics - stalk your crush, track your friends' weddings and pregnancies, check out what people wear on their holidays - you can also see who people list as their friends, even if (mostly) those people are not actually your friend. This is a very useful feature, as I like to judge people by the company they keep. Some rather surprising connections are easily explainable, e.g. same school/workplace/mutual friends, but others are not, leaving me to the only conclusion that these people must really be friends.

Of course there's nothing wrong with being friends with XYZ whom I strongly dislike, just as there's nothing wrong with liking Get Fuzzy, the worst comic strip in the world. I'll just be surprised, that's all. And maybe next time I won't offer you a cookie. (Just kidding. About the Get Fuzzy one, not the other thing.)

japan dreaming

2008-06-10T17:52:00.003+08:00

I leave for Japan in two days and I have nothing to wear. I know I talk about this problem a lot, and that's because I spend A LOT of time thinking about what to wear. It doesn't show, because when I actually have to wear it I'm always running late so I just wear what I always wear anyway. But on holiday I have to think especially hard, because I have to pack.

The other thing I've been obsessing about lately is having my own place. I know I have also discussed this to death and everyone now thinks I'm the girl who cried moving out. But now I have a three-year plan: My bond ends in July 2011. I will be 29. By that time I intend to be one of those home owners I always talk about blithely in my stories.

I'll have a little kitchen, and throw small but elaborate dinner parties to which everyone brings wine. There will be a tiny planter box where I will grow my own herbs but balk at actually using them in real food. In the living room will be a big TV screen, a cushy chair, and not much else. The storeroom will double up as closet space, as will my bathroom, bed, floors, and indeed all available surfaces.

This is the dream that sustains me through the nightmares of the day. Does it mean I'm getting old, when I dream about comfortable, contented evenings in my own home?

bleah

2008-05-29T09:29:00.002+08:00

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.

today's agenda

2008-05-21T21:47:00.003+08:00

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!

how to save a weekend

2008-05-20T00:01:00.002+08:00

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.

my day today

2008-05-16T02:04:00.003+08:00

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.

hong kong

2008-05-07T17:39:00.002+08:00

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.

during lunch today

2008-04-10T14:57:00.003+08:00

J and I went to Novena to eat and shop around. Just as we were leaving, we stopped by one of those new brightly-lit cutely-packaged skincare product shops, so we went in to take a look. We were hovering over the eye mask shelf when suddenly a voice piped up from behind us - an unfortunate, permanently high-pitched voice, slightly shrill and slightly squeaky, like a little mouse having a panic attack. As J put it: "I thought it was a handphone and I turned around and it was a person!"

The voice belonged to a college-age salesgirl, inexpertly primped and plumped to within an inch of her fake eyelashes. She was eager and helpful, but ultimately useless. J, caught up in an ecstasy of fake eyelashes, agreed to buy a pair and let the salesgirl help her put them on - which came to naught after three failed attempts with a shaky hand. But as I observed the salesgirl's uneven eyeliner, little shiny pink hairclip and glossed lips wide open in concentration, I felt a rush of sympathy for her. This girl with the cartoon character voice - What is her life like? Does she do well in school? Does she go home to a hardworking and loving family? Is that silver ring on her finger proof of a boyfriend who treats her like a princess? I hoped so.

Even when I came back to the office and realised she'd overcharged me for my face masks.

On the way back J and I also ended up in a cab driven by an old Malay woman, who was so incompetent at navigation that it was impossible to come to any other conclusion than she had stolen the cab and was maniacally trying to make as much money as possible before the real owner - Chinese, judging by the radio station - came back for it. But that's a story for another day.

on books, or: I can't be friends with you if you liked The Da Vinci Code

2008-04-02T17:43:00.003+08:00

Lately I have been made to feel bad about being a book snob. N, the main culprit, is busy propagating myths such as "every book has something to offer" and "intellectual snobbery prevents you from learning things".

Thing is, I don't really think of myself as a book snob. It's not like I only read pretentious books. But some books instinctively repulse me and I just assume that everyone is also repulsed. It's like a black-and-white moral standard for books: some are good, some are bad. To me that's so natural that there's no space for argument.

But I was taken aback by N's vitriol and resolved to be a humbler person. Until Monday, when out of nowhere I met two shining angels bearing the message that I was right all along: there is a book heaven, and seven levels of book hell that begin with Mitch Albom and end with Dan Brown.

Okay, so they weren't shining angels as much as fellow journos and I didn't meet them out of nowhere as much as have coffee with them after a press briefing. But still. Their chorus of disbelief when I told them about N buying Tuesdays with Morrie was like manna from heaven.

Unanimously we agreed on three things: Tuesdays with Morrie is cringingly bad, The Da Vinci Code was excruciatingly worse, and anyone who says Paulo Coelho "changed my life!" should be shot. That would change their life. To death.

It's not just badly-written books, though. I also have strong negative feelings about a lot of books that have received wide critical acclaim. Life of Pi, for instance, ranks among the books I consider most overrated. (Tiger? Zebra? Sea? Wtf?) I never took to Lord of the Flies, I can't bring myself to read Tolkien, and I personally think Jasper Fforde is a grandstanding two-bit writer with too many in-jokes and too little substance.

But it must be said that I would still respect people who like Life of Pi more than those who worship pop spirituality. If that makes me a book snob, so be it.

Monday Monday

2008-03-24T17:18:00.004+08:00

I have interns. They are very cute. One of them gave me chocolates and biscuits today as thanks for helping her with some stuff last week. She drew me a cute note. I am easily sold.

I also have a new assignment. It is about working life. Which bags to buy for work. What is the best smartphone. How to surf the net in the office without getting caught. Any other ideas? I am quite excited.

Finally, I have issues. How to be a good girl. How to be a good girlfriend. How to avoid arguing with someone who is determined to argue with you. How to remember that most normal guys have really fragile egos. How to talk to my mother. How to get more sleep. So many questions.

Now my issue is: how to write this story without any info? Argh.

turning 26, and a quarrel

2008-03-08T00:03:00.004+08:00

Feeling a bit down today at the prospect of having to grow up. I suppose it's apt, given that I go over to the wrong side of the 20s in a few weeks' time. I always thought I would like to be a grown-up, more so than most other people. I never really liked all the kiddy things. My playtime was more of the adult admin-type variety, like pretending to write cheques, filing my bills, compiling long grocery lists; as a kid my favourite toys were ledger books and invoice pads and toy cash registers (I still love those).

Even now I like the paperwork of being a grown-up. (Well, I don't like paying bills, but I still enjoy the act of writing a cheque; every time I do it I remember my childish glee in getting the words just right.) I like the freedom, the money, the ability to plan things and carry them out yourself. If adulthood was just about me I would love it.

