Marlene on the Wall

Post-Wine

Have typed and deleted several regret-in-the-morning posts. Shall just shut up today.

(Trans-Pacific Stupidness)

je.ss says: when u back

pH- in USA... says: 8 oct in singapore

je.ss says: woooo so fast!

pH- in USA... says: siao.... 5 months le lor

je.ss says: is still fast lah. u look different or not

pH- in USA... says: yah... i got mohawk now

je.ss says: haHAHAHAHa. is it green color

pH- in USA... says: rainbow

pH- in USA... says: and got tattoo all over too....

je.ss says: coolios

pH- in USA... says: right hand is "save dafur".... left hand is "why give a fuck"


I still can't stand you but no one does Singlish better than you lah.

A Lacuna Project

They say that lost memories can be triggered when you see, hear or smell something which your brain remembers even if your mind doesn't.

And on this lazy afternoon when I have a couple of hours to kill before the working day starts, a combination of all three threw me back a year or so.

Not really the oops-take-a-step-back kinda throw, but more of a judo-slam-into-the-parquet-floor variety.

But yeah, an empty house to myself, the smell of afternoon rain, brown-coloured bedsheets with the light falling on it at just the right angle, still clad in pyjamas, the feeling of not having anything to do at all for the moment. Then the right Heather Nova song comes on the the key turns in the lock and everything becomes too too familiar.

I remember being particularly intrigued by the topic of synthetic/implanted memories in school. There's a proper term for it... but it eludes me at the moment.

Haha where's Lacuna when you need 'em.

The Last Thing I Saw

Ok, not the last thing. But in a perfect world where the size of one's claws mattered it would be. Cat gets defensive propotionally to altitude. Its puzzling.

Nothing's much been happening. Am not involved with the whole IMF ruckus, and based on what I hear its as if a whole new country has sprung up in the Suntec area, what with the gates and barricades and detours and happy shiny people.


And oh!!!

MINI MILESTONE!

I met the Fourth Taxidriver to give me blank stares in response to the direction "Esplanade, please" only to "AHhhh" "Ohhhhh" in that "Why didn't you just say so earlier" tone when I sigh in resignation and say in mandarin "The Two Big Durains".

Kid you not, I don't!



And oh, I took more pointless voiddeck photos.









This last one made me laugh like crazy. Well ok, laugh inwardly so as to not really appear too crazy. Its like the toll booth on the yellow brick road. Or something. Someone REALLY doesn't want too fat people to get to their estate. (Its really really narrow. I had to put my bag behind me to sidle through.)



I met Grumpy Cleaner Lady today. Hadn't seen her around at work lately, I figured she got transferred to another floor. Turns out that she got fired. She says that someone had called the security office and complained. She doesn't know (or doesn't want to say) why, but she's pretty Grumpy about it.

I would never ever want to be the cause of someone losing his or her job. That ranks right up there on the List of Unnecessary Evils alongside 1. Telling Boyfriend that Ex was Better in Bed and 2. Telling Smiling Bride her Wedding Gown Makes Her Look Fat.

Why would you do it? Other than the obvious reasons like stealing, assault and battary, murder and casting of hexes - why would you want to make someone lose his or her job?

I can never understand the vast numbers of people who write letters, make phonecalls, send emails to the Forum just to make a point that they are NOT HAPPY with somebody's inadequete service.

Sure, it makes great fodder for dinner gossip/ranting. But to actually take the proactive step to deprive that person of a living?

I don't get it.

Grumpy Cleaner Lady is still cleaning, but now at a Toa Payoh noodle shop. As she scrapped the scraps (haha) into the bin she muttered in Mandarin, "Got time come back and visit, ah."

Light Play

Buffy: I really like being around him, you know? And I think he cares about me. But... I just feel like something's missing.
Willow: He's not making you miserable?
Buffy: Exactly. Riley seems so solid. Like he wouldn't cause me heartache.
Willow: Get out. Get out while there's still time.

