Sunday, July 27, 2008

Optimism.


Ha. Whatever.

Watching batman has helped me unearth an epiphany that for a long while, stayed dormant and beneath the surface. And that is: our society's greatest and most celebrated values have become social rules. Social rules that sometimes become stifling and right now, is strangling me to death. In order to be viewed as 'good' and 'wholesome' and 'appreciated' by members of the pecking order, we must embody and believe and champion 'good values'. Values that make society a better place and make interactions with one another a tolerable affair.

We should be 'sincere', and thus being transparent and honest and straightfoward in our dealings, can others place their trust in us. We should be hardworking, so that we can achieve our career goals and not be labelled lazy as others. We should be filial, nobody likes a person who is ungrateful to their parents. What a social disgrace that would be! We should have interests, and passions, no one likes a piece of deadwood that is nothing but flotsam. No direction in life. And this, THIS, to me is the most insidious of all.

We should be happy.

We should be happy because then other people will feel your happiness and it will uplift everyone else. Nobody really cares whether you're happy or not. They care only when they sense your state of happiness from you. And in sensing, this generates emotions in them. If you're not happy, they would not feel that happy either and may start worrying for you. They might start wondering what has went wrong and how they may assist you so that you will reach that nirvarna-happy-clappy-stage that everyone is supposed to strive towards. If you're happy, well, good on you matey! People don't have to worry about you! They just need to bask in your glory and soak up the sun, because happiness begets happiness and the whole world can hold hands and be happy in their merry-go-round!

We should also be happy because of what those scientific experts in their ivory towers tell us. It keeps you healthy, makes you live longer, increases this that percentage, decreases this that risks. Et cetera et cetera. We should be happy because it's beneficial, because the experts have said so.

So how do you be happy? Let's hope good things happen in your life! If not, there is always this pick me up called optimism! Bright, grinning optimism on a skullface. No matter how bad things look, just turn on your switch and then there'll be light! Blinding light to ignite happiness and eradicate the gloom. Be optimistic!

If you're not optimistic, there are dangerous repercussions! First and foremost, no one loves a pessimist. If you wallow all the time in the pits, it is self-indulgent and useless! We, in order to be socially correct, must only do the things that are useful! Useless things are to be discarded! And thus, pessimism is primarily useless... when you want to be happy [assuming you do]. Secondly, pessimism makes people feel bad. You draagggg people down with you when you're pessimistic or say sad things in a group. When you go against the grain of happy-clappy thought, you might uproot the status quo and unnerve people who are striving to be happy! Main point is, don't make people unhappy! Don't, I repeat, don't turn the other tail and contest popular opinion.

It is cowardly to be pessimsitic, foolish to be pessimsitic. (note the negative associations with the pessimist) For the optimists? Ohh, those are brave BRAVE people, good people, role models that must be placed on pedastels for everyone to learn from. Let us applaud these people. Shoo, you cynic! Society has no place for you.

But you know what? I am tired of plastering a fake smile upon my skull, of pulling a bright red crayon across the cheeks in a contrived smile. Tired of nodding like clockwork to 'sound','good' advice of how one can make their lives better and that I MUST do this and I MUST do that. And only if I DO these things and THINK these thoughts will I be redeemed and happily-ever-after in la-la-land. That there is only one straight-path to whatever it is I really want and that is the optimist's way. I am tired of trying trying trying trying trying to eek out a genuine smile from this bleeding lips. And faithfully believing in complete utter child-like trust in your words, only to find my inner demons betraying me later.

And you, you want me to try some more? To continue pushing a wall that won't budge? Till, what-fucking end? So, absolutely, weary of being the politically-correct 'optimist', of saying the niceties ... because if you don't! If you say the nasties instead, you can see before you, 3 miles out, the tsunami of socially-sanctioned, well-meaning coo-ing advice heard umpteenth and millions of times. Which, when heard, must be swallowed like bitter medicine because these were things you once believed in but now have spat out because they gave you tummy upsets. Cheat my feelings. But no matter what, once you have been identified as a pessimist (no matter how good your reason for being one is), everyone tries to convert you. Relentlessly.

I am tired of ways and means, and strategies and battleplans, of activities filling up this bottle of time in a day, of doing a dozen distracting things, of searching searching for a substitute to thoughts.


I've fallen upon my knees in complete weariness. And I'm crying out to you God, where are you. Everything else on this earth has failed me. Optimism has failed me. I have failed myself.

Where are you?

