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too much and too little |
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Anon
I was sitting down minding my own business when the PR person walked over, looked at me, and said, "You're (my real name) right?" "Yes," I replied. "How did you know?" "Ah," she said, "I read your column on baby names, and I recognise you from your picture." I was taken aback, of course, because nobody knows who I am. Nobody. Nobody knows who the fuck I am in school, nobody knows who the fuck I am in university, who always walks, head bowed, straight to safety of the cubicled computer room where I resume my anonymity online. Hell, I don't usually get kudos from strangers. So, I smiled like a dumbass. She decided to regale me with a story of a cousin who gave his son a feminine name and her efforts at stopping him. But that's not the point. This is the point: She said: "Your story was quite cute." And here I pause for a quick message to my female readers: WRONG: Your (story/style/football team/organ)* is cute! RIGHT: Your (story/style/football team/organ)* is FUCKING MONSTROUS YO! *delete where appropriate Cute is not a suitable adjective to describe anything produced by a man, people. *grunts*
Hold the Press
Got my first front page story today. Not too bad, even if it's only because yesterday was the slowest news day known to man. I've been doing obituary stories, and it is beginning to look that I may be permanently assigned to this section, and I'm telling you: I hate it. It sucketh nutteth.
I love my weekend
And now it's over.
Why I read
I hate those 1/2 or 3/4 of an hour between work where I can't really do anything yet feel obliged to do something productive, so usually if my next press conference or interview is in town I would just hop on the train, have an early lunch and wander. So today my feet brought me once again to Borders, where so many of my pennies have already been spent in that giant columbarium for dead trees. Today I told myself I would go through the bloody bookstore without buying anything since I've a huge backlog of purchased books I have yet to even peruse. Needless to say I failed. The book I wanted to buy, Legends II, was only available in hardcopy, and I'll be damned if I ever pay 50 bucks for the sake of one short story, even if it's The Sworn Sword by George R. R. Martin. Strangely enough one of the books being featured at Borders is One Hundred Years of Solitude by that dude Gabriel Garcia Marquez, which after a quick flip through the pages, I quickly surmise is a story about people named Jose. But because those rather bookish folks over at There Are Too Many Bones in This Soup go all gaga over it - and their tastes are of a sort far more exquisite than mine - it may be something more than just that. I think it started this trend called "magical realism", but I got that off random reviews in Amazon.com so don't take my word for it. With time and effort, through a dazzling landscape of glittering letters by a genius, I may actually learn something more about life and of places strange and alien to me, should I decide to go through the book. But rather than struggle through hundreds of pages about life in a village near jungles that vaguely resemble those on Tekong, I decided to buy Jokes to Go - 1,386 of the Funniest Bits from the Best Comedians by Judy Brown instead. "If life gives you lemons, go make some sort of fruity juice." (Conan O'Brien) PS. Now for the next few hundred weeks, you know where my sub-headings are coming from.
Let me gloat for but a moment
My second commentary got published today, and I received my first piece of congratulatory e-mail: "Now I have something else to look forward to when reading *****" she said. And yesterday as I walked out of the office after getting an MC, buck-legged from stomach pains, one of my editors called me to the office and showed me a message he was writing: "I've been following your progress lately, and your performance recently has been excellent. Keep it up!" I managed a weak "Thanks mate" and escaped from the cubicle before I shat all over the carpet. Oh, and thanks Reza, Choonhou and Cisoux for your kind SMSes. Only used the toilet 4 times today. A major improvement from yesterday! Oh and I met a reporter, who happened to be pretty hot, from our closest competitors at a press conference today. At one point, as we commented on the ugly ass cap this company gave us: Me: Man this is one cap I will never wear. She: Yeah they should have given us one of those chef caps or something Me: YEAH! I may just wear one of those around the house She: That's because they make you look taller right? Pffft! The perils of being midget-like!
A Fragment
Her love is a rose, pale and dying. Dropping her petals in land unknown All full of wine, the world before her, was sober with no place to go. But don't fool yourself, she was heartache from the moment that you met her. My heart is frozen still as I try to find the will to forget her, somehow. Oh she's somewhere out there now. (from Forget Her, by Jeff Buckley)
I was going to be candid
But I thought better of it.
