Daffy's Ramblings

Loneliness has weight

2009-09-05T02:07:00.003+08:00

It's past two in the morning and I ought to be asleep, exhausted from a long, tiring and at times frustrating week that hasn't even ended. But I can't sleep.

Got off the phone with my sis a half hour ago, the conversation having run longer than either of us planned. The tail end of the phone call has left me concerned about her, and somewhat depressed.

And then depression turned into complete dissolution into tears, all of a sudden. I curl up in an empty corner of my bed and cry. Suddenly, my own years of disappointments and pain caught up with me in an instant. They do that sometimes.

The un-empty part of the bed contains his sleeping form. I consider waking him up and asking for the comfort I need, then find myself simply hoping that he'll wake up on his own. Then I decide I'll have to sit it out on my own, as always. (They always offer to let you wake them up when you need them, but I'm always hard pressed to find a man able to be as easily awake as I can.)

I'm still afraid, and perhaps I'll always be. Haunted, too.

Having baggage is a good thing - it helps you grow. But sometimes, when it all comes back to you at once, its weight can crush.

Loneliness comes in many forms and durations.

Constant ponderables

2009-06-25T17:20:00.007+08:00

It is everyone's desire to be desired above all others by one.

It is most people's fear to be taken for granted (if they stop to think about it).

It is some people's want to be pursued.

It is a few's need to be the strong one...which sometimes backfires on them.

It takes someone with major baggage (read: experience) to ponder upon all of the above at the same time.

Being with someone often feels like being on one of those old seesaws (not those wussy spring types nowadays). A constant up and down, along with a struggle to balance. What does one do when stuck on the heavy end? Or when one waits for lift-off and nothing happens?

The precarious nature of intimate connections with one other is magnified by awareness and focus. The resulting threat of loss is all the more terrifying, not to mention depressing. It's somewhat stressful having to think about all this again after a long break, especially if you wonder if you're the only one thinking about it.

I guess we all just want to feel treasured. Or possibly even loved.

Old keys

2009-06-16T03:48:00.006+08:00

I clutch in my hand two small keys, quite unable to let go of them.

In the midst of packing for the coming trip to my sister's, I looked at my big bunch of house keys and decided, with a mind to minimise weight carried, to finally remove the two keys to my old house and put them away since I never use them. I've ended up taking them off the key ring and just holding on to them - two small, cold, metal objects in my hand with an indelible hold on me.

It's been five years since I've moved from my lifelong Seletar home to this current place in River Valley, and it's never occurred to me to stop carrying around the old house keys. They still feel relevant to me, like I still need them.

How does one who values memories so deeply let go of 80% of her life? I spent most of my life in that house on Begonia Terrace and roaming the slopes of the surrounding Seletar Hills. Many of my childhood friends still live in that area. It's been witness to all my firsts. First bicycle ride, first piano lesson, first best friend, first crush, first ember of mature thought, first love, first hurt, first job.

This current residence in River Valley feels almost like a transitional abode, like I'm just resting here while 28 Begonia Terrace waits for me to go home. But I know we're not moving back there. I remember my first night officially moved out from it - I cried and felt like I was not home.

I stopped driving past the old place some time ago. Seeing it silent and alone hurts me. I miss my garden with the fruit trees and ixora shrubs. I miss the grandfather clock that has stopped working for almost two decades now. I miss the brown stairs - the first flight has an even number of steps, the second has an odd number. I miss how the different doors upstairs sound when you open them, close them or nudge them ajar. I miss watching sunsets and fighter plane fly-bys from my bedroom window. I miss having the moonlight fall on my face at the right times of the month. I even miss the hideous green and banana-yellow kitchen where my sis and I had that spectacular water fight.

But life moves and changes. Abodes come and go. Begonia Terrace will always be my real home, but for now, I make do with this cold shoe box that is my current residence and bedroom.

I know I'm going to put these two old keys away anyway. But not yet. I'll hold them a little while longer.

Scammed by MediaCrap

2009-05-26T06:02:00.003+08:00

Looks like I wasn't the only one who felt completely scammed today (Brendon Fernandez has posted a note about this incident too).

I was called for what sounded like a common casting at MediaCrap today (25 May).

When I get there, the first thing that sounds amiss is that I'm told I have to wait for another few auditionees to arrive before we can proceed to the audition. The second odd thing is that the casting it is not in the Annexe building as usual, but in some obscure corner of the compound. Anyone who has auditioned for MediaCrap before would know.

While in the holding room, I am told how lucky I am that I am next in line, and that others before me had had to wait a pretty long time.

I am then led into a room where I see a TV actor (let's call him L) I had worked with very recently; he appears very surprised to see me, then tells me he's producing this new show. We proceed into a small mock-up of an office where I can plainly see 3 two-way mirrors. L tells me this is a mock-up of the office for the character I'm auditioning for. I'm then told to fill out a talent form and memorise a short piece of dialogue for the audition - a piece of dialogue that is set in a pub, not an office, by the way. L then leaves me alone in the room.

