Scouting Talent

i saw a troop/bunch/gaggle of scouts today in my local Mcdonald's. It was strange. One, it was Raffles Place and charity never sprouts from the hearts of evil capitalists/bankers/interns and two, it was 9am in the morning. Where were they from? Did they spawn from the banks of the SIngapore River?

Anyway, these green people were swarming Mcdonald's, much like bacteria, colonizing themselves on perched tables, laying out coupons and loose change deciding what to buy in some secret counsel meeting. So anyway, the hi-tech people of Mcdonald's have this new Palm technology thingy where they, get this, take your orders while you are in the queue. So you can tell them to get you an upsized meal with no lettuce in your Big Mac, 2 lemons in your Iced Tea and less salt in your fries. BUT, you don't pay, and you don't get your freaking order till... you reach the counter. After the computation of your order, you get issued a serial number to quote to the guy at the counter so he can get your order.

But the scouts are weary of this new technology. yes, they have been forewarned by their forefathers to stay away from shiny objects.

Scout: What is this ah?
Mcdonald's lady: can i have your order?
Scout: No! I don't want. What is this ah?
Mcdonald's: oh, its just something for me to take your order with. (it will entrap your soul then i'll trade you to the devil with more profits for Mcdonald's.)
Scout: No! i don't want.
Mcdonald's lady moves on.

So i give my order to the Mcdonald's lady. and wait to get to the front of the queue. finally, i reach the guy at the counter.

GAC: Hi... Welcome to..
You: 3063 please..
GAC: Mcdonald's! Any meal for you..?
You: 3063 please..
GAC: Ice lemon tea? Any meal for you?
You: 3063 PLEASE!
GAC: (pensively) Hmmm, 3063.... (stares at screen and begins computing ) ___pause___
GAC: ok.. hold on..

So your meal comes. after like an entire life cycle of a pentium chip.  and i don't get extra cheese for my mcmuffin. so much for technology. Maybe the scouts are right. Technology is evil.

bound for melbourne

im taking a trip down under.. you know to that continent/country and island (man, they are damn kiasu).. where delta goodrem can "..sing a rainbow.. sing a rainbow.. sing a rainbow.. toooo.. (fade into oblivion).." and the land of that aussie poet guy who no one understands..

Fortunately, im not there to see colours/sing/wax lyrical about bushlife.. im there to see a very different kind breed of natives.. my siblings and my man-ish cousin.  They live in the heart of the city, in a two bedroom apartment, with Vietnamese kids as neighbours and a potty that threatens to overflow every now and then onto the carpet. Its a dingy, small hell hole, the kind that my sis' French manicured nails could not possibly have itself burrowed into. Nevertheless, it's home.

Ive shopped for winter, one-off purchases that will pop my mom's eyeballs out when my credit card bills for the month gets in.  Its the kind of clothes that one can never use in singapore but nevertheless is sold in shops here during the Autumn/Winter collection. Maybe singaporeans like going to Snow City or something, but unless you travel to two hemispheres on opposing end of the calender, i don't see a need to equip yourself with such garbs.

My excuse is the fact that im going on a "Business Studies Mission" (espionage, but don't tell anyone!) to Spain end november, so there, ive justified the hundreds of dollars i've laced cash registers all over orchard.

Do you know what is more fascinating to a tropical islander than winter? Winterwear. I was shopping for winterwear and popped into a shop called "Cold Climate" (sounds like a Russian themed Harrison Ford/Steven Seagal movie) and they sold the most fascinating winterwear.
They had racks with coats of differing thickness for differing temperatures. So you had 7degrees and above, 14degrees and below, 2-5 degrees.. and finally below 5degrees.  They didn't however categorize them according to design, then it would be,"wear this if you really think that fushcia pink, mint and yellow look good together", "wear this if you are blind", "wear this if you would like to be convicted of bad taste".

