Just spent the past five days in a series of full-day meetings and receptions in London, completely tired out but ridiculously happy just for the opportunity to return HOME for that small while. Because it was very much like that; by the second day it felt as if I had just come back from a tour of duty in the Pore when in reality it was very much the opposite. I suppose the sun helped.
The London post has been given to a much more experienced dude who left the organisation to pursue his Masters. If all goes well for him, it means the next time the post is up for grabs again is for the term starting 2014. That's a REALLY long way from now. But perhaps by then I'll look old enough to be taken seriously.
I have to do something about these cheeks. You'd probably have realised how much I LOATHE having my photo or video taken; in 2-D, my fivehead goes Total Klingon, my flat eyes and puffy lids become reminiscent of a floater's, my jawline screams out its Chinese-peasant heritage and overdeveloped triangularsis muscles dramatically display a look of permanent disapproval.
So when my face is being projected on giant screens at an international diplomatic meeting, it's just not pretty. It is in fact rather horrifying. Fortunately most delegates are busily taking notes or cooking up interventions to notice. But it must come as a bit of a shock to those who glance up every now and then.
In 3-D, the same features that give evoke images of a clay model in its very initial stages, give me a rather... cherubic appearance. Few people looking at my naked face alone would hazard to guess that I was a day over twenty. The acne scars don't help. It's rather disadvantageous being female and looking like a fresh graduate in an industry that's mostly male and aging. I'd never get treated seriously.
I did make an appointment with the plastic clinic, but decided to cancel it in a moment of guilt over the potential cost. I'd better make that appointment again if I want results by November.
Not seeking opinion here, just needed to commit myself to it.
...
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Ode to my soon-to-be EX-colleagues.
(because there's just FIVE working days to go, and I've completely given up trying to upload my holiday pics onto this blog and shall seriously consider putting them on facebook instead.)
========
TERESA.
I'd like to start this post on a pleasant note, and so I must begin with Teresa. An absolutely lovely lady, Teresa is every office worker's dream. She single-handedly maintains an archive of files that goes way back to when font wasn't an option, yet manages to get everything done well before you need it (including scanning and faxing receipts for deposits made to lodgings in various underdeveloped countries where I just happen to be on vacation).
Teresa is also a very uniquely staunch Buddhist who goes on pilgrimages to holy sites in northern India at least once every year, where she donates generously to local communities and spends much time in deep meditation. The most memorable lessons from her are likely that death is inevitable and there's no point worrying if the building starts to sway because you either live, or you die. So just stay happy and keep that smile on your face. And that all the pharmacies very quickly run out N95 face masks so you must constantly check if they've brought in new stock and if they have you must buy lots of it because otherwise you will catch the swine flu.
But most importantly, Theresa is my break from the insipidiocies of everyone else on the thirty-third floor. Her brilliant Buddhist barbs directed at the slow-moving slow-thinking despatch lady, cheerful Theravedic arguments with Other People Who Use Our Printers As If They Are Their Own, and distinctly non-spiritual non sequiturs about the surprising fashion-forwardness of the boring old director's wife or those really big heels on the short director's shoes (that's why he wears his pants so long); are often the highlight of a dreary office day.
Farewell Teresa, you will be missed. Over the next week I shall be forwarding to you over a year's worth of e-mails to be filed and about four boxes of papers to be shredded; so with any luck I shall be re-born as a paper clip.
========
NOSTRILS.
It is unfortunate that the dearth of good colleagues makes for such an early turn for the worse in this post.
The division I work in is a small one, comprising four Grunts (that includes me), a Deputy Director and a Director. That's right folks, this small six-man outfit monitors the sea transport policies of an entire country. Fortunately we have a six-HUNDRED strong organisation that we direct to execute said policies. In theory, that is: our relationship is much like that of a neutered indoor pekingese (that's us) and a virile fuck-off-sized dingo (that's them).
THE POINT IS, working in such a small team on such a huge portfolio means that constant interaction with at least one colleague is as inevitable as death (see "Teresa", above). Unfortunately that means staring into the world's most repulsive pair of flared nostrils, each and every work day for the past two years. Except when they are on vacation, which doesn't happen very often, and anyway the image of those quivering black funnels are seared in my mind. I may need therapy.
Nostrils is the only Grunt who was there when I joined the division, and who will remain there when I leave. He was the first colleague I met upon arriving on the thirty-third floor. I had thought him rather odd in appearance and manner, and then dreadfully boring as the day progressed. By the end of the week, I had complained to all my former colleagues that Nostrils had to be quite possibly the most mind-numbing person on the planet. Something karmic happened the following weekend that forced me to adopt a more positive attitude, and to give my new colleague a second chance.
And that's one reason why would never be Buddhist.
Reality isn't like facebook where a mere click of the mouse allows you to "un-friend" a person so you will no longer have to deal with that person entering your personal space. Make the mistake of being friendly with a colleague just once, and you're forced to be a friend forever (or at least until you no longer work together). It is my belief that this mistake had the unfortunate result of exposing me to the terrifying disorder that I've named "Complete Lack of Balls".