The problem is that being an adult means taking on responsibility for other people too. That moment when you switch from being cared for to having to care for others ages you irrevocably.

When I was a kid my biggest fear was that my parents would die or disappear in the night and I would have to take care of my two younger siblings. I used to wake up a few times every night and sneak into my parents' room to make sure they were still breathing. Even now, with every day that passes, I refine my still-vague plans on what I will have to do in the event that my parents (1) die (2) become invalid (3) grow old. Since one of the three will definitely happen, I have to think about all of them over and over again.

In the meantime, I'm becoming increasingly aware that I may not be up to the task of actually being an adult. Money is now the least of my worries - my parents have enough stashed away and my scholar siblings are someone else's financial problem for the next decade or so. I think my biggest problem is being emotionally mature enough to be any kind of guardian. See the thing is, I don't really like people. I don't like to talk to them about their problems, unless I'm trying to get a story. I'm not the sort of person to sit and listen to someone else's woes and pat them on the hand solemnly throughout. I'm more the type that offers tea and tells a joke.

So maybe I. is right and I'm in the right job after all. I can't take responsibility for anyone but myself. Which will be my depressing thought for the night.

on compromise

2008-03-04T01:29:00.003+08:00

(A long overdue post, in response to the young punk who thinks we're all settling.)

Really, I blame books and movies. We should be taught from a young age that all fiction is, if not outright lies, then cleaned-up versions of other people's fantasies.

The stories tell us that we're special people who deserve nothing but the best our imaginations can conjure. But that's ridiculous. None of us is special, or different, or unique. We know that. And we're somehow convinced that if we can find the right person, that one perfect fit who thinks we're perfect too, then that will make us different. That will make us special.

Over the years we go from relationship to relationship, and one of two things happens: we get more and more choosy, and less and less happy; or we get more and more disenchanted, and less and less perfectionist. Either way we lose. The staunch singleton; the childhood sweethearts; the love-at-first-sight-married-in-six-months couple; the long-term cohabitants; the on-and-off pair - no one is perfectly happy with the person they end up with, if they end up with anyone at all. You're not going to get the fairytale courtship, the undying devotion, the eternal fidelity. Most of us won't even get a diamond, much less of the four-carat variety.

So I guess this is what I'm saying: don't look for happiness. Don't seek perfection. It's not out there; it's not a matter of time; you don't have a right to it. Be happy, instead, with what you do have. That imperfect, tempestuous, restless, predictable relationship. That lonely, exciting, unsatisfying, content singlehood.

We all have to settle. The tragedy is in believing that settling makes us worse off for it.

I must add, though, that it's easy to say all this when your boyfriend has just picked you up from the office at 11pm with a big hug and a huge cheery yellow smiley-face balloon just because you had a bad day.

So it's not the perfect relationship. That doesn't mean it can't be the best.

things that annoyed me today

2008-01-16T21:35:00.000+08:00

Lawyers, because they're unjustifiably arrogant

Copyeditors, because they are wrong

But you know how they say you dislike people who are most like you.

* * * * * *

Things that made me sad today

Learning that my favourite musical, Rent, is going to close. I watched it four times - in Singapore, Philly, New York, and Singapore again - and every time I cried at the same lines:

Collins' quiet "I think they meant it/ When they said you can't buy love/ Now I know you can rent it/ A new lease you were, my love, on life"

and Joanne and Mimi pretty much yelling "I would die for a taste of what Angel had/ Someone to live for, unafraid to say I love you".

Over the years (I was 19 when I first saw it) I think I've memorised all the songs in the musical. Except Out Tonight, I don't like that one.

But the thought that I'll never see it on stage again is still sad. There are so many genius lines and none of it contrived. One of my favourites - "So I own not a notion/ I escape and ape content/ I don't own emotion/ I rent".

:(

* * * * * *

Things that made me wistful today

The NYT Property Values section. So nice, all the beautiful photos of all the beautiful homes. I wish we had something like that in our papers here, but I suppose there wouldn't be enough diversity to make it interesting anyway. I mean, you can talk about product differentiation at the high end and all these special features like indoor pools and everything, but in the end it's still condo vs condo vs condo. Bleah.

American homes, on the other hand - amazing. I prefer to look at the cheaper ones, like homes below any amount that is less than $1 million. You can see the potential of the place, and how it would be nice when it's all done up. But once in a while they have these Below $30 Million sections and they're all about five-storey penthouse condominiums - yes, FIVE-STOREY CONDOMINIUMS - that come with a three-storey-high installation artpiece. Or an Italian-style villa that has 20 baths, four fireplaces, three elevators, a two-lane bowling alley, a racquetball court and a movie theatre. I'm like, man.

Also I'm like, a hungry hippo. Again. :((

cupcakey

2008-01-16T00:46:00.000+08:00

The only thing I adore more than good shopping websites are good cooking/baking blogs. I don't like food blogs, because they don't require any real talent - you just go eat something that someone else made and you take a photo of it. Big deal. I also don't like "cooking blogs" that are really half a personal blog, half a food blog and half a cooking blog. That makes three halves - really too much for just one blog. I don't want to see people's faces, I only want to see food.

So I was delighted to find Kuidaore, which has these really GORGEOUS photos of cupcakes and cookies and other pretty edibles. So inspiring. Now I want to make also.

Anyone know any other good cooking/baking blogs? I want to find some cooking ones too, cos baking is really too much work for me, I hate washing up. But no fake-o sites please!

countdown

2008-01-14T16:46:00.001+08:00

FOUR DAYS

不用麻烦了!

cooking for lazy asses

2008-01-02T11:00:00.000+08:00

Hello boys and girls,

Today we are going to learn how to bake a berry pie. Pie, you say? Isn't that, like, difficult and stuff? No, boys and girls. Not if you do it the lazy-ass way like me! Now you will also be able to impress your husband/ wife/ boyfriend/ girlfriend/ person-you're-sort-of-going-out-with-but-not-really-it's-complicated-I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it.

Here's what to do:

Buy a ready-made 9" frozen pie crust and enough berries to fill it up.

Gently toss the berries with sugar, flour, lemon juice and cinnamon. Put them in the pie crust. At this point, pre-heat oven to 180 degrees C.

More fun with baking ingredients! Mix flour, digestive biscuits, butter, baking powder and raw sugar until it forms a lumpy, sticky sort of mess. Then spread onto fruit evenly, and put in the oven until it smells good and just before it burns.

Actually this makes sort of a crumbly top. If you want more of a pie top, see below:

Substitute digestive biscuits with flour. Hide ugliness with a tacky decorative pin thingy.