ANd then there are all these thermal innerwear.. like leggings, wool no less and panty hoses and singlets and underwears and pants.. they all look like peasant couture. in that dull flesh colour. definitely flammable stuff. But since its going to be on the inside, i don't think anyone gives a rat's arse especially since they wear hideous outerwear anyway.

melbourne will be freezing cold. and i'll be freezing my skinny arse. but at least you won't find my body in the snow in the most garish fashion.

Curious Incident

Ive finally finished my book. A fairly readable book. i read it by a fountain at city hall. it was nice and peaceful. And they had water displays where they have synchronized water ballet with classical pieces blaring from speakers on "palm trees". Its the typical Swan Lake type of music. Tchaikovsky.. russian.. dramatic. I was half expecting a gaggle of geese or swans (whichever is whiter) to saunter across the atrium.

Its a time for clarity. For things in the past to be locked up tight and discarded into the murky waters of yesterdays. There is no poing begrudging, nitpicking, highlighting the bad and not exonerating the truly good. For it is down that path that we find ourselves to be most unease most un-happy, dissatisfied. Things have happened for a reason, the way it was SUPPOSED to happen.

A resignation to Fate? A casual abandonment of responsibility for self? Maybe. But we shouldn't push too hard. The most important things are there, but its all a matter of whether we want to admit they are or not. And therein lays the greatest struggle of self. Knowing thyself. But more importantly, accepting that "self". Myabe that's why people get schizophrenic. SInce we adopt so many personas everyday (i don't believe that we are all the same person all the time), There must be conflicts of ideals, behaviours and attitudes. Maybe that's why some people talk to themselves, as though to reason, to seek agreement and consensus from all of their "selves". Its still freaky. Especially when they do the "different persona, different voice" stint. Makes me want to douse them with HOly water and yell in true Romanian priest style, "The power of Christ compels you!" repeatedly.

 

lesson

One thing i've learnt this year is: love is patience. Love is not rewarding. Love is not easy. Love rarely equals reciprocation. Love is not 24/7. Love has down-time. Love is suspicion. Love is insecurity. Love is nauseating. Love is heartache. Love is hope. Love is also despair. Love is beautiful because it makes you feel whole. Love is destructive. Love is compassion. Love sucks.

that work is a fate worse

i don't understand. work is not supposed to be this mundane/monotonous/inane/boring/painful. i mean, how are the rest of the working class living with themselves if this is THEIR life?? To all the people out there who think that working in big foreign banks/finance industry/raffles place is glamourous, stick a financial calculator up your ass and tell me if that's glamourous.

i started my diet this week so pardon the angst. (actually, im using the diet as an excuse to be bitchy/petty/cranky/cruel, like the ancient Greek gods) im on a mission to put on weight after many have remarked that i look skanky/anorexic/impoverished/like Kate Moss, apparently waif is SO not Autumn/Winter 2004. I started the week weighing less than 44kg. Im hoping to put on at least 4kg. so this would be like a live diet commentary like you see on TV except the weight loss process is backwards. maybe i can get MAry Chia to sponsor me to put on weight like i feed on the fats of fat people after liposuction or something. But i figured i'd probably choke/vomit/laugh in their faces while they suffer from the procedure and im eating a double chocolate ice cream. Then again they'd probably be laughing their flabby asses off while i hook my mouth up to some evil contraption which pumps out fats from the asses/underarms/bellies of these people. Symbiotic relationship, how beautiful.

I have a Hotcakes Sausage Meal for Breakfast everyday for the week. Then its lunch which is a decent sized meal followed by a slice of chocolate cake. Then its tea time with my fellow interns and while they sip tea, im whacking nasi lemak. Dinner is a big question mark because i'm usually training around din din time. so supper/dinner is usually rice/pasta/prata/noodles at simpang at around 10pm. then i take my Vitamin E tablets and go to sleep.

If all else fails, im wearing yellow gold. like bars, around my neck, ankles, arms..  