The half hour I spent watching "80kmh"
Is a half hour I will never get back. In other news, I'm exhausted. Goodnight.
It's all whitey's fault
"OH, I would love to have Johnny Depp's children," one of my friends told me recently. Not surprising, really, because Johnny Depp is a very sexy man. He has played Don Juan (not Quixote, yup), for crying out loud! So, lots of local women find Caucasian men exotic. Sexy. Foreign. Some of them even marry Caucasians. Personally I think some of the most beautiful women in the world are Caucasian. I get really excited just looking at Anna Kournikova, and I know many men here do. It was thus with some puzzlement that I read Mr Seah Leong Khai's letter in Streats (March 15, 2004), which complained that the trend of Singaporean women marrying Caucasians to be "alarming", without actually stating what was so alarming about it. He says Singaporean women find Caucasians "conversationally adept, opinionated, sophisticated and most importantly, not interested in the 5Cs", unlike Singaporean men, presumably. Mr Seah makes no attempt to dispute this, which I think is in error. Many Singaporean men are great talkers, just maybe not in English. Just try talking to the "ah peks" at coffee shops, I guarantee you that they have an opinion on everything and they are quite willing to share it with you, until, of course, you want them to state it on the record, which I assure you, is incredibly frustrating as a reporter. Mr Seah states that Singaporean women see Singaporean men as "boring, quiet, obedient and stereotypical" who only marry to start a family, then finishes off with saying that these are the better qualities of Singaporean men over ang moh men. Notwithstanding the fact that "Caucasian" and "local" are not mutually exclusive traits, let me say first that I completely agree with Mr Seah on the stereotype women here have of Singapore men. If the various N*w P*per features on how Singaporean women find Singaporean men are any indication, many of them find us little more interesting than invetebrate undersea dwellers. The difference being that invetebrate undersea dwellers are more interested in procreation than most of us. Except me. I am intently interested in procreation. The problem is that nobody else is interested in procreating with me, which, I tell you, really makes me recognise the wonder that is porn. But the question is: are there women here who prefer Caucasian men over Asian men merely because they're Caucasian? Only the reply: yes, so fucking what, springs immediately to mind. Anyway, for those who follow Streats, the publication of Mr Seah Leong Khai's letter unleashed the darker side of Singaporeans, with a series of letters so embarassing I can't bear to write any of the details. I hope the letters bear little in the way of truth, because otherwise: 1. Caucasian men are either evil skirt-chasers OR the harbingers of a greater civilisation -- but only in their own minds. 2. Local men are either benevolent family-based conservatives whose minds have yet to crawl out of the primordial (read: Victorian) sludge OR complete losers who can't handle Singaporean women and end up marrying those from Vietnam or China, who divorce them two weeks later. 3. Singaporean women are either evil, shallow angmoh-loving bitches OR strong, independent people who don't need babies and aren't married by choice, yes choice, damnit (sobs).
You Pretty Thang
Man I promise, I'm so self conscious That's why you always see me with at least one of my watches Rollies and Pasha's done drove me crazy I can't even pronounce nothing, pass that versace! Then I spent 400 bucks on this Just to be like nigga you ain't up on this! And I can't even go to the grocery store Without some ones thats clean and a shirt with a team It seems we living the american dream But the people highest up got the lowest self esteem The prettiest people do the ugliest things (Found this off a forum I frequent. No idea who to attribute it to.)
In praise of hawker centres
Chicken rice two bucks. Where else in the world can get? So sweet and tender. Fuck the shopping malls. Just because there got aircon The price double liaoz! Do you not know that Hawkers not food court vendors Make S'pore food famous?
