superstardeejaylawyer

2006-02-13T22:50:00.000Z

ok y'all.

i know, i know. i'm so fickle and indecisive.

i like blogger, and i've been using it for ages and ages and ages. it's simple and all.

but.

as some will know, i've been updating at two or more sites simultaneously for a while now. and i've been pondering and ruminating for some time. much longer than when i decided to just put a full-stop to the last blog-incarnation at phunkstar.com. however, i don't think being a superstardeejaylawyer is my thing right now.

so, please change your links accordingly to this: http://dolcelatte.blogsome.com

and i'll see you there.

until i change my mind and move elsewhere. again.

// edit: weird link and url corrected. what was i thinking? //

inventive steps

2006-02-06T11:16:00.000Z

it's like everytime i sit down to write an essay i get waylaid by the hyacinths i'm growing in jam jars on my desk.

and everytime i start typing, i get distracted by the hundred thousand other things that are relevant to the topic i'm writing on in general, but absolutely useless to the essay question i'm writing on in particular.

but this is only because i've had 2 months mental preparation of an essay deadline that is today, and because i've spent the last 2 days doing mostly nothing but lying in bed with a hangover, a glass of water and several nurofen.

and then i blog somemore, and halfway through writing this i realise that my essay question is so philosophical it can be about everything and nothing at all.

le reunion

2006-01-26T20:33:00.000Z

When I did A-level history, we had a class or two about the French reunion policy, about the reestablishment of the vassal states’ French-ness so as to buttress the French state’s glory.

But I can’t remember the rest of it, and it wouldn’t make a very good story either. All rise and fall, ascendance and gradual decline and stagnation type of thing. Typical historical example.

So anyway, it’s Chinese New Year weekend.

And I’m planning on my own not-so-little reunion dinner feast with friends on Saturday. No steamboat because some of the people coming are vegetarians (damn them!), so it’s going to be a dinner of at least 5 different dishes as I attempt to do my best Chinese-style cooking.

So far, I’ve already bought 4 packs of dumpling and wanton skins, water chestnuts, bamboo shoots, dried mushrooms, towgay, straw mushrooms, chye sim, plum sauce, and wood ear. And I’m not done yet! I still have to buy mince pork, chicken, more vegetables and truckloads of tofu.

I’ve been thinking about how I’m going to coordinate all this cooking and all this shopping, and I’m seriously completely amazed at how my grandmother has been doing it for the past few decades. I mean, for our reunion dinner she cooks for about 25 or so people, and on chor yat itself she prepares enough food for about 50. That is some amazing logistics, I tell ya.

But I’m excited, even though I can foresee a whole day in the kitchen chopping, slicing, stirring, boiling, dicing, mincing, mixing, frying.

I just hope everyone turns up on time and that there’s enough food to go round.

this revolution will not be televised

2006-01-23T21:08:00.000Z

FOR a small island state eager to take its place among the most successful nations in the free world of practising democracies, one would have expected to see a steady increase in political freedom, an ascending line from its virtual non-existence in the rough early years of brute survival, to the emergence of incomplete but distinct forms in a still evolving ethos, to an end point of full functioning in a mature society.

But there has been no such clear path. Instead, we see only a thin ragged line, rather like a small weakly meandering stream that sometimes disappears into the ground.

This sputtering along of the political process is in sharp contrast to the smooth steep trajectories of other areas of development, notably in the economic area, where growth can only be described in breathless superlatives; and even in those areas where the Government has been traditionally conservative, for instance, education and the arts.
Hence while the winds of change are sweeping everywhere, while the clarion call to be creative, to think outside the box, is heard everywhere, the political domain remains a backwater, with every sign of drying up altogether.

- Catherine Lim, Managing Political Dissent, Straits Times 20th January 2006

Apart from being an author, Catherine Lim has also been one of the most outspoken critics of the present government in Singapore to be published in the national press. And for that, I salute her. It’s not often you read such eloquent articles, and especially not when one is talking about the government.

However, although her article speaks of Singaporeans being too comfortable and too fearful as reasons for their continued silence, I would suggest that those are not all the reasons.

Having been thinking for a while about the Singaporean society’s collective morality, I came to certain conclusions as to why it languishes in the era of 1950s post-war colonialism. These conclusions seem also to apply to the lack of a viable channel for dissenting voices to be heard.

The first is that although Singapore is a democracy, it is a socialist democratic state. This is far from the democratic ideal in the minds of most people, who are actually really thinking about liberal democracy. So, rather than a hands-off approach, allowing persons rights to develop their own freedoms through social and political means, the socialist democratic state is ‘’[willing] to restrict the political and legal rights of the individual in favour of a perceived social good’.

Secondly, the ‘early years of brute survival’ mentioned by Catherine Lim is, I imagine, referring to the years following Singapore’s independence from British rule. These early years of strict political control and absolute intolerance of dissent coincided with several extremely important socio-political developments in the already-developed states of that time: the hippie movement, and the feminist movement.

These movements were large scale demonstrations by large numbers of people, supported by intellectuals and politicians. They were also extremely powerful in their promotion of rights and freedoms and individualistic thinking. Apart from some tangential references like the Beatles and other musical groups, the movements and their accompanying ethos completely passed the Singaporean society by.

Lastly, the Cold War that persisted between the Western Democracies and the Communist Bloc helped to develop political freedom and liberal rights in the Western Democracies as a reaction toward the heavy-handed quashing of dissent in the Communist Bloc. By demonstrating their lack of fear of dissent, the Western Democracies attempted to one-up the Communist Bloc and in turn gain favour with the world at large.

Singapore, however, stayed largely aloof from the ideological issue, choosing to emphasise its capitalist free markets first, and its draconian laws against supposed commie anti-government interlopers second. This meant that the outside world saw in Singapore what they wanted to see - a friend of Western-style democracy – but neglected to look beyond that to discover the oppressive political environment which continues today, albeit in a slightly diluted form. As such, political freedom was sacrificed for economic progress, because anyone that was thought to even slightly disagree was liable to be branded a communist and sent to prison without trial.

These factors contributed to the lack of awareness amongst Singaporeans of alternative methods of governance, and even less support for them. They also created a society where one is not made aware of the rights one has, but is highly aware of the consequences of transgressing the governments’ rule. And it has also created a society whereby one can speak vehemently about being anti-government, but only whilst drinking Guinness Stout at the coffeeshop or whilst driving a taxicab.

Also, because the government has had such efficient and effective policies regarding the economy, a large proportion of Singaporeans, especially those that grew up in the post-colonial years, feel indebted to the government for their current success. And because economic comfort breeds passivity, there is no motivation for change, nor is there desire to actively pursue one’s rights or freedoms which one did not realize one was entitled to anyway.

Resultantly, not only has there never been a culture of speaking up in the modern state, many Singaporeans either feel grateful to the government, or have been brought up to be grateful by their parents, because anything else would be biting the hand that feeds you.

This lack of a public political forum is non-threatening to the Singaporean society, but only as long as the government in power has only the welfare of its citizens at heart, is uncorrupt, substantially and procedurally fair, a follower of the rule of law, and not given to abuse of power – in other words, perfect.

Anything less would require an active dissenting sector to be the voice of those who are lacking it, to create opportunities for feedback and dialogue, and to allow social and political progression.

No government is perfect, and it is only through dissent can a government look outside its own self-constructed box to view things from another perspective. Without dissent, there can be no improvements. Without dissent, there is no check or balance. Without dissent, there is no liberty.

get rich, or die trying

2006-01-23T11:45:00.000Z

i used to have a magazine cut-out of a korean-american boy, looking all-american in chinos, t-shirt and cap, being quoted as saying

'i am afraid of not being successful'.

and i agreed with Mr Cut-Out Korean then, and i agree with him still now.

it's not failure that's a problem. failure is good, failure is spectacular and hyperbole. failure is the bang, not the whimper. you can bounce back from failure. failure is the extreme which there is no other choice but up.

mediocrity, on the other hand, is that indescribable chill that runs down the back of my spine. it is boring. it is stagnant. it is arachnophobia where the tarantulas are merely furry animification of my darkest nightmare - of being merely mediocre. it's a black hole that absorbs everything around it, a vortex of empty invisibility.

where else can one go when one is mediocre? it's 'good enough'. it's not failure in any sense, but it sure ain't success either. and yet, it is the no man's land of achievement, and this land is vast and plain. one may travel their whole life in this land of mediocrity and never reach the ends of this sierra of plainness. and although one may have many companions in this journey, one is always alone in their individually personalised mediocrity.

and so it is, with this fear in me, that i scale doggedly up the mountain that is a career, with a bright red flag in hand ready to stake my claim and base camps at convenient intervals to restore regroup and reinvigorate.

because, at the end of the day, i'd like to be able to swan in and out of my job without fear of my financial bearings. i'd like to be able to decide where and when and how. i'd like to call the shots, as they say, and not worry about my next mortgage repayment.

and because i don't want to find myself in my forties hoping my boss will give out bonuses at the end of the year because i could really do with some extra cash.

checks, tartan or gingham?

2006-01-22T17:09:00.000Z

perhaps all this house-moving is getting to my head.

in my history list of sites visited in the past few days, all i see is martha stewart, digs magazine and BBC Gardening.

all this domesticity is beginning to scare me.

i mean, how am i supposed to find the time to make new slipcovers when i'm supposed to be out in the garden pruning back the rose bushes or repainting my walls in some visually-arresting colour to make my room seem more interesting?

and all that on top of going to school and doing my readings and attempting to write essays.

no wonder women are going to take 200 years to break the glass ceiling - we're more concerned with what type of glass it is, whether it lets enough light in, and how clean and shiny it is.

r - e - s - p - what?

2006-01-19T12:53:00.000Z

y'know, sometimes some people just amaze me.

honestly.

and a lot of the time i don't even know why i bother. all i get is a metaphorical slap in the face without so much as a by your leave.

take a deep breath... hold... and relax

so much for 'being adult about it'. and so much for respect.

tchhhh

car-ride no. 93752

2006-01-16T20:14:00.000Z

I’m sitting in the car, on the way back from East Sussex and it’s dark so I can’t read. We’re singing songs, or bits and pieces of them, because the car stereo is fucked and it can’t play anything not even the radio.

Before we left you’d said, ‘you’re going to have to keep me entertained’.

So I’m curled up in my seat, watching the different shades of darkness and the red-orange-pink glow of lights in the distance. And I’m trying to remember a song. It starts with ‘if only’ but I can’t remember anything else. And I have a ghost of a tune running in my head, but when I try and catch it, it becomes another song.