Happiness radiates because its the only way it knows how

happiness radiates..
 
from every pore of my friend cisoux... it gives her an unnatural, ethereal glow.. trust me, i have pictures to prove it.. cisoux is happy.. she has found her soulmate in LY.. feisty one, he is.. im not going to jinx anything and go for the "..and they live happily ever after.." im sure she won't buy that kind of crap either.
 
 
but it is nice...
 
when things really look right for once.. and conventions and political correctness are thrown off tangent to spice things up. Im not voyeuristic. Not a tabloid kinda person. Im pretty simple. i will always feel happy for my friends when they are happy.
 
these are the stuff..
 
that makes food taste good even without the customary 2 ladles of Ajinomoto. Sleep comes naturally and you let it embrace you willingly with a loving sigh. Pupils dilate, your capillaries are flushed with red haemoglobin, oxytoxin, serotonin... music fills your ears, bounce in your step, hell.. even your nails look healthier..
 
Love is an elixir..
 
and we should drink every drop with relish.. let it flow freely in our blood and actions.. love should never be restrained for fear of losing "ourselves" in that one moment of indiscretion..
 
For it is in losing that we find.. what is truly important.
 
 

weird thoughts

Have you ever noticed: when you get a seat on the mrt the fellow who is standing in front of you has his crotch in your face. Doesn't he feel self conscious?

Have you ever wondered: why people always engage in friendly banter when they see each other in the toilet, they go into separate cubicles, and start talking even louder trying to mute the sound of urine?

Have you ever noticed: How people always do silent pantomime acts when they see friends from a distance while they make their way to each other. they can't decide whether to yell or do stupid hand signals to give the other party instructions as to where to go.

Have you ever noticed: What do people say when they really don't feel like talking but they have to because its polite and they are stuck in an enclosed area with the other person.. like in lifts.. how do you escape?? -uncomfortable silence-

What about: People who refuse to shave underarms but they blatantly choose to grab the overhead railings in buses/trains.. or

What do you think of: People who pick on their zits on public transport or worse, people who pick on their girlfriends/ boyfriends/ spouses zits on public transport?

Mice at work

To all fans of political, socio-economics, be gone! Nothing in this post would interest you. Don't expect clever rhetorics or policy analysis! Expect the inane, the mundane, the miniscule, the picayune, the inferior rants of an overworked, underpaid intern. Here goes:

The day started with the same scratch on skin. Fingers first touched the crunk around my eyes, rubbing it semi-consciously, only stopping when the Gods of Vogue, Allure and Elle boom in my head: "Don't rub your eyes... dah.. ling.. it will cause crow's feet!"

Leather shoes made the same "clunk" as it met pavement, trudging itself grudgingly towards Raffles place. Toes stay quiet. Unmoving in leather. Waiting till evening comes.

Green and yellow heralds my reaching of my destination. A familiar instinct to run turn to a familiar taunt but never confused with a real threat.

Service with a smile. I look through my glass prison. I could run, but i wouldn't know where to. I could shout but i wouldn't know what to say. Glass remains.

Malaysia... truly asia

i was in Malaysia over the weekend and it yet again reinforced many preconceptions that i already have about our peninsula neighbour.

K.L is really the rural malaysians idea of the promised land. the glamourized version of what "making it big" in malaysia really means. Apparently, they haven't been out of Malaysia to say, Singapore and see what "making it big" in the big city really means. Then again, the only "city" they know are prefixed on some nice kampung malaysian chick. and only the "city"s make it big.. Siti Nurhaliza is one. Siti sarah, etc.. if you really want to make it big add a state/town in your name : Siti tanjung perak.. and the list goes on.