SHOCK AND AWE
Every morning when I reach the office the first thing I do is grab a copy of the newspaper I write for and work my way through the crowds of cleaners to the toilet, and relieve myself of the contents in my intestines. Most of the time I'm the only person in the toilet and it is usually a pleasant experience, because the washrooms here are cleaned constantly, unlike at home where the toilet rolls tend to disappear with no warning, and there is nothing more horrifying than reaching out after you've finished and finding that the toilet paper had run out. So I was seated on the commode blissfully flipping through the pages of the newspaper in mild concentration (mild because I eat a lot of fibre) when I heard the door to the washroom open and slow footsteps. No big deal, one can't expect to have the whole office washroom to oneself. What alarmed me was that out of the seven cubicles in which this man could have done his business in he chose the one next to mine, which broke every rule about toilet etiquette I am sure. Still, it's okay with me, hearing a few plops here and there won't help my appetite any but it's acceptable. But a sense of disquiet came over me when he began his exertions. This was no ordinary man. He grunted when he did his business, accompanied by a low growl like MMMMmmmMMMmmMMmmmMMppppppHHHhhh that rose and fell with each expulsion. And the expulsions! I don't know what the hell he ate but it sounded like World War I in there. Gases, liquids and solids seemed to have combined together in a quite unsanitary toilet thunderstorm, an orchestra of nightmarish proportions I would not have imagined a single human anus capable of emanating. I swear my toilet quivered. My own waste seemed to shrink back into the shadowy confines of my innards in shock and awe as my newspaper crumbled rapidly under the ever tightening grip of my fingers. So I dumped my load with a ferocity that is borne only from sheer dread, did a few rapid wipes, pulled up my pants, washed my hands and fled, before the troll or balrog or whatever unnatural, monstrous thing that had been defecating in the stall next to me broke free of its confines and decided to DEVOUR MY SOUL!
This is bullshit
Bullshit.
TASTY
I sat down for a nice juicy KFC meal some weeks ago (I was at work, you see) when I was struck by a (quite uncharacteristic) twinge of what may have been conscience - a feeling that's disturbingly similar to heartburn. I recalled a conversation two weeks or so before about livestock. It wasn't so much about their slaughter, but about how they live. "Most of them chickens don't get to even turn around, living in tiny cages with hundreds of other chickens. They don't even get to see sunlight," the person said. How horrible. And by eating them I am contributing to the horror of their short, cramped but well-fed lives. I stared at the crispy two-piece meal for a second. I lifted one succulent wing up, and I bit into it. Mmmm. Crispy.
I am but a simple, shallow man
Finally I get my first commentary published in the paper I work for, which means that poor Singaporeans everywhere will get to see my ugly mug - but only on occasion. One editor said it was pretty good ("I enjoyed subbing it," he said), but then he broke his leg recently and may be taking so much medicine he may have been high when he said it. But hey, he told me my lead for the story I was writing today was crap, so I guess everything's back to normal. But that's not what you want to read about, and not what my fingers want to explore. Today I want to talk about Boobs, and It's effect on Man. I was shoving my way through the lunchtime crowd at City Hall MRT station when a relatively short, but sexy woman (thanks in part to her giant bazookas) in a tight black tee grabbed my arm and said: "Sir, would you not buy a ticket please? It's for charity..." I guess she thought I was a sucker - and she'd be right! I couldn't peel my eyes off her boobs. "I only have enough for one la," and I pull out my wallet (which had quite a lot of money cos I just went to the bank). Her eyes LIT up, and she actually started acting all sultry and shit. "Please laaa, buy at least two la," she said, pulling my arm and swinging her body left - right - left - saliva (mine) - right - "Really sorry, I'm damn poor, I'm an intern..." "Intern? WHA, that means you're going to be a doctor right?" That broke the spell. I laughed and pressed the $5 note in her hand, grabbed the ticket, and stalked off. But DAMN, those were some major gazongas. If that had been a guy or a woman without humungous balloons and a cute face, there was no chance he/she would've grabbed any money off me!
