The hols have started! On with the busy festive months! I love the feeling of -doing- things. Like runnng errands or Christmas shopping in town, where there are people everywhere and you're just zipping from place to place, working through the crowd like a Kender.
A whirl of bags and stream of phone calls... left, right, and a left again, to the underpass then waltzing out into the sunlight and weaving past a gaggle of teenagers, a family with a crying child, past the lovers sharing an ice cream...
I love this Christmas, not having to worry about taking care of my voice or the over packed scheduele.
Been in town alot recently, due to sick aunt staying at Mount E. Strolling through the streets arm in arm with my younger cousin Peter this evening. Got a balloon off his younger sister. Is bobbing on my finger as I type right now! The giant Taka tree is out, decor soon to come.
Away in a manger, no crib for a bed...
I'm starting to remember why I loved Christmas as a child...
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Am through to next year! By the skin of my teeth, so have to continue mugging. Somebody kill me please!
I like Econs. Really, I do. And I'm not just saying this because Wen might read this journal either. But, it's just so damned difficult to do. So I've to go for more tuition this holiday. On the bright side, Wen was nice about me failing. Wen's the best tuition teacher ever~!
So like that lah. Think I've to bring homework over to London. Bleah.
Rumours say that Mirrormask was going to be brought to Singapore, but haven't seen publicity for it yet. Judging by the response to Gaiman's trip here, they should recognise that there is a market to be exploited. I -do- hope that it eventually gets here. Keyword here being eventually.
Did you know that the director for Brothers Grmm did The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (if that's how you spell it)? I loved that movie. Never seen the DVD around though. The scene where the baron took rope from the top of the rope they were climbing down of, will never cease to amuse me.
You ah. I'm worried about you leh. Don't be depressed ok? I'll come and pester you in a few months, then you'll be too embarrased to be seen with your scruffy teenaged sister to be lonely. *hugg~
Oh, by the way. Got this off LiveJournal (I do have an account there you know).
I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.
I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.
I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.
We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.
I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.
I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.
I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.
I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.
We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.
I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.
I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.
I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.
I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.
I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.
I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn’t have to always deal with society hating me.
I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.
I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.
(Feel free to repost this if you believe homophobia is wrong.)
I like Econs. Really, I do. And I'm not just saying this because Wen might read this journal either. But, it's just so damned difficult to do. So I've to go for more tuition this holiday. On the bright side, Wen was nice about me failing. Wen's the best tuition teacher ever~!
So like that lah. Think I've to bring homework over to London. Bleah.
Rumours say that Mirrormask was going to be brought to Singapore, but haven't seen publicity for it yet. Judging by the response to Gaiman's trip here, they should recognise that there is a market to be exploited. I -do- hope that it eventually gets here. Keyword here being eventually.
Did you know that the director for Brothers Grmm did The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (if that's how you spell it)? I loved that movie. Never seen the DVD around though. The scene where the baron took rope from the top of the rope they were climbing down of, will never cease to amuse me.
You ah. I'm worried about you leh. Don't be depressed ok? I'll come and pester you in a few months, then you'll be too embarrased to be seen with your scruffy teenaged sister to be lonely. *hugg~
Oh, by the way. Got this off LiveJournal (I do have an account there you know).
I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.
I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.
I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.
We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.
I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.
I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.
I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.
I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.
We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.
I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.
I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.
I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.
I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.
I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.
I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn’t have to always deal with society hating me.
I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.
I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.
(Feel free to repost this if you believe homophobia is wrong.)
Monday, October 24, 2005
TOR AGAIN!
Argh! Forgot to say that I've got the LAST ticket for Mirrormask on the 1st of Nov. I can hardly believe it myself. I knew it was coming with the London Film Festival and was just talking about booking tickets, but forgot. So this morning I woke up bright and early, went down to leicester square, and tried to get tickets for all the other shows I want to watch too.
'Ok, the most important is Mirrormask', I said. 'Oops, sold out.' 'What?! No. You're kidding me. Please be kidding me.' 'Wait I'll check. Oh... there's one left.'
'I'll take it!'
So now Mirrormask is all sold out, 1 and 1/2 weeks before it is due to show. Cost me £10. I'm also gonna see is Everything is Illuminated and the Brothers Grimm. Will report back on how it goes.
