this bit of emma (among many others) always tickles me:

This topic was discussed very happily, and others succeeded of similar moment, and passed away with similar harmony; but the evening did not close without a little return of agitation. The gruel came and supplied a great deal to be said--much praise and many comments-- undoubting decision of its wholesomeness for every constitution, and pretty severe Philippics upon the many houses where it was never met with tolerable;--but, unfortunately, among the failures which the daughter had to instance, the most recent, and therefore most prominent, was in her own cook at South End, a young woman hired for the time, who never had been able to understand what she meant by a basin of nice smooth gruel, thin, but not too thin. Often as she had wished for and ordered it, she had never been able to get any thing tolerable. Here was a dangerous opening.

complaint (small)

sometimes i wish all of us had started blogging earlier in life. the incompleteness of our various stories as presented online offends my aesthetic sensibilities.

re: blogger being down

isn't it funny that su-lin and i said more or less the same thing when it came back online? full of excuses, aren't we?

i alternate between days when i wake up with a steely determination to get my way and steamroller over all this unfairness, and those where i just sit at my desk crushed by the weight of my failure and waiting for the hours to pass. i'm told there's no shame in earning an honest wage, but i still can't help feeling like working in ******* is a prostitution of the soul.

anyway, from the gold bug variations:

We sat in front of the console and stared at the equipment, now completely changed. The phone rang, disturbing the empty hiss. I thought: Here is one of the few places where a phone call late at night doesn't automatically mean someone has died. Todd answered. "That was Dr. Ressler. "Bookkeeper is unique. And so, my friend, is your face." I smiled, already skilled at letting his moments of confrontatory zeal fall away without crisis. "What do I do for a living? I'm not sure the question has an answer anymore. Everyone, no matter what he does, is kept in the dark about his clients."

That was the moment of expansiveness that brought me compulsively to Manhattan On-Line to sit with this stranger after my own shift was over. "Do you know Ben Shahn's great answer to that question? I take a guilty pleasure in the man's paintings, knowing his whole pastel, representational aesthetic has been on the outs for a decade. But his essyas need no excuse. He tells a story of an itinerant wanderer traveling over country roads in thirteenth century France who comes across a man exhaustedly pushing a wheelbarrow full of rubble. He asks what the man is doing. 'God only knows. I push these damn stones around from sunup to sundown, and in return, they pay me barely enough to keep a roof over my head."

"Farther down the road, the traveler meets another man, just as exhausted, pushing another filled barrow. In reply to the same question, the second man says, 'I was out of work for a long time. My wife and children were starving. Now I have this. It's killing, but I'm grateful for it all the same.'

"Just before nightfall, the traveler meets a third exploited stonehauler. When asked what he is doing, the fellow replies, 'I'm building Chartres Cathedral.'

Blogger's been down the last couple of days, and I know there were a bunch of entries I meant to backdate but can't for the life of me remember I wanted to say. Hm.

I seem to have lost my love for the Swingle Singers version of Loch Lomond. It's probably the only track on the Folk Songs CD that I don't like (now, or have ever not liked), and runs counter to my belief that I would fall on my knees in adoration of everything the Rathbone-Cairncross-Parry team have put out forever and ever. The arrangement of the piece is wonderful, but the solos have definitely been grating on me of late. Jon Rathbone and Andrew Busher do not sound like they're enjoying themselves singing verses one and two, which probably would have benefited from being moved down a couple of keys. Part of the problem is that a bunch of the high Gs and As have to be sung on awkward vowels (sun shines bright on Loch Lomond; me and my true love etc.), and fairly loudly, which just really is not in the style of either a folk song or the Swingle Singers. Another thing: the dynamics are weird -- and I suspect that this was a function of the way the track was recorded. When I listen to the song on my iPod it's a lot worse than when it's on speakers because it starts off near inaudible unless you turn the volume to about 75%, and then makes your eardrums bleed on the crescendoes in the third verse (...broken heart will ken/no second spring again), and when J.R. comes in fff after the funky key changing bit.