And then I give up, and we start reciting bits of poems. You tell me a few lines of Robert Frost, and I tell you how much I dislike Blake. And then I tell you how I want to put chaos into 14 lines, and also how they have lied about time.

But most important of all, I told you about the vegetables and the birds, and about how words are for those with promises to keep.

save the photographers, pt 2

2006-01-11T11:07:00.000Z

[this started out as a reply to Ivan's comment in the last post, but got much too wordy for the comment box, and has therefore come into its own as a post with more explanation and refinement of the ideas expressed previously.]

Although much of Singaporean legislation is inherited and/or copied wholesale from the UK, the cultural bias is not merely due to the inheritance of the UK's cultural reasons as well because the UK copyright provisions no longer differentiate photographs from other artistic works - they are artistic works full-stop. No exception, no ifs buts maybes or perhaps.

If Singaporean legislators thought that photography was a valid and valuable art form, they could very well have amended the legislation similarly so as to give the same protection to photographs as they do to artistic works in general.

And also note that the NAC and other arts-related governmental bodies or government-related organisations represent those in the 'traditional' arts such as painting, sculpting, drawing, but not photographers.

Photographers don't have any representation at those levels because photography is not seen by the most part of society as an art form, but a technical skill that can be picked up upon by anybody and everybody. Because, obviously anyone can pick up a camera and start taking photographs, but not everyone can buy watercolours and start painting. Like, give me a break.

But, really, what I take offence at is not the cultural bias, because that is a given - legislation generally lags behind social acceptance/recognition (e.g. the continuing illegality of homosexuality in Singapore). What is offensive is that it is the little person (i.e. the photographer) who has to burden him/herself with the responsibility of varying or negotiating a contract for service so as to gain more rights for him/herself.

Under UK legislation, the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 states in section 11(1) that

11.—(1) The author of a work is the first owner of any copyright in it, subject to the following provisions.

(2) Where a literary, dramatic, musical or artistic work is made by an employee in the course of his employment, his employer is the first owner of any copyright in the work subject to any agreement to the contrary.

also, under S90(2),

an assignment or other transmission of copyright may be partial, that is, limited so as to apply—
(a) to one or more, but not all, of the things the copyright owner has the exclusive right to do.

There is therefore no other provision for works made under an agreement for valuable consideration, much less one specifically noting that the copyright in photographic works belongs to the person hiring the photographer for that particular job. The photographer is therefore the owner of his works and the copyright within his works unless he is an employee, and even then the rights are negotiable.

If there were similar legislation in Singapore, photographers acting as independent contractors would be in full ownership of their rights. This would enable them to give away/contract for less rights with those hiring them, but not leave them without any copyright as is possible under Singaporean legislation. The burden would then be on the other party to negotiate with the photographer for the permission to use his or her work in particular ways, rather than on the photographer to prevent it.

The funny thing is if, as I mentioned in the previous post, that more and more companies turn to foreign photographers to shoot their campaigns etc, those photographers would not only charge more for their services, but would also retain more rights than any Singaporean photographer is entitled to under the present legislation. But then again, it is because they are foreign and talented that we give them more concessions than locals, right?

So, there are several ways to change the situation. Professional photographers could a professional body to represent them and protect their rights, with accreditation and referencing systems. Or, they could use written standard form contracts which state exactly which rights are given up, for what purposes and for how long.

Or, they could work outside of Singapore and be very established there (case in point: Clang) - go to Europe, they have moral rights on top of copyright - and thus get greater protection, and could also come back to Singapore and charge higher prices whilst retaining more rights because they have overseas experience, and because they are basically the prodigal children returning into the fold and you'd give them anything they wanted to as to prevent another escape.

There's no point whining about the sad state of photography in Singapore unless someone's going to do something about it. And if the photographers in Singapore could look at the wider picture rather than be concerned solely with their own rice-bowls (of course it's important, but other things matter too), perhaps some joint effort would result in great leaps and bounds in copyright protection for photographers and their works.

If they don't save themselves, who will?

save the photographers

2006-01-09T10:56:00.000Z

When a law student studying intellectual property and her photographer best friend get together, what else would be discussed except copyright protection and the lack thereof in Singapore.

Copyright is infamous for being culturally biased, and in the context of photography, the genre has only been accepted recently as an ‘artistic work’ – which is defined as ‘a painting, sculpture, drawing, engraving or photograph’ (S7(1) Copyright Act).

However, artistic work or not, the statutory regime seems to treat photography as a second-class genre of an artistic work, with different sections dealing separately with artistic work and photography especially when it comes to authorship and owning of copyright.

S30(5) of the Copyright Act states that

where —
(a) a person makes, for valuable consideration, an agreement with another person for the taking of a photograph, the painting or drawing of a portrait or the making of an engraving by the other person; and
(b) the work is made in pursuance of the agreement,
the first-mentioned person shall be entitled to any copyright subsisting in the work by virtue of this Part, except that if the work is required for any particular purpose, that purpose shall be communicated to that other person and that other person shall be entitled to restrain the doing, otherwise than for that particular purpose, of any act comprised in the copyright in the work.

which in simple English means that if a photographer is hired as an independent contractor to carry out a photographic shoot for someone (or some company), that someone (or some company) automatically owns the copyright to the photographers work.

It’s automatic. No questions asked, no need to argue about it. The photographer loses his rights to any photograph taken in return for payment swiftly and immediately.

Seeing as most photographers, in general and in particular, work on the basis of independent hire and contracting, the Copyright Act sure doesn’t give a lot of protection at all to the photographers in Singapore, does it?

Oh sure, S30(3) allows for

The operation of subsection (4), (5) or (6) in relation to copyright in a particular work may be excluded or modified by agreement.

but seriously, how many photographers in Singapore know about this? And how many of them will make use of this? From my observations, many of them are so happy to get a job that considerations of copyright protection only occur later, when they’ve signed their rights away.

Worst of all, because the copyright automatically rests with the person hiring the photographer, the burden thus lies upon the photographer him/herself to modify or exclude the operation of S30(5). Which then gives rise to the issues of how many of them know exactly which rights need to be protected for their best interests, and how many of them are able to bargain with the other party?

Many regard photography as an unmeritorious and purely technical, and it is this perception that results in the downgrading of the photographers right to protect his or her photographic works as seen above. And because many photographers act as independent contractors, they lack the bargaining power that would enable them to negotiate for better deals or better rights. This lack of bargaining power places photographers in a worse position than plumbers.

The best friend was asked to do a shoot for a well-known fashion line which required at least a few days pre- and post- work on top of the shoot itself for $2,000 - which includes transport, equipment hire/rental, studio rental etc etc etc. Out of that sum, he probably only really gets $500? I mean, if you need a plumber to fix your pipes, you’re not exactly going to bargain with the plumber and cut his fees in half or more, are you?

The situation is further exacerbated by the lack of a overall body or an association of photographers which acts on behalf of the photographers in Singapore to educate them of their rights and how to protect them.

Photographers should band together and prevent the exploitation of their works. If all photographers, or a large proportion of them, were given standard form contracts that they could fill in or delete as required, and if all their dealings with others were based upon these standard form contracts, photographers would be able to gain more rights and protection for themselves. This standard form contract would then be recognized as the contract between a photographer and the person hiring his or her services, and would act to the benefit of both parties involved.

Without co-operation, photographers as individual actors will always be shortchanged and unable to exercise fully their rights and creators and authors of their works. Professional photographers will know better than give away all their rights except at premium prices, and Singapore will be left with a huge pool of amateur photographers who are desperate for any job, and will do them at cut-rate prices without reserving any of their rights at all. You get what you pay for, so cheapskate companies will get lousy photographers and lousy work, which then leads to the companies hiring foreign photographers for the job at higher prices (because they're foreign talent, y'know?), and less jobs for local photographers, thus making them more desperate thus perpetuating a never-ending vicious cycle.

if the situation does end up that way, alarm bells should ring, and church bells should toll, for the death of Singaporean photography is nigh.

long live Singaporean photography, god save Singaporean photography.

house hunting is a chore

2006-01-06T22:56:00.000Z

oh god i'm so tired of looking for places to live.

are ALL estate agents annoying as hell, and superduper totally type-A personalities? why do they all have screensavers of Jaguars and Mercedes SLKs? and why do they keep showing me totally shitty places when i'm so obvious at my dislike of the other 83837401 places that they've already shown me that are almost exactly the same as the one they're showing me? how many times must i curl my upper lip into a sneer and then re-compose myself to say in the politest tones ever that no, i don't think this place is right for me?

i think i'm just going to put in an offer for this one place that i viewed the other day. it's not perfect, but it's pretty good. i'll have to pay overlapping rent for the most part of February, but it's okay. it doesn't have a garden, but it's got a hugeass balcony so that makes up for it. it's not a nice pretty victorian conversion, but it's surrounded by them, so that's alright. it's not particularly near any nice parks, but it's got 2 squares minutes away from it with benches and everything, so that's rather nice.

and y'know, really, i just can't be bothered anymore.

the end is the beginning

2006-01-02T17:07:00.000Z

between the last post and now, i have

learnt to make crackling
cooked boxing day dinner for 10
using my new favourite kitchen toy, a mezzaluna
tramped around in 6inches of pure white snow
helped to make a snowman for the first time in my life
spoken to my parents twice in a week (a record!)
and also to every other member of my nuclear family for the first time in months
apart from actual sleeping, spent the equivalent of 3 days lying in bed watching teevee or reading
watched the whole of season 1 of M*A*S*H on dvd
watched most of season 1 of Northern Exposure on videotape
read 'The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle' by Haruki Murakami
and also 'Snobs' by Julian Fellowes
and am halfway through 'Anansi Boys' by Neil Gaiman
played Murder Mystery on New Year's Eve
following which learnt that red wine, brandy and cava are NOT a good mix
but wintermelon, carrots, onions and split red lentils are brilliant together for soup, especially because my wisdom tooth is cutting my gums and the inside of my cheek
smoked the last of my duty-free cigarettes
etc etc etc

and so here are the things i ought to do in 2006

graduate from university with sufficient enough honours
completely remove gluten from my diet
make more long distance calls
have fun with the best friend when he moves to london in february
introduce best friend to everyone
move house/flat to somewhere in east london
travel around england and wales more
return to singapore sometime or other for a visit
learn how to plant/garden in containers
get to know more people, especially people i like
stop smoking, or at least restrict it to social occasions
make better use of my library membership
learn how to negotiate with landlords and lettings agents
cycle as much as possible
be less critical and dismissive of my fellow humans
oh, and of course single-handedly eradicate poverty and conflict, correct climate change, revoke all laws restricting freedom of information and speech and expression and/or only allow the narrowest interpretations of 'national interest' or 'national security', and become the first female prime minister of singapore - well, we can dream, can't we?

hope the last week has been as gluttonous and slothful and as filled with alcohol and bad behaviour as mine has been.

onwards ho!