Argh! Forgot to say that I've got the LAST ticket for Mirrormask on the 1st of Nov. I can hardly believe it myself. I knew it was coming with the London Film Festival and was just talking about booking tickets, but forgot. So this morning I woke up bright and early, went down to leicester square, and tried to get tickets for all the other shows I want to watch too.
'Ok, the most important is Mirrormask', I said. 'Oops, sold out.' 'What?! No. You're kidding me. Please be kidding me.' 'Wait I'll check. Oh... there's one left.'
'I'll take it!'
So now Mirrormask is all sold out, 1 and 1/2 weeks before it is due to show. Cost me £10. I'm also gonna see is Everything is Illuminated and the Brothers Grimm. Will report back on how it goes.
THIS IS TOR
I maintain that a little bit of navel-gazing now and then, the occassional bout of introspection, is healthy, even necessary, in a well-adjusted person. As a wise man once said, there's nothing wrong with being self-absorbed if you are interesting enough to justify it.
So it comes to pass that at some point in the lifetimes of every girl who is sufficiently self-aware, this question must be asked: which character am I in Sex and the City?
The other day five such individuals were making merry in a Holborn pub after a hard day's work. That entailed serious discussions on topics ranging from the most interesting place we've ever had sex in, to the nature of our desire to be like, or to live the lives of, television characters.
The answer to the first was a draw between 'under a weeping willow in a Montreal garden' and 'the backseat of a car on the Brighton sea front'. The answer to the other was slightly tricker.
Nick pointed out that for the boys, it was in fact not one question but two. Which girl would you like to be with, versus which girl you would eventually end up with. Unsurprisingly, they plumped for a night with Samantha but a lifetime with Carrie.
However, the girls as one said, 'Miranda'. Generally considered by men to be the least conventionally attractive of the group, yet the most intelligent and career-oriented, we identified with her the most.
But something struck me and I turned to nick-- girls have two levels also. Everyone wants to be Carrie but we can't say that that's who we are in case guys take one look at us and go, 'huh'. We all want to be pretty and fun, carefree and creative, effortlessly stylish and intelligent and strong.
But the bunch of us here, we've sold out. We don't dare say we're pretty and fun. We may say we're reasonably attractive (as indeed that's what I think of myself), and good conversationalists, but pretty and fun? No. We set store by our intellect, our ambition, our independence, our mannish qualities. Our confidence does not derive from our looks. We do not practise the art of the smile and glance, play the coquette, ask for lights for our cigarettes. We are to be men's colleagues, first, and their love interests second. They must know us for what we do, then, who we are. 'Carefree and creative' are not words to describe the image of the City lawyer we will all be. We're afraid to be Carrie. We might've been, once, or could be, in the future, but that is not who we are.
So he shakes his head, "ah! the fatalism of the young!" Why trap yourself in a self-fulfilling prophecy? I could hardly bear to tell him that this is all we know.
I maintain that a little bit of navel-gazing now and then, the occassional bout of introspection, is healthy, even necessary, in a well-adjusted person. As a wise man once said, there's nothing wrong with being self-absorbed if you are interesting enough to justify it.
So it comes to pass that at some point in the lifetimes of every girl who is sufficiently self-aware, this question must be asked: which character am I in Sex and the City?
The other day five such individuals were making merry in a Holborn pub after a hard day's work. That entailed serious discussions on topics ranging from the most interesting place we've ever had sex in, to the nature of our desire to be like, or to live the lives of, television characters.
The answer to the first was a draw between 'under a weeping willow in a Montreal garden' and 'the backseat of a car on the Brighton sea front'. The answer to the other was slightly tricker.
Nick pointed out that for the boys, it was in fact not one question but two. Which girl would you like to be with, versus which girl you would eventually end up with. Unsurprisingly, they plumped for a night with Samantha but a lifetime with Carrie.
However, the girls as one said, 'Miranda'. Generally considered by men to be the least conventionally attractive of the group, yet the most intelligent and career-oriented, we identified with her the most.