(S4E3 Something Blue)




Pretty lights make psychedelic Jess happy. I want to sit behind the console and bury people's faces in shadows all day.

This is post-tequila ranting.

Despite my efforts to remain a non-groupie, I find myself continuing to gravitate towards locations populated by familiar people and sights.

I'm not too sure why this is the case, I am but surely a subscriber to the whole "variety is the spice etc" routine. However, I've reasoned it to be - I want to be happy when I chill out, and not have to make any sort of efforts at making new friends and acquaintances. The whole "hi how are you what's your name what do you do ah i see" routine is much too tiring after working hours.

So Fendi (as seen above) has found himself a loyal stalker. Aside from the good money he pays me to take pictures, I completely recommend him if you are looking for a soul/jazz/funk fusion. Think classic fusion of Michael Jackson/EarthWindFire/Stevie Wonder/J. Timberlake/George Benson/Maxwell/Billy Mann.

So this is what I am used to. This is what my mind instantly reacts to, instantly relaxes to.

It feels like a much "older" lifestyle than what I should be indulging in. Of course, I don't feel too young, but this is the apparent consensus amongst the known masses.

But seriously dudes, I am tired of reacting to reactions to my age. If 22 frightens you, I'll say 27, although I don't see the difference. I am tired of hearing the You're So Young I'm So Old speech. I am tired of eye-rolling and the This-Is-Before-Your-Time-How-Come-You-Know-This-Song questions. If I don't ask why you listen to J. Timberlake, don't ask why I know EWF.

Before my time, before my time. What time is that exactly?

So I trudged down to a younger place today. Britpop instead of Americansoulfunk. Undergrads instead of working adults. Graffiti instead of Decor on walls.

What difference did it make? None whatsoever.

I clapped a Miyazaki soot ball between my hands and it scattered into a thousand more and filled the ceiling. Kitty was not amused. There's no focus in my attack!!!

I love those soot balls.

Please, Just Hurry Up and Die.

That's my mom's current wish upon



this dude. Its Seulpeun Yeonga fever in my house, and my mom wants someone to die so the series will end and she (and the rest of us) can resume normality.

I'm betting that its the Blind-Girl-Who-Regains-Sight who will get tragically knocked down by a car driven by her long-dead mother while she's fleeing towards the Fountain Of Eternal Love. Dad has his bet on the Spoilt-Rich-Brat-Who-Finds-True-Love-And-Earns-Scorn-Of-Family-And-Himself. We all agree it'd be suicide though.

This show does not bring out the best in my family.

Heartstrings in a Tube

Had the good luck of someone else's bad luck and got to watch Singapore Dreaming before it hits theatres tomorrow.

I much prefer the Mandarin title, for some reason.

I'm not much of a movie reviewer, and I don't want to spoil the movie for the rest of ya... so well, just go watch it. I think you all will, anyway.

Lim Yu Beng's yummy.

And 'Fuck' was uttered once in the movie. Slightly surprising considering the large number of kiddos in the cinema. Ah.. they've to learn sometime.

If I ever have kids, I'm fairly certain I'll be the one to (accidentally) expose them to That Word first. Either me, or the TV.




Just one day after my ranting on crazy women in love with Korean Hunks, I came home to see Mom settling down in front of the TV at an unprecedented time of 1 am with a set of VCDs her colleague had lent her.

"Very exciting lah. Quite addictive."

The curse of Kwong Sang Woo has hit the house.

"So, do you even know what's his name in the show?"
"Er.... Something-Ying lah. Dunnowhat-Ying."
"And there's a blind girl. Why is there always a blind girl? I bet they'll meet and fall in love."
"Oh they've lovers already. Kenna separated."

The show comes on, and already the pretty boy is getting bashed up by a bunch of evil men. His clothes may be muddied, and traces of blood outlines his mouth - but his skin is still soft and ohsosmooth.