'tis the season

2005-12-23T13:08:00.000Z

to run around frantically, fight the crowds in covent garden and oxford street, and bake up a storm of cinnamon cookies and plum, apple and walnut cake.

and also to receive phone calls from my dad because he was bored stuck in a traffic jam on the way to bugis junction to pick my mother up, who was calling him repeatedly to tell him to pick her up from somewhere else due to aforesaid traffic jam but could not get through because he was on the phone with me, and then a lot of passing the phone around 'so your mummy can talk to you' and my dad could go back to shouting at other drivers. so there was news about my grandma, siblings and cousins, and wonderings about whether or not i'd be back for chinese new year this (next) year, and how my studies were going, was i actually studying or really just having fun, and about my graduation and who was going to come in july to attend it. and then also lots of moral lessons passed through the phone line, about 'that friend of yours' and 'proper behaviour' and 'think about your reputation' and 'tell him not to take it personally'.

are we all janus-faced and multiple-lifed? once again, i will reflect upon the concept of 'asian values' as a construct invented to further the social engineering project. and like, whatever.

and while M splutters and is flabbergasted at (1) being the subject of the parental conversation while he could hear every single word of it, (2) my mother being so nasty to him, (3) how not not to take it personally because it clearly was a personal attack even though they've never met him before, and (4) what the hell 'lor' and 'lah' meant, it is also time to pack up the car with still unwrapped presents and other assorted sundries and head off down the A21 and into the southeast - after waking up 3 hours later than planned due to the holding of half-asleep conversations with the parents afterwhich i had to fall asleep again so as to recover from the shock&horror of it all (see above).

oh, and of course 'tis the season for christmas trees, log fires, roast turkey, glazed parsnips, caramelized carrots, roasted potatoes, stuffing, roast loin of pork, brussels sprouts and christmas pudding.

intrusive or what?!

2005-12-16T13:30:00.000Z

this is the The Straits Times Interactive Online Registration Page.

Of all online registration forms that i have ever filled out, this has got to take the cake.

Apart from red asterisks on EVERYTHING, they also ask you about your annual household income, and your highest educational qualifications. Uhm.

No thanks, Straits Times. I'll stick to the Guardian. And if ever I feel the need to get in touch with Singaporean news, i'll read about it through every other Singaporean blog.

imagery

2005-12-16T12:23:00.000Z

the leaves are twirling and swirling through the air like ballet dancers. the rustle-crackle and the whoosh-whoosh ominous-sounding, until i look up and see these great big masses of leaves flying past my window.

like being caught by surprise whilst scuba-diving, and suddenly having to stay really still while a huge school of barracuda pass you by in their silver-blue-flecks-of-light brilliance.

but anyway, many pictures follow. because i've only just uploaded them, even though some date back a month or so.

gig 01: Faust

gig 01: Kid Koala

gig 01: Explosions In The Sky

gig 01: Fourtet

gig 02: Courtney Pine

gig 02: stairwell at the De La Warr Pavillion

the gherkin, on the way to Paul McCarthy at Whitechapel Gallery

self-explanatory, on Brick Lane

where clothes go to die

chive flower husks

note to self: get photoshop CS back from O. that boy has had it for much too long!

by the way

2005-12-15T17:14:00.000Z

Cycling around on my new-old pushbike has become a daily affair. Suddenly everything is so much closer and quicker to get to – now I just have to get over my fear of roundabouts and cycling across the bridges. I’ve also realised that there is a certain fraternity amongst cyclists, we eye up one another whilst passing and smile, nod or wink in recognition of each other’s efforts.

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Chive flowers are so pretty when they’re in bloom, and when they’ve seeded they resemble hearts on stalks. Cutting off the heads to collect the seeds, I’ve fallen in love with their raspy paper-like texture, and the faint onion-garlicky smell.

I’ve also bought spring bulbs to plant after suffering a full-blown case of bulb-envy over the weekend. See, M persuaded me not to get any in November because ‘we’ll be moving before they come up’. The fool. Now I see the hyacinths in pots in other people’s houses and I get so jealous I want to pierce the bulbs and introduce root rot. But now I’ve got my own (at half-price too!), and I have to plant them now now now or they’ll never grow, and come spring I might fly into a rage and start eating them damned bulbs.

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Last night there was a Christmas drinks party for the current and future trainee solicitors of the firm I’ve signed my life away to.

Last night there were too many gin&tonics, and waaaay too many flaming sambucas. I hate that sticky sickly sweet thing. The only part I liked about it was holding the fire in my mouth. I’m a fire-eater! RAWWR!

Obviously, everyone there already is or is going to be a trainee solicitor. But I never expected those on the LPC now to be so cloistered. Perhaps I’m reading too much into things, but they seemed so insular and hidden away in that corner of the lounge never venturing out except to get drinks from the barman.

From their midst emerged an ex-schoolmate from Singapore who stopped me and asked ‘Are you from RJ?’ I was slightly stunned by the question, and after answering in the positive had to think really hard to match her face to my memories, and I finally realised who she was whilst in the toilet. But I can no longer remember her name. I’m sure I never knew her name whilst at school, and we only knew each other by sight, each of us navigating our own way and intersecting occasionally through the occurrence of mutual friends. She tried to tell me above the din of the music and drunken lawyers-to-be, but alas, it fell out my ears and mixed with the clinking of glasses and the calls for more tequila. I’m sure I’ll get to know her a lot better when I start my training contract.

But I digress.

Apart from those on the LPC, everyone else seemed to be mingling very well. Too well, I suppose, seeing as it was all this mingling that resulted in those flaming sambucas. And it was interesting that everyone got along, which bodes well for my future, and it felt like a confirmation of this nebulous thing called a training contract that has so far only seemed like a faraway concept. Which is nice, I suppose.

School's Out

2005-12-12T12:26:00.000Z

Friday night started out as a dinner and a trip to the pub.

But 24hour drinking rocks, and we ended up horrendously drunk after staggering our visits to 3 different pubs/bars, picking up friends as we went along. Herne Hill is where I’d like to move to, if only it wasn’t so far out and we hadn’t already decided on Bethnal Green.

Saturday was spent shopping with T, and then having fortifying drinks under the arches of Peckham Rye Train Station. Good conversation and amazing buys. I honestly think that our shared post-colonial upbringing (her in South Africa, mine in Singapore) does a lot for our friendship and increases our mutual disbelief at the bend-over-backwards political correctness and social correctness in England.

After which it was back home to a feast of lamb curry, dhal and vegetable curry. And more wine. And more whiskey. And more Port.

I think we overdid the drinking by Sunday afternoon, and last night was spent semi-conscious and hazily hungover in T’s kitchen, having nut loaf, butternut squash soup, tofu and couscous salad and mince pie.

I heart weekends.

Especially when they play out without any deadlines looming, or any niggling feelings telling me I really ought to be back at my desk highlighting and underlining.

No more essays!

2005-12-07T16:14:00.000Z

For a month, anyway. And then it’s nose back to grindstone, and continuing to freak the housemates out with my long sustained spells of diligence.

But it’s good that term is ending now. I’m so tired, and I haven’t been able to breathe.

I spent an hour or so cycling on my new-old pushbike, and it felt so nice to not think about how best to fit my life in around my work for once. I didn’t think about which chapters I had to finish by tonight, I didn’t think about what I needed to catch up on for my class on Friday, I didn’t think about all the up-coming essays and reports I had to do in the next few weeks. I was occupied by other thoughts, like what to make for dinner and where I ought to be cycling to in order to purchase ingredients (I decided on spiced rice, roasted large flat mushrooms with mash stuffing, and salad, by the way).

And of course now that I’m back, the books loom large on my shelf and the emails start trickling in. Reading schedules have to be worked out for this week and over the holidays, essay deadlines have to be entered into the calendar, feedback noted and filed away.

This last week of term is an academic blackhole. It’s a vacuum where the lectures take place but no one’s really paying attention anymore, and no one really cares what takes place because they’ve all got plans to fly off to foreign lands sometime in the coming week, and questions pop into my head about whether I ought to read now for the first class next term or should I just leave it for now.

But most important question in my head of all: How did I get roped into cooking Christmas dinner for M’s family? This is serious English-ness we’re talking about. And me! Chinese girl from way out there cooking Christmas dinner for 6 to 10 others? Oh dear. It’s going to be interesting times, I can tell.

oh these difficult questions

2005-12-04T15:55:00.000Z

what is it about port and red wine that leads to headaches?

and what is it about the closing-in of essay deadlines that results in procrastination?

and the debilitating nature of ignorance, which leaves me shocked and unable to write (much like a rabbit caught in the headlights), whenever i don't know all, absolutely all the things that i will put down on paper in reply to the essay question.

and the proliferation of happy christmassy green-and-red-and-gold cinnamon-ginger-and-nutmeg-scented thoughts that invade my mind, when really i should to be thinking about the causes of corporate failure and whether we ought to be concerned when companies fail.

24 to go!

2005-12-01T22:06:00.000Z

oh, and seeing that's it's already december, i've obviously been thinking long and hard about christmas and all the things that it entails.

i'm thinking of baking a christmas cake. and gingerbread men. and snowflake cookies. and the smells of ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon, chocolate and brandy wafting around the house.

i've also compiled a list of things to buy for myself in lieu of presents from my family and friends (because i'm that sad, yes). and also a list of things that i really ought to get, which i've been putting off getting for a while.

i hope it snows soon, and that all this piss-rain-drizzle weather goes away. i like it clean and white, not grey and squelchy.

Happy Red Ribbon Day

2005-12-01T18:44:00.000Z

It’s World Aids Day today.

Aids is a fact. Sex is a fact too.

There's been a lot of discussion over use of contraceptives as the best form of prevention, and the increasing weight given to abstinence policies which is mainly influenced by Christian America and its politics. American influence has resulted in a sharp fall in the amount of condoms sent to, and distributed within, Africa because the use of condoms promotes a lifestyle that includes sex, and abstinence is about not having any.

Well, abstinence policies will not work in societies where monogamy is not part of their culture. Abstinence policies will not work in societies that call themselves modern, either.

The only effective method of reducing the numbers of HIV carriers is education. Sex education can only be for the benefit of society, and may well help to prevent new cases of infection from arising, apart from raising awareness of teen pregnancy and STIs and other such issues amongst others.