So you've probably already read enough of the other posts about my colleagues to have an idea of how whingey and annoying Nostrils can be. The following conversation, which took place recently, should help render that image more vividly:
~~~~~~~~
I am having a lovely lunch-time natter with Teresa, about her most recent pilgrimage to northern India, about how all the donations somehow seemed to make little difference to the lives of the local children (she suspects that a lot of it just being sat on by the temple monks), about how beautiful and happy the children are despite their dire poverty, and about how each one of these trips makes her feel more tranquil and satisfied. Nostrils goose marches over - knee problems? ill-fitting pants? cactus up his ass? - carrying a painfully designer cup of tea (white with i-have-no-balls-berry).
Nostrils: (simpering) Sorreee, it's not that I have no work to do, I just need a little di-VER-sion. What are you guys TALK-ing about?
Teresa: I was just telling [Earrci] about how some of the monks in northern idea are so good at meditation that they are able to levitate.
Nostrils: Oh Theresa, can you teach me how to meditate? (stares coyly into his tea)
Teresa: Why? You want to levitate too? (laughs) What's wrong? Too many worries?
Nostrils: I have a lot of thoughts on my mind (fade)... cannot clear my mind of all these thoughts.
Teresa: Do you believe in God? I have a friends who ask me to teach them to meditate, but I tell them, how can I teach you to meditate if you do not believe in God? How can you clear your mind of all thoughts if you cannot think of God? God is Pure, and when you meditate you must focus on something pure. If you do not believe in God you cannot meditate. If you are stupid you also cannot meditate.
Nostrils: (pouts to his tea)
Me: Why don't you pick up a hobby?
Teresa: He has a hobby, he exercises every morning.
Nostrils: (self-deprecating) That's not a HOB-by, that's just EX-ercise.
Me: (Wondering if this is an opportune moment to highlight the importance of having a shower after exercise. With hot water and soap. To remove all traces of dirt and sweat. Because dude, you are RIPE.) ... So, really, why not find a hobby? If you have one you can focus all your thoughts on that instead.
Nostrils: (mumble mumble) ... no time...
Me: What do you do on weekends?
Nostrils: Well the first thing I do when I wake up is to switch on the laptop to check my e-mail. It's a very bad habit actually.
Me: So don't switch it on, or better, don't bring your laptop home. Unless you really have to. It's not like there's stuff to rush every weekend, right?
Nostrils: No, but, well... (looks searchingly into teacup for answer)
Teresa: Hey, I heard that Yvonne is coming over to work here from July. Is it a secondment to replace you?
Me: No, there's someone else replacing me. I think Yvonne is leaving [that organisation] entirely in order to work here.
Nostrils: SHE'S LEAVING [THE ORGANISATION]??? "LEAVING" LEAVING? I WAS TOLD IT WAS ON SECONDMENT TERMS!
Me: (WHOA, never do that again dude. If your face does not do Life well, then it sure as hell won't do Surprise well. And don't flare those damn funnel things anymore! What's in the back of your head sure ain't any of my business! Sheesh... your face is truly fucked dude. Do you get collagen injections to your lips or something? 'Cause they look... fleshy. And maybe you might wanna tell the salonist to go easy on the brows, the perfectly manicured arches only draw attention to your beady little eyes. Beady beady beady...) ... Er, that's what I heard, but I guess I may be wrong... What's the matter even if she was "leaving" leaving anyway?
Nostrils: Nothing, it's just that what I heard was that it would be on secondment terms...
Me: (You LOSER. You coddle gossip like it's some sort of golden goose when really it means fuck-all to everyone else. If your grapevine is the only thing you can feel important about, then I strongly recommend suicide.) Ah look, lunch time is over. I have to go finish that report now.
Teresa: (laughing) Yes, I have to finish these files for the bosses.
~~~~~~~~
Yes. It will be a great pleasure never to have to work with Nostrils again.
========
PSORIASIS AND THE OTHERS.
I've run out of steam now, plus at the end of the day my feelings towards the remaining colleagues are, on average, neutral. Psoriasis continues to repulse me with his physical form and gross ineptitude; but hey, if I had to deal with that many bodily problems I would probably also be completely incapable of getting anything done right. And I really have no issues with the Family Man anymore, now that things are winding down for me so it's no big deal to cover for him. As for the Deputy Director, it's hard to say anything about her since she's been away for the past three months. And as for the Director... well, nobody gets to choose her boss hey.
========
So long, y'all. To Teresa, I wish godspeed to nirvana. To Nostrils, I wish a pair of balls. To Psoriasis, I wish the doctors finally find a cure to your various ailments real soon, and that you use it. To Family Man, I wish your wife and kids well, and please, for the sake of the environment, stop at two. To Deputy Director, I wish I could say something meaningful but I just can't since I hardly know you. To Director, thanks for inadvertently letting me take leave off-record!
Ciao!
...
========
TERESA.