It's a technically difficult song to do, particularly if you're trying to fake a Scottish accent while on the solo, and now that my feelings for the Swingle Singers track have cooled I don't think there's a single a cappella version of the piece I like. The Whiffenpoofs arrangement is too vanilla, and (with apologies to the Harvardians), I'm not all that fond of the Kroks. It's a pity, because its lyrics are heartbreaking, one of those songs that makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry, but in a good way.

13.5 Lives of Captain Bluebear has arrived. It has a very attractive cover.

Also: thanks to the Gutenberg Project, I'm now, on the office computer, discreetly going through all the Austens that I have not read. Anything to survive the drudgery.

things accomplished at work today

1. finished online crash course on investment
2. wrote 2 pages of book (first two in months)
3. learned that "banana bombs" are actually called jemput-jemput, after the beckoning hand action used when making them
4. split the office into two groups: those earning more than i am and those earning less than i am
5. moped

Acts 2:22-28

"Listen to these words, fellow Israelites! Jesus of Nazareth was a man whose divine authority was clearly proven to you by all the miracles and wonders which God performed through him. You yourselves know this, for it happened here among you. In accordance with his own plan God had already decided that Jesus would be handed over to you; and you killed him by letting sinful men crucify him. But God raised him from death, setting him free from its power, because it was impossible that death should hold him prisoner. For David said about him:

'I saw the Lord before me at all times;
he is near me, and I will not be troubled.
And so I am filled with gladness,
and my words are full of joy.
And I, mortal though I am,
will rest assured in hope
because you will not abandon me in the world of the dead;
you will not allow your faithful servant to rot in the grave.
You have shown me the paths that lead to life,
and your presence will fill me with joy.'

Happy Easter!

blogger has been very uncooperative over the past few days, triple- or quadruple-posting everything i write. ugh. i really ought to get going on a personal page.

(p.s. i managed to get never let me go from borders)

spanner

after telling everyone that i intend to quit ***** within the next 1 or 2 weeks, and asking for friends to shower me with love and support, my mom now hints to me that she'd like to take a cheap holiday in the summer using the staff travel benefits i get, which would mean holding out till at least august. four months is a terribly long time, but affection for mothers is a powerful force as well. and when guilt is concomitant, well, is resistance even possible?

hitchhiker's guide

i am highly amused by the teaser trailer, mostly i think because stephen fry is the narrator.

new ishiguro

I don't believe no one mentioned this to me before today. I'm very excited.

Currently reading:
The Gold Bug Variations - Richard Powers

Luke, 23:26-31

The soldiers led Jesus away, and as they were going, they met a man from Cyrene named Simon who was coming into the city from the country. They seized him put the cross on him, and made him carry it behind Jesus

A large crowd of people followed him; among them were some women who were weeping and wailing for him. Jesus turned to them and said, "Women of Jerusalem! Don't cry for me, but for yourselves and your children. For the days are coming when people will say, 'How lucky are the women who never bore babies, who never nursed them!' That will be the time when people will say to the mountains, 'Fall on us!' and to the hills 'Hide us!' For if such things as these are done when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?"

question

is it just [company name censored to protect the innocent i.e. me], or is it the norm in all singaporean workplaces that going home at the time you are told it is ok to go home when you sign up for the job is like a cardinal sin? i waltz out of the office promptly and without guilt at 5:30 every day because i can't give a flying fritsch about anything to do with this job, and there are definitely stares and black looks. every day. i just don't get it. not that it doesn't afford me barrelfuls of glee to leave everyone else pounding desperately on their keyboards as i depart triumphantly each evening.

I want to go to South Africa too.

Good article on Arrested Development and its possible (probable? Please no) cancellation.

small mercies

one of the (very) few things that i enjoy about working here is that there are some days when i can nip out and have lunch by the ocean. changi beach is one of the loveliest places in singapore, and the little development that has happened there over the past few years has been very sensitively done (if you haven't seen the new ferry terminal where the bumboats leave for ubin and pengerang you really ought to.) one of the best things about it, though, is that despite its loveliness, very few people ever go there (and we all know the premium on solitude in this country). it's funny how a place i associated for the longest time with tekong and booking in to camp has become a kind of sanctuary from the office, but there you go.