A minute later, he startles me from behind, obviously having entered from a hidden door behind me. Being not a complete moron, I figure it's a deliberate setup to make me squeal, which I don't since I don't scare easily. He leaves the room and tries the same trick again, only this time I actually can hear the 'secret' door opening behind me. At this time, he says, "Surprise! You're on Just for Laughs!" and points to the camera in one of the two-way mirrors.

At this time, a dude walks in (whom I assume is the director) and says that my reaction is very calm, and asks me to try it again and pretend I'm really scared. I'm also very helpfully introduced to the notion that I'd "be on national TV!" for giving a truly scared reaction.

I ask whether I'll be paid for this. I'm told that I won't, but will be 'compensated' for my time and trouble - a whopping $20. But oh, this is "also a casting" for the future - either to be a pranker for the show or for "future projects".

I promptly ask that I be excluded from future such gags.

Not only was it a complete waste of my time, it is an insult to professional actors. In addition to my intelligence being insulted, I, along with goodness knows how many other actors have been taken advantage of today.

MediaCrap, who already aren't known for their regard for actors, have sunk to a new low. They have absolutely no respect for us as professionals and think that they can get away with luring people who are seeking real work opportunities and scamming them for a cheap show.

Am thoroughly pissed off.

The trust fall

2009-05-08T01:31:00.002+08:00

One thing I hadn't thought about for quite a while (and hadn't needed to) was the issue of trust when it comes to partners. My idle brain meandered through a winding train of thought and ended up contemplating the ideas of trust and the fear of being lied to.

I think this is possibly one of my biggest fears with men. Basically, I don't really care if someone who doesn't matter enough to me lies, or even if a good friend lies. Sure I'd feel a little hurt if a close friend told an untruth, but if it's not something that affects me too significantly, it's not that big a deal.

However, the experience of a fibbing partner is far more damaging, and it'd been a while since I remembered how damaged I still am from all the lies fed to me over the years by boys and men I loved and/or cared about.

I blame my ex-boyfriends (except V and E). The compulsive, incorrigible liar. The omitting liar. The lying-to-himself liar. And finally, the cowardly one who had everyone fooled - the least likely and yet the most accomplished of the liars.

It's a bit disturbing to find myself thinking about this issue again after it's been asleep for a while.

I think it's because it's been so long since I've come to care for anyone, and it's only very recently that I've started seeing some embers of it. The cycle starts again - the irrational compulsion to distrust things said to me, and the rational side hammers that down, and my gut instincts get all scrambled and confused and decide they'd rather just go back to hibernation because they know that really good liars can bypass them anyway. It's something my rational side has to keep battling with, because it surfaces involuntarily.

It's nothing personal to anyone. Just a reflex from being taken for an idiot too many times, often by guys who weren't even aware of how bad they were at lying. Seemed that each time I gave my trust, it got flung back and me and knocked me over.

I just wish it were easier to trust people, knowing it will never be again while I remain sound of mind. I also wish it were easier for someone to earn my trust.

Alien Sex Fiend

2009-04-28T15:12:00.004+08:00

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. Pass it on. Try not to repeat a song title.

Pick your artist: Garbage

Are you male or female: Androgyny

Describe yourself: Special

How do you feel about yourself: I Think I'm Paranoid

Describe where you currently live: The World Is Not Enough

If you could go anywhere, where would you go: My Lover's Box

Your favorite form of transportation: Tornado (See?? Can't get away from Oz references no matter what)

Your best friend is: Queer

Your favorite color is: Afterglow

What’s the weather like: Only Happy When It Rains (this one was waaaaay too easy)

Favorite time of day: Sleep

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called: Temptation Waits

What is life to you: Get Busy with the Fizzy

What is the best advice you have to give: Soldier Through This

If you could change your name, what would it be: Supervixen

Your favorite food is: Milk

Thought for the day: The Trick Is to Keep Breathing

How you would like to die: Medication

Your soul’s present condition: Fix Me Now

Hey Artist, you got a dollar?

2009-04-05T05:35:00.002+08:00

Encountered a new kind of panhandling the other day. Well, new to me anyway.

I was waiting at the St Andrew's cathedral bus stop on my own, when a middle-aged guy approached me.

"Do you know if the 961 goes to Woodlands?"

"I've never taken that bus so I don't know, but there's a route guide for all the buses just over there."

"Ok, thanks."

He doesn't make a move towards the route guides.

Next thing I know, he started chatting up. He seems nice enough so I oblige, but after a while, I start to wonder where this is going. He's clearly not picking me up as I don't get those kind of vibes from him. I'm starting to guess that he wants to ask for some change, when the 961 pulls up and he starts absently patting at his breast pocket.

"Oh dear, I don't have enough change. Do you have a dollar?"

I notice he doesn't take any coins out of his pocket to check. I'm about to say something about this when I spot my own bus pulling up to the bus stop. I decide it's easier to just give him the dollar and zhao.