I'd like to start this post on a pleasant note, and so I must begin with Teresa. An absolutely lovely lady, Teresa is every office worker's dream. She single-handedly maintains an archive of files that goes way back to when font wasn't an option, yet manages to get everything done well before you need it (including scanning and faxing receipts for deposits made to lodgings in various underdeveloped countries where I just happen to be on vacation).
Teresa is also a very uniquely staunch Buddhist who goes on pilgrimages to holy sites in northern India at least once every year, where she donates generously to local communities and spends much time in deep meditation. The most memorable lessons from her are likely that death is inevitable and there's no point worrying if the building starts to sway because you either live, or you die. So just stay happy and keep that smile on your face. And that all the pharmacies very quickly run out N95 face masks so you must constantly check if they've brought in new stock and if they have you must buy lots of it because otherwise you will catch the swine flu.
But most importantly, Theresa is my break from the insipidiocies of everyone else on the thirty-third floor. Her brilliant Buddhist barbs directed at the slow-moving slow-thinking despatch lady, cheerful Theravedic arguments with Other People Who Use Our Printers As If They Are Their Own, and distinctly non-spiritual non sequiturs about the surprising fashion-forwardness of the boring old director's wife or those really big heels on the short director's shoes (that's why he wears his pants so long); are often the highlight of a dreary office day.
Farewell Teresa, you will be missed. Over the next week I shall be forwarding to you over a year's worth of e-mails to be filed and about four boxes of papers to be shredded; so with any luck I shall be re-born as a paper clip.
========
NOSTRILS.
It is unfortunate that the dearth of good colleagues makes for such an early turn for the worse in this post.
The division I work in is a small one, comprising four Grunts (that includes me), a Deputy Director and a Director. That's right folks, this small six-man outfit monitors the sea transport policies of an entire country. Fortunately we have a six-HUNDRED strong organisation that we direct to execute said policies. In theory, that is: our relationship is much like that of a neutered indoor pekingese (that's us) and a virile fuck-off-sized dingo (that's them).
THE POINT IS, working in such a small team on such a huge portfolio means that constant interaction with at least one colleague is as inevitable as death (see "Teresa", above). Unfortunately that means staring into the world's most repulsive pair of flared nostrils, each and every work day for the past two years. Except when they are on vacation, which doesn't happen very often, and anyway the image of those quivering black funnels are seared in my mind. I may need therapy.
Nostrils is the only Grunt who was there when I joined the division, and who will remain there when I leave. He was the first colleague I met upon arriving on the thirty-third floor. I had thought him rather odd in appearance and manner, and then dreadfully boring as the day progressed. By the end of the week, I had complained to all my former colleagues that Nostrils had to be quite possibly the most mind-numbing person on the planet. Something karmic happened the following weekend that forced me to adopt a more positive attitude, and to give my new colleague a second chance.
And that's one reason why would never be Buddhist.
Reality isn't like facebook where a mere click of the mouse allows you to "un-friend" a person so you will no longer have to deal with that person entering your personal space. Make the mistake of being friendly with a colleague just once, and you're forced to be a friend forever (or at least until you no longer work together). It is my belief that this mistake had the unfortunate result of exposing me to the terrifying disorder that I've named "Complete Lack of Balls".
So you've probably already read enough of the other posts about my colleagues to have an idea of how whingey and annoying Nostrils can be. The following conversation, which took place recently, should help render that image more vividly:
~~~~~~~~
I am having a lovely lunch-time natter with Teresa, about her most recent pilgrimage to northern India, about how all the donations somehow seemed to make little difference to the lives of the local children (she suspects that a lot of it just being sat on by the temple monks), about how beautiful and happy the children are despite their dire poverty, and about how each one of these trips makes her feel more tranquil and satisfied. Nostrils goose marches over - knee problems? ill-fitting pants? cactus up his ass? - carrying a painfully designer cup of tea (white with i-have-no-balls-berry).
Nostrils: (simpering) Sorreee, it's not that I have no work to do, I just need a little di-VER-sion. What are you guys TALK-ing about?
Teresa: I was just telling [Earrci] about how some of the monks in northern idea are so good at meditation that they are able to levitate.
Nostrils: Oh Theresa, can you teach me how to meditate? (stares coyly into his tea)
Teresa: Why? You want to levitate too? (laughs) What's wrong? Too many worries?
Nostrils: I have a lot of thoughts on my mind (fade)... cannot clear my mind of all these thoughts.
Teresa: Do you believe in God? I have a friends who ask me to teach them to meditate, but I tell them, how can I teach you to meditate if you do not believe in God? How can you clear your mind of all thoughts if you cannot think of God? God is Pure, and when you meditate you must focus on something pure. If you do not believe in God you cannot meditate. If you are stupid you also cannot meditate.
Nostrils: (pouts to his tea)
Me: Why don't you pick up a hobby?
Teresa: He has a hobby, he exercises every morning.
Nostrils: (self-deprecating) That's not a HOB-by, that's just EX-ercise.