"Oh no.. Don't tell me the stepmother ran away with the money..."
"Oh the father got arrested ah?"
"Ya lah, the mother died already."



Soap Operas are in a class of their own. 30 minutes of heart-warming tragedy, right in the comfort of your own home.

Vague Disclaimers are Nobody's Friend

Was inspired to re-rent Buffy after realising how much I miss Joss Whedon's dialogue when I (finally) watched Serenity.

Sure, the mid-fighting one-liner quips and puns are not the classiest acts around, but I guess I love it for that.

Oh Buffy, I want every single coat and pair of boots you wear in the show.

I first watched the show when I was in Secondary Two, sitting in front of the TV every Tuesday night five minutes before it started and shooing my dad away from the remote control. I'd get goosebumps just waiting. Even when watching the DVD, I don't bother to fast-forward during the intro sequence at the beginning because I love that damn theme song.

I wonder what happened to Seth Green - one of the earlier celebrity crush (I''m sorry, Backstreet Boys do not count) before Johnny Depp came along and wiped off all competition on the planet.




Went to shoot a meet-the-fans session for some actor dude from Korea. While waiting for His Majesty to show, I simply couldn't shake off this creepy feeling that made me want to run and cower and hide. I think it was the presence of more than 1,000 IMH-worthy women.

Celebrity crushes are fun and fine and all that, I've collected a fair number of posters in the past and I think i'd probably be willing to fork out $160 to see Johnny Boy. However, the creep-factor is when a large number of like-minded women converge in a single location, and some sort of freakazoid twilight zone of love is created. If I'd uttered a blashphemy ("His skin where got smooth, so ugly!") they'd have bashed my head in with their posters and flowers and offered my lifeless body as a sacrifice.

Ok scrap that, they'd offer their own lifeless body as a sacrifice to him.


During the painfully-fake Q&A session, the host asked him what his ideal girl should be like. He'd be uttering politically-correct statements so far so I was expecting the usual "its what's inside that counts" statements.

But instead, he said that she should be "feminine". And have a good complexion.

"Can she be fat?"

I held my breath. I wanted to yell "TELL THE TRUTH YOU BASTARD!!! Tell half the room they don't stand a chance!"

He put on an apologetic look, and slowly shook his head. For the first time, the room didn't oohh and aaahh at his reply.

The host tried to rescue the situation, but I think the damage was done.

I thought it was bloody hilarious.

Different perspectives

Everything's a little bit blurry these days. Like Clementine said, "I feel like I'm always pissy now. I don't like myself when I'm with him. I don't like myself anymore."

Of course, I'm "him". I'm Joel. I'm making myself pissy, and I don't like myself very much anymore like this.

The big question then, is - Why? I don't quite know the answer myself, suffice to say that I am spending a lot of time thinking about my short fuse. Unhappiness is always a lot easier to deal with when there's a reason for it, no matter how stupid it may be. In fact, the stupider it is, the easier to deal with it.






Another random crossing of paths. Meet Antoine, 24-year-old photographer from France. Sleeping in a hammock in Goa, cycling through northern India on a bicycle and heading to study taiqi in Beijing.

While the hippie lifestyle always has its attractions for obvious escapist reasons, I felt somewhat relieved that his travelling tales didn't quite evoke in me that same jealous sense of wanting to leave as it may have before. I figure I'm the sort who would want to travel with a purpose in mind.

"I was so amazed to find all these good bicycles in Singapore! All these brands.. very good, very solid bicycles."
"What's so strange about that? You have them in France as well."
"Yes... but there are mountains in France."

I thought it was funny.

He urged me to leave. When I'm "still young" and can "sleep anywhere".




On a pissy note, it never ceases to amaze me how grown-up adults still engage in gossip. I don't deny that I gossip, but I find it difficult to fathom how a stranger's life makes for good conversation fodder.

Pain

I ache. All. Over.



