Every so often, I get hit with a mean case of PMS. Hardly worthy blogging fodder, but don't you sometimes just feel like ripping your brain out so you could fix whatever's wrong with it? God knows I've tinkered with ALL my gadgets-gone-wonky this way (usually made it worse, but at least I tried), and this morning I really wish there was a screwdriver for the skull.

Landing of mother ship postponed by a couple of days.

I haven't really said anything about the girls here. This is a gross generalisation, of course, and not representative of the lovely female friends that I have here.

But, if you will allow me to make a sweeping statement, why is it I always get the feeling the girls here would do something awful to me if given the chance? There is a look of aggressiveness in their faces, an aggression that perhaps comes from a need to protect oneself? The head-to-toe eyeballing, peering from the corner of the eye, stiff lip and upturned noses. What? What did I do to you?

Yesterday I wore an off-shoulder top - something purchased from Mango more than half a year ago, but somehow I never got around to wearing it even in Singapore.

In office, a middle-aged woman squealed as she caught sight of my bare shoulder, and proceeded to helpfully help me correct my mistake.

I was peeved, if only because it was another female that had done it. My boobs were dutifully covered with the shawl, the shirt was loose enough to hide my ass, and the sleeves were down to my elbows. I suppose, here, even a little is too much.

I have an 8,000 word article to edit, and a ceiling full of dustwebs to clear, four pairs of pants that has to be handwashed, a mid-term paper to set and about 300 photos that need metadata and captions.

But first, to savour that speech Obama made two days ago. I'm off.

How Better To Show Them That We Care?

This story really just summarises the country up so nicely. Malaysia boleh!

M'sia opposition rewards voters by cancelling parking fines

KUALA LUMPUR - MALAYSIA'S opposition coalition is rewarding voters in states where it recently won in general elections by cancelling unpaid parking fines, providing free water and sponsoring a soccer game.

'How better to show them that we care?' said Secretary-General Kamarudin Jaffar of the ethnic-Malay-based Pan Malaysian Islamic party, or PAS.

Maybe Singaporeans should be feeling unloved, comparatively. Free water, soccer games... Well I'm just saying there's nothing a lifetime of free fried chicken can't buy you.

And I find it kinda cute how corruption stories in Singapore are about $200 and driving demerit points.


In other news, the Mother Ship is scheduled to land in approximately three days. My house and room will be, presumptuously speaking, much cleaner by the time Mother Ship departs.

Finally watched Tarantino's Death Proof last night and this may be the first movie in which I loved the ending credits more than the movie itself.

Did not particularly enjoy Rodriguez's Planet Terror, though.

Gmail is such a mind-reader.

我要搬家了。

Too much drama on the domestic front - surprisingly and thankfully not a result of my actions, but unfortunately involving me (to a certain degree) as well.

So while the whirlpool continues to swirl in my abode, I've been thinking about my attitudes towards confrontation. Because I'd always assumed I was more than happy to go about looking for a fight, but recent events have revealed that I am inclined to retreat and ignore. The father (aka lao pei) will not believe this, but it's true. However, it is probably due to two factors:

1. I have no energy to engage in a shouting match and
2. I have no time to engage in a shouting match.

So I guess I'm only an asshole if I've got the energy and time on my hands.

I've said this to a friend, in response to incredulous tales of deceit and deception, blackmail and conspiracies between people here. They've all either been watching way too many soap operas or, (the very likely reason) have too much time to waste.

Like what we say, "Wah, damn free hor?"

Or, "Wah, si bei wu zeng tiam hor?"

Or, "Wah, nothing better to do issit?"

Or, "你很无聊 leh."

Chinese language indulgence a result of recent fantasies of going to Shenyang for photo exhibition. Nevaa gonna happen.

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Sample of email from home:

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In Spore we have the great escape of our most wanted JI prisoner MAS SELAMAT from our "HIGH SECURITY PRISON" News paper reports say that he escaped through the toilet. What a joke.This is the thirteenth day since his escape and police believed he is still in Spore. Very soon stalls will be selling T shirts with MAT SELAMAT'S FACE and with the wordind TOILET BREAK instead of PRISON BREAK.