The word that popped into my head right then was "panhandling". He was tactful, though not subtle. He spoke decent English too, and was comfortable chatting up a stranger. Something tells me he does this a lot. I'll just assume he needs that dollar more than I do.

[The title of this post is a quote from Rent, where a bag lady tries to get a dollar out of the film maker she just verbally thrashed.]

Unwelcome, some of the time

2009-03-31T13:21:00.007+08:00

Been doing a shoot for some film grad students, which has been unexpectedly fun, if tiring. I think it's more enjoyable because they're more easygoing than the get-it-over'n-done-with corporate and TV people, less harebrained and full of themselves than undergrad students, and actually give a damn about how their actors are faring...especially at 4am when the shoot is still a few hours from wrapping. I swear, I've never been offered a foot massage before on set. Repeatedly.

But an effect of shooting a short film about tenuous relationship identities and doing the 'right' thing (or the perception of doing it) in multiple-dimensional relationships is forcibly reminding me of the endings and near-endings that have stained and maimed me over the years.

I didn't need to be reminded of the pain of parting.

I didn't need to be reminded of the all-encompassing desire to yank someone back to me when they are already running in the opposite direction.

I didn't need to be reminded of the fucking illogical desire for a poisonous man, the kind that only kindles self-hatred by the end of things.

Nor the ugliness of self-discovery.

Nor the repulsion of making out with someone you don't really want. [No offense to anyone, but even the most gorgeous male alive would repulse me if I weren't attracted to him and had to make out with him. But professionalism will always be priority.]

Nor the sick feeling in the pit of the stomach when going through with something you know, on a deeper level, should not be.

Nor the feeling of utter solitude while next to someone.

Or maybe I needed to, and just didn't want to.

Ultimately we're all better for knowing and considering all of the above, and each stab will scab over to remind us of the painful lessons learnt, and what it is to live and love. Provided one is open to learning, of course. I will say that while it's unpleasant to revisit the numerous hurts, I don't regret them, nor the memory of them. It's these that shape us, like it or not. I probably owe whatever maturity I have to each scar I took (and learned not to pick at).

Every time something once-wonderful ends, it's natural to think it a soul-grating waste of time, forgetting, of course, what the once-wonderful parts of it did for your soul while it lasted. I disagree - I think it can all worth be it. And that's what keeps me going. Hoping the next one will be worth the ride too. The bumpy, thumpy, gut-wrenching ride. There has to be someone worth it. I know I am.

Sondheim probably said it best.

"Somebody hold me too close
Somebody hurt me too deep
Somebody sit in my chair, and ruin my sleep
And make me aware of being alive"
~Being Alive~

Hobbling but happy

2009-03-29T08:45:00.003+08:00

The year-beginning slump has officially ended. I'm a decently employed freelancer! Yay! Though, I still won't complain at more work.

Sure, I'm tired from the multiple activities (and playing too much of The Sims 2) and sometimes a bit boggled keeping track of everything that's going on at once, and currently a bit woozy from a 12-hour all-night shoot that ended when the sun rose, after a week of little sleep, but hey, I'm busy! Busy makes Daffy a happy chick! *two thumbs up*

Hang on while I keel over with a thud.

Now waiting for that new client to hand me more writing stuff to do. Money money money money...

Didn't think I'd say this just a couple of months ago, but I can't wait for the short break that's coming up where I get to sleep in and play all the Sims I want, and finally grab time with the friends I've neglected this sleep-deprived month. Most especially my very dear friend who'll be going away later this year, whom I'll miss very much.

Anyone wanna go clubbing this coming month??

Which part of NO WAITING do you not understand?

2009-03-10T23:23:00.005+08:00

I will sound like a stickler saying this, but people, traffic rules are usually there for a reason, dammit.

Today, one stupid schmuck was responsible for getting a whole lotta people stuck for 25 minutes.

There's a little turning from North Bridge Road onto North Boat Quay, which is a really short little road that joins to River Valley Road. You can see the MICA building and Clarke Quay from it. I pass through it very frequently on my way home, often driving, and there's one thing that never fails to irk me.

Right by the road facing a bus stop is High Street Centre. There is bunch of cars and trucks *very* illegally and perennially parked there along the no-wait zone (marked by a yellow zigzag). Since it's a small road with only two lanes, those inconsiderately parked vehicles manage to cause a bottleneck most hours of the day. I always wondered why the traffic cops have never had a field day there.

Today, I was on the 195, heading home after a tiring day at rehearsal (where I'd managed to do something weird to my lower back).

It is 5.45pm. As the bus driver gingerly tries to make the tight turn, he finds the bus blocked by a truck (with its hazard lights blinking) stopped right at the start of the no-wait stretch. Being a long vehicle, there is no way the bus can clear the turning without taking the lamp post and a few small trees with it if the truck doesn't make way. Naturally, the bus driver starts honking. After a minute or two, it becomes clear that the truck driver is nowhere nearby.