Me: (Wondering if this is an opportune moment to highlight the importance of having a shower after exercise. With hot water and soap. To remove all traces of dirt and sweat. Because dude, you are RIPE.) ... So, really, why not find a hobby? If you have one you can focus all your thoughts on that instead.
Nostrils: (mumble mumble) ... no time...
Me: What do you do on weekends?
Nostrils: Well the first thing I do when I wake up is to switch on the laptop to check my e-mail. It's a very bad habit actually.
Me: So don't switch it on, or better, don't bring your laptop home. Unless you really have to. It's not like there's stuff to rush every weekend, right?
Nostrils: No, but, well... (looks searchingly into teacup for answer)
Teresa: Hey, I heard that Yvonne is coming over to work here from July. Is it a secondment to replace you?
Me: No, there's someone else replacing me. I think Yvonne is leaving [that organisation] entirely in order to work here.
Nostrils: SHE'S LEAVING [THE ORGANISATION]??? "LEAVING" LEAVING? I WAS TOLD IT WAS ON SECONDMENT TERMS!
Me: (WHOA, never do that again dude. If your face does not do Life well, then it sure as hell won't do Surprise well. And don't flare those damn funnel things anymore! What's in the back of your head sure ain't any of my business! Sheesh... your face is truly fucked dude. Do you get collagen injections to your lips or something? 'Cause they look... fleshy. And maybe you might wanna tell the salonist to go easy on the brows, the perfectly manicured arches only draw attention to your beady little eyes. Beady beady beady...) ... Er, that's what I heard, but I guess I may be wrong... What's the matter even if she was "leaving" leaving anyway?
Nostrils: Nothing, it's just that what I heard was that it would be on secondment terms...
Me: (You LOSER. You coddle gossip like it's some sort of golden goose when really it means fuck-all to everyone else. If your grapevine is the only thing you can feel important about, then I strongly recommend suicide.) Ah look, lunch time is over. I have to go finish that report now.
Teresa: (laughing) Yes, I have to finish these files for the bosses.
~~~~~~~~
Yes. It will be a great pleasure never to have to work with Nostrils again.
========
PSORIASIS AND THE OTHERS.
I've run out of steam now, plus at the end of the day my feelings towards the remaining colleagues are, on average, neutral. Psoriasis continues to repulse me with his physical form and gross ineptitude; but hey, if I had to deal with that many bodily problems I would probably also be completely incapable of getting anything done right. And I really have no issues with the Family Man anymore, now that things are winding down for me so it's no big deal to cover for him. As for the Deputy Director, it's hard to say anything about her since she's been away for the past three months. And as for the Director... well, nobody gets to choose her boss hey.
========
So long, y'all. To Teresa, I wish godspeed to nirvana. To Nostrils, I wish a pair of balls. To Psoriasis, I wish the doctors finally find a cure to your various ailments real soon, and that you use it. To Family Man, I wish your wife and kids well, and please, for the sake of the environment, stop at two. To Deputy Director, I wish I could say something meaningful but I just can't since I hardly know you. To Director, thanks for inadvertently letting me take leave off-record!
Ciao!
...
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
I miss diving.
I think it's high time to visit the Great Barrier Reef and the Torres Strait.
So many fantastic deals everywhere and no time to travel!
I wish I hadn't eaten so much for lunch today.
(I am resisting the urge to complain about my colleagues. Less than two months to go...)
I could go up to Bangkok for one night just to call on a friend and, well, get out of the country.
Bangkok is so underwhelming.
The Spaniard looked... lopsided... this morning. And Germanman needs serious eyegel, stat.
So I didn't need to feel self-conscious about my ridiculous sunglass tanline.
I wish I hadn't eaten so much for lunch yesterday.
I haven't been to the gym since the end of February. I should start again this weekend.
Kiehl's hair care range is the Best.
WHY DOESN'T THE LAWYER REPLY TO MY VERY SIMPLE E-MAIL???
I hope he isn't preparing a super long-winded and completely irrelevant reply.
Ok, chances are, he will.
I wish they would sack him already.
tick tock tick tock tick tock
Mmmm... chocolate pound cake with hazelnut ice cream and milo all over the top...
I'm usually a brand whore when it comes to toiletries, but Ginvera Marvel Gel is really good.
And I also used a pore strip for the first time since I was a teenager, last night.
Wasn't pretty.
I wonder when my face will look normal again.
I'm glad that photo of me in the Jakarta Post isn't absolutely hideous.
I need a man who dives. Or is willing to learn to dive. For me.
STOP TAPPING ON THE DOOR. THEY CAN'T HEAR YOU.
JUST KNOCK ALREADY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AND CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR BEHIND YOU OR THE FUCKING ALARM GOES OFF!!!!!!!!!!
Who are these people??? Spies??? They sure as hell ain't local.
And why does he keep wearing a suit and earphones???
Messages from God??? Or aliens???
tick tock tick tock tick tock
Do I call? No. Because he'll just feed me the wrong information. Again.
Nope, that wasn't him. That was an FT markets update that I unsubscribed months ago.
Things are so slooooowwwwwwww... I should be enjoying it, really.