Interestingly, the average rural malaysian and that comprises of say, 70% of the population, by statistics alone proves to be the driving force of Malaysia. They make the bulk of the primary industry labour, they have the most clout when you look at political voting demographics and strongest buying power (think casettes not CDs). so it is not uncommon to see uppity Datuks and Tan Sris clamouring atop make shift cardboard podiums or dubious looking pickups during election campaigns.. wearing hideous Batik shirts ( i hear that you are not to "overdress" when addressing certain social groups of peoples).. pandering to the needs of a "mob".. half of them know nuts about economics, politics or policy.. most of them just pledging allegiance to any political party that promises a good harvest, cheaper taxes, better welfare and uninterrupted Astro feed into their television sets. And the Bumis.. the backbone of the Malaysian Pro-Bumi policies are the voters that these elite Khazanah employed, Oxbridge types politicians want. which is strange.. considering the fact that despite such lucrative pro-bumi policies, they have lagged behind in almost everything that they touch. so this means billions of ringgits that have been poured into such pro-bumi policies have generated very low returns.. bothe economically and socially. in fact, for every ringgit you invest in a bumi you need 2 ringgit to patch him up after he abuses the policy and ends up in a worse shape. Illiteracy, unemployment and poverty is still high .. if not higher.. and even IF there have been improvements, they pale in comparison to the "minority" races of Malaysia, namely the Chinese and Indians.

Why, despite such affirmative action taken against the Bumis, do they still lag behind? The perennial question remains: Are Malays/ Bumis lazy? Is it an inherent trait, passed on from one generation to another in the blood that flows through our melanin rich skins? Is the colour of our honey yellow skin a stain on our credibility/ ability to be productive, contributive and not parasitical members of society?

Some argue that not everyone clamours for economic progress and we should all respect the different value systems of other peoples. Given that, the moral decline of our race does not prove any government economic think tank that in place of economic progress we value our moral and ethical development more. in fact we see a rise of crimes, raging from petty crimes like theft to that of more heinous natures, like rape, incest and murder.. a predominatly "Bumi" crime, especially in the suburban areas.

How has the policies failed? And more importantly, could it be possible that such policies have caused the "Bumis" to degenerate to the race that it has become today? A race that merely seeks to "Kais pagi makan pagi, kais petang makan petang" and "lepak"?

i have had moaners and groaners that lament their second rate citizenship status, ranting and raving of the lack of "oppurtunities" to make it big here in Singapore over teh tariks at coffeeshops at 3am in the morning. they have yet to realize that such difficulties permeates all races, all creeds. And even if the discrimination exist, it should not deter but spur. So while they lament and rant (like typical Malays) it begs the question, "Is that why we are in this "state" we are in now?" I don't believe in participating in their debate, despite sharing the same race. Is it because the system has been "good" to me as some claim? if it has, i really want to know it what way. I don't believe in pandering to the childish wants of an inferior race. And its sad when they choose to confine their "semangat" in the comforts of plastic chairs, against the backdrop of more angry, unfulfilled, ranting, raving brothers and sisters... before asking the "mamak" to whip up yet another cup of tea so they could stay unmoving, in that state.. just a wee bit longer..

What is your list?

Here is my list of things that people should never wear-again:

1. Anything that is PVC.
2. Anything from Chaos.
3. Cross Colour/ Alien Workshop jeans (esp the kind that is dual coloured. the logic is
you can match it with twice as many items.)
4. Peasant skirts. (The Bohemian poor look can only look good for so long.)
5. Pashminas. (This is Singapore.)
6. Poorly printed old rock band Tshirts. Counterfeit Sepultura, Grateful Dead, Metallica.
7. Hard Rock Cafe Tshirts. (Do we really want to know?)
8. Pretentious Harvard, Oxbridge, ivy league preppy sweatshirts. (Questionable origins)
9. High waisted slim cut but bell bottomed pants. (You'll only look good if you are a
flamenco instructor.... in the 70s.)
10.Identical couple Tshirts/outfits. (Incestuous Brady bunch or what?)