Sufia and her family has been constantly asking Zaid and Rajiv for money. From me. For a car. A car which I said I could not buy, and made clear that I would not.

I gave them S$200 because that was what she needed for a driver's license. And I felt that it was only right I did something within my abilities. Heck, my cheque from ST was instantly cashed and sent over by my father since my bank account was empty.

Somehow, intent and meaning got mixed up in the translation. Because now my friends in Dhaka are bearing the consequences of my actions. (She wanted to be a driver to earn money, which is what she apparently did in the past.)

A few months ago, I received phone call from Sufia. She started crying on the phone, and obviously I had no idea what she was talking about, only the word "koshto" which means pain.

I'd heard this word quite a lot during my time spent with them.

Zaid says they're being exploitative. I'm not too sure they are. I don't know what I did by giving them that money and my attention and my friendship. I don't know if it made them greedy, or if I had simply created a misunderstanding of expectation which I couldn't correct since I can't speak the language.

I don't think Zaid's very pleased with having to see this side of a family that he's known for 8 years. "I think they only remember me post-Jessica," he said.

What have I done? This is all very confusing to me.

Phase 0.1

I feel a bit like Bridget Jones, or at least what I can vaguely remember of the character from the book and movie.

I remember she had these sudden spurts of motivation to engage in Self Improvement (diet, exercise, happy thoughts etc) which would inevitably end in Failure after the original motivation for the action (A Man) somehow came in to destroy what he started.

So Bridget and I have very different motivations. Hers = A Man (Even if she doesn't admit it). Me = My Sanity?

Just today I attended a fitness class and lapped up the final chapter of one of 17 books purchased at the Library Book Sale.

Exercise and Reading! Say it ain't so!

Before you know it, I'd have entered Phase Two and taken up all sorts of sports, start running at East Coast every other day, signed up to be a volunteer helping Unfortunate Souls, find a renewed love for brocolli and removed all complex carbohydrates from my diet. Phase Three would include a Divorce from my longtime partner Procrastination (we just ain't right together baby) and the discovery of Goodness Within Myself And All Others Even Those Who Are Really Pricks.

(previous sentence a grammatical nightmare, i know)



The fitness class was named "Modern Dance Fitness". But something that torturous must be at least slightly medieval. I never knew how much energy walking required until I had none left and, well, couldn't walk quite right.

I was quite glad for the rundown-ness of the place. Its very very tacky, but I like it. For some reason I can't quite fathom, thinking of myself in the middle of Shenton Way at one of those Branded Yoga Centres amidst swirling clouds of lavender chiffon curtains and scented candles make me feel a tad bit sick.

Two of the women in the class really stood out. They were the oldest amongst the 12 or so of us, wearing the least clothes and undeniably the fittest.

Truth be told, I felt like a bit of a psychomotorfuckwit and consoled myself by convincing my tired and gullible mind that these women probably have been doing it for years.

Clad in sports bras and track pants (all very bright and cheery coloured) they moved to the beat even when the rest of us already started kneeling on the floor in pain.

Later on, they left together. One had changed out of her track pants into working pants and a pair of stilettos. I couldn't help but cock my head in wonder as I watched her sashay out in her sports bra and killer heels.

Yesterday, after calling me 'weak', the teacher had poked my stomach and said firmly "And this. This has got to go!"

I've already cut down on beer, more out of No Chance To Drink rather than Choice. I can't cut down on food, because, well.. its just not an option. I already removed KFC as a essential food group and I am not compromising anymore.


Ok wait, I've to clarify. I am not trying to lose weight. I am (as mentioned earlier) trying to maintain sanity. I feel lembeh and sluggish and I hate not being able to button pants properly.

So THERE. That's my motivation.



I give it a month.






--------------------------------



Just something from Chinatown.

Double faced

Cat couldn't understand why everything she does is cute.

"Surely, I have to have some level of unpleasantness!" (She had just come out from a bout of sulking.)