Most important step: Let cool a bit and serve warm with ice cream to a bunch of hungry boys who will eat anything.

Like so.

See how easy it is to bake a pie? And you know what's even easier? That's right, boys and girls, writing a food blog!

I have very little respect for food blogs. The only food blog I have ever liked is actually more of a cooking blog: Mad Baker. It's awesome. The food looks more like art. I would never be able to eat any of it because it would be such a waste.

Next entry: Grilled honey miso salmon!

i heffa new ipod!

2007-12-26T16:44:00.000+08:00

And in return someone else heffalump:

Good deal, methinks.

Merry Christmas everyone!

getting into the spirit, part 2

2007-12-24T11:49:00.000+08:00

Reading ST Forum is one of my favourite activities. The letters that people write in really say a lot about being Singaporean.

Like this one:

Shocked over gift-wrap encounter at toy shop

MY WIFE and I bought a 14-inch Beancurd Asst Colour (a huggable soft toy equivalent) for $19.95 from Action City Store in Marina Square on Dec 14.

After I paid for the item and walked out of the store, we saw a signage that promoted free gift wrapping for items that cost $20 and above. My wife signalled to me to see if they could gift wrap this item on our behalf. What I encountered next left me speechless.

I walked up to the woman and asked if she could wrap the item that I had just bought from the store. Her first comment was: 'Your item so big'.

She called out to her colleague in the store. A man came out, looked at my item and told me that my item cost $19.95, five cents short to qualify for free gift wrap.

I pointed to him that the difference was small and hoped that he could make this generous exception to have my item gift wrapped. He repeated his point about the shortfall.

I offered to give him the five cents shortfall so that my item would 'qualify' for the free gift wrap. He (obviously and understandably) declined and again referred to the notice posted.

I then appealed to his goodwill to overlook this five-cent difference to establish good public relations with his customers and making them happy. The 'stinger' came when he rebuffed me and reiterated that it was 'company policy' and walked off leaving me standing there.

This was about 7.30pm when the crowds were heavy and there was much human traffic. About three people who saw what transpired were also shocked by the behaviour of the staff.

A nice elderly Caucasian woman came up to me to ask if I was all right. She comforted me by suggesting that these workers were probably 'temps' and that they were young. She said that in the UK, people were more flexible and gracious with their customers as they based their service on building relationships and loyalty and not just dollars and cents.

As I reflect, I realised that this male worker was not skilled to deal with situations 'out of the box'. He just kept repeating the same thing over and over again without engaging me in the appeal that I made.

As Singapore progresses towards promoting tourism and graciousness, I wonder if more can be done to assist our sales personnel to raise their level of professionalism.

Ng Bock Hon

Okay. While I agree that in general service staff here are not very flexible, I think to a large extent it's not their fault, because many of them are just employees and don't have any authority to extend favours or discounts. But the disgraceful behaviour that really stands out about this letter - to me at least - is that of the writer's! I mean, he clearly didn't qualify for the $20 minimum for FREE gift-wrapping and he still has the nerve to ask for it and bitch about not getting it?? Seriously! This is the worst kind of Singaporean - who assumes that he has "rights" as a consumer and insists on exercising them. Disgusting.

As if that wasn't enough, another disgusting consumer left the following comment on his letter:

bluefairy

i am not surprised by the lack of flexibility in most of the people here. i went to a well known ice cream shop in clementi and bought a tub of hand made ice cream. the boss herself scooped the ice cream onto the weighing machine and it was slightly over 700 g that i was buying, about 20g more, and know what she scooped some of back and make sure she give me the exact amount. the staff just follow her example.

As another astute commenter noted, this customer would definitely have kicked up a big fuss if she had gotten 20g LESS ice cream. What right does she have to make a snide comment about not getting MORE ice cream than she paid for?? I cannot believe these people. It was bad enough when people complained about getting a bad deal, or having to pay more than something was worth - now they're complaining about NOT getting things they DIDN'T EVEN PAY FOR??

I hope they all have the miserable Christmases that befit such misers.

P.S. This post is called getting into the spirit because, in the spirit of the season, I have been kind enough not to get into the deplorable language standards displayed in the above letters.

home alone (almost)

2007-12-19T00:29:00.000+08:00

My parents are in Melbourne for the week and I have been charged with the care and feeding of the entities known as my younger siblings, even though there are very few actual resemblances. My sister, for instance, likes to travel to third-world countries to do charity work. My brother reads Neal Stephenson.

And they're both staunch Catholics. But that's another matter.

Anyway in this week I have been abjectly humbled by the amount of work my parents must have had to do to raise the three of us. Since they left I've had to ferry my siblings around to various activities, do the grocery shopping, cook meals, and take them out to dinner and a movie. Today I got up at 6.45am to play driving instructor while my sister nervously drove to school. (It's quite cute, she sticks out her arms straight and stays in the left lane. More evidence of the vast gulf between us.) Then I went Christmas shopping, which took the whole day. I'm exhausted. And my parents have only been gone three days.

So it's true what they say - you don't really appreciate your parents until they're not around. I'm just glad I learned this lesson before it's too late.

On the subject of being humbled, I'm starting to draw up my resolutions for next year. (My persistence in this futile exercise every year is proof that optimistic irrationality is alive and well.) Tally of last year's resolutions: work less, check, thanks to subbing stint. Drink less, big check, thanks to removal of certain bad influences. Which also led to - Stop smoking, biggest check of all!

So at the top of my list for next year, I think, is: be a humbler person. This year I've already gotten everything I want; I should be simply grateful for that. Now it's time to sit back, enjoy life - and think about what my resolutions should be for 2009.

getting into the spirit

2007-12-11T22:06:00.000+08:00

Rewatching Love Actually, my favourite Christmas movie (actually possibly the only one I've ever liked).

I may not always love you
But long as there are stars above you
You never need to doubt it
I'll make you so sure about it

God only knows what I'd be without you

If you should ever leave me
Though life would still go on believe me
The world could show nothing to me
So what good would living do me

God only knows what I'd be without you

- God only knows, Beach Boys

my latest cause

2007-12-07T21:09:00.000+08:00

On Facebook (how many of my entries have been inspired by Facebook??) there is this application called Causes. I hate applications, so I haven't added it. But basically you add the application and then a little box appears on your profile to say what causes you stand for.

It's surprising what some people claim to stand for, given that they've never shown any evidence in real life of backing those causes. But, as a column in today's papers says, it's easy these days to say you support something - just click a button and soon everyone will know about it. Offline, some people talk nonstop about their so-called allegiances, as though volume and volubility alone were qualifications. Self-professed environmentalists who drive cars, animal rights supporters who eat burgers, gay rights supporters who say "that is so gay" and not about the latest Prada shoes - these people are all hypocrites.

