This morning I made a call to Uganda. To finally hear a voice to match the numerous emails -- it thrills me to no end.
All communication should be done on the phone or in person. Emails suck.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
It's been a crazy couple of days. Everything's been generally swell, thanks to the happy-feelings-maker located somewhere in this apartment. But a particular person's making my mood swing all over the place and all I can do right now is just to sit back and think, not again. It had reached that stage whereby I was so afraid to be 100% happy because I knew there was no where else to go but down.
Regardless, I'm just spending some time to settle in and hopefully use this as a chance to refresh my focus on things.
Invigilated yet another mid-term exam today and the same shit happened. I'm just extremely disappointed, which just means that I had expected better of my students. Actually, I just expected common sense. But some of them pulled the same shit again. By the end of the thing I was so pissed off I decided not to say anything at all lest I utter words I regret.
But it was ridiculous. Going up and talking to a student about a question he had, I had to turn my back on the rest of them in our tiny classroom. Immediately the whispers started all around me. This happened a couple more times till I finally gave up. And I hate to have to use this word, but that was just a really stupid thing to do.
Some conversations will have to be had in private. It's just so disappointing to have to be forced to become a bigger bitch than I already am.
I refrained from passing any comments or voicing any opinions when a friend of mine talked about paying rickshaw wallahs more. I have no problems with people who want to do that, it is after all a personal choice. What I do not like, however, is talking as if what you are doing is the only right thing to do, and making me feel like I'm doing something wrong if I don't do it too.
Regardless, I'm just spending some time to settle in and hopefully use this as a chance to refresh my focus on things.
Invigilated yet another mid-term exam today and the same shit happened. I'm just extremely disappointed, which just means that I had expected better of my students. Actually, I just expected common sense. But some of them pulled the same shit again. By the end of the thing I was so pissed off I decided not to say anything at all lest I utter words I regret.
But it was ridiculous. Going up and talking to a student about a question he had, I had to turn my back on the rest of them in our tiny classroom. Immediately the whispers started all around me. This happened a couple more times till I finally gave up. And I hate to have to use this word, but that was just a really stupid thing to do.
Some conversations will have to be had in private. It's just so disappointing to have to be forced to become a bigger bitch than I already am.
I refrained from passing any comments or voicing any opinions when a friend of mine talked about paying rickshaw wallahs more. I have no problems with people who want to do that, it is after all a personal choice. What I do not like, however, is talking as if what you are doing is the only right thing to do, and making me feel like I'm doing something wrong if I don't do it too.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
What I Read This Morning
-- Found out the meaning of the word karoshi and that its been around since 1987. Highly unlikely Jess will die of karoshi.
-- China's decision to ban dog meat covered in a rather simplistic write-up. The readers seem more aware of the other side of the picture (judging by their comments) which I think should've been part of the article.
-- Two of the five vodcasts on display on ST's website are about the iPhone? WTF?
-- 45 years of begging can amount to 91kg worth of coins in savings. How much money is that exactly? S$484.
-- Kudos to the BBC for its coverage on the Biharis. Alright. The IHT has done it, the BBC has done it. Countless of locals here have done it. I did it myself, three years ago. What else is there to do about this now?
Saturday, July 12, 2008
It feels like a week has passed, what with the moving and all that. Finally settled (somewhat) into the new place, which I have been reluctant and unwilling to fall in love with because a part of me - the masochistic part - wanted to believe I could be fine in a grey, gloomy, furniture-less place.
So, as I sit typing this in my living room on a cushion-covered floor sofa using the wireless internet, surrounded by two bookcases of real books, it just means I've told that part of me to shut up.
I think I never realised the importance of living space. I've been holed up in hostels, guestrooms, and the room in my previous house (although we did have some furniture at some point, the living room never assumed its real purpose). It is a strange and rather illusory luxury of choice, to be able to choose where to sit, to have a space other than your bed on which to stretch your legs and chill out.
But the most important thing, is that this is a place that I don't dread coming back to.
So, as I sit typing this in my living room on a cushion-covered floor sofa using the wireless internet, surrounded by two bookcases of real books, it just means I've told that part of me to shut up.
I think I never realised the importance of living space. I've been holed up in hostels, guestrooms, and the room in my previous house (although we did have some furniture at some point, the living room never assumed its real purpose). It is a strange and rather illusory luxury of choice, to be able to choose where to sit, to have a space other than your bed on which to stretch your legs and chill out.
But the most important thing, is that this is a place that I don't dread coming back to.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
RAmen
- Cectic, via Cowboy Caleb
I'd forgotten how much I love the FSM and everything Pastafarian till I chanced upon the comic today. Who wouldn't love a religion that believes heaven is a land of beer volcanoes and a stripper factory.