After 10 minutes, a few passengers decide to get off the bus and try their luck elsewhere, but I am too tired to follow suit. Meanwhile, curious passers-by are starting to peer into the truck and look around to see how they can help.

After 15 minutes, the building security guard comes round to check things out. One assumes he isn't clairvoyant enough to figure out where the truck driver is.

20 minutes later, a traffic cop arrives. He, too, walks around the truck, checking it out. He too can't clairvoyantly find the missing driver. By this time, a very long queue of cars waiting to turn has formed behind the bus since that junction sees a constant flow of traffic, especially at friggin rush hour. PLUS a long queue of cars on the down-ramp of the building's parking lot that can't get out because of the hold-up.

25 minutes later, the idiot driver finally shows up wheeling a trolley, and the oh-fuck look on his face is clear as he spots the cop. The young punk wisely decides to avoid eye contact with anyone else while he goes to move his truck out of the way.

I hope he gets a MAJOR summon.

Possibilities of a man on a bicycle

2009-03-10T04:30:00.008+08:00

While driving today, I drove past a man on a bicycle pedalling uphill. He was more hunched than short, more tawny than dark, more care-worn than old. In other words, the kind of guy that we generally pass by every day without giving much of a thought about, other than to dismiss as another ageing labourer.

And I found myself doing the thing I feel inspired to do every now and then - to capture passing images of people and wonder what their stories are. Well, spinning their stories may be more like it.

He may be an unremarkable man leading an unremarkable life in an unremarkable place.

He could be a foreigner who came here to work and just never went back. His wife may have long given up writing to him and went to another city to work herself.

He could be wearing that dull brown t-shirt to cover the intricately interweaving tattoos that decorate the back and the front of his body. If you looked carefully (and if he would ever show them to you), you would spot an occasional symbol in the mosaic of tattoos that you might not recognise fully but would put discomfort in your heart that you could not place.

Or to cover the deep purple grooves that form angry canyons up and down his back. The scars are clearly old but they still scream of a time that nearly took his life. He never tells anyone how he got them.

Maybe he rides that bicycle at 5pm to his third home of the day. It could be a void deck where he tells stories to passing children. It could be the coffee shop where they tolerate him and sometimes even give him food. It could be the seaside where he waits for sundown to start preying on lone beach goers and couples caught unaware, dragged into the filthy surf by silent hands where the last thing they will ever see is the dim glow of unnatural eyes in the murky water. It could be the lush living room of a lone expatriate who did not notice the dark but benign shadow that slipped in through the open window, nor the bicycle that lies propped up against the wall beneath the window - the unseen guest wanting nothing more than a place to rest for the night.

He could be a reflection of a man in a different land, pedalling up a different hill, passing by different scenery. Maybe the man does not see the cars driving around him nor the condominiums lining his route, but sees the familiar acres of farmland he proudly owns, unaware that he is seen a thousand miles from where he is. Maybe a careless driver who heads, terrified, right into the man and his bicycle will hit nothing but a holographic pool of light, and be sure that what he saw was a ghost when all he saw was a reflection from another part of the world. And hence, another ghost story is born. How these reflections come to be seen is not quite known, because one can never tell how reality truly works.

It's 5am and I've gotten carried away. I have rehearsal in 5 hours. Aiii.

But the mini story trip was worth it.

I wish I could write these down while I am driving. These moments when I see the possibilities in images of people, and, without fail, followed by pure curiosity about the one possibility that is their real life. I wonder who they are.

Shield your eyes while I boob-shimmy

2009-03-07T04:05:00.004+08:00

Oh my god. Look what my mum just bought me.
Why not just call me Mimi and drop me off at Geylang? I'd do brisk business there.

It's rather dim in the photo, but the bling bling square in the middle of the chest is REALLY bling bling; I almost went blind when she waved it in my face. I love chili red, but not in this ahlian-gone-man-hunting getup. While not a complete monstrosity, it's soooo not my kinda thing.

Oh well, still better than shiny skin-coloured tights with tassels.

And I Will Follow

2009-03-05T20:46:00.004+08:00

Weird memes are all I seem to be posting these days, innit? This one is a goofy one - you set your iPod (or in my case, my iTunes) on shuffle and each time you answer a question, you hit forward and 'answer' the question with the title of the song that happens to play right then.

IF SOMEONE SAYS 'ARE YOU OKAY' YOU SAY?
Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses - U2

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
Pure Shores (2 Da Beach U Don't Stop remix) - All Saints
[YEAH RIGHT, pure...]

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Crossing the River - The Devlins

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Futures - Mindless Self Indulgence

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Almost Unreal - Roxette
[My parents appear to think so too]

WHAT'S YOUR MOTTO?
Z - Mindless Self Indulgence

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Mourning Air - Portishead
[They've always told me I was cynical, but really...]

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?!
Blue Room - The Orb

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
I Adore Mi Amor - Color Me Badd
[I guess self-love is good?]