The gay boys, with their ready hearts and open minds all laid out for sharing. With just a kind word, they would say the things they feel. And in so doing, let you be safe in their midst, and allow you to render yours undone too.

But even amongst kindred spirits, there are some things in which I stay muted. And it's funny, how after 3 years of knowing them they have taught me raw honesty as it is. And the value of honesty. So it's telling, when the cat's got my tongue and the once-egotistic is now wallpaper. When you realised, taken aback, that you have boundaries which even the gay boys couldn't breach.

There are some things I don't like to talk about. Better left untouched. Lest it stir up sand from the seabed.

I don't know. I've grown tired of hearing chatter, of hearing 'advice', well-meaning they may be. But bounce off this heart is all it does. Sometimes I believe, for a shining moment, in this apparition called faith. But there's nothing but pitch-black night. Unexplained and unwelcome. Every memory, every movement unknown, every sense unfelt, comes like stabs to you. It's nobody's fault, saved mine. And the more you rationalise, the more you intellectualise, the more you grasp at air, the more salvation slips from you. Only one pattern repeats, and it's the chicken and egg variety. Thus, stuck between action and serenity, I can't choose because either would just collapse upon me. And ultimately fail. As time has tested again and again.

So I'm back from church retreat. Although not completely. Some moments I still recall. Silent moments. Held my tongue, when I had nothing, absolutely nothing, to say.

Which is apt really, cos there is nothing. I have thought the world, and there is nothing. I read my little notes, and glance. Just once. And I know the next day those words would be forgotten, but the kind hand outreached will not be. That I will remember. But I also know, that we never achieve the purposes we set out to reach sometimes. And this will be one of them. Thank you for the thought, but nothing gets through. I couldn't.


What I would love though, is for everything to be silent. Just for once. Cos it's a hurricane sometimes, and I can't even hear myself think.


Pure, sweet, redeeming silence.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Yesterday made me brood for awhile.

Stubborn as ever, defiant as always. It had to bubble up to the surface, this hidden uprising.

Tugged by the collar, hooked onto flesh it pulls and pulls. Robbing me of all dignity. Robbing me of all autonomy.

Should I be stoic? I try and rallied in vain. There is no antidote to this nature. No success raging against it. It will always attack you so easily and flippantly. Like yesterday. Wilful nature. Dumb nature that has stoppped evolving a long time ago and bangs head into walls.

Knowing my best-laid plans, that brick road I build myself to someplace else. Everything to be up-ended because of one look, half an hour yesterday and a mind unsettled? Knowing with almost full certainty that to contemplate and to venture is disaster. Especially so right now.

This is such a mockery. Cruel cruel joke. And what now, all these shining stars I've pasted upon my night. Whom time after time, people glance up and smile and say those things which promise future brilliance. Just this Friday, again, to hold banking execs my equal.

Nothing else has so reduced this sum of me. I hate this thing.


Hate it with a vengence.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

On thursday night, I went with the sister to watch Singapore Ga-ga at sinema old school. It was a thing decided at the very last minute. Requiring me to dash (quietly) out of the office 10 minutes before the official knock-off time so I can beat the 6pm ERP by first beating the AYE jam. Now I understand why my colleagues leave slightly early when they are driving home via AYE, because leaving before 530pm makes a HELL LOT of difference.

I reached city center in 15 minutes, parked near mt sophia and started to explore the hilly place a bit. The thing with having empty pockets of time on your hands, is that it allows you to walk around and take in new sights. Recce new hangouts, hidden nooks and crannies, discover previously unknown food places (I found the original sele ra curry puffs outlet!), uncover new (cheap!) parking spots, and dig around a little in this backyard called Singapore.

Later, ate sushi dinner with sister and climbed the thousand steps behind PS to reach mt sophia and the sinema. It's a quaint little place, with really old-style school buildings that reminds me of my beloved sc gs in emerald hill. With windows that have shutters, beige-white paint, low ceilings and never-ending corridors and that brick-red tiles for floors. There were 2 very laid-back cafes there with very nice ambience. Me and sister retreated to one later for some drinks and found it very pleasant. Great, attentive service, free bread rolls with olive-oil-vinageratte dip. Quite unexpected, the bread rolls I mean. The drinks were good too, and the food looks exciting and delicious. One of the distinct features that we found in the 'school' was this huge, sprawling tree whose canopy spread wide above our heads, and long thin threads of sinister brown fibres hung low from the canopy. Apparently, people worship that tree because they placed a flower garland near the thrunk and there were the tell-tale sacrilegious pots and joss-sticks around the place. Eerie at night. But I felt drawn to that tree. It was really beautiful.