And I wasn't kidding when I said Cowboy's site is a huge time-sucker.
Because that led to Wikiality.com (Tagline: Let us help you confirm what you already know) where you feel the truth with your gut. The site is "an open internet encyclopedia dedicated The Honorable Professor Dr. Stephen T. Colbert, D.F.A. and his creation, "truthiness".
I have restrained myself from clicking on any links, but I do know that I'd like to go to hell later.
And I also came across this - an online competition to crown the most pissed-off feline: Hard Cats - a very, very welcome change from all the bloody fluffy cutesy stuff online.
I've made a submission =)
Abrupt Changes in the Weather Expected
I woke up this morning, sleep-deprived and in an inexplicably bad mood. Nothing had happened and I hadn't even made it out of my room - but my god, I was foul foul foul tempered.
Some good did come out of it though. My foul mood gave me a suitable temper in which to ask the roommate for the money she owed me. I had been skirting the issue for a long time, because I am a big fat chicken when it comes to money issues. The last time I tried, she opened the door looking sick, tired and in an overall bad state - and I almost cowered over in my chickenness.
Not today. I was pissed off enough (at nothing in particular) to not to bother with the niceties. And as she started to rattle off the same pitiful excuses about the sorry state of her finances, I stopped her in mid-sentence and told her, hey, look everyone has problems, ok?
Still grumpy, I headed off to class. We watched a 40 min documentary which I thought was pretty interesting, but the students kept nodding off and I felt bad about that. I feel a strange obligation to be entertaining, at the very least. Which explains why I tend to rattle off in a stressed out manner when I sense I'm 'losing' them, (hello? hello? are you all still here?) or break out into sudden theatrics/antics.
But my favourite part of the day is after the class. Sometimes I would leave the campus and see a bunch of them having tea at the small tea stall outside, and (most of the time) they would wave and I would invite myself into their group. Things were awkward at first, the guys were scared to smoke in front of the teacher - but I soon corrected that misconception. However, I couldn't stop them calling me 'ma'am', and I've since given up on that cause.
I did worry about possible consequences. I worried that by becoming so friendly, they would lose all respect and I would end up having a class of students who didn't give a damn what I said. It seems to have worked out just fine.
I take pride in this, because they could just as easily ignore me when they see me outside. I suppose, even if I sucked at teaching, my company as a human being couldn't be that bad. As much as I'd like to deny it, its true - I want to be liked.
The foul mood lifted for a bit after the congenial banter with the students, but it got worse when I made my way to the other office. It's a long story, but simply put - I am an impatient person who becomes even more impatient when I'm in a bad mood.
Do we really need to spend 15 minutes talking about a subject when there's absolutely nothing to discuss about? We have a problem. The tech guys will fix it. End of story. No amount of talking or repetition of the facts will make that process go faster.
And I really do not need you to repeat something to me THREE times within the span of an hour after you've already emailed me about it. Jesus.
I apologise. I would not have felt so pissy about it if I had been in a better mood. At some point I even checked the calendar because I figured this has got to be a case of PMS.
By the end of the day, the frown on my face was practically etched in, and I got on the rickshaw to seek a little solitude at a nearby rooftop cafe overlooking the man-made lake. I found what I was looking for.
The weather was beautiful today, for once. It hadn't rained the entire day. I settled down with a drink and Jan White's book on layout and design (great stuff) and just soaked in the sunset. It was the magic hour, when the colours changed right before your eyes. And just like that, everything was lifted.
Since then, I've had shisha, a lot of laughs, chilled out at the apartment that'll soon be my new place, had a cheeseburger and watched half of Danny Boyle's Sunshine. In other words, the day's been worth it.
Some good did come out of it though. My foul mood gave me a suitable temper in which to ask the roommate for the money she owed me. I had been skirting the issue for a long time, because I am a big fat chicken when it comes to money issues. The last time I tried, she opened the door looking sick, tired and in an overall bad state - and I almost cowered over in my chickenness.
Not today. I was pissed off enough (at nothing in particular) to not to bother with the niceties. And as she started to rattle off the same pitiful excuses about the sorry state of her finances, I stopped her in mid-sentence and told her, hey, look everyone has problems, ok?
Still grumpy, I headed off to class. We watched a 40 min documentary which I thought was pretty interesting, but the students kept nodding off and I felt bad about that. I feel a strange obligation to be entertaining, at the very least. Which explains why I tend to rattle off in a stressed out manner when I sense I'm 'losing' them, (hello? hello? are you all still here?) or break out into sudden theatrics/antics.
