Monthly Archive
Browsing entries posted on October 2005
Ye Gods of Olympus!
(You! Yes you, in the cluttered room! You’re not allowed to read this! Cos it’s about you, obviously.)
The great and mighty God Zeus granted me a great victory today, hooray, by way of his earthly incarnation, Cowboy Caleb.
Said fella above (the one in the cluttered room) and I got into a debate about how to pronounce Cowboy’s most esteemed moniker, Zeus. I said it was zuus. He said it was zeeus, based on ‘Hercules’. Yes. Disney’s ‘Hercules’.
Now, little ones, let this be a lesson to you not to trust Disney for your cross-cultural studies. Because a search on Merriam-Webster Online revealed that I was right. (And to be fair, I did an independent search on Encarta, with the same result.) Honestly, you just can’t trust Disney to keep things straight, can you. First they make the already sanitized Brothers Grimm stories into even more saccharine versions. Charles Perrault’s Cinderella was already clean enough without adding some mice and a pumpkin to it…
And Pocahontas. Oh dear. What a travesty that was. Just as well those stories are in the public domain, otherwise Disney would get sued for misleading representation. Speaking of which, is the upcoming “Memoirs of a Geisha” produced by Disney? It’s the sort of exoticist, warped portrayal they seem to be good at. FYI, “Memoirs of a Geisha” is not very good at giving an accurate portrayal of the ‘floating world’, because it’s written by, of all things, a Caucasian man. Look, I’ve read accounts by a Caucasian woman, and even that is more accurate. Please, if you’re really interested in the REAL story of a geisha, do yourself a favour and read “Geisha of Gion” by Mineko Iwasaki, who has pictures to back up her claims. The woman is a real geisha, and I don’t think she has anything to hide, so.
Oh, and in case you wonder why I’m so particular, I took a module on ‘Geisha, Samurai and Yakuza’ and the whole critical-thinking thing stuck with me. And yes, I don’t like Tom Cruise’s ‘The Last Samurai’ either.
Right, that ends today’s diatribe on Warped Cultural Perspectives. Thank you!
There She Is!
From my lecturer, after we were watched a video about speech impairment where one of the people being interviewed (who was not speech-impaired) spoke very haltingly:
“No, he’s normal, he’s just British.” (So is my lecturer.)
From Desperate Housewives, after Bree tells her husband her suspicion that their son is having sex:
“He’s a teenage boy, we could take away his penis and he’d still try to have sex.”
And after it turns out that it was her daughter’s condom:
“You’re president of the Abstinence Club!”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on running for a second term.”
On Friday’s Malaysian news:
” Abdullah said more stringent rules have been introduced for learner drivers.
Their temporary licences would be revoked if they break traffic rules.”
Oh my goodness! When I was a learner driver, I ran a red light. Or two. Ok, not ran exactly… the red light was at a junction and I just took wayyyy too long to turn. The light was yellow when I started to turn, and red when I finished the turn… *gasp* *clutches licence tightly*
During Japanese class, I was asked (in Japanese, natch) who was the best at singing in my family. Since I severely lack modesty, I answered, “Me.”
“So do you go for karaoke often?” was the next question. I wanted to say that I went infrequently, but I forgot how to say it. So I just said, “No, I don’t go for karaoke because I don’t like it.”
The teacher looked at me, puzzled. “So you’re the best at singing, but you don’t like karaoke?”
And my brilliant, though untrue answer: “The rest of my family are bad at singing.”
And here’s a cute little Flash movie for you:
http://www.newgrounds.com/portal/view/161181
It doesn’t lead to the flash itself, but there’s a link there marked “Watch the movie”.
On the linear nature of life
I think one of the greatest drawbacks of life today is in its linear nature. Life is all one-way, no turning back the clock, no going back to rectify mistakes or take chances you didn’t dare to the first time around. No, life is linear, and we live with the consequences.
Got bored yesterday and got onto Friendster to reply a message, then went to kepoh around other people’s testimonials. I usually try to avoid testimonials because most of the time, they’re full of inane crap that in no way testify to the person’s nature or behaviour. But yes, I was feeling kepoh so went to read through someone’s testimonials. Wow, apparently he made a lot of friends at OBS (Outward Bound School, for those not in the know).
