After the ensuing madness of online air-ticket buying fiasco, I finally purchased a seat for August 30th to Portland from Singapore before rushing off to school for my 10 minute appointment with Dr Yew about a topic that I hadn’t thought of yet. A visit with the doctor with a huge metal syringe full of water injected into my ear later, I started feeling giddy and my words sometimes came out incoherent. I left school at 4pm and by the time I got home, I couldnt fight off the nausea. Missing Patrick’s phonecall 2 minutes after really didn’t help either and I felt my forehead getting warmer. I am beginning to think that I am allergic to school, nausea and all kinds of maladie flower within me at the end of every school day. Perhaps the daily routine of classes, of videos proudly marketing the guilt of consumerism of wanton life, of fingernails clicking away distractedly on silver keyboards conceal the anguish of missing him. As we sit in air-conditioned classes contemplating the grave consequences of poverty, I guilt uncomfortably while my thoughts are fixated on what to get for lunch. I fight a moral battle every lesson and this is taking its toll on me. Before school started, I persuaded myself to think that the absence of intellectual stimulation from academia was a disease slowly eating me from inside. Then school finally began and my sad little excuse for misery fell apart. Now I have nothing to hide behind and I have only my own mortality to face up to. Perhaps not knowing what the problem is but spinning a lyrical yarn can absorb some of the pain. Perhaps the search for the right words pithy of this sense of hollow melancholia can create a poetic something. I keep telling myself that I won’t be here for much longer and someday perhaps I’ll be forced to eat up my words, oh the girl who always said she’ll never miss Singapore, with a bitter dose of nostalgia. I refuse to write I miss Patrick because it sounds so trite and whiny. And with the same pride, I refuse to say it out loud to anyone, or even to myself because I don’t want to listen to these hopeless, hollow words.
How many days more of this can I possibly take. If there’s one thing in the world I cherish more than Patrick, it is the happiness of coming home to empty solace. I use to make the effort to come home from school earlier, so I could be alone in a solitude that the house offered me; away from the incessant noise that is Singapore. The parents would be at work, Daniel at our grandmother’s and Hilary at school. But gone are the days because at the threshold of Daniel’s PSLE, my mom has taken 5 months of leave. In the mornings, it is just the two of us. She pads around the house, randomly sweeping the floor with a clockwork mop that makes a mechanical clickety clack sound. That or she talks on the phone to random people ; salespersons, travel agents, working colleagues, or ex classmates. Whoever at her time disposal, the telephone is only an arms’ reach away. Mistakenly, my mother thinks that having just the two of us at home offer her the intimacy of mother-daughter talk. Unfortunately, I refuse to partake in this. This is not without reason, pardon me I can’t talk to someone who repeats my answer 3 times as if incredulous at everything I say. My thought discourse can certainly be shocking at times making people wonder if I am mentally sound. And in some ways, they are not far off from the truth. I cannot however, hold a decent conversation with a woman who chooses to repeat what I say thrice over, and then proceed to ask me the same question only rephrased in an absurd, helter skelter manner. She also tries to impart to me life’s valuable advice about divorces, materialism, and ironically waxes lyrical about my aunt’s household robot. When Daniel gets back, the entire house is thrown into a noise frenzy. The cretin is unable to speak coherently, instead he communicates with others around him by yelling at the top of his lungs. Obsessed with everything military, he lines his toy soldiers up all over the house furniture. Last night, in the fit of rage I took the pleasure of razing all his militia to the ground. One day when I feel mean enough I will incinerate his men.