But my favourite part of the day is after the class. Sometimes I would leave the campus and see a bunch of them having tea at the small tea stall outside, and (most of the time) they would wave and I would invite myself into their group. Things were awkward at first, the guys were scared to smoke in front of the teacher - but I soon corrected that misconception. However, I couldn't stop them calling me 'ma'am', and I've since given up on that cause.
I did worry about possible consequences. I worried that by becoming so friendly, they would lose all respect and I would end up having a class of students who didn't give a damn what I said. It seems to have worked out just fine.
I take pride in this, because they could just as easily ignore me when they see me outside. I suppose, even if I sucked at teaching, my company as a human being couldn't be that bad. As much as I'd like to deny it, its true - I want to be liked.
The foul mood lifted for a bit after the congenial banter with the students, but it got worse when I made my way to the other office. It's a long story, but simply put - I am an impatient person who becomes even more impatient when I'm in a bad mood.
Do we really need to spend 15 minutes talking about a subject when there's absolutely nothing to discuss about? We have a problem. The tech guys will fix it. End of story. No amount of talking or repetition of the facts will make that process go faster.
And I really do not need you to repeat something to me THREE times within the span of an hour after you've already emailed me about it. Jesus.
I apologise. I would not have felt so pissy about it if I had been in a better mood. At some point I even checked the calendar because I figured this has got to be a case of PMS.
By the end of the day, the frown on my face was practically etched in, and I got on the rickshaw to seek a little solitude at a nearby rooftop cafe overlooking the man-made lake. I found what I was looking for.
The weather was beautiful today, for once. It hadn't rained the entire day. I settled down with a drink and Jan White's book on layout and design (great stuff) and just soaked in the sunset. It was the magic hour, when the colours changed right before your eyes. And just like that, everything was lifted.
Since then, I've had shisha, a lot of laughs, chilled out at the apartment that'll soon be my new place, had a cheeseburger and watched half of Danny Boyle's Sunshine. In other words, the day's been worth it.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Be Patient This Gets Amazing
I was gearing up to do work but I've squandered the last two hours looking at Edwin & Maria's wedding photo outtakes on Facebook, defending myself against Ah Lan who 冤枉我, editing old photos so as to use in this blog post, and reading about the pig that's going to make everyone think twice about eating bak kwa.
The blog title has got nothing to do with its contents. I just really wanted to use it because its the name of the new segment on The Daily Show and it makes me giggle when I hear it. Anyway, nothing 'amazing' happens to me. But I did pick up new internet lingo today:
"I am 5n. u?"
That's a first for me.
It was my mom who told me about the news item on the miracle pig. She called earlier, just to chat. I always imagine that when they call, they're secretly hoping to hear me say, "I've had enough! I'm coming back tomorrow!" Hence all the negative questions (Are you stressed? You sound stressed. And unhappy.) and reminders about the cats (Rasco is so fat now! You should see her!)
And in between the small talk and debriefing about the homebase, she said, "Oh, your cleaner friend came to the house just now, looking for you."
Nazrul, who told me almost three years ago that he was never coming back to Singapore to work, actually returned. He told my mom he is working in Woodlands now, and I don't know if he's still a cleaner, but chances are that he's found himself a better factory-based job.
He showed up at my house today, looking dapper in a formal shirt (according to my mom, except she used the word "smart"), and asked if I was at home. He wasn't even sure if he had found the right house. He was polite and nice, and tried very hard to remind my mom who he was.
Of course, my mom didn't need a reminder. She had seen my photos, and he and his colleagues had dinner in my house once (a pathetic meal compared to the lavish feasts they lay out for their guests here). Besides, we see them downstairs every day. She told him I wasn't home, that I was in Bangladesh. He asked when I was coming back.
I can't help but laugh as I imagine him trying to politely explain his sudden visit to my mom. Nazrul was never nice or polite to me. He had a deliberate arrogance, always brusque and always spoke to me as if he thought I was a bit of a joke. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to get him to smile in the photo above? I knew it was mostly an act, but still, I liked him for that. He was the only one of the three that completely ignored my camera. He simply could not be bothered with me. In that way, he was the most accommodating, and I think he was the one who understood me and what I was trying to do best.
There has been several moments here, in Dhaka, when I thought I saw him. I was always mistaken. I figured it was highly unlikely, since he has land in Gazidpur and would not have a reason to wander the streets of Dhaka. But still, I hoped to run into him here, in his own country. I wanted the tables turned.
These are some old photos from when I was doing the project. I don't know why I never got around to uploading them.
It defies all my expectations that he remembered me, that he wanted to speak to me again and took the effort to show up at my house. And this is happening at a time when I feel almost completely disillusioned with what I once thought was my passion -- I simply cannot express the importance of this occurance, and how much this gesture means to me.
