Have you ever had one of those moments when you crave a certain food, or the caress of a special someone?

Or if , you’ve ever desperately wanted to listen to the one song that will bring you back into the recesses of your mind back to a single moment suspended in the immortality of tim. Vitamin C’s Graduation ( Friends forever ) was the single most played song at every graduation for the couple of years after it appeared on the airwaves. I remember how the bunch of us back in IJ sat cross legged in hard, plastic chairs cramming the evening away armed with determination and assorted snacks contributed in name of kind charity from nameless strangers. Those were the days of girlish repertoire about boys, giggling and turning pink at the first glance of puppy love. It was a time when worries were detached from the harsh reality of life, when the blaspheme of religion met with strict disapproval, when the talk of sex drew abashed looks and embarrassed glances. Like a fortress, we were safe within the white washed walls of the convent, and time seemed suspended into eternity.

Looking back, there is a sense of forlorn displacement within me and the deep longing to relive these memories again. As cliche as it may sound, it seemed like just yesterday when I first stepped into the pebbled steps of school and felt so incredibly lost never knowing that my journey was only starting. These days, I’m left floundering in a sea of murky uncertainties pivoted only by the one determination of realizing my dreams. My wants culminate into manifestations of fear that these dreams I have will turn into nightmares in black stasis. Big dreams of law school, getting a masters degree in Sino-American military foreign policy and the eventuality of practicing family or maritime law. Patrick tells me that I shouldn’t worry so much over the uncertainties that the future may bring. He insists that worrying doesn’t do a thing. But I beg to differ because worrying is the latent manifestation of emotional and physical investment over the matter. That is, the more one invests in something, the proportion of anxiety will follow suit.

Well, I have grown tired of trying to control the uncontrollable. And to be absolutely pragmatic on the matter, all I can do right now is to pour brilliance into my essays, write with an impressive flourish and read like a fiend in preparation for my ISM paper due on the 9th.

Apparently, asking for a picture of alleged broken beads before giving a refund or exchange is poor customer service. This unreasonable bitch of a customer left me 4 negative feedback after I requested proof for the ‘broken’ beads, citing reasons such as lacking the time or equipment to take a simple picture. What a fucking liar this woman is. She has a jewelry website linked to her paypal that has pictures of her (hideous) made jewelry, so she’s very obviously lying when she claimed she didn’t have a camera. I’ve given her the damn refund for that one set of beads that she found fault with, and I hope she removes the negatives. People like that disgust me and make me want to bitch slap some sense into them. Asswipes.

If you haven’t already guessed, I’m in a foul mood.

Yesterday’s informal dialogue with Cpt Schick and the 2 midshipmen was… interesting. For desperate lack of a different word to describe it. I was indeed impressed by all 3 sailors and the outstanding quality of their answers towards questions that were either superficial or naive in thought. One girl — a math freshman from the PRC, conveyed her latent fears about the U.S recession and sought a sense of security from the role of the USN. In an economic downturn triggered by staggering consumer confidence, a dismal housing market and pre-election jitters. In short, the role of the US military is either divorced or at best obscure from the entire notion of an economic recession in the United States. In the discourse of her question, she assumed that the military spearheads economic decision making and initiate financial processes. What is this, Myanmar?? Preposterous! Since when was wall street overrun by men in green and how exactly does the militia, as prestigious as it is dictate economic reforms? The thought of black berets bobbing among a sea of suited individuals in NASDAQ is absurd. She forgets that fundamentally, America is not like China where the top leadership ordinates every s.i.n.g.l.e reform. I really did expect more from a scholar, tsk tsk. Such faux pas make for great party fodder.

Another boy who, like all singaporean men have some albeit (very) limited military background, was curious to know what would happen if a product of Annapolis with laudable moral dignity, in charge of a command squadron during an offensive did not want to wipe out a harmless little hamlet but was under pressure to from his men. A very convoluted rhetoric there but you get the point. And perhaps it was the unabashed ego-pandering going on there, or maybe it’s me being defensive but what kind of absurd question is that? He assumes that all graduates of the Naval Academy are superior in morals, intellect and experience than enlisted guys. Enlisted men, divorced from happy elitism are made to eat repulsive galley food, instead of maryland crabcakes. Clearly, someone hasn’t been paying attention in military school. The Just War theory is taught to ALL military men whether in boot camp or the naval academy or west point or whatever. It’s basic knowledge and only guerillas and terrorism and general McArthur ignore it. To be honest, if each and every man in the squadron feels the need to attack a village which they feel may contain lethal ambush, I doubt the officer will beg to differ in thought and fear. Here the wonders of the media in democratic establishments can be seen. The thought of CNN headlines ” USNA graduate lack of initiative causes 50 deaths in Baghdad” is enough to force the poor man to accede to the requests of his troops. Rousseau reiterates all the time that the decision of a group of people is better thought out than that of one person. Plus, who really cares if random civilians in Iraq are slaughtered. Frighteningly, patriotism like religion often has a way to justify murder.