The worst part is, not only do they boast incessantly of their heightened awareness of the state of the world, but they also insist on making other people feel bad about not supporting their causes like they have done; which, in substance, consists simply of joining the relevant Facebook group.

So for all those people who believe that clicking a button - or wearing a badge, or buying a bumper sticker, or just talking loudly over other people - gives you the right to sanctimoniousness, wake up and smell the dung that your stupid free range cow has just dumped all over the nice environmentally-unfriendly machinery. In other words, if you want to associate yourself firmly with a cause, make sure you're prepared to back your convictions with suitable actions.

If not I will join the anti-hypocrites group on Facebook and talk very loudly about how I hate hypocrites who talk loudly.

BFFs

2007-12-03T19:38:00.000+08:00

This NYT article I read on Sunday manages to put into words - albeit very extreme ones - everything I've always struggled to say about female friendships.

Over the years, I have come to reluctantly accept that I have more male friends than female ones. My reason for this is so innate it's difficult to explain, but it's simply this: guys are easier to get along with than girls.

Some people like to dismiss that, in an irritating fashion, as sexual tension. "Of course it's easier to get along with the opposite sex, you just flirt lah!"

But that's not really it. For one thing, most of my male friends are gay. It's just that guys are generally more laid-back and less catty. Or at least less genuinely claws-bared, daggers-out, no-holds-barred catty. They're less obsessive, less insecure, less competitive. With girls it's always about exclusion - backhanded compliments, meaningful glances, sly smirks. I hate that. Guys don't do that. They just don't have that many levels in their brains. That's why they can be more chill.

The number of good female friends I have, I can count on my fingers (maybe toes, on a good day). They are without exception people I respect with sincerity. I don't really need to respect my male friends, though. Not that I don't, just that I've never had to think about it.

I'm not sure I believe girls who say they have a whole group of extremely loyal and purely female friends. I've never met any group that had absolutely no backstabbing or resentment or one-upping. Mixed groups are better, some of the tension is taken out by the presence of disparate guys.

So the barriers to entry may be higher for girls to make other female friends, but I think the ones who do pass muster at the end are much more worth it.

life is so damn good

2007-11-30T15:38:00.000+08:00

I HAVE JAY CHOU CONCERT TICKETS SECOND ROW!!!!!!!!!

the hard questions

2007-11-28T00:34:00.000+08:00

It's one of those days where there's been plenty to do and plenty to see and you've done everything and seen everything and yet you come away from it feeling empty at the end.

It's not work, it's not the company, it's not even PMS. It just comes from having nothing to look forward to. Tuesday, so no WoW. Finished watching all my House and (for desperate situations only) Grey's Anatomy. Really don't feel like studying Japanese for test this Friday. No books. No comics. Not hungry, so that's not the reason. Not really sleepy either. Feeling a bit fat, but nothing a good pair of black pants can't hide. Just rebonded my hair, so it's not the frizziness. Not fighting with anyone at the moment. Not really irritated also, except at the usual suspects.

It's a restlessness, maybe. A sense of lack of accomplishment. Lack of distractions. Means I have to face the hard questions, like, what is the damn meaning of life anyway? I hate hard questions.

It's a good night for a drink. But not wine (too hoity) or beer (too earthy) or vodka (too crass). A melon Midori, with sprite. Like at Terry's house that one night where we watched a camp Taiwanese movie and played with his dogs and just said things without really talking. I feel a bit like that. Or at Yen's spartan shophouse with chwee kueh and bottled beer, sitting on the floor because there was no furniture. Something that fits the slightly angsty, self-conscious poseurish sort of mood.

It's a feeling that drifts by once in a while, that makes you appreciate the rest of your life that's driven and goal-oriented and absorbing and delicious. But it's good to savour, also, this slightly sad listnessless.

It's almost gone now. I can feel it lifting, amid my random conversations with random friends about pink calculators and failed social experiments. I laughed out loud, once, and that broke it.

Oh well. Think it's time to sleep.

WoW hearthstone soap

2007-11-21T23:10:00.000+08:00

HOW CUTE LAH!!!

stressed

2007-11-16T01:17:00.000+08:00

What do you buy someone who already has everything?

so tired

2007-11-14T01:17:00.000+08:00

Left the office at 1am. Haven't worked so late for a really long time. But as I was walking out of the building, I started thinking: am I really working hard? Sure, I'm working long hours, and the work is tiring and tedious and draining and requires some measure of initiative and creativity. But is it hard work? Are people elsewhere working harder? Am I, as people have always called my kind, in fact a slacker who will fold at the earliest hint of real work?

Since there appears to be no answer in sight to that question, I shall talk about jumping the shark. If you don't know what it is, please look it up, because it is a very important concept. Also, if you're afraid of spoilers to popular TV shows, don't read anymore.

I think House has jumped the shark. End of season 3, when the whole team left. Season 4 was amusing for about five minutes but the interns are all wimps and I hate them. Except Thirteen, because we're meant to be manipulated into liking her. Which makes me hate myself.

Grey's Anatomy, in my opinion, jumped the shark at the end of season 2. Season 3 was blah. Meredith really gets on my nerves. She's like, I love Derek/I hate Derek, I'm clingy and dependent and emo/I'm independent and self-sufficient and blase, I'm a damaged mummy's girl/I'm a horny slut. Me, I'm just irritated. And what is up with George?? Why does EVERYONE love him?? He's so lumpy and wet! Completely unconvincing.

Friends jumped the shark when Chandler got fat. Will & Grace jumped the shark when Grace and Leo got divorced. The 70s show jumped the shark when Eric and Donna broke up. Desperate Housewives jumped the shark pretty much after Season 1. Sex and the City kind of jumped the shark when the Russian ballet dancer came into the picture, although it saved itself by committing suicide soon after that. Entourage jumped the shark when it became more about Medellin than about Ari Gold.

The only series I've followed that never jumped the shark was Arrested Development. That was probably because it only ran for three seasons, but also because it was just really that damn good.

Man, I've spent so much time watching TV shows. I should have been playing frisbee instead.

Photo credit: Dom

how to be nice

2007-11-12T00:43:00.000+08:00

"I've been doing a fair bit of reading of late of vaguely philosophical, spiritual stuff from a range of writers. And the underlying thread that jumps out at me is the fact that, well, nothing really matters.

...