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Before & After, Past & Present, Then & Now

Every so often, with greater frequency than I'd like, I have dreams about a particular subject which leave me feeling extremely uncomfortable upon waking. Because the implications, oh, the implications, of having this subject in my subconscious is just too difficult to accept.

Last night's dream was even worse. It brought together an regrettable action of my past, the aforementioned subject, and a person from my present. All three have been a part of my life at some point, but not at the same time.

So, to have all three thrown together in a bizarre nightmare mix... very ESOTSM.

I give up. You're a moron.

The Lao Pei

Sometime ago, I spent a long time explaining to Arjun why I had to repay the loan I took from my father's CPF account to pay for four fabulously educational years in CS.

For one, it was being handled by the government and the government tends to be rather difficult to shake off. Maybe they're insecure. Ia dunno. Anyway, the constant stream of computer-generated letters would attest their efficiency.

Also, the point that the money was not really meant for me in the first place - it was for his retirement, it was for him. Sure, there were those who were lucky enough not to have to take loans. For some kids, education was part of the package, part of the deal. But we're not one of those families. He needed the money.

I've defaulted on enough loans, conveniently 'forgetting' to repay friends and colleagues, attributing it to my poor memory. Half the time its true, but the other half was because I was just too goddamn miserly and, well, just not a very nice person I guess. Mostly, I just didn't have the cash one hand.

But this was one payment I didn't intend to default upon.

So I patiently explained all this to Arjun, who didn't really get it in the end anyway, because to him - education was always part of the package. To him, it was akin to me paying back all the money they had spent on diapers.

That's not how I see it though.

I wrote to my father the other day, discussing the repayment and the loan and what to do with the mountain of letters that had accumulated over the past few months. Bonfire, anyone?

I dropped a joke - about him cancelling my loan so CPF would get off my back. I'd pay him in cash instead. I'd seen that option when I logged into the CPF page (which only loads on internet explorer, btw, so much for e-service). Waive your dependents' loan. Click?

I made it clear it was a joke - money's not really funny sometimes. After all, this was a man that I had argued with about $10 loans and about who's-paying-for-the-cat-food-this-time. I wasn't about to get into a long-distance shouting match.

And then this morning I opened my email account and read his reply to that, which very nearly left me in tears.

Let's just say, he hadn't known waiving was an option.

What could've been last-minute trip to a beach turned out to be nothing... Another time perhaps. I generally prefer to have more time to plan my beach escapades, but I ended up fantasising about sand and sea and sun than worry about if I had enough clean clothes to pack.

Anyway, all came up to nada. Ah well, at least I don't have to squeeze four days of work into tonight.

Still missing my kopitiam today. To stretch my legs out on those red plastic chairs... ah.

Just want to say that refusing to bath because the cold weather gives you an allergy-rash which is aggravated by water - this is the most bullshit thing I've ever heard.

-- i stand humbly corrected.

A Time To Breathe.

There is a beautiful magpie on the tree next to where I now sit on the roof, singing its heart out. I came up here to be alone, if only for a minute, but even that seems impossible as various parties have appeared and tried to peer over my shoulder.

I'm at a loss for words, if only because there's so much I want to say. I haven't had the time to blog much these days - funny things happen when you're employed in four different jobs and try to cope without compromising on sleep.

This morning I dreamt I was in Singapore, in my estate. God knows what I was doing, but I woke up with a lingering feeling of familiarity - the way I would visit the kopitiam downstairs to buy coffee before rushing off to Emerald Hill in the morning, the way I would have my duck rice or prawn noodles before being late for 3pm shift on pix desk.

That kind of feeling is associated with a routine which I considered to be my quality alone time - a routine I haven't been able to establish here. Really, there isn't much of a routine to speak of these days. This is something I should celebrate, since I always make it a point to pick unpredictability over routine on all those time-wasting personality tests I did in the past.

I feel as if I need something. As if, everyday, I wake up and spend the day looking and searching for something. I can't find it - how could I, if I don't know what it is I'm looking for?