I could, theoretically, spend my time doing up notes of this morning's meeting instead of procrastinating.
But my horoscope for today reads "Lazy Streak" and who am I to argue with the planetary and inter-stellar systems?
(Still resisting urge to complain about colleagues.)
Sometimes I wonder if there is a giant dentist's suction pump in this office.
(Never mind.)
Fine. I'll do up the damn notes of meeting.
...
So many fantastic deals everywhere and no time to travel!
I wish I hadn't eaten so much for lunch today.
(I am resisting the urge to complain about my colleagues. Less than two months to go...)
I could go up to Bangkok for one night just to call on a friend and, well, get out of the country.
Bangkok is so underwhelming.
The Spaniard looked... lopsided... this morning. And Germanman needs serious eyegel, stat.
So I didn't need to feel self-conscious about my ridiculous sunglass tanline.
I wish I hadn't eaten so much for lunch yesterday.
I haven't been to the gym since the end of February. I should start again this weekend.
Kiehl's hair care range is the Best.
WHY DOESN'T THE LAWYER REPLY TO MY VERY SIMPLE E-MAIL???
I hope he isn't preparing a super long-winded and completely irrelevant reply.
Ok, chances are, he will.
I wish they would sack him already.
tick tock tick tock tick tock
Mmmm... chocolate pound cake with hazelnut ice cream and milo all over the top...
I'm usually a brand whore when it comes to toiletries, but Ginvera Marvel Gel is really good.
And I also used a pore strip for the first time since I was a teenager, last night.
Wasn't pretty.
I wonder when my face will look normal again.
I'm glad that photo of me in the Jakarta Post isn't absolutely hideous.
I need a man who dives. Or is willing to learn to dive. For me.
STOP TAPPING ON THE DOOR. THEY CAN'T HEAR YOU.
JUST KNOCK ALREADY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AND CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR BEHIND YOU OR THE FUCKING ALARM GOES OFF!!!!!!!!!!
Who are these people??? Spies??? They sure as hell ain't local.
And why does he keep wearing a suit and earphones???
Messages from God??? Or aliens???
tick tock tick tock tick tock
Do I call? No. Because he'll just feed me the wrong information. Again.
Nope, that wasn't him. That was an FT markets update that I unsubscribed months ago.
Things are so slooooowwwwwwww... I should be enjoying it, really.
I could, theoretically, spend my time doing up notes of this morning's meeting instead of procrastinating.
But my horoscope for today reads "Lazy Streak" and who am I to argue with the planetary and inter-stellar systems?
(Still resisting urge to complain about colleagues.)
Sometimes I wonder if there is a giant dentist's suction pump in this office.
(Never mind.)
Fine. I'll do up the damn notes of meeting.
...
Friday, March 27, 2009
(TMI)
I've taken my first NORMAL and FULL-STRENGTH and STRAIN-FREE dump in over two months!!!
This has significantly improved my mood :-)
...
This has significantly improved my mood :-)
...
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Group 18 (formerly 0).
(WARNING: The following post in the form of a self-obsessed rant may have been designed to fish for sympathy and compliments, and hence may be unsuitable for digestion.)
========
I am officially undateable. Men may find me attractive, intelligent, witty or fun, and some may, usually with the aid of alcohol or animal spirits, and always with my deliberate encouragement, ask me out for dinner or to their place for, erm, dessert. But it often stops there (unless, as history has shown, he turns out to be a needy asshole). Granted, when it does, it's almost always a mutual decision.
Then there are those who may find me attractive, intelligent, witty or fun (unless I am completely off the mark in understanding their response to me), who appear to rather STAB THEMSELVES IN THE EYES than to even contemplate asking me out on a date. These men fall into two broad categories: those who nurse their crushes which eventually turn to hate when they realise that I will never respond in kind, and those who just move on. Typically, those men whom I may be attracted to myself, fall into the latter category.
I'm not even talking about men whose lives are complicated by existing girlfriends or wives, or geography.
The next time a taxi driver, or gym instructor, or colleague, or Director, or the Chief Executive (responsible for most such comments) makes a gratuitous reference to my non-existent boyfriend, I'm going to demand to know who he is because I sure as hell don't know. I will no longer play along in order to avoid the inevitable question of why I don't have a boyfriend. In fact, and especially if the presumptious interlocutor is a reasonable specimen of heterosexual male, I shall DEMAND TO KNOW exactly WHY I don't have a boyfriend.
I mean, I deserve to know don't I? It is only fair to me that The Universe reveals the reason(s) why I'm likely to die alone. DON'T I DESERVE THE SECOND CHANCE TO CHANGE??? Perfect information is necessary if You (and by You I mean the omniscient, omnipotent being in whose hands the fates of all lie) want us, want ME, to make the most of my time while I still have it.
And while You're considering that last bit, I would also be tremendously grateful if You could let me in on where I can get gorgeous heels that won't ruin me physically or financially.
Thank You.
...