Amazingly, this realisation does not make me want to crawl up my own arse or into a cave or whatever and stop living life as I know it. Because the world will continue to go on around us and I hear caves are smelly. What does seem clearer is that there is little or no need to fret, stress, worry, anguish or feel angsty in any way as we go about our daily business because NOTHING really matters.

We should do things that make us and the other lifeforms around us that we care about happy. A kind word, nice gesture, hard work, smile, whatever makes it better... because it makes us feel better and happier as we wind our way through this current existence. And if we can help more people understand this, maybe there will be nicer vibes and less shit in the world as a whole. Which would make me happier. So that's what this post is about."

I always make snarky comments about N (now more out of habit than anything else, don't take it personally). But the truth is, some of his epiphanies have sparked off my own. In fact, I read this on Friday and I thought, har, must be quarter-life crisis. But the words kept sidling up to my brain throughout the weekend, and now they've taken it out for drinks and brought it home to their apartment.

This is the epiphany I would like to have; the way I would like to lead my life. I want to feel that conviction that nothing really matters, and let that spur me on to be a nicer person. But it's a struggle, because, well, I'm really not that nice a person, whereas I think under the whole queen-bitchiness N actually is.

To be perfectly honest, I've always been a little afraid of being nice because I'm terrified it will make me a boring person. If you don't see the flip side of things and you don't bitch about human nature, that's a good 70% of interesting conversation eviscerated. But this is a stupid reason not to be nice to people, and - more importantly - nice about people.

So this shall be my new undertaking. I will stop myself from saying spiteful things. I can't help the thoughts, for now, but I'm banking on the fact that lack of expression will frustrate them and they will find another outlet (hopefully not pimples). I think you can be bitchy without being spiteful, and I will try to find the fine line that separates the two.

Basically, I'm trying to be a better person, something I've never really felt I had to do. But then again I've never thought of myself as a bitter person until now. I have to stop it eating away at everything - before it's all gone and there's no point even trying anymore.

i will think on this some day, not now

2007-10-23T23:19:00.000+08:00

MY AUNT HAS ADDED ME ON FACEBOOK. This is the end. I think everyone above the age of 40 should be banned from facebook. Or maybe just that people should not add as friends relatives who are from the generation after theirs.

A post-GEP survey came in the mail today. They want to track us. There is a box for you to list your awards from national and international competitions; another box for the books and scholarly articles you have published; and another for patents you have obtained. Clearly I am a failure in the system.

This may be due to the fact that I have played 479 games of Bogglific in, I think, the last month or so. This has taken up 1,437 minutes of my life, or 23.95 hours. No wonder I haven't accomplished anything.

Maybe I also spend too much time criticising people. It's just so much easier to be dismissive than to be nice. Or maybe it's been too long since I've met new people I like, and I've forgotten what it feels like to like someone at first sight.

Do I know what I'm doing? I think so. Can I justify it? Not really. Does that make it wrong? Perhaps.

I don't want to think too much, but I'm always accused of being escapist. Now I often get confused - should I think less, or would that make me a coward?

Anonymous

2007-10-19T09:44:00.000+08:00

There's someone going around leaving vulgar, vindictive comments on my blog and S's. I've always had comments moderation to filter out spam, but it turns out now I need to delete mud too.

I was upset at first, before I realised what this means about the anonymous commenter. How bitter and lonely that person must be, to feel only jealousy and malcontent when reading about other people's happiness! I can barely imagine him or her hunched over a computer typing out the venomous comment, resentment churning in his gut, spite twisting her lips. And I feel an overwhelming sense of pity - over all the things that must have gone wrong and are still going wrong in this person's life, over how it must be so difficult for someone as hateful as this to find friends, and most of all over the fact that this person has to live with the malice and meanness deeply embedded in his or her life.

Try to be happy for yourself. Then maybe being happy for others will come naturally too.

stand up for yourselves, bitches

2007-10-18T13:17:00.001+08:00

My latest bugbear surfaced unexpectedly during conversation with XH last night over a hearty, if imperfect, meal at Au Petit Salut.

"Why is it that when girls are around their boyfriends, their IQs seem to drop by 50 points?" I demanded of her.

She couldn't answer because her mouth was stuffed with onion soup. Or, if she mumbled something, I don't remember it. (Happy birthday XH!!)

This IQ-drop is a phenomenon I have subconsciously observed over many years without ever really thinking about it. Now that I am (thinking about it), it strikes me that this may be why I've lost respect for a lot of my female friends over the years. Taken individually, they are all smart, witty, independent entities (I try not to make friends with dumb people). But once a boyfriend looms on the horizon, BANG, they are reduced to simpering, cutesy, whiny, clingy idiots. Instead of discussions and repartee they have babytalk and playful slapping. Instead of rejoinders and comebacks they resort to pouts and puppy-dog eyes. I have one or two friends that are spared this disease. All the others, however, have succumbed.

What are the possible reasons for this strange behaviour?

I thought, at first, it could be a Singaporean guy thing. Maybe Singaporean guys are insecure and egotistical and need their girlfriends to pander to their macho pretensions. I think this is the root problem for a lot of my friends. But even those with angmoh boyfriends suffer the same problem, so it can't just be a Singaporean guy thing.

Then, I thought, maybe it's a Singaporean girl thing. Maybe, for all their professed confidence and self-reliance, Singaporean girls are afraid of being alone and left to their own devices. So they put on a brave front around other people, but with their boyfriends they assume their true clingy forms. Or maybe it's the other way around - maybe they really have pluck and backbone, but have to put on a front around their boyfriends. I'm not sure which option is sadder.

Of course, it could just be that human males are a parasitic species that leeches off the brainwaves of human females. Or so I comfort myself by thinking.

things that bug me

2007-10-11T14:55:00.000+08:00

I'm trying to compile a comprehensive list. Not in order of annoyingness.

1. Girls who giggle at everything they say
E.g. "How about this? Heeheehee. Or maybe it's this? Heeheeheehee. Heeheehee? Heehee."

2. People who pronounce 'about it' like 'abourrit'.
E.g. "We can't do anything abourrit. Maybe we should just not think abourrit. My favourite Mexican food is abourrit. O."

3. Anyone above the age of 18 wielding a pencil with a pom-pom on the end

4. Visible pantylines
My prescription is this

5. Visible panties
From the back OR front. Sexy thongs are no exception. Unless you're dressing for a stripshow later.

6. Visible buttcracks
Only Brian Kinney can get away with this.

7. People who refer to themselves in the third person
Girls, especially, if only because I've only ever encountered girls doing this. I suspect they think it's cute. I think it's attention-seeking at a level so low it's moronic. Every time I see a blog on which the author refers to herself in the third person and then puts up a (usually ugly, because that's the type of girl that does this) photo, I have to physically restrain myself from leaving a comment to the effect of "You are so ugly and stupid that putting up photos of yourself should be considered a public hazard". So far I have desisted.