"Give me a dirty look then," I challenged.

She stuck out her tongue, which made me giggle so badly I had to turn my back around to avoid hurting her feelings.

"You're all fools," she muttered, and turned and left.





It made me think though, about what kind of thoughts cats might be hiding under a veneer of chronic cuteness.

For instance, this one could be thinking "FEED ME. BITCH.", and not "Oh you darling please drop me another bite I am sooo hungry and I luv you I luv you please feed me please I will meow for food!".





Went back to the kopitiam near my primary school for lunch today. The bak chor mee was not as great as I remembered it to be.

I used to buy iced water from the drinks stall because I was too stingy to spent 80 cents on a can drink.

Yes, I said 'buy'. The lady charged me 30 cents for ice and tap water.



-----------------------------------------------


For the Record:

Mr Masagos Zulkifli uttered these words of wisdom regarding pre-marital sex in front of teenagers at a youth forum today:

"Just like how you don't want your girl to be a second-hand girl, you shouldn't make a girl a second-hand girl to someone else".

[The second half of the sentence is not verbatim, because there were a couple of uhmms and ahhh - but I remain true to the meaning and context]


I felt like such a slut for a spilt second when he said that. He went on to mention something about not wanting a "second-hand wife" as well.


There's a discussion to be had regarding political correctness and the absurdities of life - but not when I have The Office Special waiting to be watched.


Priorities, people. Priorities.

09082006

More text to follow.

The Scars of Hygiene

So yes, I did complete two out of three on the previous To-Do List (hooray!), substituting the last point for a TripleHomeSpecialCombo (One Time Offer Only!) consisting of the ever delightful Vacumn That Damn Floor together with the Change The Damn Sheets and Clear Your Damn Room package.


Sure is nice to see tiles again.


It was time for a clean up. Yes Cat, that includes you as well. This house's Hygiene Chart ranks Soap+Water above Saliva. Surely, even you can see the logic in that.





Erm, ok. Clearly not.


Huimei says that cats are rendered too unhappy by the prescene of water to do anything else other than express that unhappiness.

This would explain why all my battlescars are from AFTER the bath and not during.

It is really quite heartbreaking to hear her yowl her lungs out in the toilet. I feel sorry for my neighbours. I would not want to live next to a house that sounds like a temporary torture chamber for harmless domesticated animals.

So she alternates between seeking refuge in the corner and scrabbling at the door. I've learnt an early, and painful, lesson about how Cat will seek the highest ground - my head - to get away from water so I keep watch for telltale pouncing signs. My skin does not a good ladder make.

After the painful first lesson I've resorted to wearing JEANS during her bathtime so that I can hold her still in my lap while I scrub and rinse. Denim's the thickest material around the house to protect my knees from the claws hanging on to it for dear life. When they invent steel pants, I'm running out and buying a pair.

However, her passiveness in the toilet quickly mutates into sheer, unbridled anger when she's placed in the drying-room (cage).

Now that the water's gone, she has the prescene of mind to see that the person who put her throught 15 minutes of agony is still in front of her and rationally concludes that I am waiting for my just punishment.




I know she's not a dog, but she sure is a bitch.

I. Need. A. Massage.

Not "want", but "NEED".


This is what I've discovered I can fit into three off days :

- Two seasons of The Office
- Two seasons of Seinfeld
- One entire day lying on the fake sand by the fake beach on the real island called Sentosa
- Hours of lying on my stomach and staring at Cat
- One night of drunken debauchery
- Half of a very funny book



You must understand, that I started out with a much more dignified and respectable To-Do list. But after the first day I just surrendered to the Nothingness and let it consume my life.

So tomorrow, on my fourth off day in six days (kill me already) I will :

- Drop off film
- Bath Cat
- Recce farfarfaraway place for shoot



I think I once mentioned that my notebook is filled with unchecked lists - and this image of empty boxes keep coming back to me. It's tragic but there's something hilarious funny about it.

