(I couldn't help thinking about Mel Gibson's blue face when I typed that header)
I slapped my resignation letter on my boss's desk on Wednesday, and I couldn't feel better about it. I've finally quit after I first said I "didn't intend to stay for long" about a year ago. So you can say that my resignation is one year overdue. But my reasons back then were different from what they are now. Noting that this is a blog for anyone to freely read, it's probably not a good idea delve into the specifics of my reason for leaving. Suffice to say I've had it right up to here.
Intense workload aside, it had been an enjoyable job with lots of potential. However, it's never easy to navigate around Someone who maintains a bias against you through no fault of your own. Some may say it was bad luck, but I think it's just the nature of Someone that attracted a rojak of ass-kissing, back-stabbing, favouritism, hypocrisy and standoffs that resulted in me being caught in a crossfire. In any case, this is a really ridiculous amount of politicking in such a tiny company (there're seven of us currently, including 2 directors). I realised not matter how much effort I put in, no matter how much I try to ignore Someone, no matter how well I produce, I'll never come to anything here because Someone doesn't want me to.
I'm really not used to be prejudiced against. If anything, I'm more used to blending in with the wallpaper than being pressed down by biases. Hence, it totally mystifies me that someone can have it against me. For what? I've no idea. A product of Someone's biased nature I suppose, which manifests in every aspect of Someone's life anyway.
Hence, I'm outta here as soon as I humanly can. I'll leave the rest of them to their politics while I enjoy a well-deserved break.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Music fuels the savage appetites
Isn't it amazing how much effect music has on us? I thought about this as I told my friend that I was laaaaaaaaaaaazy to do something - that made me think of that silly song that contains this line: "Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm thinkin' that I'm laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazy".
Music is so absolutely potent, and has the potential to dictate what we feel as we listen to it. Listening to Yo-yo Ma's rendition of Bach's cello suites can make you melancholy one moment and make your spirit soar the next. Popping in jazz can make you slump back and chill in a matter of seconds. Modern Talking can make your feet lead you reluctantly but irresistably to the dance floor (this is called a guilty pleasure). Sade's husky voice may well make you wanna pounce on your partner and start making out.
And Harry Connick Jr makes my skin tingle with his sexxxxxy voice!
When I'm out, I have this weird thing where I'm very aware of whatever music is playing...which is why I suffer for the 10 minutes that SIA airplanes take to taxi from the runway to the terminal - SIA insists on playing muzak while the plane is taxiing. Even in crowded, noisy eateries, I can always perk up when I hear a fave tune or suppress a barf reflex when I realise it's Michael Bolton's constipated exertions.
I have a theory, based on what I think I'm observing:
When I was a teenager, (teeny bopper boy bands aside,) the grunge movement was in full swing, and radiowaves were filled with the sounds of angsty bands talking of hurt, pain, anger, suicide, the dark side of human nature, and whatever made you listen and think, "OK, I think I'll go slit my wrists now." The result is as Bart Simpson so aptly put it: "Making teenagers depressed is like shooting fish in a barrel." Depression was the hallmark of being a teenager, slouches, pouts and all.
These days, the mainstream popular music that teenagers like is mostly R&B with their "gigolos", "ho's" and general boyd fest. And the way I see it, it seems to have coincided with the general sexualisation of youths these days. No longer do I see the genre of the angsty teenager moping about with their underwear showing. Now I see that showing as much skin as possible is the rage, and being as sexy as possible is the main preoccupation, at least compared to eras before (hmm....except maybe the Roaring 20s, and that never quite took place in full swing in Singapore).
On the plus side, the Ah Beng and Ah Lian subspecies seem to have died out, except for their cheesy techno-pop music that still plays in some stores - the last Ah Lian hold-outs, I reckon.
This is not to say teenagers aren't angsty or suffer from unhappy identity crises anymore, just that the emphasis has shifted according to tastes, and, I believe, music. Music has such effect on how people feel about themselves and the world, and surely affects general moods and perceptions. (By the way, I think that the 90s hoo-haa about subtle messages being played backwards in heavy metal music is a load of crock - talk to me backwards and see if I know what the hell you're saying.)