That nostalgia is worse than dementia

I remember a time when going out of the house was an adventure. Going to school was like going to the Oscars and when after school activities could rival First Class accomodation in Monte Carlo for a week. It was the Age of Innocence. Experimentation. When boys were more vogue than PJ & DUNCAN or the latest Tamagotchi. The year was 1997 and what a year! It must have been hormones because i did the most Victorian thing of blushing upon meeting the eyes of another pubescent boy. It doesn't matter who he was, who he was with, whether he was a delinquent or whether he clipped the wings off cockroaches.. guys were no longer "Eww.." they were "Aww..." A simple change of a vowel and voila, any bad debt accumulated over the years simply melt away like lard on a hot pan.

1999, i had actively pursued my college love interest. This chap who lived 300m away from me. ( I know it was 300m because i took a measuring tape to measure my walking stride and i walked to his house 15 times from my place and using a 95% confidence interval and complex C maths, i concluded that he lived that far away.) He was the archtypical goody two shoes, reliable, predictable, sensible, fillial boy who you would love to bring home to show to your mother so that he can visualize how you would look like at her age. And if he freaks out and tries to escape, its easier for 2 women to dispose of a teenage boy's body than just one.

I did everything a love sick puppy would. I tried very hard to impress him. How? i joined almost every sport imaginable in college and trained like a bitch. He was a sportsman you see.. and a highly competitive one. So at that time, i figured that if i was at least as good as him than maybe i can use the dirty word for qualification, and be "worthy" of him. Kapooi! On retrospect, i lacked self confidence. Maybe it was because i was not the typical college girl, you know, the "blossoming buds". i was.. hmm.. i don't know. You would have to ask my college mates and tutors.

Ah, to be young and foolish and have low self esteem again. Bliss. One day, i'll get a huge bunch of people and we shall don our college uniforms for kicks.. and go out.. anyone game??

slap me across the cheek and call me a cab

its almost 7pm and im still at work. it has been a fucked up day at work. with so much crap to do its amazing where all that crap comes from. suddenly i had morphed from an unmotivated sloth to a hummingbird on speed. i was a multi tasker, i had to consciously think and use my decision making skills in the execution of my tasks. documents, excel spreadsheets, emails.. the works. i was finally pushed to my limits. i could have sworn there were times when i feel like doing an "Enron" and start feeding everything through the paper shredder.

we are launching tomorrow.. no not the NASA type.. just some banking launch thing... boring shit.

beatles

Its a rainy Tuesday, the kind of Tuesday that you wouldn't want an ideal Tuesday to be. My ideal Tuesday involves hedonistic feasting during breakfast followed by a nap in the Medi sunshine. Not waking up to go to work would also fall under my category of an ideal Tuesday. I'm in this room in the office where a few people huddle over even fewer computer screens dangerously perched on this impossibly small coffee table, wires, papers, legs dangling over edges of cushion, lacquer, keyboards. A small radio plays from one corner infusing a slightly retro feel to the place. The only retro thing about the room is the meagre salary the pay me.

I have just finished a Hershey's sundae pie, surfing the net for lyrics, typing in random names in google, watching the clock.. and i have absolutely nothing to do. so i decided to write. Now, when you write, you simply must have an audience or reader in mind. Now who is MY reader? My target market, so to speak. Images of people flash through my mind. I'm sure whoever is reading this line would agree with me when i say that different people would have different reactions to different written thoughts and words. On second thought, anyone with basic reasoning skills would agree. -nod nod-

But, here is some advice. If you are too worried about offending, not appearing "hip" or "interesting" to a "reader", then please keep your thoughts to yourself. Because i can think of 8 people right now who will absolutely abhor what i have written so far and probably click on the delete button in their Internet/ www.com infested heads and my words will just be a mangled mess of letters. Im not bitter. i just sound bitter. And they are 2 completely different things.

My motivation to write comes from the demise of my friend Y, from the economically active world after she finished her emailing days working as an intern at a company which shall, from now on be known ONLY by its acronym, to avoid speculation and scandal, AFP.

My first proper post. Not bad. NOw if only people would come read it. I'll pass out flyers.

moo clang clang

so what's your story morning glory?