That made me start feeling wistful, about the times I missed out on going for OBS and camps like that. My dad had the idea of sending his daughters to OBS, as he believed it would be good for us (it always is ‘good for us’, isn’t it). But the cost was quite prohibitive, and so we didn’t go. It wasn’t just OBS, there was some other leadership camp that my dad was considering for me, when I was about 15. But yeah, no money, no go.
Some of my friends were more fortunate. One had a father who sent all his kids to OBS numerous times, which probably explains why my friend is so independent despite growing up a princess. Another went just once, but the adventure bug bit her and she went off on other funny adventures, like climbing Mount Kinabalu and going kangaroo-hunting in the wilds of Queensland. And when they get together and start talking about the people they met in OBS, and how the whatevers were so whatever, and yadda yadda yadda… Sometimes I wonder if I didn’t make a mistake by not going.
Heck, even my sister went for adventure camps. I think she went 3 times, once a year for every year she was in Interact. She came back with videos of her classmates doing the flying fox, pictures of some ulu cave somewhere, and some really *awful* gossip that she still likes to ‘ungkit ungkit’ today. Ok, so it’s nowhere near as challenging as OBS, but she still had fun. Makes me wish I’d signed up for the LEO leadership camp after all.
But I dunno, maybe it’s not really in my personality to do that kind of stuff. I think I’d have liked American-style camp better, where they have different camps for different niches (band camp, church camp, computer camp). I’d go to, er… is there a loners’ camp? I was quite a drifter in high school - unless there was a nerd camp, I don’t think I’d have fit in anywhere. Which is the crux of the matter, isn’t it. I just wasn’t meant to be part of a group.
The closest thing I ever had to camp was going on school trips with my friends. Going off on vacation without your parents, with 40 other similarly hormone-driven girls singing along to the Moffatts on the bus… kinda like a road trip, yeah? Those were good times.
Man, I wish I could go on those school trips again. And no, I don’t mean that I want to join NUS Rovers or whatever. The atmosphere of a school trip - of having your friends around you, and yet in different surroundings you see a different side of them - and also the freedom to, whaddya know, meet boys! Life was so much sweeter then, I think. Everything was a novel experience.
Getting too old and jaded for this world.
A birthday banner
My oldest friend, whom I have known since the first day of Standard One, made me this banner. Isn’t it cuuuuutttteee?
Welcome!
Greetings, fellow travellers of the blogosphere.
Perhaps you are here after receiving an invitation from me, containing a link to this blog. In which case, you would have been following my blog since the tBlog days, and are now wondering about the shift in host.
There were many reasons that caused me eventually to start blogging here.
Firstly, tBlog was not meeting my needs. Some of you will remember that I once blogged about my wishlist, and one of the items was to have more control over my blog in terms of password protection. Also, tBlog was prone to periods of instability.
I did receive a few offers for hosting. I turned down these offers as I felt that the personality of the other blog or blogs would overshadow mine. Also, I did not feel entirely comfortable being part of a ‘tribe’. I wanted a space where I could start anew without any expectations other than what I myself engendered.
Johnny Malkavian offered me space on the entryplug.org domain as he was the only one using it, and an additional user did not significantly cost more. Also, the consummate salesman that he is, he installed a Wordpress account for me and urged me to try it. I did, and I have not looked back since. I think Johnny will agree with me here that the obscurity of his blog is a benefit as far as I am concerned, because no undue expectations are placed upon me as a member of entryplug.org.
To an extent, I also wanted to withdraw myself from the Singaporean blogging scene, which I felt was growing into something too mainstream for my liking. It was not so much a fresh start, as it was a metaphorical moving house and leaving no forwarding address. I am not hiding from the blogosphere, but neither will I publicise my blog. I have tasted fame and it’s not something that stays fresh forever, and I don’t want to stick around for when it goes bad.
Now about the secrecy: Several of you may have been told off by me for visiting here before it was ready for public viewing. I admit that I was careless and I left too many rabbit holes around for curious Alices. I can only say that in my humility, I did not really expect a Technorati search on my links. I am not very sorry that I had to password-protect the whole blog, however. It’s something I should have thought of ages ago.