R&B is certainly not what it used to be. It was absolutely fab in the 60s and 70s with blues-type bands and groups that called themselves The-Somethings. It took a dip in the 80s with sappy, Lionel Richie-type crooning, but was still not too bad. It was almost fab again in the 90s with groups like En Vogue, Salt-n-Pepa, and the even the ballads were pretty good, or at least OK. These days, I'm not sure if they're singing or rapping about anything else except prostitutes, sex and guns. Whatever happened to classy divas like Sade? Bring back Aretha Franklin and Wilson Pickett!! If you can raise Ella from the dead, that'd be absolutely loverly...but that ain't really R&B anymore anyway.
Music is so absolutely potent, and has the potential to dictate what we feel as we listen to it. Listening to Yo-yo Ma's rendition of Bach's cello suites can make you melancholy one moment and make your spirit soar the next. Popping in jazz can make you slump back and chill in a matter of seconds. Modern Talking can make your feet lead you reluctantly but irresistably to the dance floor (this is called a guilty pleasure). Sade's husky voice may well make you wanna pounce on your partner and start making out.
And Harry Connick Jr makes my skin tingle with his sexxxxxy voice!
When I'm out, I have this weird thing where I'm very aware of whatever music is playing...which is why I suffer for the 10 minutes that SIA airplanes take to taxi from the runway to the terminal - SIA insists on playing muzak while the plane is taxiing. Even in crowded, noisy eateries, I can always perk up when I hear a fave tune or suppress a barf reflex when I realise it's Michael Bolton's constipated exertions.
I have a theory, based on what I think I'm observing:
When I was a teenager, (teeny bopper boy bands aside,) the grunge movement was in full swing, and radiowaves were filled with the sounds of angsty bands talking of hurt, pain, anger, suicide, the dark side of human nature, and whatever made you listen and think, "OK, I think I'll go slit my wrists now." The result is as Bart Simpson so aptly put it: "Making teenagers depressed is like shooting fish in a barrel." Depression was the hallmark of being a teenager, slouches, pouts and all.
These days, the mainstream popular music that teenagers like is mostly R&B with their "gigolos", "ho's" and general boyd fest. And the way I see it, it seems to have coincided with the general sexualisation of youths these days. No longer do I see the genre of the angsty teenager moping about with their underwear showing. Now I see that showing as much skin as possible is the rage, and being as sexy as possible is the main preoccupation, at least compared to eras before (hmm....except maybe the Roaring 20s, and that never quite took place in full swing in Singapore).
On the plus side, the Ah Beng and Ah Lian subspecies seem to have died out, except for their cheesy techno-pop music that still plays in some stores - the last Ah Lian hold-outs, I reckon.
This is not to say teenagers aren't angsty or suffer from unhappy identity crises anymore, just that the emphasis has shifted according to tastes, and, I believe, music. Music has such effect on how people feel about themselves and the world, and surely affects general moods and perceptions. (By the way, I think that the 90s hoo-haa about subtle messages being played backwards in heavy metal music is a load of crock - talk to me backwards and see if I know what the hell you're saying.)
R&B is certainly not what it used to be. It was absolutely fab in the 60s and 70s with blues-type bands and groups that called themselves The-Somethings. It took a dip in the 80s with sappy, Lionel Richie-type crooning, but was still not too bad. It was almost fab again in the 90s with groups like En Vogue, Salt-n-Pepa, and the even the ballads were pretty good, or at least OK. These days, I'm not sure if they're singing or rapping about anything else except prostitutes, sex and guns. Whatever happened to classy divas like Sade? Bring back Aretha Franklin and Wilson Pickett!! If you can raise Ella from the dead, that'd be absolutely loverly...but that ain't really R&B anymore anyway.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
I just ate a muffin. Feeling surprisingly full after, especially since I ate no lunch to speak of, unless you count a cup of carrot-and-apple juice and a few sips of soy milk. Was a nice-ish chocolate muffin...but then again, anything tastes great when you're hungry I suppose.
Am on a probably futile attempt to lose some weight before my friend's wedding next month. Haven't seen this group of friends for years, and the last time I met them was 5kg ago. Sigh, the ravages of time...and too much festive and holiday and stress-relief and PMS eating. Yeah, PMS really sends my appetite through the roof, and chocolate suddenly gives me meaning in life for a week each month.