Singapore ga-ga is a wonderful wonderful film. I think it is one of the most iconic singapore films ever made, and it took my breath away. I wasn't expecting anything really, only the director's name jogged some memories in me. The gay grapevine certainly, always has juicy gossip about the arts scene. And I've heard that name before, and so got interested in watching.

The story in SGG is about music in Singapore. There's no discernible plot at all, which is a good thing, because sometimes I tire of trying to follow plots and just want the scenes to take you somewhere, anywhere, surprise me. And surprising it was. From the start, heavily-laden-with-meaning opening scene, to the heartwarming interviews with the people in the streets, to seeing a part of Singapore through another lens. Beautiful. The most amazing thing was, there are no professional actors in the movie. No fake bravado, strained faces and contrived drama. No attempt at creating life. Because everything that was filmed, is real life captured beautifully already. I like how the stars of the show were the everyday people, the ones we sometimes trample upon and ignore.

There was one comment made by this Singaporean performer based in New York. She said we never ever listen to the surroundings, are never aware of what is happening around us. Why? It's because we are too busy listening to the thoughts in our heads.

And I thought,


How true.


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If you're a film buff! And you like indie/artsy films, please go to Sinema Old School to watch this movie. It is execellent with a capital E! Plus it also gives one an excuse to go the very charming bistros nearby, which serve delectable eats and fall-in-love ambience.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Identity.

Sometimes I find myself a paradox.

It's a realisation that was unearthed recently, as I go about my daily work during internship. You see, I'm in a department completely filled with men. There are two other ladies who sometimes lunch with us. But very often, I find myself sitting at a table full of married, heterosexual men. And there's nothing more that makes you so accutely aware of your feminity than being surrounded by a group of men all the time. Not just any kind of men, but the older, more gentlemanly, married types. Some days, I feel like an 18th century lady in waiting. The doors are opened for you, you never pay for your drinks, you get to sit next to the driver and not have to squeeze with the other boys at the back, you're the only one who makes noises while you're walking because of your heels.

It's during those times that you also realise how masculine you can be. When I'm sitting on a low table, I like to eat in this manner: Let's say I'm having rice. A spoon in the right hand to eat, and my left elbow would be resting upon the table, the left hand pointing downwards below the table towards self. I eat with that single right hand, which is propped up by the right elbow. I see uncles eat in that manner. Yet to me, that is the most comfortable position.

It reminds me when I was in secondary school. And during lessons, we would sometimes huddle in groups with heads over a textbook. Doing some form of group-work/discussion. And I would like to cross my arms and lean them upon the table. Sometimes, I would prop the right elbow up on the table and stroke the chin with the thumb and forefinger in downward motions. As though I had an imaginary beard. More than one friend has pointed this out to me. I always do this when I'm in deep thought. Stroke that imaginary beard.

I think very much like a man too. More than one female friend has gasped in exasperation that I'm like a guy, after hearing me describe women in such graphic and lurid detail. The way I think, in logic and reasoning and practicality, is very much like a guy as well. The economic way of thought. The mindset of thinking that I can solve problems on my own, with my own abilities, is very much a manly thing too. The way I feel sometimes, reminds me of a very angry man in rage, especially when the jaw goes hard and the teeth is grit, and the eyes cold.

But all at the same time, I feel so much like a girl. I love to cross my legs in that lady-like manner. Especially if the clothes willing, are not too tight and constricting. To have the limbs intertwined together feels comforting. I love to keep my hair long, and adore the way it falls about the face, across the shoulders and neck, the new bouncy fringe draped over the side. Most of all, my favourite part of the body is the symbol of feminity. There was one time, when I considered the possibility of contracting breast cancer, and it requiring me to cut off that which is so dear. And I was seized momentarily by horror. The same kind of unimaginable horror I feel when I think about the dying of my loved ones. I thought, the worse disease in the world, would be the one that would rob me of that flesh that most defines me. It's like a man castrated. Oh, the horror. As much as I think like a man, love like a man, there is no desire for me to look or be like a man. For all these undulating hills and simple lines are my pride and joy and identity. Yeah, that's me in the mirror without clothes on. You. Girl.

I might love like a guy. But I certainly don't want to act like one. I find it... tough to imagine myself topping anyone, to be the fuck-er. I always thought of being the 'bum' or the equal. Yeah, the equal. I might look at you with the eyes of a guy, but I'll want you as a girl would.