Everyday I die a little. Somedays, I sink into a deep depression. Today was an exceptionally shitty day, and no there is no way I can be eloquent about it. After running for the bus in a bid to catch up with a familiar face, with hair flying all around my perspiring visage I of course, missed the bus arriving to class 10 mins late. Dr Yew was exceptionally boring today so I spent the lesson frying my brains out with stress over graduation requirements, and going to the dean’s office without finding anyone of course because that’s the way bureaucrats work; they leave for lunch early before the stipulated time of 1pm and come back at quarter past 2. Lunch was better, perhaps it quelled the angry hunger within me or maybe because I actually had some human contact. I also saw the strange guy who is always on my bus after no seeing him for the whole of last week. Curiously, he seems to always hang out with a bunch of Chinese, pale faced and stricken with work anxiety the little group is always quiet and he sticks out like a sore thumb. I’m still trying to figure out his ethnicity, perhaps eastern european or jewish, middle eastern? It intrigues and secretly pleases me that he stares at me at length. What girl doesn’t like to be flattered like that? The only contact we’ve had was 3 weeks ago on a Thursday when I dropped my ISM report unknowingly and he had picked it up, and handled it to me. Deep in thought about Khao San and the Burmese opium syndicate, I distractedly muttered my thanks. It was not until the following tuesday that I noticed him again, staring at me as we walked past each other in the FASS corridor. Today, again he stared at me without offering even a smile and I thought to myself that this was starting to get a little creepy.
When I finally went back at 2pm, a lady at the counter was a bitch about things. My day couldn’t have been more perfect. I’ve always loathed working with low level bureaucrats who with their insecurities and crappy pay , assuage their misery by picking on harmless students who are nothing but polite. Albeit, coldly so.
Other annoyances include the passport-visa issue. It seems I will have to forsake the $70 I paid for my new passport because it is a small price to pay compared to another air ticket for me to fly back to Singapore and then to the US gto renew my 90 days visa waiver limit of staying in the US. With the visa, I have 6 months. Second mini issue to grumble and sulk about; northwest has cheap tickets to portland in July and September but not August. I contemplated waiting it out till Sept 11th ( little wonder why the tickets are cheaper ) but 2 more months of this household madness will kill me if I don’t decide to take my own life first. So August 25th it is. Afterall it’s only a difference of $200 between heaven and hell. Not that portland is heaven but at least the climate there isn’t unbearable unlike this place.
I have a splitting headache now, coupled with an earache that is really making my life unbearable. As an afterthought, I’d like to add that all the mistakes in my life started in university. NUS really blows and this is how much.
Yesterday, I felt contented but increasingly throughout the day I became annoyed with life more and more. Today I woke up, tired and reluctant to go for class with the harangue of the passport issue still hovering over me like a ghoul. At the bus interchange, I saw a familiar face and wanting to speak to him I ran after him across the road only to have him board the departing bus. In class now, I am online looking at air tickets to portland and of course there are no cheaper tickets for august flights ( why?! ) but instead for july and september. And to top it all off, after trying to reclassify my modules again i realize that I have one extra module. Meaning I neednt have taken this module, saved $611, graduated this year, gone for my ceremony, left early for portland with CHEAPER tickets this july, been less miserable in portland.. .
Life has just kicked me in the ass once again.
There is a group in class that towards which my distaste is increasingly growing. 2 girls and a guy form a triumvirate of ugly people who are too cowardly to voice their opinions in class, and instead hide behind timid giggles not unlike kindergarten children. Rendered voiceless in class because of their cowardice, perhaps this is their way of seditiously resisting the current power order. It is however, tragic that they are not blessed with better looks. Harsh fact of reality : good looking people are at the top of most power structures. Power either favors looks or money and chances are, people with money usually have the looks to boot. Did I mention that I can’t wait to get this class over and done with? There is little or no intellectual stimulation in this class for me; not to sound pompous but I know so much more than everyone else in class about staid political science academic topics like Terrorism. And I should, being a political science major and all.