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
The Battle of Robot Bil - Terry S Taylor (The Neverhood soundtrack)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Concerto No. 4 in F minor, L'inverno - Vivaldi (played by Nigel Kennedy)
[Always thought my life was more of a tropical island, though]

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
See Me Here (Skope's Vocal remix) - Orion

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
I Knew I Loved You - Savage Garden
[Almost any song is a funny answer here, if you think about it]

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Caprice No. 24 - Paganini
[Eh??]

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
Moving On Up - M People

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
When You Believe - Mariah Carey & Whitney Houston
[This should be Jon's secret, not mine]

WHAT DO YOU WANT RIGHT NOW?
Your Daddy's Son - Ragtime soundtrack
[I already know what some of you will say about this...]

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Shake Some Action - Cracker

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
And I Will Follow - Jason Robert Brown (sung by Lauren Kennedy)
[Which is how I've come to post this in the first place]

Yet another meme

2009-02-18T23:36:00.002+08:00

Yes, I'm addicted to these. And yes, I had to edit the instructions that it came with.

Copy to your own note, erase my answers, enter yours, and tag twenty people.

Rules:
Use the first letter of your name to answer each of the following questions. They have to be real - nothing made up! If the person before you had the same first initial, you must use different answers. You cannot use any word twice and you can't use your name for the boy/girl name question.

1. What is your name: Daphne

2. A four-letter word: Dork (not going for the obvious one)

3. A boy's name: Dick (OK, I caved in)

4. A girl's name: Drusella

5. An occupation: Dancing monkey

6. A color: Dull mustard

7. Something you'll wear: Dress

9. A food: Durian

10. Something found in the bathroom: Drain

11. A place: Denali

12. A reason for being late: Deciding what to wear

13. Something you'd shout: Dang nabbit!

14. A movie title: Dirty Dancing

15. Something you drink: Dr Pepper

16. A musical group: Damn Yankees

17. An animal: Deer

18. A street name: Devonshire Road

19. A type of car: Daihatsu

20. The title of a song: Dragula

Another meme, from Facebook this time

2009-02-07T21:30:00.004+08:00

Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

1) Am most often seen wearing red, black, or both. And jeans.

2) Sis and I chat very frequently on the phone in the wee hours. We call it "The Bitching Hour".

3) Yes, it's a real mole. Yes, it sticks out. No, there are no hairs sticking out of it.

4) I hardly notice the big scar anymore - the one that's visible when I wear a bikini.

5) Am not good with kids, but turn into a warm, fuzzy puddle around my niece and nephew.

6) I like my lips.

7) Spent my growing years up not good-girl enough for the nerds but too good-girl for the cool kids.

8) Was very religious till my early 20s.

9) Being too straightforward means I sometimes stick my foot in my mouth. Being too dense means I realise it only hours (or years) later.

10) When I have PMS, I'm a non-stop eating machine.

11) When I have PMS, I avoid people more because I can get unpleasant.

12) Am a lot lazier than most people think.

13) I hardly ever buy computer games because I get very, very addicted to them.

14) Am good at jigsaw puzzles.

15) Am told I have OCD tendencies, but I like to think of them as quirks.

16) I own a lot of pretty sleepwear and lingerie that no one sees me in.

17) "Introverted", "beta" and "not representative of mainstream thought" describe my personality best. Am not as adverse to speaking to strangers anymore, though.

18) My family is blessed with youthful looks, so I'll probably look younger than my real age for some time yet.

19) I'm too comfortable with my beloved Y&W friends, so comfy that I sometimes forget to watch what I'm saying in front of the straight male members.

20) I love to sing along to mp3s and YouTube clips late at night, but not in the shower, and never in front of my family.

21) I cry when I watch the serious bits of Ugly Betty.

22) I try not to cry at movies.

23) Still trying to figure out how working in an industry so compact that commands rates so high (commercially, at least) can still pay so little.

24) Am hooked on Kakuro puzzles - I do at least one every night before I sleep.

25) My black feather boa loses a feather every time I put on make up.

A little past midnight

2009-01-29T00:03:00.007+08:00

Time is passing very slowly tonight. It doesn't feel like just a little past midnight. I think on mood-swing nights, it just kinda gets that way. It's a lonely night. Very much so. At least I have a few friendly voices that quip up every so often - little blips on my computer screen, but their presence is some comfort.

Getting bored sometimes makes you hyper aware of your surroundings, what you're feeling, along with all the unchannelled energies that accumulate for someone who spends much of her time alone, in some ways.

The tension in my shoulders and neck that I keep trying to remember to release when I become aware of it.

The minute but slightly odd tingle that air conditioning creates on your skin.

The way Peter Cincotti's voice makes me tingle a whole other way.

The way the fluorescent light makes my head feel tight.

How the desk clutter is starting to annoy me a little.

The sudden realisation that I do have pink-coloured possessions - my pig wrist pad, a baby mitten that belonged to Caitlyn, the flower on my favourite perfume bottle, a tube of moisturiser. And do you know what colour is my lip gloss, momsie?

How much I love my new mobile phone.