The blog title has got nothing to do with its contents. I just really wanted to use it because its the name of the new segment on The Daily Show and it makes me giggle when I hear it. Anyway, nothing 'amazing' happens to me. But I did pick up new internet lingo today:
"I am 5n. u?"
That's a first for me.
-----------------
It was my mom who told me about the news item on the miracle pig. She called earlier, just to chat. I always imagine that when they call, they're secretly hoping to hear me say, "I've had enough! I'm coming back tomorrow!" Hence all the negative questions (Are you stressed? You sound stressed. And unhappy.) and reminders about the cats (Rasco is so fat now! You should see her!)
And in between the small talk and debriefing about the homebase, she said, "Oh, your cleaner friend came to the house just now, looking for you."
Nazrul, who told me almost three years ago that he was never coming back to Singapore to work, actually returned. He told my mom he is working in Woodlands now, and I don't know if he's still a cleaner, but chances are that he's found himself a better factory-based job.
He showed up at my house today, looking dapper in a formal shirt (according to my mom, except she used the word "smart"), and asked if I was at home. He wasn't even sure if he had found the right house. He was polite and nice, and tried very hard to remind my mom who he was.
Of course, my mom didn't need a reminder. She had seen my photos, and he and his colleagues had dinner in my house once (a pathetic meal compared to the lavish feasts they lay out for their guests here). Besides, we see them downstairs every day. She told him I wasn't home, that I was in Bangladesh. He asked when I was coming back.
I can't help but laugh as I imagine him trying to politely explain his sudden visit to my mom. Nazrul was never nice or polite to me. He had a deliberate arrogance, always brusque and always spoke to me as if he thought I was a bit of a joke. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to get him to smile in the photo above? I knew it was mostly an act, but still, I liked him for that. He was the only one of the three that completely ignored my camera. He simply could not be bothered with me. In that way, he was the most accommodating, and I think he was the one who understood me and what I was trying to do best.
There has been several moments here, in Dhaka, when I thought I saw him. I was always mistaken. I figured it was highly unlikely, since he has land in Gazidpur and would not have a reason to wander the streets of Dhaka. But still, I hoped to run into him here, in his own country. I wanted the tables turned.
These are some old photos from when I was doing the project. I don't know why I never got around to uploading them.
It defies all my expectations that he remembered me, that he wanted to speak to me again and took the effort to show up at my house. And this is happening at a time when I feel almost completely disillusioned with what I once thought was my passion -- I simply cannot express the importance of this occurance, and how much this gesture means to me.
I hadn't intended to blog, seeing how its already 4 am, and I intend to wake up earlier (than usual) to get work done in the office. But then I was reading lyrics on an old blog entry on my old Xanga site just as iTunes started playing the exact same song -- such things don't happen often and they deserved to be recorded!
And I know I've said this before, so just bear with me as I say this again -- I can barely remember writing the things I wrote from four years ago. All those things I said, events that I recounted, why can't I remember these things?
I seem to have been a lot more lucid then, in the sense that I was making all these assertions and opinions (rightly or wrongly) with such certainty it is almost embarrassing. There are a lot of things I wrote back then that I wish I could retract, things I certainly wouldn't write about now. Still, I must admit I do miss that blind, arrogant confidence that I wrote with.
The old blog did remind me about Mark Ryden, an artist whose work I used to admire but I had forgotten about him after it seemed like he wasn't producing anything new.
Well, he did!
Mark Ryden's The Tree Show
And I know I've said this before, so just bear with me as I say this again -- I can barely remember writing the things I wrote from four years ago. All those things I said, events that I recounted, why can't I remember these things?
I seem to have been a lot more lucid then, in the sense that I was making all these assertions and opinions (rightly or wrongly) with such certainty it is almost embarrassing. There are a lot of things I wrote back then that I wish I could retract, things I certainly wouldn't write about now. Still, I must admit I do miss that blind, arrogant confidence that I wrote with.
The old blog did remind me about Mark Ryden, an artist whose work I used to admire but I had forgotten about him after it seemed like he wasn't producing anything new.
Well, he did!
Mark Ryden's The Tree Show
Friday, July 04, 2008
Last night I dreamt I rode a red Ducati to make a quick getaway. The bike was so big my legs couldn't touch the ground.
A gloriously lazy Friday.
Oh, and I still miss her. In five days, it would be exactly three years since I took this photo of her.
She's grown much since, don't think I can say the same for myself.
A gloriously lazy Friday.
Oh, and I still miss her. In five days, it would be exactly three years since I took this photo of her.
She's grown much since, don't think I can say the same for myself.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
A River Runs Through
I'm sorry but I wasn't expecting you for another month or so.