8. "Food blogs"
In quotation marks, because the concept has become so diluted that everyone and their 70-year-old aunty has "food blogs" these days. I have no respect for "food blogs" which are really just photos of restaurant food cooked by other people and one or two lines gushing about the "texture" or the "display". This is brainless blogging. They are personal blogs. They do not deserve a separate category.

Of course I realise this sentiment may not be shared by many. But to me, if you are just going to order a normal portion of food and take pictures of it, that's not a review and not worth a blog. If, of course, you place more orders than necessary for a dinner just so you can give some semblance of a overall restaurant review, that's a different matter.

The other type of food blogs I would grant the moniker are those where people cook their own food and put up pictures of the process and the result. That is real food blogging. I love good cooking blogs.

conversations with my civil servant friend

2007-10-06T00:29:00.000+08:00

Civil Servant Friend (CSF): Look at my wombat!

Later at my house...

CSF: Oh you have a wombat too! Your wombat has down's syndrome!

Me: Do you have rollerblades?
CSF: No.
Me: But you have an SLR right?
CSF: ...

Civil servants are dumb. And mean to wombats.

a huge thank you

2007-10-05T18:16:00.000+08:00

to everyone for their kind words and kind chocolates and kind flowers and kind wine!

You can't see them, but I also have a huge chocolate hamper and a whole box of Canele sweets and chocs.

It's funny - people always say you know who your friends are when bad things happen, but I think you also realise who's most important to you when good things happen and you immediately want to share it with those specific people.

Anyway all I want to say is that I am immensely fortunate and very happy. :)

i need to take life easy

2007-10-04T00:03:00.001+08:00

Okay this is getting ridiculous. Someone has added me on Facebook whom I just met for the first time two days ago through work. As in, someone who's not even a colleague, just a hi-bye-can you help me with this information-type person. I'm like, come on!

And today I was covering a court thing when one of the lawyers came up to me and said, hey, I hear you're so-and-so's friend. So-and-so is my colleague! I went to look you up on Facebook yesterday and saw your profile photo with sunglasses at the beach!

That is wrong in so many ways. Firstly, who does that??? Secondly, I changed that particular profile photo about a month ago. Which means this person looked me up a month ago and for some reason wanted to seem like it was just yesterday because it was ONLY ON MONDAY that we were ever in the same circumstance (i.e. in court) for the first time. How did this person even know to look me up a month ago? A month ago I had no idea of this person's existence!

This is way beyond creepy.

Anyway I haven't been blogging for ages because over the last two weeks or so I have been obsessed with finding evening dresses and earrings and shoes and stuff like that. When I say obsessed, I mean like every lunchtime is spent shopping and every night I worry about how what will go with what and what exactly I'm looking for and what am I trying to prove anyway with these new dresses. They're actually for specific events, btw, it's not like I'm buying dresses to make my wardrobe look prettier. This has seriously stressed me out. I have eyebags.

But today I finally found the perfect dress for tomorrow night and it's CK. It makes my hips look big though. This is the conversation I had with I., who actually picked out the dress for me:

Me, examining myself in the mirror: Makes my hips look fat leh.
I.: No lah! It's perfect! Buy it!
Me, happily: Okay!

Later, walking to the carpark:

I.: Actually, I know what you mean about the dress making you look fat
Me: NOW THEN YOU TELL ME!!

Anyway it's done. And, thank goodness, S. is coming with me for the dinner tomorrow so I'll have someone to talk to and won't obsess about how my hips look fat.

i need meaning in my life

2007-09-25T17:57:00.000+08:00

and so I have to pursue something that will give me direction, if only for a brief while, and even if it will require hard work and grumbling. Possibly the whole point is to do hard work and grumble.

My options are as follows:

1. Take CFA

This is both what I am most inclined to do and least willing to undertake. It will mean A LOT of work, much of which I suspect will be dry and boring. And there's really no point taking it if I don't plan to do all three levels and then get an analyst or asset management job. I have no idea whether I want to be an analyst or asset manager, given that I know nothing about either, save for some vague appealing notions of frequent travel and lots of numbers. What I'm really worried about is if I sign up for the exam, have no time to study, and then fail. That would be dead embarrassing.

2. Level Flowerface to 70

Yes, I have once again descended into the decadent depths of World of Warcraft. I haven't logged on to Zynfandel for months, but I now have a level 21 blood elf mage by the name of Flowerface. Levelling a mage is SO MUCH easier than a warrior. But squishier, so I die a lot. Fortunately I have a pally pal by the name of Puckface. But it is very sad to have no mount, and small bags, and to make gold from scratch all over again. Which is why I don't know if poor Flowerface will hit 70.

3. I'm out. Any suggestions?

today i was bitchy

2007-09-21T17:40:00.001+08:00

DAMN it felt good.

Sample bitching, in which N. is trying to out-bitch me:

I: wah i just concentrate on the call for 1 min and there's so much bitching!

N: hahahahahaha

N: u snooze u lose

I: orh u see zyn has tuned out already

I: u so bitch

N: when she bitched out she run away lor...loser

Me: are you saying you outbitched me?

Me: i.e. you are a bigger bitch?

N: well u DID run away...

Me: because if so i agree

N: i am a winninger bitch...u are loser bitch...

I: this is hilarious

Me: right.

Me: fortunately i am a grammatical bitch

N: oooooohhhhhhh

N: bitch-onna-high-horsey

I: HAHA

N: double points for that one !!

heartland adventure, hopefully part one

2007-09-16T11:42:00.000+08:00

Anywhere in Singapore that looks like it's not in Singapore makes me happy.

'shutthefuckup', or how to enjoy a movie in peace

2007-09-13T23:49:00.000+08:00

Say you are watching a movie in the cinema. A good movie. Not a noisy action flick, but a quiet, funny movie with good dialogue. The couple in the seats next to you are talking. Audibly. Consistently. Throughout the entire fucking movie. Saying inane, state-the-obvious things. Also, they are fat and ugly.

What would you do?

1. Seethe quietly but keep it to yourself
2. Say "shhhh!" softly
3. Say "excuse me, could you keep it down, please?"
4. Say sarcastically: "sorry, can you speak louder? I can't hear everything you're saying"
5. Say "SHUTTHEFUCKUP YOU MORONS IF YOU WANT TO TALK IN A MOVIE RENT THE FUCKING DVD"
6. Accidentally-on-purpose spill coke on them
7. Punch them
8. Call police

I tend to go with (3), in a polite, reprimanding, slightly uptight tone. Of course I am not above descending into (4), (5), and even possibly (6). Except I suspect Singaporeans will not understand sarcasm.