Currently reading:
Q & A - Vikas Swarup

addendum

(Hm. Now that I think about it, there ought to be a way to remove myself from the majordomo lists on my own, but I am stupid and have not figured out how. Someone?)

I asked to be taken off the Duke Singapore Society mailing list several weeks after I graduated, but all pleas have fallen on deaf ears. As a result, I still get emails every other day inviting me to movie night in Keohane quad or pizza in the WEL commons room. This is beginning to be quite off-putting. If you laid out all the things I could be doing end to end from most to least fun, playing frisbee in Duke gardens is probably not even visible from where I'm standing right now.

things you don't want to hear on an mrt train

[little boy, 6 years old, enters carriage, plops himself down cross-legged on seat beside me. grandma, behind him, immediately starts pressing hard on his abdomen while brandishing a plastic bag with her free hand]

grandma(histrionically): ni xiang tu, shi ma? yao tu ma?

book 6 art

Covers

everyone in my office has decorated their cubicle in some way or another except for me. the only inessential items i have are 12 monochrome pictures of piglets which got left behind by the person previously using this desk and the weightlifter frog that su-lin gave me umpteen years ago (what was his name? benedict? gargamel? i'm going to get a scolding for forgetting. again.)

i'm not sure if my reluctance to spruce the place up is because i'm trying to make a subtle statement that i'm not in this for the long haul or because i just can't bloody be bothered. probably the former. such subtle hints are what give one the psychological edge.

i'm becoming minz.

this scholarship shortlisting is actually doing me good. it's an excellent reminder that there are dozens of us! dozens!

Dorcas

-- conveniently started a blog about 5 seconds after I told her the URL of mine. Coincidence? Perhaps. Visit! Delight! Heckle! (Well, don't heckle.) (Dorcas: I took the liberty; hope you don't mind.)

ok, regretting it already.

it's just that i want everyone to be happy.

be happy?

scholarship applicants all have so much promise -- and the funny thing is that we (well, y'all mostly) were that way a few years ago. i think that's worth remembering, especially for the those of us who are stuck doing things we really would rather not be doing. screw work: outside of that we ought to be getting good at things. we ought to be making stuff happen. can't one be rueful and accomplished at the same time? i look at all these transcripts and testimonials and read about the fantastic things that folks have done, and i refuse to believe that everyone gets battered down by the years, or that everything worthwhile gets ground into dust.

(p.s. i'm so going to regret posting this entry when i'm in a clearer frame of mind)

oh boy. now that i've started blogging at work there's going to be no end to it.

dreamt last night that i was hunting for treasure in this cavernous mansion with laurence fishburne, wearing a transculent poncho about five sizes too large that kept catching the wind and dragging me down corridors into darkness.

eski bar

-- is not even close to what i had imagined it to be; stay away if you were planning to go. for the overseas folks not in the know, it's a relatively new nightspot down tanjong pagar road which is marketing itself as having a bar room kept at a temperature slightly below zero. "below zero", as it turned out, was more like thirteen above, largely because said room opens directly onto the street. the funny thing is that the backroom of the club is kept (purportedly) at a more moderate eighteen degrees, which means that the designers decided to sacrifice efficiency for the impact of walking from the heat outdoors right into the area kept below freezing. for reason above, i don't think the trade-off was worth it. the decor was tacky at best -- floor panels resembling rubber bathroom tiling, light fixtures trying very hard to look like they're made of ice, and mirrors irrationally placed. on top of all of that, the drinks were mediocre and overpriced (though this i would have been ok with if the concept had been well executed, which it wasn't). anyway, you have been warned.

from mom

elevenses (i-LEV-uhn-ziz) noun

A midmorning break for refreshments taken between breakfast and lunch, usually around 11am.

[Double plural of eleven, perhaps as ellipsis of eleven hours
(eleven o'clock).]

"There at Delecta Dyer's elevenses became his (Geoff Dyer's) heaven, so much the focus of his life that impatiently he took his elevenses earlier and earlier until they were finished by 8.45am and the day lay before him, empty as a donut hole, all happiness shot."

Anne Simpson; President Who Needs a Wooster to Get Out of Bed; The Herald (Glasgow, Scotland); Feb 21, 2005.