How the music makes me so much lonelier but so much more alive on quiet nights like these, how it makes me want to run out and lock limbs with a hot-blooded male, how it makes me want to slow dance with a tall man who smells of fresh soap and light musk, how it makes me want to walk along the river by myself in the darkness.

"And I would lay your body down and rock your tears away
But it’s much too late for now to be like yesterday
And the time is running out and we still have to say
Goodbye"
~Goodbye Philadelphia, Peter Cincotti~

Impossible conversations

2009-01-21T05:04:00.006+08:00

Don't you sometimes find it impossible to hold a normal, reasonable conversation with someone? These are snippets from an afternoon spent in the company of a family member who will remain unnamed... but you know who it is anyway. [Disclaimer: Mistakes (such as "Silk Route" instead of "Silk Road") really are what she thinks they are.]

On the topic of African people:

Me: How do you know what Sudanese people look like?

Her: Movies, lah! [She wasn't kidding]

~~~~~~~

On why loan sharks are known locally as dai yi loong (big ear hole):

Her: Maybe they wore big earrings that made their ear holes big.

Me: They could have originated from gangs.

Her: Maybe, like in China, they were rich people who wore big earrings. Or maybe they came from the Middle East, you know, like those Baghdad people.

Me: Huh? Baghdad is a city in Iraq.

Her: Aiya, you know what I mean. Those tribes from that area, like on the Silk Route, they looked like that. And since they went to China, maybe the Chinese called them dai yi loong because of their earrings.

Me: ... ... [I wasn't sure what the train of logic of that conversation thread was anymore]

~~~~~~~

On driving from home to Great World City:

Her: Parking there is so terrible. It takes such me a long time to get a place to park, and sometimes it takes a long time just to get into the car park.

Me: Why don't you walk there? It's only 5 minutes away.

Her: I'm so tired!

Me: But taking a long time to find parking is less tiring?

Her: I've been so busy and tired, and you're not helping me. Do you know how much I do every day? Do you know how tired I am every day?

I swear, some days, matricide is just an accident waiting to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A completely different topic, but I find it pointless blogging twice in a day.

Whenever I'm in California, I go nuts at the huge cosmetics departments at drug stores, Target and Walmart.

A current trend I noticed this year was 'smart' makeup, where the foundation or concealer or blush comes out white but changes shade on contact with your skin. It's supposed to transform into the optimal shade for you. There are some of these in Singapore, but it's in the US that they seem really common.

It sounded like a good idea to me, so when I saw this Almay concealer, I thought what the hey, since it's cheap and sounds promising, I might as well get one.
Of course, it occurred to me only later that a concealer that morphs into your skin tone is less good an idea. Sure enough, when I tried it after buying, I felt silly right away.

Here's why: What happens when a concealer changes into the shade of skin directly underneath it, i.e. the blemish that you are trying to conceal? That's right - it, very helpfully, changes into the very shade you were trying to conceal in the first place. So, I end up with a concealer that blends very nicely with the rest of my face, but doesn't conceal a thing.

DUH.

January blues

2009-01-12T05:09:00.003+08:00

There's something about this time of year that gets me down. Somehow, I'm depressed at this time of the year - starting around Christmas and lasts till maybe the end of February. Well, for these three years running, at least.

2007, it's pretty obvious what I was depressed about - my 4-year relationship with K was ending-then-ended.

But last year and this year, I'm not sure what I am and was really depressed about. They both started right about when I got back from a trip to my sister's. Withdrawal after spending time with them? Sudden loneliness?

Maybe it's because work pretty much grinds to a halt during this season, and since being busy makes me happy, perhaps the converse is true too. Maybe Í'm too free.

Maybe it's also partly because I cancelled a trip to Bangkok that I'd really been looking forward to, at great cost to time with treasured friends and to my pocket.

Maybe it's also partly because Joy has recently moved to Hong Kong, and I'm also contemplating the possibility that Winds' audition will be successful and he'll up and go too in the near future. How many of my dearest friends are going to be far away in time? Lian is already far away, not geographically, but has drifted away over the past year.

I always search for deeper reasons why I'm down during this season. This nauseating, Hallmark- and Bee Cheng Hiang-dominated season where, in shopping malls and public places, icky Christmas tunes transition into the grating cacophony of Chinese New Year music and garish decorations assault your eyes everywhere you go. Presents and ang baos are never enough to justify these commercially-lucrative jokes where the true celebrations are in retailers' pockets.

Erm, I digress.

Waiting for change. Waiting for new and better things to come. Why does my life always seem to move only in the second half of the Gregorian calendar? Why can't I shake off this smothering don't-feel-like-doing-anything doldrum? Can barely bring myself to lift my ass out of bed each day. Can barely persuade myself to go to sleep each night when I realise in horror what time I've stayed up to.

This sounds so self-pitying.

In spite of myself, I must say that companionship sounds like a mightily nice option right now. Not necessarily a relationship, just companionship.