Those of you visiting here for the first time will no doubt think, “That’s it? All this secrecy and it’s just… this?” Well, yes. It’s just this. I just happened to want to unleash it on a meaningful day. I could have unveiled it at any old time, but I wanted everything to be perfect for the party of my young lifetime. I hope you won’t mind the secrecy, now that you’ve been allowed free rein all over the blog (except for the password-protected posts).
Comments have been given free rein, you won’t have to register as a user to comment. However, please at least leave a name, so I know who you are. (Certain people, you know who you are, tend to forget that I am not psychic.)
All in all, I hope you will have a good time here. Your support on the old blog has been invaluable. Thank you.
Pay me to shut up
Our first major Choir project is over. We contributed our voices and singing talents to do song dedications, to raise funds for Eusoff Volunteer Corps. Everyone who signed up got to sing, so that’s good for their exposure. Ideally, the whole choir of 40 people would have signed up to sing, but that’s an admin matter I’ll have to take up at the next meeting. (I am the vice-head.)
I pretty much screwed up the first song, I forgot my lyrics. Bah. It happens to the best, of course, but I’m still pretty embarrassed all the same. Later I realised that it was a lot easier to remember the lyrics if I stared at the floor. It wasn’t stage fright. It was just that there were too many distractions going on. Yes yes, call them excuses, but I know being scared wasn’t my problem out there. Heck, it’s the second time today I’ve forgotten something I should know by heart. I forgot how to write the syllable ‘ha’ in Japanese Katakana. That’s going to cost me one mark on the test.
So I forgot the verse lyrics for ‘White Flag’. I’m glad that the person who requested it didn’t stay for the performance, he might have demanded his money back. The next song I sang was ‘Wherever You Will Go’, by The Calling, and I only had one verse in this, so it was ok. After that my job consisted mainly of making a fool out of myself (as if I hadn’t already) by acting like a rabid fangirl whenever one of the better singers went up to sing.
My final song was the Moulin Rouge hit, ‘Come What May’, and while I didn’t do as well as during rehearsals, I still did pretty ok, and didn’t forget my lyrics. (Maybe because I had them on hand this time.) The focus was on my male partner though, because he’s pretty famous in hall. I was just there to fill in the gaps, the spotlight was all his. And I’d really rather have it that way.
We made about 40 dollars for the Volunteer Corps, and of course the support of Eusoffians was of paramount importance - it is their money after all. But I think that all in all, we did a good job of entertaining them, and at least no one walked out in disgust, nor was any hearing damage inflicted. (I hope.)
For ‘White Flag’ I was put in the strange situation of reading out a dedication to myself, and basically being very hao lian (arrogant) by a) announcing to the whole dining hall that it was my birthday and b) wishing myself a happy birthday. Haha that was pretty weird, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless. (You know who you are.)
Now the next focus will be on Culture Night in November, where I hope the choir will stun Eusoff into silence with a gorgeous rendition of our ‘weird song’. I just need to inject my fervour into the rest of the choristers, and we’ll be set.
Kiss me, Kate!
I think that was a line from Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew.
Anyway. I am currently sitting in my room when I should be in class. LAC2201 lecture, to be precise. I woke up on time, but somehow I couldn’t contemplate dragging myself out of bed and all the way to AS2, to sit on a hard plastic chair when what I really want is my soft bed.
So I went back to bed. At 1025 my classmate smsed me to tell me there was a quiz that day, didn’t I want to attend class? I thought about it a while, but nah. Might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. Later, checking on IVLE, I worked out that the quiz was worth maybe 2 or 3 percent of my final grade. Bah! I thought it didn’t count. See lar, unintelligent skipping of classes. Now I have to attend all the rest of the classes and do well in the final exam (scratch that - I have to get a perfect score) in order to get that A.
But I had such a nice dream that maybe it was worth skipping class for. I got to kiss someone wholly unexpected. In fact it wouldn’t even make sense to you unless you were in my inner circle of geek friends.
The crux of the story is, I was at some techie convention of some sort (with some really weird toys on display - TomKat action figures, anyone?). Gabe from Penny Arcade (the dark-haired one) was there too, and he was waiting for Lara Croft to appear. Him and everyone else.
In between, there was a giant Godzilla-like creature that attacked us, but it was chased away by an even larger polar bear, who was on our side. Then Lara Croft appeared, but Gabe didn’t get lucky with her. So I went up to him, and snogged him.
For a comic character he’s a pretty good kisser, yeah? 