Note to Self

Do not alert Mothership about planned trip to cemetery when the Gates of Hell are opened.

Cat

Cat asked me today why I still insisted on locking her up at home. Surely her evilness would have proved itself worthy of a release by now, she said.

Ah, I replied, but it is precisely your perniciousness that has created an obsession within me, and alas, you will never be free.

She sulked all day, constantly mumbling under her breath something about me already having taken her ovaries.

I wanted to correct her, and tell her if I had known the process would've involved the complete dispossession of said internal organs - I would never have put her through it. My naivety had assumed it simply meant some snipping or tying up of tubes.

But she just sat there staring at me, and I thought maybe the old saying about ignorance and bliss would work in my favour in this case.

Besides, I really don't know how she would react to that piece of information, and there's only so much I can do to guard myself against her.





I really like how her looks are so deceiving. Little paws, neatly folded under her fuzzy, furry chest. Quite dainty, really. Yeah, ninjas are pretty dainty too.

Hiatus.

Gloomy skies.

No thanks to a MSN conversation a couple of days earlier, I've been constantly feeling jealous when I remember that whilst I'm running in the rain frantically trying to organise a shoot - Lars is somewhere in the mountains breathing fresh air and feeling alive.

Of course, I can feel alive right here too but the grass is always greener on the Norwegian mountainside.



Am off Mon-Wed. Will be trying my best to leave country. See You All.

Home.

Ok stitching photos together - not really my thing.



Our very last National Day Parade at the National Stadium which will be torn down at the end of the year. Ironically, also my first "official" NDP. I've attended a few before, but I don't recall when or what happened - so it doesn't really count.

The Stadium's got some real character. Rotting wooden benches, melting track, Peeling paint and utterly dirty insides. There's no doubt that its old and worn, and yet I remember it always having been this way.

At some point during the parade, they will show a short video commemorating the place. Some sorta nostalgic, thank-you-for-the-memories piece.

Its all very morbid to me, something along the lines of holding the funeral for a dying man and saying his eulogy in front of him - before he actually dies.

"We know you're gonna go soon, and we just want to tell you you've been great!"

I try to ignore that clip - it really pisses me off.

I'm a real sucker for the whole NDP package. The crowd, the songs, the flags... Its really something to step out onto the tracks and see the entire stadium filled. I sing along to the stupid propaganda songs - and I like it.

I've liked it so far, 3 Previews and counting, maybe because the official guests aren't here. Now its just us having a bit of fun by ourselves. Private party. The head honchos only show for the real thing, and in a weird way I kinda wish they wouldn't come. Then it becomes their party - if you know what I mean.





Ah when I put up this picture, I know this is the part where I'm getting emotionally carried away. Because when I see kids, I think about what kind of Singapore they will live in when they grow up, and what parts of Singapore they will lose to get there.

Probably doesn't help that I'm listening to Home - by far the best theme song (as many others have said). Never knew all the songs and videos were available at Sing Singapore.

So I watched a couple, and I found it interesting that the video for Home has Kit Chan sitting in a room watching old movies. Its very nostalgic, most of the clips are of her as a kid running about Singapore.

And when you contrast that to the more recent stuff - which are by far much more "modern" because it includes a lot of stuff about technology, economy - the whole thing about moving ahead - it makes sense why I like that song the best.

If they ever ask me, I'll tell them that having nice nostalgic clips in National Day videos is NOT a good propaganda strategy.

You can't remind people of the good old days when you keep destroying stuff from those good old days. It just pisses people off.

I could never be a politician. I wouldn't know how to move ahead for the good of a country. I'd selfishly keep everything the way it was. In fact, regression may not be such a terrible thing. Then my kampong of a country will die off from the international economic scene and we will all have chickens and ducks with no fear of bird flu since we no longer engage in international trade.

Ah. That would be home, surely.