It was raining cats and dogs
I folded my umbrella as I stepped out of the unrelenting rain into the relative warmth of HDB void deck, and waved goodbye to Punkfairy who had to endure the pitter patter of a merciless March sky just for a while longer. I cursed, for I was wet, cold and uncomfortable, when I heard a soft meow - maybe not so soft since it was audible even in the rainy din - and I sought the source: an orange cat cowering between the wheels of two parked bicycles. I squatted down and mewed to it softly, but it only meowed back, trotting back and forth between the wheels. When it walked past me I thought I had convinced it to let me give it a friendly pat on its back; I was wrong. A middle-aged lady was behind me, and in her hands was some sort of animal paste: cat food. As the cat fed, I decided to strike up some idle conversation. I had nothing to do and my mom would only get here in a while. She was rather friendly. She didn't live very close to here, but even in the downpour she came for the gang of cats that would have assembled, but while the provider disdained the rain the cats were less foolish; they were nowhere to be found. This one, however, appeared to be ostracised by the rest, that's what she told me. Why do you feed the cats, I asked her. Because I love cats, she told me. She added: it's not good to feed cats if you don't neuter them. You take the cats to the vet? (I was surprised.) Yes, she told me. It's not cheap either. $50 for a female, $70 for a male. SPCA doesn't do it anymore. They got pissed because so many cats they neutered got culled by the town councils during the Sars outbreak and don't do it any more. You know, one time I was feeding the cats here, and one person from SPH saw me, and ran back to the office, and took his camera out, and took photos. Then he sent them to the town council. The town council sent a team here and culled them. I was so angry. One day I finally caught him again. I confronted him. Why did you do that? Did you know how much money I spent neutering them? These cats don't even live in the area, they only come here because I feed them! I feed them, they do no harm! I nodded, and we talked some more, until the growl of a beast of quite a different nature interrupted us. My mom was here in her Honda. So more partings. I waved goodbye to the little lady, who now donned her cap and prepared to do battle with the weather; I waved goodbye to the cat, which now lounged around nonchalantly having had its dinner; and finally, I waved goodbye to the fucking rainy shower. Goodbye!
CHINESE LANGUAGE EDUCATION: Does it make sense?
The mother tongue issue just won't go away. About two weeks ago MOE announced that the mother tongue subject need not be included for university entry now, to the joy of thousands of Singaporeans who had screwed up that particular subject. I would have been one of them. I had a B4 for Higher Chinese while I was at Chinese High, and I decided, "No, I can't take it any more, I'm not going to struggle with this subject in Junior College now that I've passed it. Goodbye, goodnight." While I watch Mandarin drama serials I don't read the Chinese papers nor do I converse with the vast majority of the people around me in Mandarin, if only because most of the people I know don't speak mandarin very well at all. It seems completely hypocritical then for me to take a stand in favour of the second-language policy in Singapore. Let me rephrase that: I am in favour of a second-language policy but I feel that the current system may not be serving the purpose that its creators hoped it would. There were four reasons, according to Mauzy and Milne (Singapore Politics under the People's Action Party, 2002), which included: 1.The continued transmission of the "mother tongue" was seen as a barrier against the influence of Westernisation, considered negative among many leaders. 2.the fear that Singapore may lose a vital "something" in its Asian values that may have helped create Singapore's economic "miracle, 3.that Singapore's "Chinese-ness" was an advantage when dealing with a growing China, and 4.satisfying the "embittered Chinese-educated and dialect-speaking Chinese over the decline of Chinese schools and Nantah". But are these reasons still valid today? For the first three, our lawmakers operated on the assumption that teaching the Chinese language would help instill a sense of "Chinese-ness". This is entirely understandable, but flawed. While it may bring some Chinese, who may not have otherwise done so, into contact with many facets of "Chinese culture" (another disputable term), it is also true that people who have a hard time learning a language they're forced to may resent the language and the norms associated with it. As long as the former is greater than the latter, the assumption is fine. But what if it isn't? For the first, the common complaint is that Westernisation is not actually "evil" and people do not need protection from it. Considering the number of ministers that were educated overseas I don't think accusing the government of being anti-Western bigots makes sense. The best way to interpret this, I think, is that our leaders believe that Chinese-ness (or Malay-ness or Indian-ness) helps to temper the "excesses" of Westernisation. Personally I feel that having a second language background and exposure to more cultures is a good thing, no matter how you look at it. But just because it's a good thing doesn't mandate its coercion on people based merely on their birth. As for the second, I cannot say to what extent "Chinese values" helped contribute to our economic success. Until someone explains it to me more explicitly, I'd classify this one under "dodgy". For the third, our "Chinese-ness" have failed to make a significant impact in China. Maybe without our "Chinese-ness" we'd be doing even worse. I don't know. But I wouldn't file this as important, without some actual data (which seems non-existent). The fourth makes sense from an electoral point of view. The eradication of Chinese schools and the increased sidelining of Chinese-educated individuals in society (as English became the lingua franca) was a tremendous impact on a large portion of society. (See previous