I wonder if this means I have a secret fetish for video-gaming Lara Croft fanboys. With black hair.
Review of Dragon Gate Restaurant
For Sunday lunch, the boyfriend and I decided to try Dragon Gate’s Dim Sum buffet. The restaurant is located at the 4th floor of Harbourfront Shopping Centre.
Firstly, good luck to you trying to locate the restaurant. It’s not accessible from the main shopping area, you’ll have to walk through the carpark looking for its main entrance. I reasoned to the boyfriend that this was because they mainly catered to the wedding dinner clientele, and guests for that kind of dinner usually park in the carpark and enter from there. Most of the Chinese restaurants I’ve been to in KL do that, anyway.
It was about 12.45 when we entered the restaurant. It was full, but not packed full with a long waiting queue, and we were seated quickly. The ordering style is by a form which you fill in, indicating the types and amount of dishes you want. It’s more efficient but less authentic than the pushcart method that Red Star in Chin Swee Road practices.
We ordered the usual stuff, char siew paus, siew mai, porridge, and some contemporary twists on dim sum, such as their fried mixed fruit pastry. The char siew pau was a disappointment. It was small, which would have been forgivable as there were 3 buns in each serving, but it was subpar. I’m very fussy about the char siew I eat, and so far I find that the Singaporean style of char siew is somewhat inferior. The sauce should be a thick black-brown, not red. It only took one look at the contents of the pau to deduce that it would not be a good pau. Furthermore, it wasn’t so much a filling of meat as it was a thin layer at the bottom, with a big blob of pau on top. Cut marks for bad char siew pau! I am of the opinion that one of the markers of a good dim sum place is the quality of their char siew pau.
The boyfriend’s porridge looked okay, but I didn’t try it because it had century egg in it, and I’m not a fan. Our fried dim sum (which would prove to be our downfall) came all together in a big platter. I understand that it’s a lot more efficient to just wash one giant plate instead of many small oily plates, but cut marks for bad presentation! The fried pastries were crispy, but a bit scanty on the filling.
The har gau and siew mai were ok, but nothing spectacular. We had an order of barbequed pork with honey, which turned out to be nothing more than just char siew. I surreptitiously cancelled some of our orders off the list, when it became apparent that we had bigger eyes than stomachs.
It wasn’t until we had left the restaurant that I remembered I had ordered a dessert of cold sago and mixed fruit, but we probably couldn’t have eaten much more anyway. I suppose we got our money’s worth of food, but the quality of the food is debatable.
I wasn’t happy with the way our tea was constantly topped up. I grew up eating dim sum with a pot of tea on the side, and you drained your little cup of tea before pouring more, thus ensuring your tea was always hot. Dragon Gate’s practice of using glasses and topping up even when it’s three-quarters full means that the boiling heat of the fresh tea is cooled down by the tea already in the cup. Lukewarm tea is a mood damper. Plus, when you’ve eaten so much oily food, a steaming cup of tea is the best thing to cleanse your palate. So cut marks for bad tea-serving practices.
To be fair, I understand that most of my gripes came about because of their efficient, “modern” way of doing things. Their service staff sure aren’t modern, though. They were all middle-aged and didn’t seem to like their job very much.
For $14.80+++ for one adult at their buffet lunch, it’s a decent place to stuff yourself silly with dim sum, but the food selection, food quality and non-authentic experience ruined it for me. Our final bill came to $38.00 for two adults. I think I would much rather go to Red Star if I were really hankering for dim sum.
Raffles Hall Production
I attended the Raffles Hall Production because I have a few acquaintances there (one of them would not want to be called my friend) and it is customary to support your friends’ endeavours in other halls. I paid 15 dollars for the privilege, too!