But something struck me and I turned to nick-- girls have two levels also. Everyone wants to be Carrie but we can't say that that's who we are in case guys take one look at us and go, 'huh'. We all want to be pretty and fun, carefree and creative, effortlessly stylish and intelligent and strong.
But the bunch of us here, we've sold out. We don't dare say we're pretty and fun. We may say we're reasonably attractive (as indeed that's what I think of myself), and good conversationalists, but pretty and fun? No. We set store by our intellect, our ambition, our independence, our mannish qualities. Our confidence does not derive from our looks. We do not practise the art of the smile and glance, play the coquette, ask for lights for our cigarettes. We are to be men's colleagues, first, and their love interests second. They must know us for what we do, then, who we are. 'Carefree and creative' are not words to describe the image of the City lawyer we will all be. We're afraid to be Carrie. We might've been, once, or could be, in the future, but that is not who we are.
So he shakes his head, "ah! the fatalism of the young!" Why trap yourself in a self-fulfilling prophecy? I could hardly bear to tell him that this is all we know.
Friday, October 21, 2005
THIS IS TOR
Many thanks for all the birthday greetings!
Oh! I cringe when I read my BolBol poem. It really is quite personal, isn't it? I'm not sure if it is appropriate to exhibit my dysfunction so openly. Anyway, I feel okay now after having had a very good birthday. I think breaking up with him may have been the best thing I've done all year (well, actually, no, the best was going to new york for free) because, cliched as it is, it has made me realise who my friends are etc etc. You see, my problem is that I am a serial monogamist and I've never really had to depend on my friends just cos the next guy has always been waiting to catch me. Now, there is no next guy!
Or to put it differently, there are a variety of possible next guys to choose from. *rubbing hands in evil anticipation*
I was very pleased to receive calls from some friends in SG in the morning so I feel loved now. And I had a really lovely time at drinks, and dinner and the club later with my hot friend Leila who always gets guys to buy her drinks (and me by proxy, haha! suckers!) I looked around the dinner table and thought, damn! my friends are cool. And then proceeded to slide gently and slowly into inebriation. Am pleased about prezzies too. (Ok, now starting to sound a little like a 12 year old, but I'm still hungover, bear with me) For the first time in my life, I got 2 dozen roses! And nice books and CDs, and Flor gave me a pot of purple flowers for mky windowsill too.
So that was tuesday. On wednesday I went out with my class as it was another girl's birthday on monday, and mine was tuesday so we decided to combine it and make a night out of it. The class bought us a cake and when it came out, the waiters threw pizza dough all over us. It must be some kind of strange italian tradition, but by then I really was more interested in the flaming shots of sambuca everyone was suddenly thrusting at me. I looked around the dinner table and thought, damn! I like my classmates. They are cool. Good conversation, good wine, good food (for london, and for the price)... what more could you ask for for a good night out?
Actually, it looks like it might happen all over again, as I'm meeting the LSE Jessup crowd tonight, I'm helping out with selection and Jim's gone and told everyone that it's my birthday so they're gearing up for a big night out. I don't know how much more of this I can take, I haven't done any work whatsoever this week and am trying to cram in an hour's work for tomorrow's assignment which I have to hand in.
Many thanks for all the birthday greetings!
Oh! I cringe when I read my BolBol poem. It really is quite personal, isn't it? I'm not sure if it is appropriate to exhibit my dysfunction so openly. Anyway, I feel okay now after having had a very good birthday. I think breaking up with him may have been the best thing I've done all year (well, actually, no, the best was going to new york for free) because, cliched as it is, it has made me realise who my friends are etc etc. You see, my problem is that I am a serial monogamist and I've never really had to depend on my friends just cos the next guy has always been waiting to catch me. Now, there is no next guy!
Or to put it differently, there are a variety of possible next guys to choose from. *rubbing hands in evil anticipation*
I was very pleased to receive calls from some friends in SG in the morning so I feel loved now. And I had a really lovely time at drinks, and dinner and the club later with my hot friend Leila who always gets guys to buy her drinks (and me by proxy, haha! suckers!) I looked around the dinner table and thought, damn! my friends are cool. And then proceeded to slide gently and slowly into inebriation. Am pleased about prezzies too. (Ok, now starting to sound a little like a 12 year old, but I'm still hungover, bear with me) For the first time in my life, I got 2 dozen roses! And nice books and CDs, and Flor gave me a pot of purple flowers for mky windowsill too.