I can't decide sometimes, which I'm more of. Guy or girl. T ony, just settled with calling me a femmtch. Why? Cos apparently I think like a man, look like a girl. But somehow, you can't totally place a finger on it.


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Just a week ago, we were sharing during cell about the spiritual gifts we would like to receive from God. And I said I wanted empathy. Because for the longest time, I could never comprehend or understand the mindsets of fellow lesbians. I didn't empathise, didn't understand. Couldn't... connect and hence, identify with them. And for a long while, still felt like I was an island. Who although has found similar minds in her gay male kin, has not yet really discovered someone truly like her.

I have made it for my exchange. Applied, boldly put forth a gay slant to my study plan [carefully sugar-coated in terms of the pink dollar of cos], praised myself to the skies and sounded really earnest in my write-up. And lo! I got my first choice!

In 6 months time, I will be spending half a year in America. Half of my 22 years old in a land I've never been before but promises a whole lot of adventure. And because I'm going for so long, it feels as though the immediate six months and the coming semester, is nothing but a wait in the airport lounge. A wait to go somewhere. No, I can't do anything too long-term, make any plans that would cement me to Singapore right now. I'll be waiting behind glass screens in my air-conditioned building, on my leather seat... waiting for the plane to take off.

It'll be the longest time I'll be gone from Singapore. And the truth is, I don't travel that much, despite the hurricane of countries recently. Plus I believe I'll be travelling mostly on my own post-exchange in the US, unless I meet some like-minded people. But of cos, we all know that's hard to find, and we don't really want to be tied down do we?

I don't know. Still, I'm really excited.

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But even when one good thing happens, it just dawned upon me as I study my educational path, that I'm going to be sacrificing some things for others. I guess that's just the way things are going to be. We can't have everything, and some things were never meant for you. And as I look a year ahead, I see the time creeping up and realise all too soon I'm going to graduate with some dreams unfulfilled.


And I can't do anything about it.

*sigh*

Monday, July 14, 2008

Public announcement: I have just walked 100 m from the bus stop to the office.

And my filipino colleague's ass is driving me nuts!

Sunday, July 13, 2008

I dislike having no control.

Sometimes, it's no wonder I always volunteer for the head job. The head of the body, the mind that controls every muscle.

And even in project groups or ccas, everything goes through me before it is approved. All because I want to mold things to stunning effect.

But some other things, you can't hold tight in your hands. And it's really frustrating cos you flounder and flop about while at it. An affront at times, an out-of-the-blue shock, a subdued resignation, an all-out white-hot wall-punching rage, and last of all, the sadness of exhaustion.

Worse, is how you never chose. And you can't fathom why, why, why these things are never your choices and your hands and feet are always tied, your eyes blindfolded, your mouth gagged. And elements bounce you all about, and you cannot choose. Where you're going.

When no amount of early-morning runs, no amount of gallavanting in the underbelly of the dark, no amount of materialistic therapy, and of friendship, no amount of unwanted but flattering attention, no amount of blessings, will cure it. For the girl who captains her ship and everything else she crafts/touches, there is nothing that will make me roar more.

It is. Impossible. To see the light.

Read a friend's blog today. He, like me, argues with logic.

And for the logician, emotion will not get through when trying to convince. Only reasoning and structure would. And when you find something clashing -- something as good as truth. Something you can't really argue against (because sometimes, logic is a matter of perspective), you'll find this deep unsettling feeling within. Because you know you should be convinced, but you hold steadfast to your own logic, backed up by time-tested emotions. The final nail to the coffin really. The emotions to back up the logic (something that shouldn't be happening in a pure-logic situation, but I'm human after all. And my logic is biased, imperfect).


I don't know. I want to believe you, and I see your point as well.

But it's very.


Very hard. To believe it's true. For me.

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Sex for the mind.




"She, whose intellectual capacity holds a universe of potential night-time musings."

Yesterday, after a terminally long drag in the office... finally came a night out with the girls! Note the distinction here: my straight friends. The sc bunch, we who pledged to be tai-tais in true peranakan style, yellow and green.

Spent the empty hollow hours at work trawling hungrygowhere.com. Searching for the chill-out places with just the right kind of attributes. Ambience, food, location and cost being the decisive factors. Finally narrowed down to three places, all of which should supercede the bar I've set.