I loathe to say this, but I think maybe what I need is a break. A break from everything - including myself.

This is totally related to my buying 'spree' yesterday when I bought a ridiculously priced bottle of Parmesan cheese.

I read Althusser and I finally understand why I insist on my students continuing to smoke in front of me.

I want to take a week off and spend the days takiing pictures that mean nothing.

Bor Pian, Wa Si Arh Nei Gai

I spent ten very irrelevant minutes explaining the concept of "malu" to my students yesterday because I was determined to use that word. I eventually got them to understand the word, but I don't think they understood why they were being made to understand it.

It was just so I could joke during tutorial, "Don't worry, there are no wrong answers, you'll only malu yourself."

The 'lahs' and 'lohs' are already back, and I didn't realise I had stopped censoring my auxiliary Singlish terms till my students kept giggling at all the lahs.

You may be glad to know the above didn't take place in my English classes - although I did have to do some serious damage control when the phrase "also can" slipped out without me realising it.

Evidently, you can't take the lah out of me.

Because I Really Need To Laugh Today

"And I've decided that when I make a million dollars and can afford to pay for frivolous things like diamond-studded toothpicks or battery-powered underwear that continuously warms the butt, I'm going to hire a team of good-looking men with great hair to stand outside of my shower and applaud when I get out and show them what a great job I did of shaving my legs. And they will be paid bonuses based on how much they make me believe them."

- Dooce.com

Since I don't shave my legs, I'm having some difficulty thinking of an equally significant act which I would like a group of men with nice hair to applaud me for, but I reckon it'll likely be a toss between how I always keep the sink clean and how I've managed to keep my hair frizz-free all through this humid, weird winter.

A Chronological Breakdown of Significant Occuring Events Before and Slightly After the Advent of the Chinese Lunar New Year

• 6 pm -- Get on a rickshaw after a phonecall to parents in the middle of some backlane.
  

• 6.30 pm -- Arrive at supermarket.

• 6.34 pm -- Curse and cry over the price of longans. Settle for mandarin oranges instead.

• 6.45 pm -- Regret the lack of menu planning. Extreme confusion ensues.

• 6.50 pm -- Shrimp or Chicken? Chicken or Shrimp?

• 6.51 pm -- Gets both shrimp and chicken.

• 7.00 pm -- Shakes head as hands reaches for a sorry-looking packet of yucky bean sprouts. Cultural influence via osmosis possible: Theory Proven.

• 7.10 pm -- Call for help to carry bags home.

• 7.12 pm -- Incessant pacing up and down the aisles increases confusion. Again regret the lack of menu planning.

• 7.20 pm -- Five minutes spent deciding between cheese-filled and regular chicken nuggets.

• 7.26 pm -- Hit the checkout lane. Bill comes to roughly 900 takas. Glad to feed four with 20 bucks.

• 7.40 pm -- Arrive home.

• 7.41 pm -- Homesickness sets in. Decides to lock door to indulge in sadness.

• 7.42 pm -- Chinese disco music from 881 soundtrack fills room.
  

• 7.45 pm -- Emerge from room feeling much better.

• [Interlude: JESSICA HITS THE KITCHEN. EVERYONE STAY BACK]

• 8.45 pm -- Collapse on the floor, utterly exhausted.
  

• 8.49 pm -- Engage roommates in a lesson in Buan Lak (Blackjack). Eager to win money.

• 8. 50 pm -- Rice Wine drinking commences.
  

• 8.54 pm -- Gambling commences. Jessica feels the CNY spirit at last. Bets start at 5 taka.

• 9.15 pm -- Bets go up to 50 taka.
  

• 9.17 pm -- Jessica washes hands for the third time to rid herself of bad luck.

• 9.20 pm -- Roommates marvel at how easy it is to win money off the banker.

• 9.21 pm -- Jessica washes face AND hands.

• 9.22 pm -- Heartfelt regret at taking an extra card.
  

• 9.26 pm -- Jessica is down by 200 taka.

• 9.27 pm -- A new banker takes over.
  