I had the impression the monsoon starts in August. But I was wrong.
The rain has been rather relentless. All morning and most of the afternoon today, resulting me being completely stranded at home between bodies of water. To get a rickshaw, I have to either wait in the hopes that someone alights at my place, or wade out.
I can't lie -- it's awfully fun. May not feel this way when I have my first slip in the water or leg into an unseen hole.
This means I am going to have a rather tricky house-moving process in a week or so.
It also means that I will be having cool, cool weather to sleep in for a while. Which is a good thing, considering I do need my blanket to act as a makeshift mosquito net because those fuckers are in serious breeding mode these days.
I had the impression the monsoon starts in August. But I was wrong.
The rain has been rather relentless. All morning and most of the afternoon today, resulting me being completely stranded at home between bodies of water. To get a rickshaw, I have to either wait in the hopes that someone alights at my place, or wade out.
I can't lie -- it's awfully fun. May not feel this way when I have my first slip in the water or leg into an unseen hole.
This means I am going to have a rather tricky house-moving process in a week or so.
It also means that I will be having cool, cool weather to sleep in for a while. Which is a good thing, considering I do need my blanket to act as a makeshift mosquito net because those fuckers are in serious breeding mode these days.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
I'd forgotten how time-sucking the net can be. Sure do miss random, pointless surfing. Once I click on Cowboy Caleb's treasure trove of links upon links - my afternoon is gone. Best time-sucker today? ARGs.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Slated
Slate's so great that even after reaching home past midnight, preparing for next day's class and feeling like I want to sleep for the next year or so -- I am still stuck on the site and want to blog about it.
I don't know if its just me, but recently their stuff has been really great. I really want to dissect it from a publisher's standpoint, but I'm seriously too tired right now. Especially after having read about how to create a noisier version of yourself at a reality-TV school, the death of the semicolon (with the cutest headline ever) and discovering there's another African dictator we've forgotten about while obsessing over Mugabe.
And of course, along the same vein of office-speak (Tym's got the details on this), a great article on the pop culture catchphrases.
I don't know if its just me, but recently their stuff has been really great. I really want to dissect it from a publisher's standpoint, but I'm seriously too tired right now. Especially after having read about how to create a noisier version of yourself at a reality-TV school, the death of the semicolon (with the cutest headline ever) and discovering there's another African dictator we've forgotten about while obsessing over Mugabe.
And of course, along the same vein of office-speak (Tym's got the details on this), a great article on the pop culture catchphrases.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Bill Gate's 'leaving' video. Its rather awesome. As much as I love Jon Stewart, I thought George Clooney's bit was the best.
Couldn't sleep last night due to recurring, semi-lucid discomfy dreams. Was constantly half-awake, and the dreams were about me being not being able to sleep, tossing and turning and working on some layout on my laptop, trying to get it done so I could get it out of my head and go to sleep.
I tried several things, washing my face, walking around, drinking some orange juice, but everytime I closed my eyes I just kept seeing those grids. My mind was working overtime. Then I eventually slept and had dreams that were not about work - but about sulphur powder, me trying to give someone my Singaporean number, drink coupons, taking the MRT and a faucet that shot out powerbeams into people's eyes.
So I compensated this morning with an extra teaspoon of coffee, which turned out to be too much coffee, and resulted in a terrible, scattered and unfocused class because I couldn't control my speech and my own train of thoughts. Even now, as I type, my hands are trembling.
This also means that its unlikely I'll get any work done today, because I just can't think straight. Frustrating this is!
There is one heck of a cumulonimbus cloud over my part of the city now, which means I may be stuck here for a while if the winds don't come and blow the rain clouds away.
Couldn't sleep last night due to recurring, semi-lucid discomfy dreams. Was constantly half-awake, and the dreams were about me being not being able to sleep, tossing and turning and working on some layout on my laptop, trying to get it done so I could get it out of my head and go to sleep.
I tried several things, washing my face, walking around, drinking some orange juice, but everytime I closed my eyes I just kept seeing those grids. My mind was working overtime. Then I eventually slept and had dreams that were not about work - but about sulphur powder, me trying to give someone my Singaporean number, drink coupons, taking the MRT and a faucet that shot out powerbeams into people's eyes.
So I compensated this morning with an extra teaspoon of coffee, which turned out to be too much coffee, and resulted in a terrible, scattered and unfocused class because I couldn't control my speech and my own train of thoughts. Even now, as I type, my hands are trembling.
This also means that its unlikely I'll get any work done today, because I just can't think straight. Frustrating this is!