The only people who have showered me with hugs and kisses lately were all under the age of 6. Well, actually I get hugs in plentiful supply from my dear friends, but there's something intoxicating about affection that's given randomly and without apparent purpose, and yet purposeful, in the way only children and lovers can give.

Someone please hire me to write something other than my blog.

I want to read in Ah-mericah

2008-12-25T07:05:00.004+08:00

I don't know what I'm doing up at 7am on Christmas, so I'll just blame jet lag.

Before I forgot, I just HAD to post these two pictures up first before all the other trip photos. Spotted them in Bookshop Santa Cruz.

This is for all my special thespian friends. And no, I found it in neither the drama nor horror departments. Check out the purple tights and the make-Ben-Wong-jealous pecs.

This one is dedicated specially to Candice and Bun Bun.

Just an afterthought after browsing several American bookstores: Why are the audio books sections so huge? In Borders here, audio books take up two sides of one shelf. Over there, I see shelf after shelf after shelf of audio books. Oddly, I hear that the audio books clientèle doesn't comprise entirely of hearing-impaired and elderly people. The hypothesis put forth to me was that there are lazy Americans out there who won't read something if it doesn't come in any form other than just words. My sis tells me about people she knows and/or have worked with that seem to have hardly read a single book after graduating from college or high school, and how they graduated was a mystery.

Quick peep

2008-12-15T13:46:00.008+08:00

Just a few quick images from the past 3 weeks. Will post more photos when I get back.

Most Santa Cruz sunsets are beautiful, but on mildly cloudy days, they're awesome.

Another tidbit from Anal Retentive Land. Guess whose handiwork this is?

And then, my sister leaves her own legacy. Told you she was stacked. By the way, she really does this at every meal/snack - stack.

I was a little horrified, plenty amused to find this in a Toys R Us email ad - Playmobil Roman Arena set, complete with lion, gladiators and thumb-down emperor. What, no half-eaten Christians?
Cute (and sometimes noisy) squirrels like to scuttle around the yard. This one found a nut and was trying to eat it literally all over the yard. It didn't keep still for more than 3 seconds I reckon. The photo's a bit blurry as I had to take the picture from behind the screen door.

The Santa Cruz coastal area is the western wintering grounds for the Monarch butterflies. It used to be spectacular, with the trees simply covered in them. Sadly, their numbers are dwindling at an alarming rate, and today they number less than 5% of what they did 10 years ago. Still, it was cool to watch when batches of them took flight.
Another rare conjunction! Venus and Jupiter were less than 2" close at the end of November, and they were so bright in the night sky that even my crappy Sony Cyber-shot camera could capture them. The crescent moon joined them on 30 November - these pictures were taken around 5.30pm Pacific Time. Venus is the brighter dot of light.

This is the photo the Ginsburg family used for their X'mas cards this year, taken 2 days ago. You can clearly tell the kids inherited their daddy's hairline and forehead size - not as obvious for Sean at this point at his fringe has grown out, but check out the length of his head. Aren't they adorable?

One storm down, more to come

2008-12-12T10:20:00.002+08:00

FINALLY, the Yahoo situation has resolved! After I pleaded for the umpteenth time, they finally allowed me to provide alternative information before resetting my password. Relief!

The weather's about to turn. After the first few foggy days, my stay here has mostly been very sunny and beautiful. The weather forecast has predicted storms coming up over the weekend and early next week though, which is really befitting since The Parents arrive on Monday. Figures.

Been surprisingly busy here. My sis has a never-ending list of stuff to do, and having the kids around is a constant challenge, adorable though they are, and I'm pretty much helping out most of the time. Like I said, this ain't no vacation. On the plus side, I think I'm getting bigger biceps from carrying the girl a lot. On the minus side, I'm getting a bigger waistline to match - American-size food portions are a killer.

My day begins with having the little girl wake me up (I sleep in her room and she ALWAYS wakes up earlier than I do), me changing her diaper, then succumbing to her begging me to read books to her. She loves being read to. A lot. Plus she has her favourite books. This means I read 10 books or more to her every day, and the same ones every day. Thank goodness she's cute or I'd have killer her or myself by now.

Then there's the boy. I love my nephew, but I hate boys his age. Doesn't help that he has multiple issues that annoy me, including a kwai lan character and territorial issues with baby sister. Again, good thing he's charming and cute.

At least I'm spending loads of time with my sis, talking, laughing, reading, eating, eating somemore, and most importantly, bitching.

Guess the best of the trip's pretty much over, now that the folks are arriving, along with rain and cold. Sigh.

Update on Yahoo situation #3

2008-12-05T06:50:00.002+08:00

Faxed Yahoo the following yesterday:

* Copy of passport (specifically, "Copy of state/government issued photo ID")
* Name
* Contact email
* Yahoo ID
* Permission for Yahoo to enter my account
* Birthdate
* Postal code
* Alternate email address

And after all this, they finally emailed me my secret question. I had an idea of what the answer was, but (cue to bang my head on the nearest wall) I couldn't remember the exact phrasing!! I submitted a list of possible answers, all of which were not an exact match. So access denied.