Of course, growing up in Singapore, I was giggly and embarrassed when we had science lessons on the reproductive systems of man and animal. But apart from my childish reaction to the topic, what shocked me was the teacher’s attitude towards it – she said, ‘it’s all in the textbook, I’m sure you can read it for yourself’, and moved on to the next topic. If she had turned to our class of 30 young girls and had given a matter-of-fact explanation of sexual intercourse, I’m sure she would have been highly respected and thought of as especially enlightened.

But that is basically what parents, and the education system, does. Both are embarrassed, more embarrassed than the youths they are addressing I suspect, and both try to fob off the responsibility of speaking about the birds and the bees. The lack of discussion over the simplest aspects of sex reduces the chances of any detailed discussion of sexually transmitted diseases, teen pregnancy and homosexuality. Those issues, especially, are seen as something that could only happen to ‘someone else’ and so no need at all to address them (see yawningbread for a good write-up, here).

We then grow up in a world where we know all about sex, but nothing about it. And, pretend to look away but really, everyone is doing it.

Such is the situation when the government insists that the country is one of traditional morality, and things like sex are hush-hush matters. And the sudden explosion of church-going people love it as well – all these bible-thumping anti-abortion, abstinence-supporting, homophobic creatures. No sex allowed, we’re good Christian heterosexual Singaporeans, unless you’re married to someone of the opposite sex, of course.

Well, I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work that way. Singapore is modern. And highly technologised. And highly sexualised. No amount of persuasion can convince me that we still have the traditional morals of ancient China, and anyway, I’m not so sure if they were moralists either – Concubines? Prostitutes? 13th century erotic toys? They had it all – so save the sanctimonious talk and deal with a social problem for once.

Perhaps by getting off that moralistic high horse and accepting the fact that sex happens, in and outside of marriage, greater and more effective effort can be made to heighten awareness of contraceptive methods to prevent situations where women turn to abortions instead of using contraceptives . And seriously, if a gay couple were to talk about contraception and prevention, I wouldn’t think of them as promoting an alternative lifestyle so much as protecting the health and lives of those who are already leading it, and heterosexual couples probably would have a lot to learn from them as well.

Abstinence can only work in highly specific and special situations, for example where everyone is of the same religion or believe in the same moral code, which is impossible in any country today where race and religion are no longer homogenous. And abstinence will not help those in marriages to partners who are infected, and there is growing evidence of more and more infections happening within marriages. And abstinence does not educate.

If we cannot talk truthfully and honestly about sex and its implications, and if sex education remains ignored as a crucial step towards cultivating a mature and responsible sexual lifestyle, then sadly, I’m afraid that we will never be able to find solutions but will always have to deal and cope with the fall-out of institutionalised ignorance.

here fishy fishy

2005-11-30T17:27:00.000Z

“The PMO (Prime Minister’s Office) is currently studying how we can better engage overseas Singaporeans, in particular recruiting the young overseas students back to Singapore, and is seeking feedback from the students on how the government could facilitate that.”

Apparently there was another similar session held a few weeks ago, where some students gave their reasons for not wanting wholeheartedly to return to Singapore after graduation. And in typical talking-down style, the speaker defended all the policies that the students had questioned, and even implied that they were unpatriotic/dishonourable/rude (I’m not really sure what he said, exactly, because I know about it through hearsay, but I know it was something not very nice).

So, I got to thinking.

Why, indeed, is there reluctance for Singaporean students to return to those sunny shores of our garden-island-state? And why do I not witness the same reluctance in any of my classmates that hail from Hong Kong – arguably comparable in terms of size, economy and social demographic?

Personally, I think that returning to Singapore will reduce the chances of any student who has harboured thoughts of an international career to actually embark on it.

There is the comfort (false, it may be) of being ‘at home’ and thus stifling the desire to remove oneself from a place where mummy is just 20mins away. Also, even if one still manages to retain one’s international aspirations, unless one has held a job in an MNC or even a regional company, there is little scope of advancement coming from a wholly Singapore-owned company unless one is truly and remarkably exceptional. Further, the dynamism and get-up-and-go-get-‘em attitude and spirit is just something I don’t see in Singapore, unless you’re talking about the top levels of MNCs, which will be impossible to get a job at without first having had international experience somewhere else, thus perpetuating the problem above.

As discussed with Jem, while I was desperately filling out application forms for training contracts with firms in London and he was twiddling his thumbs waiting for calls to interviews, would you rather be a big fish in a small pond, or a medium sized fish in a big pond?

I think most people concentrate on the size of the fish, but forget about the size of the pond. A small pond can only sustain that much of an ecosystem, and is highly susceptible to external shock. A big pond has a larger, more self-sustainable ecosystem, greater variety of species, and is much better placed to adapt to new situations imposed by external sources.

And anyway, if you’re already a big fish, there’s no impetus to improve oneself or get bigger, meaner and stronger. At least in a big pond, there’s challenge and there’s competition and there’s intellectual stimulation.

Like I told several of my interviewers, I want to work internationally and it’s a lot easier to work in international offices having started out in London than in Singapore. One just cannot deny the fact that certain cities have better and more attractive prospects than others in terms of getting to the top-end of a not-so-level playing field.

Another reason might be society. Perhaps after being exposed to the free and liberal-mindedness of mainstream society and the press, Singapore seems claustrophobic and smothering. This would explain the difference in attitude between the students from Hong Kong and those from Singapore. Civil society in Hong Kong is much more developed there than in Singapore despite, and in spite of, the fact that they are a Chinese territory.

Or it might just simply be down to a matter of money. I can only do a comparison between lawyers, but I will assume that the information can be extrapolated into other fields. For a lawyer who qualified in 2001, average yearly pay would be £42,500 - £53,000 in London, £60,000 - £72,500 in Hong Kong, and £26,500 - £50,000 in Singapore (source here). Even after taking into account the cost of living, Singapore still doesn’t seem to provide the best remuneration, especially since many firms in London provide perks like you’d never believe, e.g. free use of on-site gymnasium with swimming pools, in-house café/restaurants, season passes to football, theatre or opera, etc.

So, what can the Permanent Secretary of the PMO do to convince people like me to return?

Nothing, really.

Anecdotal evidence amongst fellow schoolmates who have gotten jobs in London has shown that nothing much can be done to convince them to return immediately after graduation. It’s not selfish or unpatriotic to think that if one can begin a career in London, one should embrace it and make the most of one’s opportunity. In fact, I think one ought to be suspicious of anyone who is overeager to return to Singapore and who has been scornful of others’ attempts at securing a job in London after graduation, but perhaps I am not giving enough weight to the ties of family and girl/boyfriends.

Nevertheless, I think the question posed focuses on the wrong group of people. What good can fresh graduates do in a system where heirarchy, seniority and bureacracy reigns? Whatever fresh ideas and new thoughts that we might introduce will merely be dismissed as being the 'idealistic wishful thinking of a young upstart'. So, unless that changes and the views of young people are regarded as equally important and useful, both of which are highly unlikely, then perhaps it should not be us that the government should be seeking to attract.

Perhaps the more important question ought to be, after establishing careers and proving ourselves to be good at what we do, what can be done to convince us then to return to Singapore? Or, what can be done to convince already-established professionals with international experience to return to Singapore?

But until then, it seems there is not much magnetism emanating from Singapore when scholarship students find as many ways as possible to delay their return, as evidenced by a surge of Master’s students present in and around the country, and when scholars quit the public sector soon after they have finished their bond in search of greener pastures elsewhere.

Don't Panic

2005-11-28T19:36:00.000Z

Panic is when I leave it until the 28th of November to fill out an application form that requires input from my personal tutor and has to reach by 1st December.

Panic is when there is no money in my printing account, no staples in any of the fucking staplers in the printing room, no paperclip to attach forms to envelope, and no time.

But it's okay. Because everything turned out fine, and I got my forms countersigned and sent off right before my lecture at 4pm.

Now, I'm off to do the crossword.

Weekender 04

2005-11-27T21:23:00.000Z

+ Courtney Pine at the De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea; see the mid-to-upper-middle-classes come out for a cultural event just so they can drop it into conversation the next time they have a dinner party. But fantastic set with great showmanship and foot-tapping, get-up-and-get-dancing performance otherwise.

+ And then there were the railworks between Robertsbridge and Hastings, i.e. no train from Battle (Welcome to 1066 Country!); driving through some serious countryside to get to Frant, where we dumped the car and got on a train back to London to see

+ The Doctors of Love at Filthy McNasty's; great music, but overcrowded by fashionista types with perfect hair and black wardrobes and skinny men in blazers (i think real fashion and magazine fashion might be slightly out of sync), but increased the count of my possessions by 2 proper gin glasses. hurray!

+ Further procrastination and paucity of work done; the coldness has set in and my brain refuses to thaw itself. resulting in lots of newspaper reading and thumbing through christmas catalogues for gifts i'll never give or receive.

+ With the winter looking like how it is, i'm not looking forward to anymore school; the holidays are so close and yet so far, with an essay and 2 reports to get through first. oh the obstacles to freedom! and the obstacles to curling up beside the radiator all day long, getting up only for hot chocolate and cake.

Singapore Rebel

2005-11-22T17:40:00.000Z

Okay, because i am totally slow on the uptake, i've only just watched this - when i really ought to be writing an essay on legal normative orders and what happens in times of revolution, does the legal order lose it's validity merely due to its loss of effectiveness, or is it because the basic assumption that the legal order is valid in the first place has changed.

Come to think of it, rather interesting topic to be thinking about when considering Singapore and its Constitution and the Government etc. But anyway, i did a little snooping at the Attorney-General's Statute folder and got several helpful definitions for the greater good of wo/mankind.

Keep in mind the following when watching Singapore Rebel

As defined in the Film Act (CAP 107) S2(1):
“party political film” means a film —
(a) which is an advertisement made by or on behalf of any political party in Singapore or any body whose objects relate wholly or mainly to politics in Singapore, or any branch of such party or body; or
(b) which is made by any person and directed towards any political end in Singapore;

and according to the Societies Act (Cap 311) S2,
“political association” includes any society which the Minister may by order declare to be a political association;

and the Political Donations Act (CAP 236) S2(1)
“political association” means —
(a) a political party or an organisation which has as one of its objects or activities the promotion or procuring of the election to Parliament or to the office of President of a candidate or candidates endorsed by the organisation; or
(b) an organisation (not being a branch of any organisation) whose objects or activities relate wholly or mainly to politics in Singapore and which is declared by the Minister, by order in the Gazette, to be a political association for the purposes of this Act

And, you know, of course the video is totally persuasive. Don’t we believe everything we see on teevee, and believe everything we read or hear? I mean, we’re trained to believe in the absolute truth of what we are told, and not to question the right or wrongs of it. Weren’t we?

