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.

For once in my life, I will actually bother to dress up and put make up tomorrow for my flight to NC because I’m tired of looking like a drab every time I travel.

You have no idea how excited I am to see Sarah and Patrick!! Thanks to the wonders of the National library and my sister’s library card — mine has about 60 bucks worth of evasive fines on it — I will have Sartre and Daniel Keyes’ Flowers for Algernon for company. Of course I’ll go on my usual movie marathon until my eyes bleed, and eat expensive, shit chinese food with crappy service at HK international airport. Dammit, why can’t it be narita???

Beggars can’t be choosers and people who pay fifty bucks for a return trip to the US should definitely be grateful 😀

Till next time, have yourself a merry little mid-sem break 😉

My blog has been contrived into a persuasion of lyrical melancholy.

These days, I write about nothing but the miasma of depression that clouds heavily over me. I don’t know if this clinical depression, or just my stupid emotions compelling me to act this way but it’s like my bad mood gives me the prerogative to callously throw people around like useless toys I grow tired of playing. I am increasingly impatient with the sluggish attitude that people around me have adopted. What happened to big city livin’? Singapore IS a big city so why can’t people walk in the pace associated like one, with the confidence that flicks the royal one finger salute at whoever gives too much of a damn. With the heat, and the swarm of people filling every iota of space, I start to wonder how it’s like to free fall. Not that the consequences of suicide or the method is appealing.. Just the feeling of falling into nothing, instead of being jostled around. My window grills make like a prison cell, designed to keep me within myself.. Designed to keep others out. My contempt for society is building up so quickly, even I am surprised. I find myself snapping at people, for inane and intolerable things. Gone are the days where I graciously keep mum because that’s the « asian way ». But the expression of anger does nothing to quell my rage, it just keeps adding on hopelessly.

Believe it or not, I really do try my hardest here. I go about my usual business with school and etsy. But so often, I am paralyzed by this indelible pang of loneliness reverberating within me . I just want to sit on the sidewalk and bawl my eyes out. Nothing helps. School creates a bubble of insulation, because when I am there I am distracted by smiles and guiles. My anger skids off in a thousand direction and there is no tangible focus. Very soon, I forget about about the vulnerability, the acrimony and the bleakness of my life. Gratefully, I am insulated when I’m in the chatterbox, and when I’m in class learning. Knowledge – of the world, in classes and about other people’s lives, make me forget and offer me a brief respite. But it’s so easy to be reminded of my animosity towards this entire system of living that is Singapore, just a look around and you’ll see that almost everyone on campus looks the same, speaks the same and is socialized to be carbon copy of each other. This place makes people lose their identity.

I know I can’t go on for the next few months. I know I should stop feeling this way, and I know another hundred upon thousand things to keep in mind from disparate advice of people. I know exactly why I am in such a debilitating state. I know exactly what I should do and I wish people would stop telling me what I already know. I also understand that it’s awkward and a blow to your self esteem to see someone falling into a thousand pieces knowing that there is nothing you can possibly do to alleviate any pain. But to make yourself feel better and to bridge the gaping silence after a slew of angry melancholia, you do the genial things and offer generic words of feel-good.

I despair because this place isn’t where I want to be anymore. Because I am without Patrick. I took comfort in the musical tinkling of the dryer and the soft whirring of the washing machine, I can’t explain the unspeakable feeling I get when I take laundry out of the dryer — pieces of warm fabric melting to the touch scented of domesticated comfort and soft linen. I miss my house and the privacy that epitomizes home , I crave for the beautiful feeling of peace that blossoms in my heart when the cold air hits my face awakening my senses. I miss the dogs who remind me that perhaps the world isn’t so cold when even lesser beings understand what it means to love. My heart longs to sit outside of my backyard thrilled with the sublime knowledge that this is property belongs to me that I have a stake in this country which I do not belong to yet. I miss the distant orchestra of sirens faraway that remind me that there is justice in spite of pervasive iniquity. I was in a place where I knew my rights and my freedom was the wench in any fight. I miss the gratification that open space gives me, and up into a spider web of tree branches and just feeling so tenaciously happy without a care in the world.

And here.. What about? I am just an irate and unhappy person stuck in a quagmire of her own misery in a sea of nothing.

So you see, I’m really not that destitute wretch as society may lead you to believe of depressed people. Before you condescend me and tell me everything will be ok ( which I know it will eventually, that’s not the issue ), perhaps an invitation on a friday night for margaritas by the river would appropriate the issue.

I suppose this blog makes you feel more alive, because I am barely pulling through life supported by a tendon of hope for a better, happier tomorrow.

Some bitch on etsy just wrote a longass negative comment for me on my storefront because I gave her a negative for not paying for her purchase. Seriously, what the fuck woman? She doesn’t understand that she has to PAY for online purchases and keeps repeating her claims that she didn’t even buy the item. Please.. If you didn’t buy the item, it wouldn’t even be eligible for feedback in the first place. I’m sure everyone who’s bought stuff on ebay will know exactly what I’m talking about.

So she goes on to bitch about how her ‘friend’ ( imaginary, I’m sure ) is a geologist who works for NASA and tells her that the chalcedony I sold her months back is fake and is a dyed quartz so I’m a quack seller for stones. That’s why I’m so convinced america never landed on the moon before the soviets did because HELLO, if you have such an unqualified retarded geologist who doesn’t know that chalcedony IS quartz, and that it is often dyed, then the U.S of frickin A never landed on the damn moon. Apparently, stone dye comes out easily when you place it in warm water. I’m sure that’s why people wear dyed quartz around their necks, so that when they perspire, they can sweat blue/red/green or even pink. So cool!

-_-

Anyway, she’s so retarded. She thinks that my beads and stuff I sell on my etsy can be found in stores in the US. LOL. That’s why I have to lug all my wares everywhere I travel. And that’s why I have monopoly over the Japanese tensha acrylic beads I sell as with other charms. I mean, seriously is this woman for real? A political science graduate of the UC Irvine who is such a joke? She accuses me of coercing her into buying stuff from my store. WTF??? I’m sure I can hold a gun to the head of a woman I’ve never even MET who’s from out of state all the way in california. Seriously, get real.

Anyway, if you’re interested in a bit of gossip mongering and amusement, here‘s the feedback section of my store. She spells hilarious as « halarious »

Halarious, indeed.

*update*

The awesome team of etsy admin removed that spiteful little feedback and things are back to being fly again on the business front. Hurrah!

I AM GOING TO FUCKING DIE I SWEAR.

it hurts so much, its not even worth it. I paid 900 bucks to suffer, and I’d gladly pay another 900 to die from this. Then maybe I will stop hurting.

I miss you, my birthday would be so much better if you were here. There’s no point in any celebration without you here because you are the best present yet.

I love you hubby

Singapore is known for Annabel Chong and the Singapore Girl

Thailand is known for Pattaya

Cambodia is known for its child sex industry

America has the statue of liberty

France has the eiffel tower, foucault, rousseau

Canada has the CN tower

Italy has the tower of pisa and musolinni

See the comparison? The west is full of men and the penis. And us, poor asians all we have are our women being done and overdone by a world of white men.