I think I shall feign a job interview this afternoon to avoid having to sit through 2 more painful hours of this nonsense, and instead go buy that dress I’ve been eying 🙂
Filed under: Life
When opportunity knocks, answer. If only it was as simple as that. So far in the short span of 2 months I have passed up on two excellent job opportunities. The first offered to me was for a private contracting firm looking for Chinese linguists in Northern Virginia, and the second was for a Japanese investment firm dealing with professional traders in foreign exhange in the ginza district of Tokyo. This was the result of what little effort I made like putting up my resume all over the internet and sending it to the second company randomly. I was magnanimously granted an interview at the ginza, 10.30am this morning but because my nus email has been screwed up for the last week or so I didn’t read the email until this morning. At 13.45 no less. Flabbergasted I was, and immediately sought to purchase a ticket to tokyo afterall NWA is having their summer sale now. But rationality held me back. It just seems absolutely stupid to fly down for an interview when I can’t even legally start work until next summer in Japan. Yes, I also have school thank you very much. After sulking around for a half hour, bitter that 2 stellar opportunities should just be passed up like this I am still wary about job seeking in Japan. So far I’ve been somewhat resigned to my impending fate as an English teacher in Japan, earning ok wages, doing a shit job that requires no intellect whatsoever, but generally happy because of Patrick. I am not afraid of joblessness as I am scared shitless of measuring my self-worth from the employment I will be hired for. You cannot deny the materialistic little voice in you that tells you an investment banker sounds a lot more impressive than you know, a janitor. It sounds so terribly condescending but that’s how we all think innit?
This is my dilemma. I don’t want to be an english teacher in Japan but I also fear that I won’t be hired. And amidst feeling quite shitty after trawling numerous job sites and seeing that Japanese is a language requirement ( well of course natalie ), and seeing how I can’t speak much of it, I can’t help thinking to myself that there is a high chance of me becoming an english teacher if I want to get employed at all.
I fear optimistism.
I am the wedding nazi, here me rawr.
WOW I feel accomplished. Yesterday, after shopping online we went out for father’s day with the family to Herbs n Spices which is this really good indian restaurant at upper thomson. The tandoori chicken was so tender and fresh, the fishhead curry delicious and not too spicy, and their signature vegetable thingey ( can’t remember the name ) made me want to go back for more. My parents think that I should bring Patrick there to dine when he next visits and I absolutely concur. So after dinner, I spent about 7 hours slaving at my Toshiba, at the mercy of annoying CSS, HTML, web interface of the like and photoshop to create the long overdued wedding blog. I literally went to bed at 5am with a sore back from lousy posture hunched over the laptop.. and woke up at 11am remembering that I had forgotten the night before to ask my MIL to give me the measurements of the flowergirl. So 30 mins of phonecall after, I went back to updating my wedding blog with all the rest of the information and pictures. This evening I finally printed out the « will you be my bridesmaid » cards and they are now ready for mailing. Just gotta get the addresses and the envelops sorted out. So it looks like we’re spending considerably lesser on the wedding, which means only one thing :
MORE MONEY FOR US!!
( in case Patrick’s dad wants us to pay him back )
Yeah I know I sound really cheap but just think of the many many shoes and purses and dresses I can buy with money otherwise spent on other people? We’ve decided to scrap the banquet/ luncheon which would’ve cost us at least another 15,000 USD . That’s a lot of fucking money if you ask me and I can go tour europe twice over with that kinda money, or buy all the damn dresses I want from warehouse and that chanel bag Ive been hankering for. I love getting a good bargain, but I love spending on myself more. Let’s face it, we’re all selfish.
So. With some luck perhaps I can persuade Patrick to buy me the chanel 2.55 hehe :))
I guess all I needed was another vacation to jolt me out of my Eurotrip woes huh! To think that good ol’malaysia did the trick is quite impressive since I never thought highly of our neighbor as an « overseas » destination. I kinda feel like taking another vacation, maybe somewhere around the region like.. Vietnam in july perhaps?? Any takers? :))
Filed under: Life
Yes doesn’t that sound like a strip tease? Well there is little moral difference between high crime profiteering and cunning bank policies. It just occurred to me that the extra $10.00 siphoned away from my chevy chase bank account was for viewing my account balance. I didn’t even know that these asswipes charged me $2 USD everytime I check my account balance on an atm machine. This past 2 days of bank malaise after that horrible atm incident which has yet to be resolved might I add, I’ve been checking my chevychase bank account repeatedly to see if the money has been refunded back to me. Its ridiculous how shoddy these assholes are ; they don’t even tell me that I’m expected to be charged $2 everytime I peek into my account balance! What the fuck? Bureaucracy makes me want to strangle these banks with the very red tape that hinders progress. Piece of Shit Bank called yesterday and said this could take up to 3 or 4 business days and Crappy Cunt Bank told me that this could take up to 10 business days. My losses have been $10 USD so far for the above mentioned and another $3 SGD incurred at the post office yesterday because Crappy Cunt Bank decided they require « official documents » in the form of either a facsimile or an actual mail. Well the second alternative will take 6 to 12 business days to get delivered so of course I had to choose the fax which cost me $3.45 at the post office.