post, don't want to repeat myself TOO much.) The Chinese-language policy could be seen as a concession to the Chinese-educated Chinese, who had been losing ground to the English-educated everywhere else. Nowadays, as Mauzy and Milne notes, the fracture between the two isn't quite so obvious, with many youngsters effectively bilingual (or ineffectively so, if you're asking a purist). It would be foolish to say that this divide doesn't exist any more (it does), but it's no longer the kind of explosive issue that topples governments. So what does this mean then? Is it finally time to shrug off the second-language system? If it's causing so much pain to so many people, possibly contributing even to a brain drain, why keep it? It's not like it actually does anything, right? I wouldn't go that far, and I suspect most Singaporeans wouldn't, either. At the very least, it plays a fundamental role in shaping our multi-cultural identity (though whether this multi-cultural character is worth retaining is an entirely different question). But should it change? Possibly. I'm not a great fan of constant change in our educational system, to tell you the truth; if anything, I think we adjust the system far too often for too little benefit. But in this case, I thought the changes (eg. dropping "mother tongue" as a pre-requisite, introducing Chinese B) were necessary, though it shouldn't be seen as a kowtow to the English-educated. In fact, much of the drive for reform was created by Chinese-educated progressives. In my (most unenlightened) opinion, in addition to dropping it as a pre-requisite for local university entry, I think a few more things need to be done: 1. Choice of a second language should be disconnected from race. 2. Drop the phrase "Mother Tongue". 3. Drop GP as a pre-requisite for university admission, except for certain courses. 4. Drop the blatantly preachy aspects of the Chinese language syllabus. Having removed most of the most coercive aspects of the 2nd language policy I see no need to further simplify Chinese language education. One problem I imagine cropping up as a result of this policy is a further divide between the English-educated Chinese and the Chinese-educated Chinese, and a large-scale rejection of Chinese-language education by even Chinese-oriented families because Malay is perceived as a language that is more easy to learn (since it is alphabetical like English).
META: BLOGS
All blogged UP: Millions write Web diaries but few are 'blogbusters' Assistant Professor Mark Cenite from the School of Communication and Information at the Nanyang Technological University observed: 'A blogger may enjoy writing a blog...but that doesn't mean everyone wants to read it. For most of us, the humble reality is that if our autobiographies were available at the library for others to read, they'd be gathering dust.' (I'm quoting him here from the all the passages in the article cos he's one of the rare few who have ever given me an A.) PS. The link expires in two weeks from publication.
A More Self-Indulgent Post Than Is Usual, Even for Me
While casting a DD spell on my pet in PoK repeatedly to raise my evoc skill earlier, I surfed the web and found this interesting test on physical attractiveness on ScorpioGirl's. I took it and had something that may have been an epiphany, thanks to this paragraph, in the result: Very Picky: It's official: You're "picky." The fact is you are drawn to the most beautiful of the beautiful. You know what you like in women and are more selective than most men your age. Your tastes seem instinctual. You'd make a great casting agent, because you have a good eye for women who have "star quality." In real life, your high standards may be an obstacle for you. It's hard to find a woman with the strong features you like, who's also well-rounded in other ways. Still, you know the importance of a real physical "spark" in a relationship, and aren't willing (or able) to settle for less. The challenge is finding a woman who really wows you physically, even if she's not the most attractive woman in the room. No wonder I'm single and angry; I'm an ugly fucker who only find the truly beautiful attractive. A frog gazing at the stars, warts and all. And apparently, I find this kind of woman really sexy:  and 
Favorite Qualities Your photo choices suggest a woman over 35 is probably getting a little old for your tastes You seemed interested in dating a woman at least 25 or older Very beautiful women So-called "Ecto-Mesomorphs," with narrow chins and nicely angular faces Blonde hair Wavy hair Favorite Looks You liked a group of women we call "Gems," because of their diamond or heart-shaped faces. Their pretty faces and light skin are usually framed by blonde, softly curled hair. With small, delicate features they convey an overall impression of femininity and sweetness that most men find appealing. About 1 in 5 men (21%) share your search for these gems. There's something about the energy and youthful appeal of "Cheerleaders" that's hard to resist. We use this name to describe a group of women who's facial features combine feminine beauty with a "tomboy" flair. They usually have blonde or light brown hair--cut short, small button noses, and wide smiles. These aren't "perfect" beauty contest winners. But their vivacious personality comes across even in photographs and makes their overall impression one of dazzling beauty. You won't be surprised to find out that more than 1 in 4 men (27%) still want to date the head cheerleader. Favorite Face Type Faces known scientifically as "Ecto-Mesomorphs" repeatedly caught your eye. Women express this type in two ways. One version has a rectangular face shape that is long and narrow. The other type's face shape is often compared to a diamond or a heart, because it is wide at the cheeks and then has a sharply angled jaw. Ecto-Mesomorph women have either delicate pointed chins or chins that are slightly squared-off or rounded at the base. This "classic" face type is one of the most idealized for women and can be found on most movie and music idols. These women also tend to have lean, but shapely, builds when they're young. About 57% of other men especially prefer women with this face type.