There is one heck of a cumulonimbus cloud over my part of the city now, which means I may be stuck here for a while if the winds don't come and blow the rain clouds away.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Randomness: LKY says it'll only take five years to ruin Singapore, but people like Sally Ang shows that perhaps corrosion has already taken place from within.
Rather Full
I had dinner with a group of Singaporeans today. A rather close-knit group that meets up every Thursday evening for dinner followed by dessert and coffee.
There are a lot of conveniences involved in mixing with people that come from the same country as you. The accent, the jargon, the language, and there's no need to provide background stories or explain cultural differences.
But the life I have here is so different from theirs. They cannot believe I travel around via public transport on my own. They still talk with the assumption that I live in a fully-furnished house - giving me tips on microwaving, what shows are on television tonight etc. I told them I expect to spend Friday doing a lot of laundry since I have little time during the week for the chore. But then one of them said it was easy - dump it into the washing machine and let it hang indoors. I had no choice but to reveal that I didn't have said machine, and that I have to hang my clothes on the roof. Which means I have to be home, waiting for it to dry - because no one's going to save them when the rain comes.
I lamented to my friend here, No matter how hard I try, even to the people that know me, I will always be bideshi - foreign. I didn't want to be treated like an alien, not by my friends. But I know there are just some differences that can never be bridged. I believe that my fellow Singaporeans are quite glad to be bideshi.
I got off the huge car (they insisted on sending me back because god forbid I get mugged) some distance away from my place, and walked back. And I felt so unsettled, because instead of the feeling happy to have been with 'my' people, I felt like a foreigner all over again.
An old man was squatting outside the grocery shop, and a young puppy was playing by itself behind him. I got my supplies (eggs, water, butter) and stood there for a minute just to look -- the old man was now laughing and playing with the puppy, trying to entice it closer with a box of matches (???). A young boy stood close by, giggling at the scene. I couldn't help but laugh out loud, thinking of how all my the photographic cliches were now brought together (old people, animals, kids). I stood there for a long time, really, because I generally don't leave scenes that make me smile.
And I know I've been griping about life here, but tonight made me realise that I don't want that kind of gripe-free life -- filled with facilities and golfing and chartered tours and trips to expensive restaurants and personal drivers. I much prefer my own imperfect, tedious and uncomfortable arrangement. I cannot imagine being shut out of this city that way, to not have seen the things I have seen, met the people I have met, felt the way this city makes you feel. They may have been based here for longer than I have, but they have never truly lived in this city.
Of course, I'm not delusional enough to think that I have had the hardcore local life - of course I haven't. I have lattes and pasta, I buy cheese and imported juices. But I like to think that I still walk the same street as they do, feeling the same stones beneath my feet, and getting as close as I could possibly get while still being myself.
There are a lot of conveniences involved in mixing with people that come from the same country as you. The accent, the jargon, the language, and there's no need to provide background stories or explain cultural differences.
But the life I have here is so different from theirs. They cannot believe I travel around via public transport on my own. They still talk with the assumption that I live in a fully-furnished house - giving me tips on microwaving, what shows are on television tonight etc. I told them I expect to spend Friday doing a lot of laundry since I have little time during the week for the chore. But then one of them said it was easy - dump it into the washing machine and let it hang indoors. I had no choice but to reveal that I didn't have said machine, and that I have to hang my clothes on the roof. Which means I have to be home, waiting for it to dry - because no one's going to save them when the rain comes.
I lamented to my friend here, No matter how hard I try, even to the people that know me, I will always be bideshi - foreign. I didn't want to be treated like an alien, not by my friends. But I know there are just some differences that can never be bridged. I believe that my fellow Singaporeans are quite glad to be bideshi.
I got off the huge car (they insisted on sending me back because god forbid I get mugged) some distance away from my place, and walked back. And I felt so unsettled, because instead of the feeling happy to have been with 'my' people, I felt like a foreigner all over again.
An old man was squatting outside the grocery shop, and a young puppy was playing by itself behind him. I got my supplies (eggs, water, butter) and stood there for a minute just to look -- the old man was now laughing and playing with the puppy, trying to entice it closer with a box of matches (???). A young boy stood close by, giggling at the scene. I couldn't help but laugh out loud, thinking of how all my the photographic cliches were now brought together (old people, animals, kids). I stood there for a long time, really, because I generally don't leave scenes that make me smile.
And I know I've been griping about life here, but tonight made me realise that I don't want that kind of gripe-free life -- filled with facilities and golfing and chartered tours and trips to expensive restaurants and personal drivers. I much prefer my own imperfect, tedious and uncomfortable arrangement. I cannot imagine being shut out of this city that way, to not have seen the things I have seen, met the people I have met, felt the way this city makes you feel. They may have been based here for longer than I have, but they have never truly lived in this city.