That was my last option of getting them to reset my @#$%& password. Even though I'd submitted a copy of my fucking passport and gave every other detail. What more do they want? DNA sample? Noooo...it's the secret answer or NOTHING. They're so by-the-book that they refuse to consider this on a case-by-case basis, and the one thing they accept is the secret answer.

I've even, in desperation, offered to tell them the details of my email account, the contents, my contact list, what's written in my notes, my Yahoo groups, ANTHING.

Plus, the account security department refuses to be contactable via phone, only through email. And I get the same damn standard answer bullshit that only shows they hardly even bothered reading the problems I highlighted. There's no real human being I can talk to, no manager or superior I can address who might give a damn, nothing. The drones at Customer Care refuse to do anything either.

What do I do? I have so many important information stored in my Yahoo account. It's my own damn fault that I didn't write down my new password nor my secret Q&A (which I entered so long ago that I forgot). But this is downright ridiculous.

Update on Yahoo situation #2

2008-11-30T02:40:00.003+08:00

Got reply. They refuse to ask me my secret question.

Let me get this straight.

I'm writing to them from my alternate email which they would have used to send me my password reset IF their usual channel had worked.

They insist I give my secret answer without asking me the question. Even credit card companies ask you your security question, and they even have several questions for you to choose to answer.

AND all this is after they ask me for a photocopy of my ID, my country, my birth date, postal code, plus 4 or 5 other details.

I'm almost beyond frustrated.

I'm going to ask to speak to a manager if this goes on. VERY angry now.

Update on Yahoo situation

2008-11-29T06:36:00.005+08:00

Got a reply from Yahoo after submitting the online form, specifying the problems I encountered. And what do I receive? A nice reply saying thank you for yadda yadda yadda - nice, obviously typed by a person, not a machine. A reply which stated that, in response to my problem which was forwarded to him by his colleague, he would send...an auto-reply. One that gave the exact same fucking useless info as on their fucking useless help page.

And, to infuse me with a sense of foreboding, the message stated that if this info doesn't help me (duh), I should provide a long list of personal details to prove my identity - and this includes my secret question and answer.

About 1 or 2 years ago, I had forgotten my password and tried to reset it, and when I didn't remember what the @#$%^& my secret Q&A were, they said they couldn't help me, even though I could provide ALL the other info correctly. Even though the usual channel for resetting passwords asked for only 40% of the info they requested here, not including the secret Q&A (provided that @#$%^& channel even works). How many ways do I have to try to reset my password only to find it doesn't work?

PLUS the fact that, during one of my many attempts to change my password this time round, they had asked for my secret answer...but didn't provide the secret question!! I Googled the problem and apparently it's an extremely common qualm. Come on, a lot of people don't remember what secret Q&A they entered, plus, wasn't the question entered so that we could be asked to answer it??

I never got the help I needed that last time. I'm filled with dread this time round.

At least I'm in California. I'll storm the damn Yahoo HQ if I have to. It's really time they revise their damn senseless security measures.

I feel about ready for some form of homicide.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Latest development:

Called the Yahoo customer care hotline. Finally - a living being to talk to!

However, they can't access my account through customer care. The hotline person said my account is to be referred only to the account security department which can ONLY be accessed through email. I can't speak to any living person in account security. I'm thinking may that's because they know know how much abuse they'd have to take.

So...I'm back to square one. And even more homicidal.

Fog, sun, more fog, lots of whining

2008-11-28T04:06:00.002+08:00

Hey dearies! Won't be able to be online very much these few weeks, so just a quick line to update now and then.

Am now at my sis' place in Santa Cruz, CA, and apparently my arrival heralded the rainy season - the day I arrived was the first truly foggy day of the month. The kids are impossibly adorable, and driving us all up the wall constantly. Oh, and my PMS just started yesterday - I am surrounded by stressful kiddy whining AND American portions of food AND Thanksgiving feast in a couple of hours' time. Wish me luck, or prepare to welcome home the Blimp once known as Daphne.

Yahoo password security SUCKS!!! I changed my password last weekend but woefully forgot what it was. When I tried to reset my password through 1) using not just one but two alternate emails, and 2) entering my personal information previously provided for such security purposes, I get this: "Password cannot be reset online". What the FUCK??!! If a password cannot be reset online, then where?? And since I had to retry a few times, my account got locked. And when I finally found an email address to write to (they refuse to provide one on the help page), I get an auto reply saying they only respond to online forms which I've promptly filled. Now waiting to see if I'll have to hunt down their California HQ number to scream at them. VERY frustrated.

So there - a summary of my current situation. Oh, and riding a very nicely refurbished Boeing 777 with lovely sound system, a Business Class (that I walked through on the way to my Poor Man's Class) that looks like First Class, a First Class that looks like little hotel rooms, and entertainment system that could've kept me entertained for weeks. And two different Korean gentlemen who sat next to me, who were very quiet, polite and had no sense of personal space. My personal space, that is.

Love to you all. Miss you.