My shitty fortune doesn’t get better ; I went to Dynasty Travels with $400 exact to pay for Anuja and my tickets from Brussels to Paris because Nazir told me that it was $196 each both ways. So I was all prepared for payment and to rid myself of so much money ( I don’t want to get robbed by an actual mugger this time around! Annoyingly, the lady behind the counter who not only took forever, also informed me that the tickets were $214 each altogether totaling up to $428. Well I’ve only got $400 with me so I had to go and withdraw money from the horrible POSB bank opposite in Cheers praying and hoping it doesnt « register hardware failure » and eat up my cash again. Of course everytime I remove money from my US bank accounts I have to pay. These motherfuckers sure know how to jew a chinese.
Clearly, this week has been horrible. I’m counting the seconds to tomorrow because somehow I believe that with the end of the exams things will be better maybe color will return to the world tinged red with frustration and blue from study isolation. I also dare to be further optimistic; hopefully Diana would have already transfered my much needed money and that the $140 will be back in my account tomorrow when I wake. And maybe I’ll make more sales on etsy to beef up my spending money, to pay my etsy selling fees and to buy my box of dailies contact lenses. Yes as you can see each new day really heralds high hopes for me. Oh maybe I’ll pass the exam too, that’d be a bonus.
Back to the mean green. I’ve already taken my mom’s charity of $200 the day before for my thalis train tickets. I hate taking money from my parents because I would hate giving money for someone elses’ pursuits. I hate taking Patrick’s money because.. why should I take someone elses’ money for my self interests? Its not fair when he works so hard for his money. But I’m left without a choice this time around. I’m happy that I’ve been fairly independent. I pay for my own travels, my COACH purses contrary to popular belief , my jewelry, my transport fees, my etsy fees, my little business, my food, my alcohol consumption …
I feel like in my world, money is a big thing because I aspire to be independent and as a result I’m always short of cash. Also because when I get a large amount of cash I blow it all on starbucks, pens, sushi, beer and extravagant buys like purses and books. I’m also unemployed technically. Summer is fast approaching and with the already flailing US economy, things on etsy aren’t looking good because gas prices increase during the summer months whittling away what little spending money Americans can afford anyway. Yes and the falling green back tops it all off like a fucking cherry parfait.
I guess this is where we differ in terms of perspectives and spending habits; Patrick says it’s only money and that I shouldn’t be so upset because money problems are the easiest to solve. But he’s also employed, is fairly wealthy ; because of all the extra money they pay him for being in the Middle East aside from not being able to spend any since he’s there, has a house that he earns rent from, has a mini cooper but isn’t using it right now so he saves on gas… It’s so easy to wave away money problems when you haven’t got ’em. Unlike me. By Singaporean and UN world standards, I am currently living under the poverty line and would have to move to chatterbox if my parents kick me out for any reason. Wait, I’d have faster internet connection, more pillows, air condition, more toiler bowls to choose from if I moved to the cbox. Now that option seems fairly nice. BUT still, the fact of the matter is paypal still owes me a lot of money from uncleared echecks that are expected to clear on the 8th ( today! ) and the asshole banks still owe me money also as do Diana.
Money isn’t everything but right now with less than 30 bucks to my name in the whole wide world, it’s hard for me to negate the importance of money.
Don’t be a philistine. I went even if my ISM is due on tuesday especially since I had a free $52 ticket — the most expensive of the selection.
You won’t be disappointed, I promise.
Filed under: Life
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.
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