Geez, I'm sounding like a weight-conscious neurotic. Sad but true that many of us are. Really worried when I grow older I'll get afflicted with stuff like diabetes, cardiovascular disease, die of angina at age 40, have half my bowels yanked out due to colorectal cancer, etc. Most of all, I'm worried that I'll have a waistline to rival Henry VIII's by the time I'm middle aged.
Funny, but that got me thinking about a silly poem I wrote when I was 11 about the ghost of a queen (I had been picturing Anne Boelyn while I was writing that). The teacher questioned me if I'd written that myself, the first of a string of teachers who asked me the same thing at various points in my academic life. It's kinda flattering on one hand, yet rather miff-ing on the other not to be trusted at the only thing I'm sure I'm good at.
Am on a probably futile attempt to lose some weight before my friend's wedding next month. Haven't seen this group of friends for years, and the last time I met them was 5kg ago. Sigh, the ravages of time...and too much festive and holiday and stress-relief and PMS eating. Yeah, PMS really sends my appetite through the roof, and chocolate suddenly gives me meaning in life for a week each month.
Geez, I'm sounding like a weight-conscious neurotic. Sad but true that many of us are. Really worried when I grow older I'll get afflicted with stuff like diabetes, cardiovascular disease, die of angina at age 40, have half my bowels yanked out due to colorectal cancer, etc. Most of all, I'm worried that I'll have a waistline to rival Henry VIII's by the time I'm middle aged.
Funny, but that got me thinking about a silly poem I wrote when I was 11 about the ghost of a queen (I had been picturing Anne Boelyn while I was writing that). The teacher questioned me if I'd written that myself, the first of a string of teachers who asked me the same thing at various points in my academic life. It's kinda flattering on one hand, yet rather miff-ing on the other not to be trusted at the only thing I'm sure I'm good at.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
7.37pm, mid-September
Am sitting in the office now, eyes feeling goddarned tired, probably because I'm not used to wearing both mascara and tinted moisturiser for half a day. That, and the confounded airconditioning. Am wearing a black knit top that I thought I looked great in when I first got it, but took a look in the mirror earlier and realised that I look remarkably different in it after a pasta meal.
Bummed a little of my time in the office just now, just very much not in the mood to work. Decided to see if anyone else on the internet remembers how the "When the Jews return to Zion" prophesy got fulfilled in The Omen (1976 horror classic about a freckled kid who turns out to be the devil's son). Googled it, no help anywhere. Am too lazy to watch the entire movie to look out for it. Anyone knows? Anyone? Never mind.
Bummed a little of my time in the office just now, just very much not in the mood to work. Decided to see if anyone else on the internet remembers how the "When the Jews return to Zion" prophesy got fulfilled in The Omen (1976 horror classic about a freckled kid who turns out to be the devil's son). Googled it, no help anywhere. Am too lazy to watch the entire movie to look out for it. Anyone knows? Anyone? Never mind.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Sunday, September 04, 2005
I'd been out of touch with the news of late, so I got a shock when I read about the huge disaster in New Orleans and the Mississippi. I knew there was some hurricane somewhere, but for it to finally wreak havoc in the Big Easy was a fatalistic shock. Not that it's unexpected, really. New Orleans was an accident loooooong waiting to happen, what being in the hurricane zone and a large part of it being below sea level. It's spooky because I just saw a documentary on a plane ride just a month before that spoke about New Orleans being at huge hurricane risk.
Double spook by the fact that one of my oldest and dearest friends pretty damn near went to live there. Grace had been engaged to Liam, who lives and works there, but broke off the engagement some months before the wedding, which would have been in September last year. We're a little worried, since she hasn't been able to contact him since we heard about the disaster, and I hope it's only because of the power and phone outage - hope he's fine and well. In the meanwhile, I'm pretty glad Grace averted this herself, though it took an unfortunate circumstance.
Double spook by the fact that one of my oldest and dearest friends pretty damn near went to live there. Grace had been engaged to Liam, who lives and works there, but broke off the engagement some months before the wedding, which would have been in September last year. We're a little worried, since she hasn't been able to contact him since we heard about the disaster, and I hope it's only because of the power and phone outage - hope he's fine and well. In the meanwhile, I'm pretty glad Grace averted this herself, though it took an unfortunate circumstance.
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