========
I am officially undateable. Men may find me attractive, intelligent, witty or fun, and some may, usually with the aid of alcohol or animal spirits, and always with my deliberate encouragement, ask me out for dinner or to their place for, erm, dessert. But it often stops there (unless, as history has shown, he turns out to be a needy asshole). Granted, when it does, it's almost always a mutual decision.
Then there are those who may find me attractive, intelligent, witty or fun (unless I am completely off the mark in understanding their response to me), who appear to rather STAB THEMSELVES IN THE EYES than to even contemplate asking me out on a date. These men fall into two broad categories: those who nurse their crushes which eventually turn to hate when they realise that I will never respond in kind, and those who just move on. Typically, those men whom I may be attracted to myself, fall into the latter category.
I'm not even talking about men whose lives are complicated by existing girlfriends or wives, or geography.
The next time a taxi driver, or gym instructor, or colleague, or Director, or the Chief Executive (responsible for most such comments) makes a gratuitous reference to my non-existent boyfriend, I'm going to demand to know who he is because I sure as hell don't know. I will no longer play along in order to avoid the inevitable question of why I don't have a boyfriend. In fact, and especially if the presumptious interlocutor is a reasonable specimen of heterosexual male, I shall DEMAND TO KNOW exactly WHY I don't have a boyfriend.
I mean, I deserve to know don't I? It is only fair to me that The Universe reveals the reason(s) why I'm likely to die alone. DON'T I DESERVE THE SECOND CHANCE TO CHANGE??? Perfect information is necessary if You (and by You I mean the omniscient, omnipotent being in whose hands the fates of all lie) want us, want ME, to make the most of my time while I still have it.
And while You're considering that last bit, I would also be tremendously grateful if You could let me in on where I can get gorgeous heels that won't ruin me physically or financially.
Thank You.
...
Monday, March 16, 2009
(there is no sound for how i feel right now)
trying to shop over the weekend was a nightmare, it's like nobody's even heard of the recession, people people everywhere and so the air did stink, i made up for it today by blowing over $600 over half an hour during lunch
i wonder if i stink, no i'm sure i don't, i smell of raspberry lychee amber patchouli and something called benzoin
this speech is the WORST ever, i've never seen as many extreme platitudes strung together over four pages of print (times new roman font size 12 single line spacing) as i have today, all the nautical allegory is making me seasick, i won't be editing it as much as i will be re-writing it, WHY ME
oh my god if they make me head maritime security i will die of irrelevance
at least i can paint, and i will have lots of time on my hands, but it won't prepare me for london, though i'm not sure if i want to go there anymore, i can't leave the cat behind
i have lots and lots of make-up and pretty dresses that need to be used used used, so fortunately for me the semi-hot semi-dorky tall strapping Spaniard and his ridiculously polite perma-tanned German doctor friend, i look forward to friday, hooray!
i wonder what's been happening on facebook
labour day weekend hooray! it's all booked in case you're wondering and you may wish to look up tanjung pinang and trikora beach la la la la la
...
i wonder if i stink, no i'm sure i don't, i smell of raspberry lychee amber patchouli and something called benzoin
this speech is the WORST ever, i've never seen as many extreme platitudes strung together over four pages of print (times new roman font size 12 single line spacing) as i have today, all the nautical allegory is making me seasick, i won't be editing it as much as i will be re-writing it, WHY ME
oh my god if they make me head maritime security i will die of irrelevance
at least i can paint, and i will have lots of time on my hands, but it won't prepare me for london, though i'm not sure if i want to go there anymore, i can't leave the cat behind
i have lots and lots of make-up and pretty dresses that need to be used used used, so fortunately for me the semi-hot semi-dorky tall strapping Spaniard and his ridiculously polite perma-tanned German doctor friend, i look forward to friday, hooray!
i wonder what's been happening on facebook
labour day weekend hooray! it's all booked in case you're wondering and you may wish to look up tanjung pinang and trikora beach la la la la la
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Monday, February 16, 2009
Of prawns and a giant moth.
Part II of my Philippine sojourn is on its way, it's taking time cos I've had a banging headache since getting back to the Pore. And I want to be happy while blogging about my trip. I'm kinda worried that it could be some decompression-related problem, but whatever.
This evening was pretty exciting. A neighbour came round to give us a bagful of live prawns. Since this wasn't the first (or second... or third) time he's done so, we weren't too excited about the prospect of having them for tomorrow's dinner.
So now we have two pet prawns in our koi pond. (Well, we certainly released two into the pond, but after an hour of peering into the pond with the aid of three flashlights, I'm afraid the fate of Prawn 1 remains unknown.) Can I point out that prawns look really evil in koi ponds (assuming Prawn 2 is representative of all those who share its fate)? I'll post a pic when I get a good one, you'd agree with me.
Not to be outdone, Bob brought in his first kill in about a month - a giant moth.
I can imagine it being quite a stunningly beautiful creature, before meeting its tragic end i.e. Bob. Yes, that's a normal-size pen. I hope it wasn't an endangered species of moth. Ho hum.
Is it kinda sad that two prawns in a koi pond and a very large moth have defined an exciting evening for me?