Once you confront them, they will probably mutter behind your back and whisper rude things and snigger. I'm okay with that. As long as they stop talking loudly.

The other day I went for karaoke with XH and TK. There was a group at the reception counter so we stood behind them. Just as the group moved off, these two China girls scooted in to take their place in front of us and started talking to the receptionist. I would probably have left them alone, but XH said "excuse me" in an increasingly loud voice to them and they just ignored (or maybe didn't understand) us, and that irritated me. So I elbowed my way in front of them and told the receptionist loudly that we had a reservation. The China girl seemed completely oblivious that they had jumped our queue, and equally oblivious that I was now talking. She just continued to talk. I was like, wtf??

Ok so maybe queues are not customary in China. But why do Singaporeans have such bad manners? Are they all badly brought up? Selfish? Oblivious? Deaf? I mean, wtf??

Driving home from the movie just now, we were caught in a jam on the CTE. The jam was because of an accident on the road shoulder. But the accident on the road shoulder wasn't actually obstructing any lanes - the holdup was caused by people slowing down in the left lane to gawk. COME ON. WTF???!!!

happy day

2007-09-07T20:40:00.001+08:00

It has been pointed out to me that my blog posts are very sian. Ok, I admit over the last two weeks I have been very sian, because I was down with this irritating throat infection that refused to go away. And I had to endure all these very lowbrow lesbian jokes (don't ask). But today I am almost recovered, and I have had red wine and Lana cake and KFC and Pepsi, so my mood is infinitely improved.

It also helped that I had interesting conversations - with XH, who bought me lunch, with J., who bought me camomile and honey tea, and with R. and I., who felt compelled to stop in the middle of a discussion and say in parentheses: "Ok, I must just point out that this is an intellectual conversation, hor".

Which it was. Today I learned that there are many types of bitching, and some are superior to others. For instance, you should not come out and say things like, "OMG XX is getting married to YY I can't believe it they are both so ugleee!" You can, however, write a blog entry that says, "Why do people get married in such youth and haste? Perhaps they are happy to have finally found a partner with similar characteristics and tastes." This is, I was advised today, known as Stealth Bitching. Stealth Bitching is an elevated form of bitching. It requires sarcasm, wit and tact. It is bitching that is admirable.

Then there is the Bitch Enabler - he who does not himself bitch, but who sits by and giggles at other people's bitchiness. He who encourages the production and proliferation of bitchiness. He who is usually fat (ok not always true).

Today I also found a new Why Are People Religious theory. My long-standing belief was that religiosity and intelligence were correlated, negatively - but this fell to bits once I became acquainted with intelligent religious people. My new theory (shamelessly stolen from XH) is that religiosity is correlated with happiness. People are more likely to become religious because they are unhappy. And then after they become religious, they are even less likely to be satisfied, because everything that pagans do for pleasure is denied them (this is I. building on the theory). So: unhappy people become religious become more unhappy.

*write down new theory on resume to hell*

And now for karaoke!

I'm really pushing this sore throat recovery thing to the limit.

what's worse than stupid people?

2007-08-31T13:19:00.000+08:00

In my line of work, you have to deal with all sorts of ridiculous complaints from people about what you write. This isn't even about errors, mind you; it's about turns of phrase, or unflattering headlines, or quotes that people didn't think twice about until it appeared in print.

So yes, I've had my fair share of ridiculous complaints. But this one takes the cake.

sickness + boredom =

2007-08-30T23:19:00.000+08:00

R: Don't you guys ever talk about anything besides fat guys and tall guys?

I: Look at that fat guy, so cute!

Me: I really like tall guys. Don't you like tall guys too?

N: We can talk about cute chicks if you want.

My workplace conversations have descended into a banality so deep and comforting I fear I will never escape. I'm not sure when and how it happened, but all those old philosophical discussions and ancient office gossip and in-depth WoW strategising have somehow disappeared. Perhaps it's familiarity; perhaps it's jadedness. All I know is with time and age, the inclination to explore and debate gets weaker, and the tendency to converse and banter never seems to go away anymore.

We start shying away from the hard questions, having discovered a fear of not having an answer. Thought experiments take their toll on our wearier minds; intellectual curiosity slowly dies by the hand of the sleek, fat cats our bodies have become. But still the meaning of life eludes and perturbs us. Some turn to God, others to money, still others to decadence and distractions. And we forget.

But on quiet nights, when loneliness turns thoughts to sound, you can hear the sense of uneasy loss whispering like a conscience, and you pause - maybe if you'd thought harder - searched longer - probed deeper -

And then House s3e24 finishes downloading! And life begins again.

lovelove

2007-08-26T13:46:00.000+08:00

I remember, with surprising clarity, a conversation some time ago about lovelove with pretty much the last person I would have imagined to coin the phrase. He was talking about a girl. I said, why her? And he replied: because it works better with her than with anyone else.

As you get older, love becomes more complicated. More people get involved, everyone has scars, and undiluted happiness becomes as much a myth as unconditional love.

But if there's one thing I've learned, it's this: you can't love to order. It comes, as my wise friend (another word I would not ordinarily associate with him) said, when you're with someone with whom it works better than anyone else. If you could decide whom to love and why, how much easier and poorer the world would be for it.

And once you resign yourself to the fact that you love the people you love and you can't change that any more than you can change the shape of your nose, then, I think, you grow up. If you can stop loving someone just by willing yourself to do so, you probably never really loved that person in the first place. Not being able to stop even when you want to, I've learned, isn't a character flaw.

So here's to lovelove - to those who have it, those who don't, and those who found it but had to let it go.

blahblahblah

2007-08-23T21:56:00.000+08:00

B. and I. are totally kicking my ass at Scrabulous with these ridiculous bingos. Undaunted, I have started another four games.

Also, I've finally handed in two assignments, one very long overdue, that have been hanging over my head in the last few weeks and making me irritable. For the first time since - I think - January (that's how long overdue), I have a clear work conscience.

Today I had an epiphany. I now know why I am doing the things I am doing and thinking the thoughts I am thinking. Shockingly, this epiphany has not made me any more likely to do or think differently. It has, however, allowed me to rationalise any possible mistakes and attribute them to fear and self-loathing.

If I'm not making any sense, it's probably because I'm on late shift this week and sleeping at 4am every day after chain-watching Arrested Development, Entourage and House. I have very confused dreams about Ari Gold getting his hand bitten off by a seal and popping pills from his secret stash.

Who's up for drinks? I'm bored.

the problem with work

2007-08-19T18:16:00.001+08:00

is not that it's become less interesting. On the contrary.