Happy Feet

This is the best thing ever. I knew my dreams of Nellie the Equatorial Penguin would never materialise, but maybe her Hollywood counterpart did.









Or watch the better quality trailers here, here and here.

Trash-talking, reggae-lovin', street-styled penguins? Oh lord!

"Kiss our frozen tushy. Kiss it Kiss it!" *Jess rolls over dead with laughter*

Larssssssssssss

Before the lunancy of the day takes over and erases my fragile memories of dreams:

LARS I dreamt of you last night! Wearing a bloody thick winter coat lugging that bag and camera and everything.

You were too busy on the phone to talk to me.

:(

Get your ass down here.



------------------------------------------------





I told you it was fugly.

More pics to folllow.

The I’d Rather Be This Than That Meme

Also known as the Most Inane Meme ever started by an Asshat.


How do you even pronounce "asshat" and "meme"?


I actually love playing this "would you rather this or that" game so everything here is something that have been discussed and debated at length with like-minded inane people.

1. I'd rather be a Vampire from Anne Rice's novels than the Highlander (eternal-living fictional characters)


2. I'd rather be caught enthusiastically dancing to Mambo than puking outside Zouk (alcohol-related embarassing moments).


3. I'd rather be Elaine from Seinfeld than Cristina from Grey's Anatomy (on screen bitches)


4. I'd rather have a unicorn tattooed on my forehead than a Smurf (tattoo dares)


5. I'd rather play the piano than the guitar (musical preferences)

And because I have no one to tag (other than the first one), since most those who read this either don't have blogs or hide behind invisible anonymous masks of cowardice:

1. Ghim



2. Lee Kuan Yew


3. J. B. Jeyaretnam


4. Chee Soon Juan


5. Low Thia Kiang

Well, they do have websites.

Word of the Day : Plebeian

Witness! The Stare.




Everytime I tell people that my cat is evil, they think that I'm trying to be cute. Well, I'm not. She really is, and I know you don't know her, but she hates you already. I'll prove it if you have time to drop by her lair.

I think she channels all the Dark Sides of Me.

I don't know what I channel from him.

Penchant for random and un-funny remarks perhaps?

We picked up the fugly gown and hat today from Serangoon Broadway.

"Wah lau you open up one next door lah! Serangoon Sideway! Undercut their price!"

6,500 students will be graduating. Assuming 500 don't go/don't want to go/not able to go, that damn place makes a grand total of $210,000 from selling fugly gowns and hats.

Not to mention all the suckers they will convince to fork out a couple of hundred for photos with fake books and bookshelves and globes.

As dad said, "Wah lau, so big picture for what. Later argue already then still have to see each other's faces in the hall sure damn pek chek."

True that.

---------------------------------

I read Pres Su's Convocation Speech online, cos, ya know, he might have a gem or two to guide a young soul like me. Check out this sentence:

"We emphasize a broad based education and a multi-cultural character consonant with the cultural mosaic of Singapore and the rise of Asia."

Alliteration is all the rage these days. Its amazing! I can't even read it out loud.

I think I could rap it though.

---------------------------------

In case you are wondering why I'm in a good mood - SPH upped my pay. Kao-bei-ing pays off.

Uninspired.

I will wear a fugly gown and hat on Thursday. As if the dressing was not already terrible enough, they also made a list of things you cannot wear to appear normal :

Because, ya know, this is a traditional and prestigious and once-in-a-lifetime ceremony and god forbid you actually be comfortable during those couple of hours.

Its going to be so much fun, I can hardly wait.

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The Effect :





And its Cause:

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Apparently my blog is listed by the Institute of Policy Studies as a journalist's blog. I've done a brief search online which yielded nothing. So maybe its a secret list. Or I heard wrongly.


Either way, its totally awesome! This month, I wrote intelligent and insightful reports on ninjas, movies and my ex-boyfriend. Such perfect academic material! Lucky bastards you!