I’ve had no military experiences, nor served in the military before or is in any way shape or form affiliated with any militia but both the above questions posed to our distinguished guests last night lacked both depth and intellect. Indeed, the quality of the scholars program has atrophied. I am so glad I’m leaving this year for better pastures ahead.

Like a bloody cherry on top of my parfait, to make my entire tuesday shitty beyond reprieve some other little irritations peppered my evening. Over dinner, assorted individuals brought up the topic of Sarong Party Girls which is a derogatory tagline for asian women — specifically Singaporean women who are sexually fascinated with white men generally speaking. Or so are perceived to be that way. Of course such terms are coined by frustrated Singaporean men who decide to theorize a global phenomena for peace of mind. I’ve tried to explain to many that in the U.S as well as elsewhere, white men are increasingly fascinated with asian women and black men, with white girls. Instead of listening to me, they prefer to attach callous terms to their women to avoid facing up to their insecurities. They choose to indulge in their sexual fantasies over print, online or in their thwarted minds instead of going out for coffee with the girl they like and actually getting to know her. In the laws of physics, action usually equals work done. Evolutionary, the lack thereof will result in inertia and possibly regress. Which explains drastic population drop in industrialized asian countries. Who needs sex when you have your psp? Or iphone. Or other little nifty electronic gadgets. They get an orgasm from conquering cyber hamlets. I suppose my repulsion is misplaced ; the entire concept of an orgasm should not be limited to sexual parameters so who am I to judge? Still, I could write an entire paper about why I do not find asian Asians attractive. Indeed, I profess my love for American Asian men. Them with their masculinity is attractive. For a self-professed phallic female, I cannot resist the allure of masculinity. And Patrick, tall and dashing in his navy regalia with broad shoulders and hairy arms embodies it. Indeed the importance of hair is central to the notion of sexuality. Why do you think bikini waxing exist and hair therapy persists? Still on the hair paraphernalia, I also have a fetish for men who have long eyelashes, thick lips, big… almond shaped eyes and a good complexion. All feminine traits apparently. And everything that Patrick has. Of course, it pisses them off that I fit comfortably within the color spectrum of beauty, am reasonably wealthy, terribly intellectual and therefore horrifyingly negates the incredible assumption that I, the impoverished, oppressed asian female is marrying the rich American for a ticket out to greener pastures. That I am disdainful of the archetypal Asian man and above all, engaged to a white man is incomprehensible to them.

And about the accent. Gabriel, it is not that fascinating. If it helps you sleep better at night, console yourself that it was indeed conjured and concocted to deceive everyone of my very telling heritage as a Singaporean. Tell yourself that I put on an accent EVERY single day of my life when I speak to Patrick in the US for 3 months. This accent that comes out every time I am hopelessly inebriated in Singapore ( ask Lynnette and Jaesson or anyone else who knows what happened fall of 06 ) is indeed superficial. But you can’t lay off the subject because it sounds genuine. Because you have the sneaking suspicion that my accent is not actually American but Singaporean. Indeed, I try to speak Singaporean in Singapore, in the hopes of offsetting stupid little snide comments like yours about a fabricated accent. Without much success of course, so my language nuances come out mangled not resembling anything much than a haphazard mesh of verbal kitsch. Not that I care what anyone thinks about it, but it’s getting on my nerves that everyone and anyone who has an opinion about it feels the necessity to share it with me. I didn’t ask for your opinion, nor do I want it so can it.

For tenacious reasons such as the ones cited above, your point about me being an SPG or speaking with an allegedly false accent is rendered moot. Not only have I succeeded in annoying you through this one sided dialogue on my blog to which you face obstacles delivering an alternative rhetoric against ( what is an opinion unheard and thus ineffective), but I will continue my life cheerfully engaged to a white man, and conversing with a misleading tilt in my accent.