Weekender 03, cont'd

2005-11-13T21:40:00.000Z

okay now.

walking around Kennington and Lambeth North in the cold is not exactly my idea of fun, especially with a backlog of that thing called homework to do. but it was done. and taken into my eyes was an exhibition called 'inflight entertainment' (which wasn't really that good), and cement/plaster cakes and food (not that good either).

and then onto this backlog of homework.

i usually enjoy my weekend readings for my monday-deadline reports, but maaaan this week's readings are shite. and The Observer has proven to be too distracting for words - who can fail to be seduced by the Observer Food Monthly magazine? and the Selfridges christmas catalogue? so yeah. backlog.

from what i can see, the week ahead is going to be all toil and trouble. insolvency readings are to be relegated to the backburner as we head to hippie-run art space for S's scaffolding-and-wonky-mattress installation and lots of opening show drinks. and then it'll be attempting to do more work in an empty house with nothing for entertainment - you'd think that that would be a good reason for actually getting work done, but trust me, the winter laziness has set in and all i will be doing is poking around the kitchen and trying to start a fire in the fireplace.

so it's back to trying to get my readings done before the close of this evening, and studiously ignoring the alcohol and general mingling with the housemates, as well as the other more worthwhile pursuits (as compared to ploughing through sociological ethnographies on the state, the idea of the state, and the actual non-existence of the state).

like, whoa.

weekender 03

2005-11-12T17:59:00.000Z

I know it’s a good day when the sun is shining brightly when I wake up at 10am; and when I jump out of bed and into a tumbler of gin&tonic at the Southwark Tavern after traipsing around Borough Market before the clock strikes 12noon.

The days are short. Carpe diem. Get as much drink down your gullet before the sun goes down.

These are the things I wish I had had the money to have bought at the market:
- apple&plum custard tartcake
- a whole wild seabass
- a kilogram of langoustines
- bunches of vegetables
- a cut of steak
- oak smoked herring and mackerel
- lime tree / marsala honey

But this is what I really actually spent my money on: an okay only latte from a greasy caff on the perimeters of the market.

And then to the Southwark Tavern we went for lots of drinks and calamari strips while waiting for W, a friend I see maybe only once or twice a year, to turn up. As the draught blew its way in, we retreated into the bowels (really, basement cellar) of said Tavern for lunch of sirloin steak ciabatta (me) and wedges with sautéed mushrooms and cheddar cheese (M) and sausages&mash with roast onion and gravy (W).

Lots of talking talking talking and wondering what we (he, W) wanted to do with his life, about travelling and Spanish, and Mexico Germany and Asia. Racism and being poitically correct bollocks and class and innate prejudices. And also about music and art and silly/scary/beautiful films that we'd recently seen or want to see.

Oh, and also about illegitimate relatives turning up 26 years after the fact and getting reintegrated into the family.

It was all so very very good.

Now that I’ve had such an exciting and inebriated day, all I can really do for the moment is the laundry and the vacuuming. And after this, sink down back into bed and read the Saturday papers and watch crappy teevee.

Have you had a nice day today?

Weekender 02

2005-11-06T22:00:00.000Z

It’s funny how I can hear the-boys-from-down-the-street (and their friends) hanging out and chatting away about things and life and girls in general. I don’t think they know I’m sitting here at my desk typing or reading away while they sit outside my window on the little wall philosophising as only teenagers can do.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Talking about moving (yes, i know i'm so boring and this is one of the few things that i only talk about, but so?), and the formalities like whose name should go on the bills (his, because he's got a longstanding relationship with the utilities companies) and whose name shall go on the tenancy agreement (mine, only because I’m student and we won’t have to pay council tax) and the maybe-problem of guarantors (because they don't trust that i won't run away without paying my rent on time and so i have to pay it all upfront) and also about the berlin-secret-thing.

Turns out, I’m probably going to have the whole flat to myself a lot more than I thought I would. It’s good in the sense that I was freaking out slightly over my potential loss of personal (study) space and so this will mean I’ll have lots of space and quiet to do just that. On the other hand, I’m not so sure about living alone alone in an area that I’m not overly familiar with, even if elephant&castle isn't really that safe in terms of london-wise.

But anyways, it’s all still waaaaaay early times to be talking about anything. I mean, we’re not even going to seriously look for places until January or February, and we’re not moving till March. We’ve got loads of time to figure things out and get into some sense of things.

For now, I’ll just continue my live-alone-rehearsal since he’s away till Tuesday.

We are not all money-grubbing leeches

2005-11-03T18:11:00.000Z

a sign in the school quad today:

will exchange Law and Consitutions of the European Union by Craig & DeBurca for a copy of Catcher in The Rye by JD Salinger
see, some of us really do have that thing other people call souls.

weekender

2005-10-31T01:09:00.000Z

Last night’s dinner at Dish-Dash in Balham was stomach-splittingly filling. Every single one of us (and there were about 16 to 20 of us, depending on the time of the evening) had to get up and do a little stroll around the place, down to the washrooms and up again.

Middle-eastern food that wasn’t bad at all, but not exactly very exciting. I wish someone would come up with unpretentious good ethnic food, and cut out all that ‘ooh look it’s exotic, so we have to dim the lights and serve everything on tiny plates and have silly camel things (candleholders? Napkin ring? What?) all around!’

I miss the hawker centre and kopitiam.

But, it was a good night. And T ended up with 5 pots of plants for her birthday presents – everyone obviously knows about her and that green stuff. We gave her a rather well established spider plant with its own baby plant dangling off the side of the pot. I had to take apart one of the hanging baskets just to extract that specimen because their root structure is absolutely mad and is impossible to separate without being really vicious and just tearing the whole mass of roots apart.

Other the highlights of the night included:
- talking about gardening at 2am while drunk on too much red wine
- doing arm-bendy exercises and trying to outdo each other on the most intricate arm-hand-shoulder-twist
- watching R try to lean against the wall several times before giving up and walk back to sit in his chair
- from the upper-deck of the bus home, making up stories about the people we saw below us on the pavements and street corners
- watching a woman in white bridal dress with a big cleaver stuck in her stomach and (fake)blood streaming down

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
the hallway into the house, i.e. right outside my bedroom door, smells like gas. Apparently. So if it really is gas, I’ll be roast suckling pig even before I register the explosion.

O, R and I have spent more than several minutes sniffing around the house looking for the source. Or maybe it isn’t gas. Oh I don’t know. I never know about these things.

And so came the inevitable, after we didn’t know where the gas-smell was coming from

‘Where’s [the boyfriend]? Is he around?’
‘Uhm... no... he's gone off to berlin… you knew that’
‘Did he bring his mobile with him?’
‘Uhm... What can he do? He’s not coming back till Wednesday’

I tried to feign ignorance! I attempted to shield him from stupid questions! But I failed! Now the boyfriend will get text messages when he's not even in the fucking country asking where the gas pipes in the house are. Brilliant.

It’s really not so surprising, when you think of it, that he wants to move away and not have to deal with 6 other people haranguing him whenever something goes wrong in the house. And it’s really not so surprising, that I agree wholeheartedly with him when these situations arise and they think it's fine to hassle him.

Maybe i'm just being over-protective. But still, 5 years of cleaning up other people's mess is more than anyone should have to deal with, much less having to deal with the (i quote) bigoted, rascist bitch who is the landlady.

Yeah, so change is afoot. Hurrah! (especially if i'm not burnt to death in my sleep before then)

fotoberlinische 01

2005-10-29T14:04:00.000+01:00

very long overdue pictures of berlin.
from top: part of the berlin wall at potsdamerplatz; the bar at club icon where we saw a jazzanova dj set and mr scruff as part of the popkomm festival; the train station we got off at to go to the hamburger banhof art museum; father and son at the holocaust memorial; beautiful lights at the sony center; pay-as-much-as-you-like wine buffet on the corner of friedlichstrasse tuesdays and thursdays.

many many more to go, but HLA Hart's The Concept of Law is being very coercive at the moment. i want to go on holiday again.

the woeful tales of gluten intolerance

2005-10-28T21:22:00.000+01:00

I have a post-it note stuck to my table lamp that states: stop eating things you know are bad for you. Big black letters on bright orange paper. Pretty attention grabbing, you’d think.

But what do I do? I go ahead and have bacon-mushroom-fried-egg sandwiches. SANDWICHES. Two of them. Not just one.

I’m not supposed to eat anything with gluten in it, which cuts out everything wheat-based in my diet, along with oats barley rye and a gazillion other cereals/grains. Do you know how expensive gluten-free stuff is? Thank god I’m Chinese and love eating rice and kway teow and bee hoon. But yeah, so gluten anything is a no-no, and I go eat 4 slices of wholewheat bread – which is 4 times the amount I’m not supposed to eat, which means it is 4 times infinity of my wrongness.

And now I suffer the indigestive consequences 6 hours after I stuffed them down my gullet. The boyfriend has been called upon to buy me fizzy drinks on his way back from I-don’t-know-where in hope that the acid levels (enough to dissolve your teeth!) will break down all that gunk in my rumbling tum.

I really ought to learn my lessons and eat proper things, things that I know will not be bad for me. I am much too greedy for my own good.

rub-a-tum-tum

2005-10-26T18:01:00.000+01:00

night comes too quickly, and darkness falls much too swiftly.

it's warm outside, though. rather balmy, in fact.

but it might have changed since i last stepped out into the garden a while ago. you know how fickle the weather is here.

and the leaves have all dropped off the trees. it's just golden, yellow, brown and green everywhere. crackly sometimes, and squishy others. and a great big bunch of them floating about in a pool created by days of continual drizzle.

today we're having sardines for dinner. proper sardines, not those in a tin. grilled sardines with raw onion salad and roast potatoes. mmmmm....

with dinner at tim&gair's tomorrow, and at tracy's birthday thingamajig on saturday, this is going to be a week of yummyliciousness. i can tell.

white rabbit

2005-10-24T01:10:00.000+01:00

Whatever happened to my free days and nights and weekends of endless hedonism?

Gone with the wind, with the changing leaves and the falling chestnuts.

Everyday I read (as in read articles and handouts and other photocopied-in-breach-of-copyright material or a chapter in a textbook) after I get back from school, make dinner and chat with whoever’s around for a bit, then go back and sit at my desk with my eyes trained on those little black prints that end up looking like not so many trails of ants.

I do this so much more now than ever before. I’ve always been the type to ignore my readings until March/April came around, and then I’d knuckle down and consume everything before spewing them out at my exams in May/June. But this year, strangely, I have rather unconsciously changed my habits white being extremely aware that I am behaving in an exceptional way.