Finally we decided on Hooha! haha. Lols. It's this very laid-back (in the al-fresco area) or very romantic (indoors) western joint. Plonked right next to it is a very zen-like Harry's bar. Both of which look like excellent places for hushed conversations over mains or drinks. Mmm. Was good =) The service was quite prompt too, and I like everything I ate that night. Strangely, we didn't order much but yet I felt really full.

I think I'll go back there some time. But definitely not on weekends whereby it gets really crowded. It was already quite packed on a Monday night. Can you believe it?

Hmm. I really really want to check out kl ee now.

And oh, one last thing. I learnt how to use the fire extinguisher during the fire drill at work.

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Today I took leave. To exercise the grant and purchase a laptop. And then to visit the doctor, and then to visit the client for the school project, and then to cell group and maybe a movie in between. And before all this, was a morning run, a flustered bidding of modules and checking of street directories. So much for resting.

I shall attempt some kind of 15-10 (or maybe I'll only last 5) minute meditation later.

I wonder. What a bored Singaporean girl can do, if she feels like hanging out with new people. Doing the things she love. Without burning a hole in her pocket. Some sport or interest group. Hmmm. For someone who's notoriosly non-committal. Who doesn't like being tied down or have her loyalty sworn forever to something new. Only the most beloved gets that priviledge (like the cell groups).

Oh, I still need to decide about church retreat. Hmm.

Sunday, July 06, 2008

FUCK THIS.


Seriously.

Sometimes, it really kills you when your favourite authors aren't the prolific type. The kind whose output occurs once every millenium.

And you wait forever and forever for the next novel that may never come. Sighs.

I'm talking about Jeff rey Euge nides. I love the way he writes. Absolutely, fallen head over heels in love with each of his two novels. Why? Because it's full of dysfunction, and he captures it so humanely. I love it to bits.

Lately, I haven't been reading much good stuff. The last few 'brand-name' big-name best-selling books I've read haven't prenatrated beyond the superficial. At worse, it was a chore. Case in point: The dog in the nightime (or something like that). Some other stuff which names I've totally forgotten cos it's so forgettable. My literary choices center around 3 types. One, really good heady stuff (like eugen ides if possible, but these come by rarely). Two, the kind with lesbian-content (cos good GLBT literature is hard to find, and sometimes you want to read something whereby the love is relateable). Three, the inane, general knowledge, do-you-know types that are meant to be bite-sized soundbytes.

Since one is nowhere to be found currently, I've been doing two and three. For two, it has been a slew of Rita ma e browns. But only rubyfruit jungle was worth the read, the rest were drags (except of cos, the parts describing things I can only imagine for now, haha).

I tried a margeret atwood. It was tedium personified. Urgh. The books lately have not been satisfactory. And it shows in this rather unsatisfying-to-read entry. Lols.

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On another note, I went to Li quid kitchen today. I think it's pretty nice. Food that was, surprisingly, quite nice. Wells, it did help that we went in with zero expectations. The drinks were refreshing as well and the company, chillax max.

This weekend, represents a connundrum for me. And once again, you have to confront one of your demons. And once again, you don't have the answer to the riddle for the grandfather at the mountaintop. And you can't stand by wasting your time again, bumbling around for an answer.

I need a resolution.

Friday, July 04, 2008

I was really looking forward to tonight. Made plans with a school mate to check out a chic new bar. Some place I've been itching to go for the longest time. Burned the CDs for the car. Prepped myself a good time of driving. But unfortunately, friend fell sick and I'm home.

And I'm really really tempted to go out to some bar on my own. Sometimes, there are so many places you wanna explore, but it can be such a bother to find people to go with you. Now I understand why some of the older guys in SM U like to travel solo. You do everything on your own terms, in your own time, and everything is what you make of it.

Just last Saturday, I almost had my first shot at going to this jazz bar incognito. Almost did, except that the gay boys called me halfway while I was on the expressway. And since it ain't always easy piecing together a gang of hangers, why not? I'd go with the boys.

But it's a Friday night right now. My jeans and top and CDs are ready to go. The lipstick's all set and the hair's freshly cut.

I really wish to go some place. Some place at night, where it won't be too odd to go alone.



But where?

Thursday, July 03, 2008

Getting to work requires me to take a feeder bus from MRT, followed by walking about 100 m to the office. Today, a young rather attractive filipino colleage was walking 5 paces in front of me during those 100m. And no matter what I do, I have to look in front. And as I was looking in front, I can't take my eyes off her ass! Geez! Doesn't help that most office pants are of the fitting and sleek variety, which actually, accentuates curves.


I am rolling eyeballs at myself. *rolls eyeballs*