Of course, I'm not delusional enough to think that I have had the hardcore local life - of course I haven't. I have lattes and pasta, I buy cheese and imported juices. But I like to think that I still walk the same street as they do, feeling the same stones beneath my feet, and getting as close as I could possibly get while still being myself.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
To Buddha and Back
Last night I wrote and deleted (again) some long confessionalisque post about a very horrible thing I had done. Remember what I said about projecting anger and frustrations? Yeah I kinda hit rock bottom with what I did yesterday. I deleted it because I wasn't sure if my attempt at honesty was a poorly-disguised lunge at absolution.
Anyway, you'd think I'd be allowed to wallow in my shame a little. The day after, as I sat on the rickshaw on the way to the office, I kept chiding myself for what happened. I've got to chill. Stop taking things personally. Take the higher ground. Ignore. What would Buddha do?
It was good I was thinking about all those things, because at that moment a bus full of teenage boys passed my rickshaw and whup! - a tightly-balled up ball of newspaper hit the side of my head. The loud laughter and jeers continued even as the bus went on its way, all of them peering out from the back window to see how I would react.
I didn't, of course. I was channeling Buddha on the outside, but my god, my mind realised a new state of viciousness then.
Anyway, you'd think I'd be allowed to wallow in my shame a little. The day after, as I sat on the rickshaw on the way to the office, I kept chiding myself for what happened. I've got to chill. Stop taking things personally. Take the higher ground. Ignore. What would Buddha do?
It was good I was thinking about all those things, because at that moment a bus full of teenage boys passed my rickshaw and whup! - a tightly-balled up ball of newspaper hit the side of my head. The loud laughter and jeers continued even as the bus went on its way, all of them peering out from the back window to see how I would react.
I didn't, of course. I was channeling Buddha on the outside, but my god, my mind realised a new state of viciousness then.
Stuff I Read this Morning
(AP Photo/Lefteris Pitarakis)
- Monet bested himself and his "Le bassin aux nympheas" sold in NY at a record S$80.4million. Too bad he's not around to enjoy it.
- Bush To Arroyo: "I am reminded of the great talent of the -- of our Phillipine-Americans when I eat dinner at the white house." The chef is Cristeta Comerford, who was named White House chef in August of 2005. Personally, I'm surprised he knows her nationality. Incident has not been reported in the local press in the Phillipines.
- Singaporeans and South Koreans are the region's biggest online spenders, a survey by MasterCard said on Tuesday. Is it just me, or does anyone else wonder what the results would've been if Visa had conducted the survey instead?
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
I have a rather large burn mark on the top of my hand that's turning into a nice purplish-blue colour. I have no idea what to put on burns - I remember reading that nothing was better than something, but I could've skipped a chapter or two during first aid in home ecs class. Besides, who really has the mood to think of home remedies when you wake up to check email and read one that just shows signs of unintelligent life on this planet? Anyway, the burn is caused by me dropping the iron on my hand (I KNOW), and if it turns out the way the other two iron-caused burns on my calf and knee (ironing without an ironing board can be tricky) then I am in for an ugly-ass scar that can't be hidden under clothes. Well, maybe gloves. All in all, a fantastic addition to an already sucky morning that couldn't get any worse.
Oh I'm so going to regret those last five words.
Oh I'm so going to regret those last five words.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Lugged myself out of bed at an hour unseemly of my usual bad habits, if only because the internet failed on me last night and I had a lot of work to get done before my morning class.
Can I just say, I do love Getty's Creative section -- for all its horrible corporate monsterishness sucking the soul out of photography, turning photographs into visual equivalent of a Magnetic Poetry Kit when images can mean whatever you want it to mean, and goddamn whatever the photographer was trying to express.
It's still too early to say, and this day could go either way, but everything has been swell so far and I hope it stays this way.
I realised something yesterday (a rarity in my recent haze of i-don't-know-ness) that I no longer feel sympathy or empathy for a lot of what I see. The boys shoveling rubbish, the rickshaw wallahs sweating it out in the sun, the handicapped beggars that approach me. Which would thus require an admission that, yes, a lot of my initial perceptions were coloured over with a glaze of pity.
Now I no longer know who reads this blog, this admission could potentially come back to haunt me. Regardless, I still feel it's important to note how my thoughts and attitudes have evolved.
This is all still slightly confusing for me. Did I pity them? Did I learn how not to care anymore? And if I'm wrong about this, what's the cause of my recent disinterest in everything?
There was a lot about people that drew me in. It used to be addictive. The every day stories of people we meet. People used to fascinate me. I wanted to hear their stories, to get a glimpse of their spirit, to share what I had seen and learnt with others.