But anyway, the point. The point is that I am tired already. How do people keep this sort of intense-ness up for months and months and years and years on end?

I am exhausted from having to plan my life around my readings and more readings. And I am so much more uptight and nervous about time and what I do with it, and where I go on the weekends, that honestly I’d like to slap myself. it’s as if this whole new work ethic is trying to take over my (social) life. I mean, I was in the library on Friday at 9pm – ok, so I only went there to look for an article I had to do a report on and headed straight back home when I realised it didn’t exist in the collection, but still. The library. At 9pm. On a Friday. I don’t know how the boyfriend puts up with it.

Of course, when it’s the right time and the right place I will be sure to clear my schedule by moving my readings to the right or left of the event. Which is why the house is having a Halloween/Guy Fawkes party on the 4th of November.

It is why I was in the country this weekend looking at the rolling fields and silhouettes of trees against a darkening sky. And also why I spent the better part of today walking in the woods while trying to pick mushrooms that would not kill us, nor impart us some psychotropic experience in between the trees- I have no time for that right now, dammit .

pre-emptive nostalgia

2005-10-16T19:39:00.000+01:00

Sundays are for sleeping in, watching the sunlight stream into the room through bleary eyes, and then getting out of bed to watch breakfast being made.

And also for a walk to the Newington Library in the Cuming Museum Building on Walworth Road with huge skylights and dainty balconies all along the top half of their walls filled with books the reason for their being placed so high and beyond a door marked ‘Private’ I was yearning to know. And all the walls were painted in a lovely mint/pistachio-green.

Then, feeling absolutely saintly after finishing my Political and Legal Anthropology report a day before it is due (hurrah!), I spend the rest of the afternoon reading the Sunday papers by the dying light of day whilst having fridge-cooled Spanish omelette (leftover breakfast that tastes so much better cold with a dollop of salad cream or mayonnaise) washed down with a cup of tea.

Perhaps it’s that voice in the back of my head telling me to collect all my memories of living ‘sahth of the rivah’ that make these everyday things resonate with greater meaning than one would usually attribute to them. But all things must pass, as T said on Friday as we drank that last bottle of wine in the little late-night Italian place on Lower Marsh Street. And so they do.

Moving in with the ‘east-end wallahs’, as a classmate of mine once called her kind. Hopefully everything goes smoothly, and I’ll be there before Easter comes around and all settled in by the time I need to knuckle down and do some serious studying for my final exams.

Until then, I’ll continue making up lists of what I want my new place to have – sash windows, balcony/garden, kitchen with all mod-cons including an oven, rooms at least 3m in width and length, high ceilings, wooden floors, central heating, bathroom and/or power-shower, lots of light, nice quiet tree-lined street etc etc etc.

If I am going to move somewhere else, I really should make the most of it (and my lettings agent), shouldn’t I?

this, and that

2005-10-13T20:01:00.000+01:00

Walking back from the bus-stop after a night out in a strange pub on bethnal green road, we were trailed by two young men.

Young Man 1 struck up conversation with the boyfriend on the topic on Young Man 2’s headgear.

YM1: you have the same hat as my friend!
Boyfriend: why yes, I do
YM1: I prefer yours’ though, it looks worn
Boyfriend: yeah well, I do a lot of work in it

This was supposed to be funny, but I didn’t get it. And still don’t.

Then,

Boyfriend: so where are you from?
YM1: we’re from the States. I know… we’re such losers huh?

The poor dear. He must have come to London thinking that he’s going to have such a great time on his General Course being a typical English bloke getting pissed and watching footy, and then realized the disdain the British have of them Americans soon after.

I feel for them (the Americans), but I agree wholeheartedly with the English. Once you’ve sat in a pub with a group of American tourists in the sofa next to you making inane comments in their loud and nasal voices about the pub itself (oooh, this is like a real pub, totally) and how everything in England is so old, you’d want to punch the lights out of them as well.

***

Can I say that I heart my school? I really do.

I know I complain, as one does, about reading about too many things and having too much work to do and that everything is too damn hard.

But, and this is my point, somehow or other when I go to class or when I go to lectures everything falls into place and I can think. And I can bring up issues without the teacher going ‘yes, but this is not what you’ve been told in the textbook so shut up and listen as I recite from it’. And we get constructive feedback. And they love what they’re doing.

They make the fact that I don’t have time anymore worthwhile.

Awwwww…

iBookiebookiewookie

2005-10-12T14:53:00.000+01:00

guess who's typing away happily on her brand-new just-out-of-the-box all-white minimalist iBook?

the delivery man came as i was asleep, and i immediately jumped out of bed with glee at the thought of my iBook at the door. he must have thought i was a crazy pyjamas-clad oriental girl, answering the door so bleary-eyed and signing away without knowing what he was talking about.

all i wanted was my box! (like a crack-addicted squirrel i was.)

have been trying out all these new things that Tiger comes with, and the one thing i really want right now is the software serial number to activate iWorks - but i have to pay for it. that thing is pretty cool and would totally trump Office anyday. so... christmas present, anyone?

appleworks seems like adequate enough though, for my laziness right now. i'm too lazy to go find my copies of Office to install, even though it's right up there on the shelf in the box of computer things. the shelf is high, i am short. i shall wait out my slothfulness whilst making my tour around this Tiger thing...

...or until appleworks pisses me off and i feel the need to run back into the safe and familiar arms of Word (that evil thing).

2005-10-09T00:08:00.000+01:00

okay, so how do you know that what you know is really what you know?

is your sense of reality actually an absolute factual reality?

and how can one use shared experience as proof if everyone has different experiences? how shared is a shared experience?

ok too much jurisprudence and anthropology is doing my head in.

will go do even more reading now and convince myself that even though i don't understand all these introduction chapters, what follows will make everything so much more obvious.

hah yeah right.

first to bata, then to school

2005-10-03T16:00:00.000+01:00

term's started.

my book list is longer than my arm, and i'm supposed to have read several chapters of some book for a lecture happening in 15mins, but i only knew about it half an hour ago. there goes my 'be super duper on the ball' resolution out the window.

so anyway, i've narrowed my choices for a new laptop. it will either be a 14" iBook, or a 12" powerbook. but i'm open to influence, and anyone with any insider info on the merits of a 12" powerbook vs 15" powerbook (apart from the obvious it's bigger!), or a palpable difference between an iBook and a powerbook (apart from casing) will be warmly welcomed. just bear in mind i mostly only use it for surfing, school work and occasional photography.

and time's up. copyright law in the uk, anyone?

head notes

2005-09-28T17:27:00.000+01:00

in the lacuna a missing laptop has created, the library has become my new best friend.

and an ancient portable radio tuned into to BBC radio 3 plays all day long.

i wonder if my life will now be further sub-categorised into pre- and post- burglary.

registering for school this morning, i realised how much i prefer the school buildings quiet and devoid of students. this whole fresher's week bazaar will only give me headaches as i attempt to join societies and clubs tomorrow.

quinoa (say keen-wah) is an amazing crunchy-poppy-squidgy thing that is somewhere between millet and rice. gluten-free, high protein and gives your mouth some amazing textures - what more could i want?

postcards are apparently very trendy at the moment. but i have been sending them to those whose addresses i have had for ages, so i'm trendier than trendy. and if you give me a postal address, i will send you a postcard as and when i come across an interesting one.

i may be getting a new-old bicycle that may have both its brakes working and a smaller frame and not too rusted over as to fall into little red pieces when i try and ride it. *cross fingers* now all i have to do is get over my fear of london traffic and roundabouts.

at east street market just now. on a sign outside a carpet shop

'SALE! more drugs inside!'

c'est la vie

2005-09-25T17:50:00.000+01:00

so we got burgled on friday.

we, as in the boyfriend and i. because our rooms are right on top of each other in the same house, so presumbably that made a lot of sense in the filthy-scum-bastard-burglar's mind that only my room and his room get hit in a house of 7 bedrooms.

the weird thing was, i didn't even realise anything had been taken till the boyfriend called down to me from the top of the stairs saying all my bank cards (vodafone top-up card, UOB electron visa, HSBS savings card) were strewn around his doorway. so i took them from him, went back to my room, put them back in the wallet they were originally in, before realising that my table looked a bit bare. thought over it for 2 seconds, and realised

FUCK MY LAPTOP IS GONE

and so began the great burgled! debacle. police were called, then got shoved to the Southwark police division, then to the CSI, and then the Peckham police calling and wondering whether 'there might be a chance... i hate to ask this, but do you trust everyone in the house?.

that is just so not a question you ask someone who has just lost her beloved 12-inch G4 Powerbook with 2 years of academic work and 8 months of photographs evidencing my summer holidays and other exciting events that happened and years of painstakingly sourced and collated music files and tonnes of other personal notes and writings stored in it's hard-drive, mofo.

but on the bright side, nothing else was taken save for a packet and a half of marlboro lights. bloody stinking scoundrel of a smoker that burgler is. and no one was hurt. i can't imagine if someone was in the house at that time, or if we'd walked in right in the middle of the operation. knowing them south london scumbags, i'd probably be in hospital - as evidenced by the two turkish shops across the road who have shown us scars above the eyebrow from fighting off robbers/burglars/lowdownstealingscummybastards and also new doors because the last one installed just last month got broken down by those vile creatures i shall not name again.

such is the peril of living in my part of town where we are surrounded by the biggest council estate in europe, that is rightly being torn down soon. cheap rent and nice street, sure. but the area has just gone to the dogs. i think all the cute kids suddenly realised that they are disaffected and impoverished, thus giving rise to the prevalent crime culture and gangsta-emulation that i see everywhere - and also giving birth to the immoral monster that burgled our house.

on the other hand, i'm not goign to move out just because someone took my laptop. it could've happened anywhere at anytime. in fact, i think so far i've gotten off pretty lightly. this has been my first brush with the actual violent (or potentially violent) criminal world where rape, mugging and knife-point robbery happens on a daily basis. just getting my laptop stolen is probably making up for everything else i've lucked out of.

this is not to say i'm not upset and am rather contented by all that karma shit. no way jose. i hope that burglar gets his own stuff stolen. or gets an ounce of the most disgusting skunk that makes a bad trip sound like a holiday and smokes it all and then keels over into a gibbering wreck never to go around stealing someone else's property ever again. or get thrown into police custody. or get knifed. or get struck down by lightning.

whatever it is, i have to accept that i'm not getting my laptop back.

so farewell my lovely, i hope you find a nice new owner who will recognise you for what you're worth even though he/she probably bought you in a cash-converters or from the boot of a car.

and to the guy that took it,

damn you cheebye motherfucker i hope you die in the worst possible manner and never get reincarnated but spend the eternity of your afterlife in the 18th level of hell getting your just desserts you fucking prick.

laundry discoveries

2005-09-20T13:19:00.000+01:00

i hate doing laundry, but i love the smell of fresh clean clothes so i do my laundry whenever my massive stockpile of underwear runs out (i'm serious, i have at least 2 weeks worth of underwear in my closet).

whenever i'm back in singapore i don't do any housework to speak of because i'm a pampered pig and i have someone else to do it for me. blah blah blah. no separating (not that i really do it), no turning inside-out, no waiting, no hanging, no folding.