It's Come Out Week I hear
That's what my friend Fleming told me anyway. Come Out Week: A time gay people all over Singapore go out and tell their parents that they prefer to have sex with people of the same sex. I'm not sure if this also counts for bisexuals, but the intricacies and politics of sexuality are muddled and beyond my comprehension. I say good for them. Why live a lie? However I reserve the right to mock ye when you get obnoxious like everyone else; just because you're oppressed doesn't mean you get an automatic bye, folks!
Because I couldn't think of anything to write
Time Traveller? Sure I go back in time and I a bunch of it posting on message boards. Sure. 3-headed Frog The mutants have arrived and are taking over. The Singhsons Self-explanatory really.
MY MIND HAS SHATTERED
TOO MUCH WORK! TOO LITTLE TIME! TOO MUCH WORK! *runs around in circles, endlessly*
Why people don't ICQ me any more
Roah (11:19 PM) : are you using a firewall? youcanthavemystuff (11:19 PM) : yes. A WALL OF FIRE~ Roah (11:19 PM) : hmm. interesting, cos i can't read your IP address youcanthavemystuff (11:20 PM) : BECAUSE I HAVE A WALL OF FIRE~ Roah (11:20 PM) : alright. i think you've been drinking too much coffee youcanthavemystuff (11:20 PM) : WHICH FAILED TO ACTUALLY DOUSE MY WALL OF FIRE~ Roah (11:21 PM) : ... look, its late and you've got work tomorrow. why don't you hit the sack early? youcanthavemystuff (11:22 PM) : BECAUSE MY BED IS IN FLAMES AFTER IT WAS TOUCHED BY A WALL OF FIRE~ Roah (11:23 PM) : right. you go put it out then. I'm trying to figure out some #$%^&* accounting concepts, which is taking up all my mental capacity, so i can't help to put out your fire. youcanthavemystuff (11:31 PM) : AHHHHHH I'M BURNING HELP *click* Roah (11:33 PM) : omg. is this really shagga?
Things that scared me today
1. The Return of the King won 11 Oscars. WTF? 2. It's 10 pm and I'm still at the fucking office. 3. Thousands rallied for Islamic law in Indonesia. Syariah law in a country with a large Christian, Buddhist and Hindu population? Quote from article in ST today: "Under syariah law we can prevent corruption and improve the daily lives of people," he said. "The world would be a beautiful place with syariah." (ST, A6) Not really, IMHO. Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's, render unto God what is God's, and all that please. Thanks. Good thing most of the Indonesians, Muslims or not, are with me on this. Let's hope GWB doesn't decide to invade a few more states - that could well be the giant 4000 tonne feather that breaks the proverbial camel's back. 4. No push for secular nation, says Malaysian PM. Alongside with Turkey (which may be actually a wee bit too secular), Malaysia is one of the most liberal Muslim states around. That's a good thing. If both north and south turn into fundamentalist states I'm leaving the country to somewhere that's free from religious fanatics, like Norway. 5. Passion of the Christ tops in America. "Religious Pornography" some called it. A story about one guy who gets tormented for two hours, and it's directed by Mel Gibson. Sound great? Yeah, I guess, if you're sadistic or something. 6. Racial genocide in Sudan. Isn't it about time SOMEBODY did something about it? You'd think Egypt would, it's on its border!
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