You see, I was never really interested in the privileged. I wanted to hear about the struggles, about the overcoming-of-odds, the way people survived in ways I never could. I was familiar with the privileged, after all, I was one of them. In this sense, I was always looking for "the other", looking for lives I would never be involved in unless I actively sought them out.
I'm not sure how pity comes in here, and my mind is too scattered to understand it properly now. All I know is, a couple of months ago, there is no way I would have been capable of what I'm doing now -- yelling at CNG drivers who ask for more money, getting pissed off and walking away from rickshaw wallahs, ignoring eye contact with child beggars and not even bothering to smile or make small talk anymore. Not all the time, but often enough to puzzle myself.
A big reason is that I have accumulated so many negative experiences here, I may be projecting all this anger and frustration on whoever I meet. The fucking racist remarks and shouts, the ill-disguised bitchiness, the snide jokes and remarks, the loud laughter that erupts after I pass by -- all these things that constantly makes me feel like a circus freak on parade. A lot of it is just plain rude, and I may have tolerated all I'm able to tolerate.
And I know I shouldn't take these things personally, and I had been doing a great job of ignoring all this - just have to try a little harder, I guess.
Can I just say, I do love Getty's Creative section -- for all its horrible corporate monsterishness sucking the soul out of photography, turning photographs into visual equivalent of a Magnetic Poetry Kit when images can mean whatever you want it to mean, and goddamn whatever the photographer was trying to express.
It's still too early to say, and this day could go either way, but everything has been swell so far and I hope it stays this way.
I realised something yesterday (a rarity in my recent haze of i-don't-know-ness) that I no longer feel sympathy or empathy for a lot of what I see. The boys shoveling rubbish, the rickshaw wallahs sweating it out in the sun, the handicapped beggars that approach me. Which would thus require an admission that, yes, a lot of my initial perceptions were coloured over with a glaze of pity.
Now I no longer know who reads this blog, this admission could potentially come back to haunt me. Regardless, I still feel it's important to note how my thoughts and attitudes have evolved.
This is all still slightly confusing for me. Did I pity them? Did I learn how not to care anymore? And if I'm wrong about this, what's the cause of my recent disinterest in everything?
There was a lot about people that drew me in. It used to be addictive. The every day stories of people we meet. People used to fascinate me. I wanted to hear their stories, to get a glimpse of their spirit, to share what I had seen and learnt with others.
You see, I was never really interested in the privileged. I wanted to hear about the struggles, about the overcoming-of-odds, the way people survived in ways I never could. I was familiar with the privileged, after all, I was one of them. In this sense, I was always looking for "the other", looking for lives I would never be involved in unless I actively sought them out.
I'm not sure how pity comes in here, and my mind is too scattered to understand it properly now. All I know is, a couple of months ago, there is no way I would have been capable of what I'm doing now -- yelling at CNG drivers who ask for more money, getting pissed off and walking away from rickshaw wallahs, ignoring eye contact with child beggars and not even bothering to smile or make small talk anymore. Not all the time, but often enough to puzzle myself.
A big reason is that I have accumulated so many negative experiences here, I may be projecting all this anger and frustration on whoever I meet. The fucking racist remarks and shouts, the ill-disguised bitchiness, the snide jokes and remarks, the loud laughter that erupts after I pass by -- all these things that constantly makes me feel like a circus freak on parade. A lot of it is just plain rude, and I may have tolerated all I'm able to tolerate.
And I know I shouldn't take these things personally, and I had been doing a great job of ignoring all this - just have to try a little harder, I guess.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
"He comes from a respectable Muslim family of Bangladesh which has produced many worthy sons."
I'm sorry, but having to edit this sentence ruined my morning. And its only because of one word.
Woke up to the strangest dream this morning. Sarah said she liked the first six seconds between awakening and the harsh-hitting-of-reality, and I would concur but I think that only applies if the dream was pleasant.
So I was back in Jakarta, with a certain SOMEONE and there was a lot in between, like an escape from jail, some high-speed cart race with a baby somewhere, rushing for an MAS flight, and someone pinning me down to write the alphabets W-E-S-S N-E-S-S on my knuckles as a joke.
I was trying to get back to where I was before, but I couldn't remember the name of the area, and I was trying to talk to them in Bangla but then i remembered thinking that dude the two languages have completely different origins - this is not going to work.
This xkcd strip perfectly sums up every damn morning for me:
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Nice.
Unwinding after work and a class today by watching Chris Rock's Never Scared.
"Another thing fellas -- don't argue. You cannot win. You cannot beat a woman in an argument. It's impossible. You cannot win. Because men, we are handicapped when it comes to arguing, 'cos we have a need to make sense."
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