The problem is that there's no longer anyone to smoke with. I started counting last night, and six of my seven previous smoking kakis have quit. The company, not smoking.

And when you can't walk around and have smoke breaks and talk about rubbish and think about something else completely irrelevant just for a short while - then work just becomes work just becomes work. Which then becomes a drag. And not the good kind.

I fear that going clean will make me a boring person. But I suppose it's time to grow up.

I don't understand jealousy. It's such an irrational emotion. All the books that teach you how to deal with jealousy seem to correlate it with self-esteem. To the extent that that theory holds, it's understandable; but sometimes it doesn't, and I'm at a loss to explain it myself.

rush hour 3

2007-08-16T10:19:00.000+08:00

was disappointing. Not in the way I expected - that is, that all the good parts were already in the trailer - but in how Brett Ratner appeared to be so confident in his stars' ability to sell any movie that he didn't even bother with a believable plot or any lines from the other characters that weren't punchingly, painfully bad. That will teach me to watch a movie that only got 20% on Rottentomatoes.

That's not to say the show wasn't enjoyable. You just have to lower your IQ by, say, 70 points and ignore all the glaring loopholes. The company helps, too. :)

With any luck I'll be able to catch Bourne Ultimatum tonight. 93% on Rottentomatoes! That should be good.

Aiyah so many movies to watch. Haven't even seen the Jay Chou one yet. Then there's Paprika, Brave Story, Ratatouille!, Stardust, Hairspray, Superbad, etc. Ahhh so little time.

quick update

2007-08-13T00:54:00.000+08:00

Haven't really been in the mood to blog much, so as usual this is a placeholder list entry.

Am back from Sydney with: a bottle of Semillon, two boxes of Krispy Kremes, and a cold.

What I am back without: a jar of olives for Joyce, a tub of cheese for my mum, and my moisturiser. These were all deemed dangerous liquids and confiscated at the airport. No doubt if I google long enough I can find a way to make a b*** from them.

This is what I decided in Sydney: I will stop playing World of Warcraft for now, at least until the Lich King expansion. I will take up inline skating and horse riding. I will try to do something charitable. And, most of all, I will be nicer to my mother.

The highlight of my trip: Bondi Beach in the winter.

nonsense conversations make the world go round

2007-07-29T23:23:00.000+08:00

Over dinner today (at Bangkok Jam, possibly the worst Thai restaurant in the history of the world):

My brother: By the way, we bought applesauce.

Me: Why? What does one eat applesauce with?

My brother: Lots of things. But don't ask Mum, cos she'll just say yogurt.

Me: (to my mum, who is completely oblivious) Mum, what do you eat applesauce with?

My mum: Yogurt! (*sniggering from me and my brother*) Martha Stewart always keeps yogurt and applesauce in her fridge in case she has unexpected overnight guests, then she can serve them that with muesli for breakfast.

Me: Yeah, well, she was in jail and all, I don't know if we want to trust her judgment.

My brother: Yeah, after jail, anything looks like good breakfast food.
...Anyway, I'm sure she got some home decorating ideas from prison too.

Me: You mean, like black and white vertical stripes?

My brother: Hmm. What goes with grey?

Me: Orange!

i'z in moscow

2007-07-26T02:41:00.000+08:00

slumminz it at holiday innz

... where there is no terry cloth bathrobe, no emblazoned set of toiletries, no bottled mineral water, and - worst of all - no soundproofing.

I can hear every single word the Russians next door are saying. Now if only I spoke Russian, I could blackmail them.

Moscow is amazing. Glamourous, late-partying, high-rollin' - indeed, dead trendy, as my boss would say. I am very impressed.

Of course this means I will write the most critical article possible.

Russian vodka is deadly. I disclaim liability for anything I might have done in the last two hours.

man/woman? does it matter?

2007-07-20T18:34:00.001+08:00

This letter appeared in the ST Forum yesterday.

Please don't mistake her for a man

LAST weekend I was shouted at by a woman in the toilet at Parkway Parade. Then she went outside and told someone that there was a man inside. Later, it dawned on me that she thought I was a man dressed in female attire.

Having gone through menopause, I may look manly. Also, after my thyroid operation my voice became hoarse at times and I had to speak in a low tone.

I have been receiving disgusted stares and despising looks unless I go out with my daughter and granddaughter.

Clarifying that I am a woman each time makes me feel miserable and undignified. Is this fair?

Three things jumped out at me: One, the tenses, argh. Two, this is really the kind of story that needs a picture. Three - why on earth would someone write a letter to the national newspaper complaining that people think she's a tranny?

Sorry, there should be a Four: why the hell did we publish this??

(All was vindicated today when Shin Min and Wanbao did follow-up interviews with this (wo)man. I can't read Chinese, so unfortunately what transpired is still a mystery to me.)

But going back to the main point: what motivation could possibly be behind this letter? Is the writer trying to say that Singaporeans are incognizant of the differences between men and women? (But then she admits that she could resemble a man, at least superficially.) Is she pointing out her insecurities after menopause and her thyroid operation and hoping for feminine validation, maybe even a date? (Notice no men in her life.)

Or - and this is my preferred theory - is this all just a badly-masked plea for more tolerance of differences in the society? Could the writer be attempting to advocate acceptance of alternatives? (Whoa check out the assonance.) First comes kindness to trannys - what next? Gay marriage?

Okay I went to check out Wanbao and there's a photo of her, but only of her back. Still, she looks quite auntie. I don't see why anyone would think she's a guy.

Which brings me to the worst theory of all - is all this just a joke, to see if she could get ST Forum to publish her letter? If so, then we suck!

harry potter and the slight diversion

2007-07-18T19:55:00.001+08:00

Is anyone sick of the Harry Potter posts yet?

If so, here is the one thing (besides work) that has managed to take my mind off Book 7 in the last 12 hours: An eBay auction of a blended iPhone. There are 52 bids for the remains of the blended iPhone. The highest is US$1,126.

What is wrong with these people??

Although I must say watching an iPhone get blended is strangely fascinating.

* * * * * *

N: (peering over my shoulder as I blog) Don't write anything rude about me, please.

Me: Don't flatter yourself, please.

harry potter and the last chapter

2007-07-18T15:48:00.000+08:00

So the pages have apparently been leaked (whether they're real or not depends on who you believe), and I've just read what appears to be the epilogue of the book.

It's very convincing. If that's the real last chapter, I will be happy.

But the rest of the chapters - or, at least, page 1 to 495, which were leaked as .jpg scans of each separate page - have been taken down from all the bittorrent sites. Anyone has links?