BUT i have realised something very strange, and have been pondering over it for a while. why is it that my whites in singapore are always whiter than my whites here in london?

and i know the answer now.

the reason, taking away the other possible factors such as pollution and acid rain, is that there is just a lot more sun in singapore.

the sun bleaches yo.

which is why i'm supposed to turn my coloureds inside-out or else they'll fade. which is why the dhobis (dhobys? dohby? dobhy? indian laundry men) had such white whites - they left their washing out on the field in the bright sunlight.

which is why for most part of the time in london my whites are never really white, but more a light variation of grey.

so either i go buy bleach and make all my clothes nice and white (those that are supposed to be white, anyway) or i live with the scummy-water colour that it eventually becomes in this sun-lacking climate.

but then again, as my housemate says, what does it matter? you put on so many layers anyway. no one's going to notice. AND since everything else is greyer than it, by comparison it still looks pretty bright white to me.

such barley pearls of wisdom.

Reisende

2005-09-16T19:26:00.000+01:00

back from berlin.

pictures and reflections on the trip will realise themselves eventually, but for now am too distracted by the everyday to sit down and sort through my images and thoughts.

and all this distraction has been brought on by my wanderlust. i've already been checking up flights out of the country to go somewhere sunny this christmas (apart from the very obvious hometown location). we were already planning another trip back to berlin even before we had left the city.

also been pre-occupied with calculations of current and potential financial states. and wondering why these companies keep sending me credit card applications and winning lottery tickets. i honestly don't care for credit, and i only spend what i have. the thought of paying interest on money that i don't have just so i can buy something right now is frankly quite frightening. but then again, i've never had to buy big ticket items like a car or a house. and everything else that's relatively expensive has always been bought for me by the parents. so maybe when they decide to stop giving me money i will plunge straight into credit heaven and debt hell.

but yes, all this travelling is costing lots of money. and i'm sure that if i didn't go away so often, i could probably afford to buy a new wardrobe. however, i live a much better life whilst on my travels than i do when i'm here in london, and i much prefer taking in the sights, experiencing other cultures and getting to know the differences between peoples. the food is a pretty good deal-clincher as well.

i love the european cafe culture and the sense of centuries of known history just around the corner from whichever place i am standing. and the languages that are so similar and yet so different, i like comparing them and going 'oh! of course that's what it means, because it's ___ in spanish/italian/french/english isn't it?'.

the one thing they can save on is perhaps the amount of dog-poo on the streets.

so, yes. that's what's been on my mind today while sitting in the garden and staring at the sky, watching the planes pass by and making cloud/icicle patterns across it.

kitchen garden

2005-09-07T16:08:00.000+01:00

tomatoes, spinach and cauliflower. they were a good dinner, they were.

list #892375892

2005-09-01T18:31:00.000+01:00

This is my life so far, in a list. Because I am a lazy slug.

1. Instead of Singapore – London, someone on my flight decided to have a medical emergency. And so it became Singapore – Mumbai – London, making an already long and tedious journey almost unbearable save for Neil Gaiman and his genius.

2. My garden is amazing, and Tuesday night we harvested the cauliflowers, spinach and tomatoes and made a yummylicious dinner of cauliflower cheese, spinach, rocket and nasturtium salad, a vegetable stew with lamb, and rhubarb crumble. YUM YUM! (pictures of the now-depleted garden will come whenever I upload them. soon-ish, I promise.)

3. Wednesday was spent waking up really early and feeling rather productive until I fell into bed again around 11.30am and didn’t get up till 2pm. And then I just mooched around and did online research about law firms and other boring things like that.

4. Today, I had an interview. It was really good - I had lots of fun chatting to other interviewees and enjoyed the group exercise. Even the actual interview went rather well, although obviously I could have mentioned many more intelligent-sounding things. Overall, rather impressed with the firm, and wouldn’t mind working there if they gave me an offer *fingers crossed*

In other news, its very surprising how easily I slip back into routine here in London. It’s almost as if all those weeks I’ve been away never happened.

The man at the Turkish shop still smiles his recognition, the Safeways-across-the-road is still disgustingly Safeways-across-the-road. East Street is looking the same as ever, except for an explosion in colour and range of vegetable and fruit sold by the stallholders. The pub is still endearingly old and falling to pieces and honestly quite grimy, but much better than those pub chains they have everywhere nowadays.

As I mentioned to someone today, its odd how I feel more at home here than I do at home. It’s almost as if here I’m living a real life, while back there I’m really only watching someone else’s home movie.

zhoi kin

2005-08-29T04:30:00.000+01:00

so.

too little time, too many things and too many people.

i've learnt some very hard lessons these past 6 weeks, and discovered many new and amazing things as well.

we all move on in life, and everything changes with time. truisms and all.

perhaps all this living out of suitcases has put many issues in sharper relief than they would have otherwise. or perhaps living outside the box gives one a clearer view of the limited dimensions of said box.

the only things i value from this place are relationships that have germinated in this hot and humid land. but that said, these relationships also transcend physical borders.

so, one day in the future, when i've made my millions and trillions, i'll have you all as permanent houseguests in my island paradise in some emerald green ocean.

p/s: thanks everyone for the invaluable conversations, kopitiam/drinking sessions and other assorted mundane behaviour that mean more to me than you would know.

happy 80th birthday mama

2005-08-21T08:41:00.000+01:00

There are relatives. And there are Relatives.

For the most part, I get along well with most of the people in my large extended family – I actually like going visiting during Chinese New Year. I don’t mind people asking me the same questions every year (‘Oh so where are you studying now?’, ‘Wah London must be so expensive, right?’) and stating the same obvious facts every year (‘Wah! You look very different now, you’re so much fairer than last time!’, ‘Wah! The food in London must be very delicious.’ etc). I find it all rather entertaining.

But then, there are the Relatives that are self-righteous, narrow-minded and have a extreme case of the persecution complex. Oh, and did I mention they are also zealous religious converts?

Them I try to avoid as much as possible, to no avail. It’s sad, but true. Of all the Relatives I have to put up with, these I have to on an almost-daily basis due to the fact that they are my mother’s siblings. And it grates.

So, it’s all very well that I see them everyday at dinner. And I see even more of them on Saturdays when everyone comes round for dinner at my Grandmother’s house. I put up with them and their bible-thumping ways, and they continue tsk-tsking about my ‘worldly manner’. I am the black sheep they love to hate.

But what happened this afternoon takes the cake.

Given, they have very different views on secular celebrations such as birthdays. So we had to invent a reason for going to a restaurant for dinner with my Grandmother other than that it was her 80th birthday, like my brother would be going for training in Thailand for a month, and I hadn't eaten chilli crab the whole time I've been back. Excuses like that.

And we informed them of the arrangements maybe two weeks in advance, telling them that we would be bringing my Grandmother and them for dinner tonight. You would think that it was more than enough pre-warning, and that they’d write it down or keep today free, seeing as they would be getting a free dinner at a seafood restaurant courtesy of my parents. But no, they’ve gone off to god-knows-where. Without informing any of us. My mother only found out when she rang her mother up to tell her what time we would be picking them up.

Didn't your god teach you basic courtesy? Would it not be only good manners to inform the hosts of any changes in plans?

So thanks for not showing anyone any respect, not even your own mother. And thanks for making my holiday less pleasant that it could have been.

These good and godly people leave a bad taste in my mouth with their preaching at me and then going on to display their utter lack of respect for other people and their feelings. It’s things like these that make me so glad I won’t be sticking around for much longer.

saturday night lights

2005-08-20T17:33:00.000+01:00

moon shine

brainbug

2005-08-20T02:53:00.000+01:00

Three different dreams last night, after each of which my eyelids flew open and I was left gasping for air.

I haven’t had anything this close to a nightmare in ages, much less three at a time.

on errors

2005-08-18T09:36:00.000+01:00

so there was a post here. before safari self-destructed due to an unexpected error. i get that quite a bit, with safari and firefox both.

thoughts of calling in the techxperts to 'hmm', 'mmm' and 'okay you see...' at me have arisen. but i quite like to think of myself as rather capable of handling my own computer-related problems, barring it actually dying on me.

and anyway, i'm sure its just a matter of housekeeping. i probably have too many browsers on my hard disk for my own good. and too much crap hanging around the periphery. tomorrow i shall embark on some spring (summer?) cleaning and do some backing-up of data along the way.

so, all in all, me calling in the professionals to fix this (non)problem is probably rather unnecessary at the moment. and is probably as realistic as me actually joining a gym.

sunset skyline

2005-08-15T14:38:00.000+01:00

the view from the window of my mom's office

retail therapy

2005-08-14T12:56:00.000+01:00

One of the drawbacks to living on my kind of budget for most of the year in London is that I shop like a tai-tai on amphetamines whenever I'm back in Singapore.

Just a few hours in town has resulted in one book, two magazines, two shirts and one shawl. And another three books borrowed from the library. And cappucinos and iced-chocolates. And browsing through the shelves of the new shop with beautiful notebooks/journals/photo-albums/etc at jaw-droppingly exorbitant prices. And a whopping car park charge of close to ten dollars (the last time I ever paid that sort of money for parking was when I valet-ed my car at a hotel).

After all my retail deprivation, it felt really good to be dazzled by the bright lights and rows and rows of consumer goods. The colours! The designs! The conversion rates!

Shopping gives such a sense of control and empowerment. But when I think about how easy it is for me to announce that I would be shopping even though I'm earning nothing at all, I am humbled by my apparent ability to spend.

And as I said to my sister as we walked out of a store, 'Aren't we so lucky that we can go shopping like this and only worry about remembering the right PIN number for my card?'.

Bloop Bloop

2005-08-12T10:38:00.000+01:00

I am being lazy. Or rather, I am lazy to entertain.

This therefore results in speedy drinks session with colleagues, and then impromptu arrangements for (probably) long protracted and drawn-out dinner with the friend(s).

The friends rock. I love them because I can be silly, rude, gwai lan, intelligent and downright no-manners when I’m around them, and I don’t have to watch my words. Or my hands. Or my ladylike demeanour – not that I had any to begin with.