I chatted a bit outside with my friend TK who is the Sets Head (aka Sex Head). When I went in to take my seat, the guy behind me kicked my chair. I looked around and saw Ming Hann, my schoolmate from JC. He was there with Ivan Prabowo. I had a good time chatting with them. Ming Hann’s become a bit nicer, I think. He used to say the F word all the time, but he doesn’t any more. He’s still a bit sarcastic though. He asked if I was still in choir, and when I replied in the affirmative, he told me to sing something from the programme book. (The lyrics were printed there.) Joker. Later during intermission I was asking him if Siva, one of our juniors, was in KEVII. He pointed at the guy next to him. It was Siva. Paiseh. The worst thing is, Siva doesn’t even know who I am. But obviously I know who he is, since he was the student council president. Ah, at least I won’t be seeing him again…
Also during the intermission, I was chatting with Ming Hann about his hall activities. I never took him for a hall person, seeing as he was a bit of a loner in hostel. But he’s super active in hall stuff, it’s faculty stuff he’s not enthusiastic about. He’s in VCF, Volunteer Corp and Archive, as well as IHG Tennis and Table-tennis. (He was a VJ player for those as well.) I asked him what was Archive - sit there and arrange yearbooks? - and he replied, “Yeah, that’s about it.” Funny! I also want a comm like that!
Anyway, back to the production. I was constantly reminding myself not to compare it to our Eusoff Dance Production, since they only have 2 months’ time to put everything together. Their dance choreography and sets will obviously be on a smaller scale, since these are the most time-consuming aspects. But rest assured, I shall be merciless in my critique of the storyline, acting, dancing and singing.
The first act had a bunch of girls in cotton pyjamas (ew) looking at magazines. I thought it was a joke when the skinniest, nerdiest one started singing about how that was her dream, to become a model. Sure you’re skinny, honey, but my money would have been on the other girl to become a model. This scene was full of cognitive dissonances for me. Firstly, the nerdy one was supposedly the winner of a modelling agency’s contest. No shit! With looks like that?? (I am not attacking the actress. I don’t do ad hominems. I am merely pointing out the incongruity of the character.) If they had wanted to make it more believable, they could have cut out the nerdy glasses. Sure she can wear glasses, just don’t make it so nerdy! And why must they sit around in their old-style pyjamas? For a while, I was wondering if the play was actually set in the 1970s or something. I know you want to impart that she’s a country gal, but that was seriously weird. And the silliest thing? One of them was wearing eye makeup to match her green outfit. Stage makeup is one thing, but I can’t for a moment believe that the eye makeup was necessary. (And neither do country girls wear makeup while in their pyjamas, do they?) Eyeliner would have done just fine, seeing as we’re all dark-eyed. You want to emphasise the features, not cause a certain degree of confusion in your audience. And for the record, the makeup was not for another scene, since she only appeared in that one scene, and the finale. This is an issue I really felt could have been avoided.
For most of the first act, I wanted to shake the lead actress whenever she appeared. Her portrayal of the naive country girl in the Big Apple was almost a caricature. Far too naive, far too wide-eyed at every single thing. In fanfiction, we call this a Mary-Sue character. It was not believable and I seriously feel that it was a bit of a mistake to write the character this way. Unless their main intention was to make the audience dislike the character and feel a sympathy with the ‘bad girl’ models who smoked, drank and screwed.
The lead actress herself is a fine singer, I’ll give her that. She was a better singer and actor in the second act, when the character became more manipulative and ambitious. Her acting skills were really on display here. That’s why I feel having her play the ingenue to such a degree of naivete was a waste, as her acting skills weren’t really obvious.
The storyline progressed with the lead character Natasha going to a bar, and coming back from the washroom to see the other models doing a cruel parody of her and her sua-ku ways. One shot of liquor later, on a challenge from the others, she climbed onto the bar and started singing. Then she came down and puked. Oh come on, one drink? Not all virgin drinkers are so weak ok! I for one had a naturally high threshold. But I guess it was necessary for the storyline, so I’ll leave that alone.
Abandoned in the bar with a grumpy waiter who had to clean up her puke, she started crying to the waiter, bla bla bla, and the next morning she awakes and bla bla bla. You know how the story goes, ya. Meanwhile, the other bartender (serves mainly as comic relief) came back and did a little number about how he’s desperate to get laid. My gosh, it was quite PG-13. And there were children in the audience, too! Perhaps we should have a ratings system for hall productions as well. I hope the parents of the kiddies won’t have to answer any awkward questions tonight.
Just a little gripe: Why the hell did the waiter recommend cocktails to a man? It’s a well-known fact that adult males prefer straight liquor. And the fact that the customer ordered Blue Lagoon adds to the unreality of the situation, although the fact that he was a closet homosexual may be the reason. A bit gratuitious, I think, inserted just so that the waiter could recommend Sex on the Beach. Ah well, will just let it go, since I guess more jokes are better than less. But still, I’m one of those anal people who insists on dissecting every scene in a movie, so.