" No...It was indeed not a dream. We really did it. The King of All Cosmos has really done it. A sky full of stars...We broke it. Yes, We were naughty. Completely naughty. So, so very sorry. But just between you and us, it felt quite good. Not that We can remember very clearly, but we were in all nature's embrace. We felt the beauty of all things and felt love for all. That's how it was. Did you see? We smiled a genuine smile. Did you see? The stars splintering in perfect beauty. So many there used to be. Almost a nuisance. Now there's nothing but darkness. Hee...'Tis but a dream...Hee...But a beautiful one. BUT That miraculous fabulous moment has passed, it's over. We came to and found everyone furious. Even the King of All Cosmos was not spared their wrath. Really, everybody was irate. So anyway, pee-wee Prince. Hurry up and bring back the glorious starry sky. Our problem, your problem. Yes? You owe us your existence. We collect on the debt. Yes? Hand in hand, always there. Yes? The very definition of the father and son bond. Yes? All right then get creating." -- King of All Cosmos

how ironic is it that this is one of the things keeping me sane.

in the 1960s, martin seligman came up with a model to decribe the thoughts of people who are prone to depression; it is called learned helplessness, and you may have heard of it (from frankl, perhaps, who is more widely read). seligman argues that a person's reactions to a bad situation he has no control over varies along three scales. internal-external (does the cause of my failure within or without?), stable-unstable (is my suffering temporary or permanent?) and global-specific (is my failure situational, or will i succeed in other things?). predictably, depressed individuals tend to think of root causes of suffering as internal, stable, and global, whether or not this is true. thus, they expect that bad things will happen to them, and sometimes even will their failures into being by assuming that they have no control over matters.

i had a point when i started writing this entry, but now i have forgotten it.

there are good days and there are bad days, but almost all of them are boring days, and that's something that needs to change.

re: request, extensive digging through the back rows of my bookshelves reveals that eagle breeds a gryphon is lost, probably irrevocably. i am passing the buck.

picnic

with the usual bunch at botanic gardens - olive bread, ciabatta, duck rilette, hummus, pancetta, various cheeses, su-lin's homemade brownies and a random packet of ready-made milo; contemplating cirrus clouds, the regular bitching, scrabble by lamplight, then home to fortify myself for monday, 6 a.m.

weekends

-- slip away like so much diamond dust through ones fingers - half of mine seem to spent on sunday evening wondering where they've gone to. one problem i've always had is that my want-tos are usually subservient to my have-tos. i need to learn how to live with going to work in unironed trousers, leaving letters unposted and documents unfiled, leaving my room in a mess like any other young person with Better Things to do would.

another thing: i need to force myself to sleep less. i managed it in college so there's no particular reason why i shouldn't be able to survive on 6 hours a night now. given that i spend 3 hours in total traveling back and forth from work, an extra hour every day would mean a lot, even if it was just spent reading. taking more than a week to finish the hemingway was exasperating, and there are so many other things i need to be doing - i haven't written a paragraph in ages, and only seem to get to go for a run at most once a week.

ok. less complaining, more resolve. i cannot allow this job to finish me.

Currently reading: (with apologies to Dax, who has bought me a copy -- I appreciate having it to keep)
Kafka on the Shore - Haruki Murakami

when i first finished rumo i felt rather ambivalent about it, but now that a fortnight has gone by i do have a strange desire to revisit zamonia and the netherworld. i think that moers overcomes the fact that he's not the best writer by having an overwhelming enthusiasm for his characters and his world, and maybe that's half the battle won in fantasy writing. i have ordered his first book (13.5 lives of captain bluebear) from borders and already i am impatient for it to arrive. six weeks.

from the I-S restaurant guide, 2005

review for the V Tea Toom

"The tea list ranges from fruity Turkish apple tea, to unique nutty macadamia bourbon Rooitea. Be prepared to be assaulted by a fine selection of cakes..."

fridays should feel better than this

on the way home

-- saw a car decal that read:

MATI ITU DATANG DENGAN TIBA-TIBA

man, i so want one of those.