I also love the friends because they always have cool studios/houses to hang out in on the east coast. I might have lived north-east-by-central-catchment-area all my life, but at heart I think I am an east-side girl. It would go very far in explaining why a lot of my ex-crushes/loves/dalliances all live or used to live between the Eunos and Changi Airport exits on the PIE.

So anyway, the whole point of this whole thing is: I am so glad I’ll be getting down some speedy drinks before shooting off for dinner. I’ll need the alcohol to alleviate all the boring-ness that has beset themselves upon me.

i resolve to...

2005-08-11T05:33:00.000+01:00

Some people have New Year Resolutions. I have new school year maybe’s. When school used to start in January, they would coincide. But now that tertiary education generally begins somewhere weirdly two-thirds of the way into the year, so my school year maybe’s have to be thought out now.

And this is what I have come up with so far:

1. Actually take notes while doing readings, and not just underlining or highlighting it.
it’s a bitch and it takes double the time, but it’ll save on the grief come april

2. Go to all my lectures and classes.
sounds so easy, doesn’t it? But when it’s a 9am class and it’s snowing, my Neanderthal response is to dig deep under the covers and carry on sleeping.

3. Make more effort in my social life, and turn up at events when I’ve already promised to.
once again, easier said than actually done.

4. Take a trip to every megabus stop at least once
for 1 pound a ride, I’ll go to the ends of the earth with these guys. Maybe

5. Volunteer
ahem. I need to shore up halo/angelwings-credits to make up for all the evil I will unleash once I start practicing

I’m sure more will be added in due course, but this is all I can think up while sitting staring at a wall under flourescent tube lighting. Right now, my only resolution is to get out of the office, find seats and some lunch at Golden Shoe Carpark and have a cigarette at the end of it all.

And as a disclaimer, all the above aren't actually resolutions. They are categorised as 'Maybe's. So, failure to achieve any of them will not be regarded as the end of the world. Merely a continuance of my last two relak-jack years of hedonistic insobriety.

underwhelmed

2005-08-10T08:59:00.000+01:00

So there was National Day and fireworks and general chauvinistic display of military strength. Hurrah.

The only enjoyable thing about the whole affair was the pull-out segment in yesterday’s newspaper on the weird, wonderful and outright what-the-hell?! things that can be found on our sunny shores.

And imagine my surprise when the most handsome hawker turned out to be that fishball-noodles-selling boy from Amoy Street Hawker Centre. I always knew he’d make it some day. Although we intentionally skipped the ground floor, and went straight for better coffee on the 2nd floor this morning. Caffeine kicks over eye candy any day.

On another note,

HR departments obviously do not pay too much attention to applicant’s forms once they get through the initial ‘oops, no As at A-level, bin it!’ stage.

After explicitly stating that I will not be available until September, I get interview dates between 16th August and 01st September. yeah thanks. Now I have to call the damned woman and tell her that I won’t be in London until the 05th of September. Unless, of course, she and/or the firm she works for would like to stump up the money for an earlier flight back.

And as an ex-housemate of mine beautifully put it,

'I Don't Think So, Yo'

the tourist

2005-08-08T04:41:00.000+01:00

There are times when I wish I had forever to take in the sights and sounds of Singapore.

But I know that the feeling is just illusory, and I only think in this manner because I won’t be around for 9 – 10 months out of 12. And also because I’m interning and have no energy after battling the work-bots at Raffles Place to go exploring.

Still.

I would love to do a project on Shenton Way and Raffles Place on a Sunday. The steel+glass everywhere makes me dizzy and weak at the knees, literally and metaphorically. I also want to do a project on HDB blocks that look like candle holders all lit up and twinkly at night, although that might just be due to my astigmatism.

I also want to visit Arab Street and sit there on a sunny lazy afternoon drinking teh ais. Or go haggling at Sungei Road. And wandering around the back lanes of Little India. Perhaps take a walk around Chinatown and buy the clear plastic piggy banks from my childhood in pink green blue or orange.

And watch the films showing at Screen Singapore. And attend a drum’n’bass event, Singaporean style. And go to the religious art exhibition ‘Journey of Faith’ at the Asian Civilizations Museum. And eat warm chocolate cake at Baker’s Inn. Or just drive around in the middle of the night along the expressways, imagining what it'd be like to be flying.

Alternatively, more time to hang out in a pre-1950s colonial type house with the friends since the other pre-development house in Gardens has been deemed unsuitable. And drink beer on the balcony or just down the road. And ogle at the house across the street with the goddess of mercy staring back at me.

fractionally marginalised

2005-08-05T03:56:00.000+01:00

This morning over breakfast at Amoy Street ~~Market~~ Hawker Centre, I was telling my mother about how I find a lot of the conversations I have with X really tedious.

The obsession with appearances and how fat/skinny/pretty/ugly/badly-dressed/short-skirted/big-thighed/insert-comment-here a person is or was - it just tires me out completely. I try to change the topic to no avail, and so most of the time I just keep quiet and let my mind wander on to other more interesting things, like how I really need to buy a new suit.

Not to say I don’t indulge in such frivolous behaviour at times - I do. Of course I do. I’m a girl. But having the same sort of conversation the whole night long, every single time, is honestly quite ridiculous.

So anyway, I was telling my mother about how i feel about the whole situation. And without looking up from her bowl of porridge, she said,

’see, this is why I never thought buying children Barbie dolls was a good idea.’

Which I completely agree with now. Although I’m sure that as a child I must have kicked up a storm of a fuss because my cousins had the whole Barbie playhouse and 32 Barbies to boot. And I’m also sure the person in question did not exactly spend all her days designing Ken + Barbie’s new wardrobe.

On the other hand, if I only spoke in legalese and discussed the latest takeovers and financings deals, I know I’ll be labeled atas and be ostracized slowly but surely. So maybe all that superficiality is just the lowest common denominator of conversation topics, and is a genuine attempt at involving everyone in the discussion.

But if it is true, then it’s really depressing that my lowest common denominator is that low.

all-seeing eyes

2005-08-03T02:54:00.000+01:00

My Her World horoscope for this month tells me that:

Changes are due and pave the way to more settled conditions. Don’t lose any of your determination.

Looks like a good portent. Perhaps I will not be the reject I expect to be, and perhaps one or two interviews might actually come my way. yay!

Or, I might just be reading too much into things.

stop.rewind.play

2005-08-01T10:32:00.000+01:00

So the other night I ended up at Jalan Kayu with the best friend (girl’s division) for tea (her) and ice milo (me). I was supposed to have put my weekend on hold. But she had the car, and I was getting cabin fever. therefore, supper time.

We ended up talking until half-past-two in the morning while going backwards and forwards from my place to that place. We talked about things that we always talked about. About the past, about right now, about what’s maybe going to happen. And how much things have changed since we last met.

Photos from my trip to Portugal this summer were looked at, and her comments included gems like

‘Wah! Where is this? It's so nice! Europe always looks so romantic, hor?’
‘is he blonde? I though you said he was brunette. Oh wait. Oh I see. Ok yah he’s not blonde.’

The speed of speech was all a bit overwhelming after I had spent the whole day holed up in my mom’s office doing you-know-what. But every time I come back to this country, I realise how much I’ve missed the long night drives and the clatter-splatter-chatter-noise at 24hour eating places with endless supplies of teh-peng and nasi goreng ikan bilis.

aftermath

2005-07-31T17:10:00.000+01:00

my social life can resume itself now.

i've clicked on 'submit application' while crossing my fingers enough times. i've also been staring at the computer screen too long. and i've also been nitpicking at words far too much.

right now i wish i was at home in london, listening to the traffic roar behind the wall, sitting out in the garden watching the aphids suck the life out of the bean plants while drinking red stripe and smoking benson & hedges gold.

or maybe i could be in koh samui on the 26th watching the luminescent moon cast its milky glory on all us party-goers.

a leeky brain

2005-07-29T14:23:00.000+01:00

i'm the first one to admit that i'm a geek and i don't mind people telling it to me either. so i have to say that i was really excited today when i realised that i was going to sit in on an arbitration hearing(?) with the head honcho at my firm.

everything that they taught me in commercial contracts on alternative dispute resolutions and arbitration clauses suddenly flashed through my head and my eyes opened super wide and my jaw dropped open.

'like, oh my god, it's happening in real life! and i get to see it! wee hee~!'

but of course the idea of it is always better than the actual exercise, and i had to do my utmost to hide my yawning from misterheadhonchoman by scribbling things in my notebook and drafting answers to those seriously weird questions. it also helped that there was free coffee and tea and cakes and sandwiches and samosas - free food is always exciting right?

oh, and there was an interesting article on the page facing the inside back cover (i'm too lazy to go find the page number) in the Straits Times today on the increasing wealth-gap and the problem of continuing the academic meritocracy system, i.e. the rich will get richer because they can afford the best everything for their children and so their children will do very well in schools and be given scholarships when they don't need it and then they will come back from overseas and become very rich and important people and then they will have money to afford the best everything for their children and then you rinse wash and repeat ad infinity ad nauseum, while the poor will remain in the vicious cycle of poverty and deprivation.

of course the writer makes a better argument than i have, and i'm merely generalising and making sweeping unsubstantiated statements - but i really feel that this is a genuine problem that the society in singapore faces, and it will only get worse. i always feel very humbled by people i know who have succeeded in life despite their backgrounds, and always ask myself whether i actually deserve whatever i've achieved so far. it might not have been a silver spoon but at least i didn't have to use my hands.

dead line

2005-07-29T04:28:00.000+01:00

my brain tells me that there is a training contract application whose deadline is today. or today when it is midnight in England, anyway.

but i can't find the email that told me that. and i don't know which firm it is because there are too many. so. that's one application in the trashcan. unless by some miracle i find it and i finish it.

and why do they always ask you questions like, "Give an example of a complex situation where you have been pro-active to produce a successful outcome". uhm.

sad drunk and poorly

2005-07-28T09:06:00.000+01:00

going to the office with a hangover and only 3 hours of sleep is not funny. not funny at all.

and having to discuss a bill of costs and talk about principle and quantum and whether or not we are justified in claiming that amount? trust me, it was very painful and difficult. especially since i'd not done any background work and only read the notes to the civil procedure rules an hour before the meeting.

i don't think half a dozen gin&tonics on a weekday night will be a good idea again anytime soon. at least not while i still have to get up at 6am and get into the office at half-eight.

// on the other hand, i've sent in one of my applications (out of perhaps 35). *cross fingers* give me an interview and give me a job, and i'll dedicate the next 4 years of my life, the best years of my youth, to you absolutely. and i really i mean it. for now. //