Tralalala, the gay man is the comic relief’s secret admirer (much to the waiter’s dismay), the model tries to threaten her “producer” (I think they meant manager) and she rejects the other grumpy waiter who predictably falls for her (and she for him). It turns out that grumpy used to be a famous fashion photographer until he was involved in an accident where his girlfriend, then the top supermodel, perished. Meanwhile he lost his left hand. Hence his over-protectiveness of the model. Yada yada. In the end, no gay sex is had, someone comes out of the closet, and it’s not really made clear what happened to the model’s career. I mean, her “producer” freakin’ threatened her with a gun! (Plus he was the one who engineered the accident that killed the top model.) So, a bit of a loophole there.
The acting for the most part was fine, although as stated above, the lead actress was a bit caricaturish in the beginning. There was definite chemistry between her and the waiter, especially during the number where the feminist chicks faced off against the chauvinist males. So that’s a good thing.
The comic relief did not overact, in my opinion. Someone who’s so funny is bound to be a bit exaggerated in his gestures anyway, so his character was quite believable. His diction was not quite precise though. I believe there is a ’stage accent’ that appears when one is speaking lines on stage, and his was a little odd. The pacing and rhythm were not what I would expect.
Special mention must be made of the “producer”. He was played by an Azerbaijani student (who knew NUS was that diverse, eh?) and was dressed like a pimp daddy with his big silver cross and purple jacket(!) .
I think most of the problems came up when they were singing. The lead singers were good, but the chorus girls (the other models) were not good. One or two of them had very thin voices, causing my companion to go “ouch” when they hit the high notes. There was one very good singer, I believe I’ve seen her performing in the choir, but the rest made the experience a bit dismal. The closet homosexual was also a little flat during his solo.
The sets were simple, but solidly built. I liked one piece in particular, a light fixture with a holey lampshade. I’m not an expert on sets, but my friend said it was good, and he’s a Rag engineer, so I’ll put his opinion here instead of my own. I didn’t really think wardrobe did a very good job with certain scenes, but it didn’t affect the overall experience. Plus Gerald’s giant afro wig makes up for everything. Hahaha.
Overall, it was a bit predictable and the script wasn’t as tight as I would have liked, but it was a good effort given the limited time frame, and a good showcase of their talents. I don’t really begrudge them the 15 dollars. Plus I got to meet some old friends, so can lar. Good show, Raffles.
A Mooncake’s Destiny.
A mooncake was made in a Tai Thong factory. Its name was Snowskin Coffee and Cheese. (CC). It was shipped off to Kuala Lumpur and bought by a middle-aged woman, for her daughter.
Said daughter brought CC into Singapore via the Causeway. She packaged CC carefully in a plastic bag and put it in the refrigerator. Because CC was so special, she was saving it for the end. Since there were 7 mooncakes to eat and only one of her, it was over a month before it was CC’s turn to meet its destiny and be eaten.
Unfortunately, on the day that CC was to have been cut into 8 pieces and savoured, it was thrown out of its chilly fridge home, along with its friend the Chocolate Cake. Their owner was preoccupied at the library reading “Politically Correct Bedtime Stories”, and when she came back and saw the denuded fridge, it was too late to save them. Along with Strawberry Yoghurt Chocolate Bar, they were consigned to the rubbish bin.
In her great grief, the owner considered digging through the rubbish pile, but was dissuaded by The BF. She shed tears for the aborted mooncake, because it had never met its destiny. At least the Chocolate Cake was nearly finished.
The owner progressed through the 5 stages of grief. Denial (trying to salvage them from the bin) was followed by Anger (bastards! throwing out perfectly good food!), Bargaining (even a cheesecake slice will do, a slice of coffee cheesecake), Depression (shedding of tears) and finally, Acceptance (it’s gone. Next year lar).
Now spare a thought for the mooncake and the rest of the food in the bin, never to fulfil their destinies. Think of the cleaners who have to carry the food down to the giant rubbish bin. Think of the garbagemen who have to endure the stink from the now rotting food.
And agree with me that a wholesale genocide of eatables, without fear or favour, is not the best way.
Recent Comments