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Sunday, February 08, 2009
Palawan, Philippines, 2009 - (I)
Day 01, Singapore - Manila - Puerto Princesa - Sabang
The trip began rather ominously. On the way to the airport in a speeding taxi (despite my exhortations that we weren't running late at all), a large sheet of white suddenly loomed out of the darkness and draped itself across the windshield, causing the driver to dangerously swerve the vehicle to the left before deciding that perhaps it wasn't such a great idea. Fortunately whatever it was vanished as soon as it had appeared and I was relieved to note that an accident had been narrowly avoided.
Arriving at the check-in counter, my heart lurched a little as a niggling thought in the back of my mind pushed itself momentarily to the fore. The sense of panic became complete when I realised that I had brought along the wrong credit card for verification of my seat booking. This was the first time in my history of electronic air tickets whereby my passport and a copy of the e-ticket were insufficient to prove that I was the right passenger. But I couldn't really blame the airline as, upon closer observation, I realised that the fine print on the e-ticket did in fact request that the credit card used for purchase be made available for confirmation of booking at check-in.
I had all of 50 minutes to get back home, grab the right credit card, and return to the airport before check-in was closed. I made it in 45.
The 3.5 hour flight to Manila was fairly uneventful. I was seated next to a couple half of which comprised a moody girlfriend - the first of several such pairings that I was to encounter on the trip. She shared the same features as a severely disliked ex-boss - a gaunt face that forces the viewer to notice its narrow and protruding lower jaw, the downturned sides of a thin-lipped and disapproving mouth, a painfully wide-open pair of fearful and accusing eyes, the complete lack of cheekbones or anything that could be mistaken for strength of character... Okay, I admit that my interaction with others is largely influenced by physiognomy. Some call it shallow, I call it genetic hardwiring.
Fortunately "Nights in Rodanthe" (confusing billed as "The Notebook") was on and the inimitable chemistry and frisson between Richard Gere and Diane Lane ("Unfaithful" remains one of my favourite films) presented a surprisingly tearful diversion from my neighbours for most of the flight.
We arrived in Manila at 0400.
(Sunrise from Manila airport.)
Disembarking passengers at Puerto Princesa airport were pleasantly treated to welcoming fanfare from the military band, which somewhat made up for the chaos in the temporary arrivals and baggage collection... hut.
(The Welcome Band.)
(The hut.)
Distinctly foreign passengers (read: Caucasian and Japanese tourists) would find themselves suddenly pulled aside to join a "customs and immigration" queue. The operation was manned by a sole Filipino seated on a plastic stool at a rusty foldaway table, furiously penning each foreign arrival's passport details in a ledger damp from the man's sweat. I hesitated to join the queue since it looked hot and slow-moving and I had clearly passed for a Filipina, until flashes of me lying with a broken body in a makeshift hospital tucked away in the remote Philippine wilderness, completely ignored by the local authorities with my fate unknown to my family, changed my mind.
Emerging from the chaos, we found the sign declaring my name (spelt correctly!) and were hustled to the minivan that would bring us to Sabang, our final destination for the day.
(View of Ulugan Bay en route to Sabang.)
I had quite hastily made reservations at a self-proclaimed "nature park resort" in Sabang, the only one that had a website. (I found out later that the best way to get good accomodation in Sabang - or anywhere in Palawan for that matter - is via any Manila-based Philippine travel agency.) My optimism wavered a little when I saw where I would be staying, a stilted bamboo shack right on the edge of the Sabang jungle that did no more than provide walls and a roof for a small room with a mosquito-net draped bed. There was a hole in the floor that my foot went straight through, and I couldn't help but notice that the widely spaced bamboo bars in the windows would easily let in any number of wild creatures that were so inclined. Toilets and shower stalls were located minutes away from my doorstep.
(Home for two nights.)
(Around and about at the "resort".)
(What used to be the in-house farm, clearly abandoned some harvests ago.)
(Flock of herons amongst the resort's trees.)
The rest of the day - what was left of it - was spent reassuring my parents that it would be a wonderful and different experience. However hard I tried though, my father decided that there was no way he would be staying there for all three nights, which meant that the entire family would have to return to Puerto Princesa a day early (ruining my plans to continue my onward journey to El Nido via Port Barton on boat).
I have never experienced a darkness as complete as that night, when the generator stopped running right about midnight. Imagine being enveloped by the colour black, not seeing your hand a mere inch from your face, drowned in the night's cacophony of jungle sounds. Having just drifted away to sleep, I was awoken by a honking sound in my room. It sounded something like a cross between a dog and a goose, with each series of honks punctuated by a sigh. I groped for my torchlight, switched it on, and was shocked to find a lizard the length of my arm on the wall. Surprised by my half-smothered shriek, it slithered out of my room through a hole in the corner of my room.
I honestly have never quite so looked forward to daybreak. I will never go camping, unless it's in the wilderness-free White Desert of Egypt, where I know the only non-human creature I would wake up next to is a resting camel and the only night sounds I would hear are the murmurings of other travellers marvelling at shooting stars in the clear night sky.