ew

television has without doubt become a lot more disturbing over the years. the trend began, i think, which that episode of the x-files which everyone still talks about* - the one with the inbred family and the limbless mother under the bed. chris carter then tried to top himself with millennium - which i vaguely recall had some equally creepy, though less memorable, moments (clearly: i can't name any). several years later, people were being brutally gang-raped and murdered on oz, a show i have not watched more than a few episodes of, but which i will (in its entirety) some day if for no other reason than that harold perrineau is on it and apparently kicks ass. the sopranos then dished up the extended onscreen rape of lorraine bracco, and the horrible death and dismemberment of joe pantoliano, and six feet under did its bit by showing someone being cut in half in an elevator shaft.

and all of these were pretty bad, but where carnivale decided to go last week really topped it all. i'm don't want to totally spoil it for the two(?) people reading this who actually watch the show, but i will say that it involved someone being tarred and feathered, and it was utterly sick. i mean, when you hear the expression, it doesn't automatically cross your mind (well, my mind, anyway) that the tar has to be molten -- and neither did it ever occur to me that people died from the process. slowly and very painfully from third degree burns. i guess i'd never really imagined what the actual process would be like before this (and now, well, i don't think i'll ever forget it).

i have been mildly spoiled for the remaining three episodes of the season and hear that it actually gets worse. cripes. i've never been so fascinated and mortified by a program at the same time.

* the only other x-files episodes that the casual television viewer tends to remember are, in no particular order, duane barry (the one where scully is abducted), humbug (the one with the circus freaks), and clyde bruckman's final repose the one with where mulder steps on the banana cream pie. and now i want to watch all of seasons 2 and 3 again.

speaking of which

it is probably no toscanini's (von's blog, too lazy to link), but there is a little shoppe several minutes away from tanah merah mrt that has delightful homemade ice cream at $2.30 a scoop, waffle cone included if so desired. scoops are generous. unusual flavours include durian, chendol with red bean, brandied fig, black sesame (yes! it exists here too!), and peanut brittle. no mangosteen - i asked - and the woman at the counter made a valiant (but failed) effort not to make a face when i mentioned the possibility of olive oil. nevertheless. also, there is a food center nearby that makes a very passable milo dinosaur.

to jiahao

'anhedonia', though a good word, is not my state of being. 'a' for effort, though.

heh

saw, on a t-shirt, this golda meir quotation:

don't be humble
you're not that great

ok -- i am specifically unhappy because i roused myself to make a movie booking despite the fact that all i really wanted to do was go to bed early...except that for whatever reason the booking did not show up when i got to the cinema, which led to me being scowled at by the manager who obviously thought i was trying to jump the (really long) queue. maybe it's just me, but i think a cardinal rule in customer service should be that you don't embarrass the customer. anyway, there was no hope of getting seats for anything else so i'm back at home wondering why i'm thwarted on such a regular basis these days. oh well. maybe i'll go get ice cream.

i've been sitting here for the past fifteen minutes considering what to write but the only thing that really comes to my mind is that i'm not feeling very well so i'll leave it at that.

bwah

I was being typically productive by reading Survivor recaps at work when I came across this Miss Alli gem and nearly wet myself:

The great thing about this chat is that Rupert and Lill are both kind of dumb, which makes the whole thing feel kind of like watching two potatoes negotiate with each other. It may not be exciting, but at least it seems like a fair fight.

shoes

-- are things that i keep putting off buying, even though i know that i look like a street urchin every time i step outdoors. issues:

1) i have virtually no aesthetic sense in shoes, and the little that i do have goes towards telling me that cheap ones look tacky, leading consequently to

2) i have to shell out a pretty chunk of change for a pair. offputting, which means that

3) i wait for payday to come around so that i don't feel so poor when i buy them, by which time

3a) i have forgotten that i need them

3b) the ones i want are no longer on sale, or are about to go on sale, or are sold out.

4) i will never again be able to relish the sublime joy of buying a pair of green suede hush puppies, the very apogee of the shoe-buying experience, next to which all other purchases must necessarily pale in comparison.

nevertheless, i will brave aldo (SALE: 70% off) tomorrow, and i will buy something, and perhaps regret it, because whatever my look is, 'old and worn' probably is not it.