• 9.30 pm -- Bets go up over 100 taka. Jessica resists dipping into cash reserves.

• [Interlude: JESSICA DIPS INTO RESERVES AND ALL HELL BREAKS LOSE.]

• 11.30 pm -- Rice wine supply exhausted.
  

• 11.50 pm -- Group decides dinner is way overdue. Eating commences amidst gambling.
  

• 12.40 am -- Jessica has recovered most of her losses.

• 1.30 am -- Some roommates decide to sleep. Gambling continues with only two participants.

• 1.35 am -- Bets go up to 500 taka.
  

• 1.45 am -- Jessica glad that pay day is near.

• 1.50 am -- Losses sustained become unbearable. Jessica resists converting numbers into Singapore dollars.
  

• 1.52 am -- Launch of argument regarding the ethics of keeping money won from gambling.
  

• 1.54 am -- Jessica loses argument. Rent money will have to wait.

Stress

Taking a minute to just breath and say that I really wish I didn't have to be so stressed on CNY eve. So much to do so much to do.

Like Robert Capa, Only No One Died

Would like to credit the author of the quote above - but I can't. Well, I can. But I won't.

Am pretty exhausted today after a particular event the day before that involved me spring cleaning the house (just in time too) TWICE. I'm just glad its over.

Had a tour of the new campus today. Just a stone's throw down the road, but very new and very spacious and smells of paint. Classes start tomorrow. Should rightly be in panic mode, but I suppose that'll set in later.

There are six books on my desk - none of which I've read before. I am effed.

The collaboration between my the two institutions I work for was briefly mentioned in the meeting today. Everything sounds very promising and exciting, and given a couple of years there's just so much we can do together. There are a lot of things I've realised I've missed (such as reading thick books about stuff I forget about a year later) and I just sat there and wondered how I landed in academia.

I always take on too much on my plate - and I've always assumed I like things this way. Mixed and varied and stretching myself all over the place. But for the first time today, I thought of dropping everything else and giving myself fully to this one thing. I feel frustrated I can't spend all of my resources on this, its something I thoroughly enjoy, even if I don't have the results to show for it. For once I would like to be able to spend an entire day reading and researching.

Ah well. Just goes to show Jess really doesn't know what she wants, does she?

Ashura came and left and I haven't had the time to edit anything other than the one above. The whole fire breathing thing got quite tiring after a while because it was basically just guys spitting into the fire, and few could do it with the finesse it requires. Plus was tired of getting the kerosene+spit mix over me and my camera. I'm not smart, but I am pretty sure it would suck to burst into flames.

Had a couple of hands grabbing and groping when the crowd got too packed. These cowards only come out when they know its difficult for you to figure out which one of the 10 guys surrounding you grabbed your ass. I didn't care. I looked one in the eye and contemplated bashing his face in with my camera, but I didn't care enough to do it. It always happens in such festivals and only in huge crowds, and never anywhere else.

Some of the Australian girls had it worse in the crowds, and even those seasoned and older were rather shaken after the experience. At least no one tried to rip my shirt open and put their hands down my pants.

The thing that usually happens is that I always find a young and eager local who's more than willing to act as my guide and protector. Most of the people take care of me anyway, always pushing me to the front of crowds so I can have the best view to shoot. Everyone wants to be in the picture. My camera opens up some pathways even as it closes others. I'm not worried.

Content and The Rest Of It

After seeing a bunch of art photographers have a go at photojournalism - wow. My Mind is Blown.

I am so utterly grateful to them for having opened my eyes. I really needed this.

Too Much Nescafe

Jess has had way too much coffee.

Masud tells me he is 7 but he looks like he's 4. He often stares into space and blanks out, not responding to calls and words. He looks drunk - which is not possible - so I'm not too sure what's going on in his head.

Another child who really doesn't give a fuck what you think.

Cold

So the cold spell shut everyone up about the unusually warm winter. It seems to have lifted over Dhaka - no rain today or yesterday - but the weather's back to what I remember January to be like. Topu and I agreed as we headed out to tea: "This is winter."