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Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Cold Foobs.
I never made the link before, but since I got my foobs I've been feeling cold more frequently than usual. My chest in particular is really sensitive to any drop in the temperature and is the first part of my body to start shivering (do limbs shiver?). Pending the circumstances, my first reaction is to hug my foobs. And only this evening did I start to wonder if cold boobs were normal (having never really had proper real boobs I couldn't really tell).
So I looked it up on the net and whaddya know, I'm not the only one who gets cold foobs! There're quite a number of women out there who've noted that their implants are generally either distinctly colder or warmer than the rest of their bodies. Apparently it's because silicone conducts heat (and loses heat) slower than human tissue (which temperature is naturally regulated anyway by blood).
Something new every day!
...
So I looked it up on the net and whaddya know, I'm not the only one who gets cold foobs! There're quite a number of women out there who've noted that their implants are generally either distinctly colder or warmer than the rest of their bodies. Apparently it's because silicone conducts heat (and loses heat) slower than human tissue (which temperature is naturally regulated anyway by blood).
Something new every day!
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Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Waiting
for caffeine to take effect. Meanwhile, see pic of where I'll be in just under 17 days' time:
Toodles!
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Toodles!
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Monday, January 05, 2009
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Excess baggage.
Did you know that one Starbucks cinnamon roll has 620 calories? Even if we assume that's for an American-sized roll, an Asian counterpart at half the size would still pack a whopping 310 calories. That's not much more than its "low fat" blueberry muffin, which has 302 calories. And a double tall non-fat no-whip mocha still has more calories (174) than a double tall non-fat caramel macchiato (ok, that's probably because a macchiato has less milk).
On average, I've packed away 500 Starbucks calories every working morning. Which by itself isn't too bad since that's still less than a third of my daily calorie needs. Except that in the past couple of years - 2008 in particular - I've been chasing breakfast with meals saturated with grease, sodium and preservatives. Not taking into account sporadic beer binges, I've consumed an average of about 2,500 calories per day in the past three years. That's 156% of what I actually need. I feel... congested. Not yet corpulent, but rather more cellulite-y that I should be. Chemical-y.
I am a walking toxic dump.
So, in line with New Year's Resolution #2, I'm going to eat healthier and consume less calories this year. Bikini-fabulous and, erm, bounding up mountains like a light-weight goat. And I have a sackful of grapefruit to prove it.
...
On average, I've packed away 500 Starbucks calories every working morning. Which by itself isn't too bad since that's still less than a third of my daily calorie needs. Except that in the past couple of years - 2008 in particular - I've been chasing breakfast with meals saturated with grease, sodium and preservatives. Not taking into account sporadic beer binges, I've consumed an average of about 2,500 calories per day in the past three years. That's 156% of what I actually need. I feel... congested. Not yet corpulent, but rather more cellulite-y that I should be. Chemical-y.
I am a walking toxic dump.
So, in line with New Year's Resolution #2, I'm going to eat healthier and consume less calories this year. Bikini-fabulous and, erm, bounding up mountains like a light-weight goat. And I have a sackful of grapefruit to prove it.
...
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Too Thousand and Nein.
I left right after the countdown last night, completely sober and looking forward to spending the first day of the new year bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and raring to go (where exactly, I hadn't quite yet figured out, but it would've been some sort of run, I guess). Instead, I woke up in the morning feeling like a sock being turned inside out, starting with my uterus. Hence New Year Resolution #1:
I will take my flaxseed oil supplements regularly.
In fact, this year will be all about regularity, in a way. Sticking to things, finishing off what I've started, making the most of what I already possess. Perseverance. Tenacity. Ardour. Words one commonly finds in a school motto. Because in the past few weeks I was forced to do a mental inventory of all my possessions and wow I do possess quite a bit. A lot of it was just clutter, objects used-and-abused and stuff which sentimental value had eroded completely over time. But several items did rather painfully stand out for representing desire without the willpower for execution. Dusty half-completed self-study courses in assorted languages, boxes of watercolours and empty sketchbooks, clothes a half-size too small for me, an army of cosmetics and toiletries promising a brand new beautiful me, etc. So New Year Resolution #2 would read something like:
I will not buy anything new unless there is nothing amongst my possessions that could conceivably provide for the same purpose.
It saves me money and puts less pressure on the environment too. #3:
Painting, physical fitness and Portuguese.
Of course there are other things I want to do this year, like making the most of my digital camera and learning to ride a motorcyle, but these things don't start with the letter "P". But Philippines, Pemuteran (in North Bali) and Phu Quoc (in Vietnam) do, all relevant to #4:
Travel.
Fairly achievable resolutions for 2009, I'd say. Which apparently is a good thing, according to this recent BBC article cautioning people against new year resolutions because failure to execute them "could trigger feelings of failure and inadequacy". And I certainly wouldn't want to feel those. Like cockroaches. I would absolutely not want to feel a cockroach, or one crawling up my leg. I really hate cockroaches.
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