So that was tuesday. On wednesday I went out with my class as it was another girl's birthday on monday, and mine was tuesday so we decided to combine it and make a night out of it. The class bought us a cake and when it came out, the waiters threw pizza dough all over us. It must be some kind of strange italian tradition, but by then I really was more interested in the flaming shots of sambuca everyone was suddenly thrusting at me. I looked around the dinner table and thought, damn! I like my classmates. They are cool. Good conversation, good wine, good food (for london, and for the price)... what more could you ask for for a good night out?
Actually, it looks like it might happen all over again, as I'm meeting the LSE Jessup crowd tonight, I'm helping out with selection and Jim's gone and told everyone that it's my birthday so they're gearing up for a big night out. I don't know how much more of this I can take, I haven't done any work whatsoever this week and am trying to cram in an hour's work for tomorrow's assignment which I have to hand in.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
*looks at tagboard* Many thanks, Grace.
Happy Birthday, my dear sister! Hope you got the mail we sent. It's in 2 parts, remember ok? Oh, so you don't have a boyfriend that goes 'super cool hawker food ' anymore. Play the field man. And you'll have to cook for me, when I'm there!
To cheer you up, there is always Bolbol! Plus the poem you wrote for it is still lying around the house...
Ode To Bolbol
Happiness is a warm bolster smelling like youself
With Bolbol to squeeze sleep is joy itself
The nice mushy inside all squishy and snug
The softness of Bolbol yielding to a hug
Anytime anywhere a bolster is good
'cos smelling Bolbol is happy food
I doesn't matter what's inside it
Even though it's dustmite corpses and shit
'cos they're vacummed out by the $3000 machine
And think of how clean Bolbol's been
Since the bol case was changed last year
So there's really nothing to fear.
From the thing that brings happiness to me
The nicest bolster all the world can see.
Happy Birthday, my dear sister! Hope you got the mail we sent. It's in 2 parts, remember ok? Oh, so you don't have a boyfriend that goes 'super cool hawker food ' anymore. Play the field man. And you'll have to cook for me, when I'm there!
To cheer you up, there is always Bolbol! Plus the poem you wrote for it is still lying around the house...
Ode To Bolbol
Happiness is a warm bolster smelling like youself
With Bolbol to squeeze sleep is joy itself
The nice mushy inside all squishy and snug
The softness of Bolbol yielding to a hug
Anytime anywhere a bolster is good
'cos smelling Bolbol is happy food
I doesn't matter what's inside it
Even though it's dustmite corpses and shit
'cos they're vacummed out by the $3000 machine
And think of how clean Bolbol's been
Since the bol case was changed last year
So there's really nothing to fear.
From the thing that brings happiness to me
The nicest bolster all the world can see.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
THIS IS TOR
I am newly single. For the first time in years. Weeerrgh! Although it is a bit lonely and sad in my house now, with no one to cook for, I think it was the right decision for the Long Run. Seeing people my age getting married (1 girl in my class came straight from her honeymoon for start of term and the guy who sits opposite me is getting hitched in March in a castle in Austria. woah.) has totally scared the shit out of me. James is 30. Do I want to marry him? No. Has he asked me? No, but it's only a matter of time and we'd been together 2 years already.
So it was time to take stock of what I wanted to do and where I wanted to be. He wanted to go home. I have to stay here. He basically wanted to settle down. And I've spent a loooong time in stable relationships. And I was getting very tired of having to be with somebody who isn't really there, who hates the place he's in, who spouts vitriol about the people he is surrounded by. In new age terms, it was just too much negative energy. So that's that. Until something interesting happens in my love life-- well, actually, until I'm ready for something interesting to happen-- it's gonna be solitary evenings, strictly me-time, cooking for my friends or crazy partying.
I am newly single. For the first time in years. Weeerrgh! Although it is a bit lonely and sad in my house now, with no one to cook for, I think it was the right decision for the Long Run. Seeing people my age getting married (1 girl in my class came straight from her honeymoon for start of term and the guy who sits opposite me is getting hitched in March in a castle in Austria. woah.) has totally scared the shit out of me. James is 30. Do I want to marry him? No. Has he asked me? No, but it's only a matter of time and we'd been together 2 years already.