The reports came in about people dying of cold-related diseases. Stay back everyone! Old people and children first. And those without the back-up jackets and shawls. Cold is one thing, but cold with rain?

Rajiv and I came out of Coffee World cursing at the weather. He was already having the flu, and the jacket wasn't doing much to keep out the wind. The cold comes in through your ears, someone once said to me. We waited to see if the rain would let up.

The boy came round to us soon enough, trying to sell sweets. Rajiv gave away some chocolate instead. Didn't seem like he preferred it over money.

Some time later, another boy with sweets joined him. The two were unbelievably cold. Hunched over, wet clothes as a second skin, rain drops glistening off their hair. Too cold to even pester us in the way they usually do. They stood there silently, with their sweets in their hands. Maybe we misunderstood. Maybe they were just seeking shelter like the rest of us. The crowd streamed by.

I clumsily took my camera out and started to shoot. No one seemed to care. Rajiv kept whispering tips and advice from the side. Keep it wide. Don't go in too close.

It was an obvious picture. So obvious that I don't even try to get these anymore. The poor and the rich, the cold and the warm, the skinny and the fat. I once said that I don't trust fat people in this country. It's means something to have the ability to be obese in this country. Well, it means something to me and my mind anyway.

Maybe I should save my judgments for myself.




I'd like to keep this pic at 800px wide, but then again we'd all like a lot of things and life just doesn't work that way, does it?

At one point, the boys from two worlds started to talk. "Shoot now now now now now," Rajiv said. I didn't get the shot, but I saw the scene. I wondered what they talked about.

I would like to say how it broke my heart etc etc, but it didn't. We stepped out into the rain and walked home. The two boys sprang to life, and tried to chase after us with the sweets. Their voices cried out from behind while we looked ahead.

I stuffed a 10 taka note into the palm of one before running off with my guilt into the rain, my cappuccino still warm in my stomach.

Rajiv Bites

The following quotes suffer from a serious case of YHTBTism (You Had To Be There).

"Have you watched the movie Ulysses' Guessz?"

"Guessz?"

"G-A-Z-E"

"You mean, Ulysses' Gaze."

"Yes, 'Gaze'. But, it sounds like 'gays'. Ulysses' Guessz."

"I ate a very special thing during Eid. Cow boob."

"New York is like Dhaka, but worse."

"I sympathise with you Jessica. For your empty head with no brain... Jellyfish?"

Random.

I asked him first of course, and he asked me, "Why?"

"Em ni." No reason. I shrugged my shoulders for effect.

He grimly nodded, and neither he nor his friend moved an inch. It was perfect. No rushing to pose together, no 'action-action'.

I walked off after saying thank you, and I heard him call me from behind. I turned around. He beckoned me over with his finger. I cannot remember the last time I obeyed such a command. Anyone else, I would have walked off.

Thus began the usual interrogation. He told me he had been to Singapore when the British was there. Sadly, I couldn't understand much of anything else he said. I wonder how he became blind in one eye. Cataracts? I couldn't ask. I didn't know the Bangla word for it.

His friend, perched high in a rickshaw, never moved from his position. Only once, to wave his hand to shoo off a curious boy that came too close.





A cold spell has hit, something about depression over the Bay of Bengal. The pressure's been wonky all night, and I woke up at 6 am in the morning because my door kept banging open-shut-open-shut.

The electric cables across the street from my office has just exploded with a fiery bang twice. And as a result of watching too many Jason Statham action-bang-bang movies (5-in-1 for your convenience!) last night, I heard him say in my head "Cut the power to the whole block." in that trying-a-bit-too-hard-to-be-gruff voice.

I don't know what's happening, but I know there's a short circuit involved somewhere. Some dude's leaning out of the window with a fire extinguisher trying to put out the burning wires.

And I saw the list of Oscar Nominees, and now feel much regret that I never made it through my discount-copy of McEwan's Atonement that I picked up at some library book sale years ago. I like watching movies based on books I've read.

I tried. It just never hooked me. Maybe I only like the Brit writers that come from the north.