So it was time to take stock of what I wanted to do and where I wanted to be. He wanted to go home. I have to stay here. He basically wanted to settle down. And I've spent a loooong time in stable relationships. And I was getting very tired of having to be with somebody who isn't really there, who hates the place he's in, who spouts vitriol about the people he is surrounded by. In new age terms, it was just too much negative energy. So that's that. Until something interesting happens in my love life-- well, actually, until I'm ready for something interesting to happen-- it's gonna be solitary evenings, strictly me-time, cooking for my friends or crazy partying.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Oh my lord, I just woke up. That must have been some kind of sleep of the dead one gets after the exams, or something. Didn't bother going for the post exam activities the school thoughtfully organised for us, simply because I think I would have dropped dead from bordem or exhaustion or maybe both. I don't like sports that make you run around alot, no.
Do feel bad for not turning up to get my fencing jacket off Cephas, my fencing captain. Heh, always have this urge to call him buchou, really. Have this vague impression that he called this morning to ask where I was. I hope I apologised. Don't you hate asnwering the phone in your sleep and having conversations you aren't quite aware of?
Fencing. I know I just said that I don't like sports, but I figured it would be a cool thing to join. A bit of a change from performance arts. I've just realised that I'm afraid to commit. That's why I'm so slack about it, something that was almost unheard of with choir and band.
I'm tired of putting in so much blood and sweat but not getting much in return. I mean look, the greatest achievement I had in band was singing for the last concert. And in choir I never really ment much to them. Doesn't mean I didn't have any fun singing or playing though. It simply stopped being about the music somewhere along the way, and started being a duty, more than anythig else. I wanted to progress, but that wasn't happening much. I sound like a snob, but I'm simply stating my feelings. Thinking about how static the choir was just serves to make me annoyed. For both, we'd get scoldings all the bloody time.
But here in fencing... you fence only for yourself. It's not a group thing anymore, where you work together to sound good. It doesn't matter when you've got a different style or anything like that. I keep on forgetting that this is a sport, anything that matters to you, only matters to you. I used to get pissed off when someone couldn't hit that god easy note, but that doesn't happen here.
Besides, the people in fencing actually love doing it, they're not here because of friends or anything. It's not a duty to them. So much so that I was the only person left at the booth during Open House, everyone else was all over the place having bouts. I guess I'm the only person who wants to tell others how fun fencing really is. I do give a damn about it, you know.
Time to get back on the horse.
Do feel bad for not turning up to get my fencing jacket off Cephas, my fencing captain. Heh, always have this urge to call him buchou, really. Have this vague impression that he called this morning to ask where I was. I hope I apologised. Don't you hate asnwering the phone in your sleep and having conversations you aren't quite aware of?
Fencing. I know I just said that I don't like sports, but I figured it would be a cool thing to join. A bit of a change from performance arts. I've just realised that I'm afraid to commit. That's why I'm so slack about it, something that was almost unheard of with choir and band.
I'm tired of putting in so much blood and sweat but not getting much in return. I mean look, the greatest achievement I had in band was singing for the last concert. And in choir I never really ment much to them. Doesn't mean I didn't have any fun singing or playing though. It simply stopped being about the music somewhere along the way, and started being a duty, more than anythig else. I wanted to progress, but that wasn't happening much. I sound like a snob, but I'm simply stating my feelings. Thinking about how static the choir was just serves to make me annoyed. For both, we'd get scoldings all the bloody time.
But here in fencing... you fence only for yourself. It's not a group thing anymore, where you work together to sound good. It doesn't matter when you've got a different style or anything like that. I keep on forgetting that this is a sport, anything that matters to you, only matters to you. I used to get pissed off when someone couldn't hit that god easy note, but that doesn't happen here.
Besides, the people in fencing actually love doing it, they're not here because of friends or anything. It's not a duty to them. So much so that I was the only person left at the booth during Open House, everyone else was all over the place having bouts. I guess I'm the only person who wants to tell others how fun fencing really is. I do give a damn about it, you know.
Time to get back on the horse.