- That attributes are sexy only in the context of a fully-fledged personality.
- How to drive a stick shift (manual transmission).
- Computer programming.
- How to make garlic bread.
- How to solder.
- How to spot an offside.
- How to make cookies from basic ingredients.
- When not to wear makeup.
- How to invest their money.
- How to give a massage.
Category Archives: Comments
No quick solution
I’m alternately amused and enraged every time some news report comes out claiming that scientists have found a potential new cure for cancer. Amused because this is the 21st-century Holy Grail of science, and enraged because the media focus on THE CURE takes away from other, equally important areas of research.
Lots of diseases have no cures. The common cold. The flu. Chicken pox. Perhaps the mortality rate from these diseases is so low that it doesn’t have that glowy, I-want-to-save-the-world cachet that cancer has. But a cure isn’t the solution. In the above illnesses, we just give treatments for the symptoms and let the infection run its course. A cure would be superfluous because the body can heal itself and drive off the invaders.
I admit that cancer is different, because it’s not a conquest launched by external invaders. It’s a mutiny of the body against itself. The theoretical cure, I suppose, would be to develop a “weapon” that fixes the fundamental problem underlying all cancer – the cancerous cells have killed their own kill switch and are now, in a sense, immortal. Our theoretical weapon would be able to flip the kill switch back on, so that these cells self-destruct as nature intended.
Until we find that weapon, however, the only way to get rid of the mutineers is to attack their Achilles heel of rapid multiplication and high metabolism, and pump the body full of toxic substances and/or radiation, the dosage finely balanced so that it kills all the mutineers before the civilian population is too wiped out to rebuild.
The search for the ultimate weapon continues, but in the meantime, why don’t scientists concentrate on creating chemo drugs with fewer side effects? I know that some drugs, like my good friend Rituximab, are intelligent enough to target only cancer cells. It’s the equivalent of a homing missile. I’d like to see more of such drugs so that in future, we can ease off on the blanket bombing of innocent body cells.
A cure for cancer would be nice, but it’s years away. Those years mean too much to cancer patients for us to ruin them with debilitating treatments, when research into better drugs is a viable alternative route. It’s time the public was aware of them, even if the media deems such research not newsworthy.
For child-rearing advice, ask a childless single.
Being in the business of developing young minds teaches you a lot about kids. Specifically, how not to be that parent. Once you reproduce, people are going to judge you by your kids. So much as a smudge of food, and you’re a sloppy parent. Your kid grabs toys from others, and you’re raising a monster. Your kid gets straight As in school and suddenly you’re a parenting expert. I’m going to comment while I’m still an outsider.
- No squeaky shoes. Ever.
- Toilet-training should start as soon as the baby is able to sit up.
- I find that parents compensate for their little girls’ lack of obvious gender cues by dressing them in pink confections. Why? The kid doesn’t have a gender construct! She’s not going to be confused! And people need to get comfortable with ambiguity.
- Why are there no black clothes for babies? Like, Goth onesies and black lace mittens?
- I frequently draw parallels between the raising of dogs and small children, but the leash is probably unnecessary. Anyway, leashes don’t stop them from putting things in their mouths, or grabbing at breakables, or falling down stairs.
- No Crocs, because I’m terrified that the escalators will eat my kid’s toes.
- Lots and lots of Lego. They teach you to clean up after yourself, because if you don’t, you’ll have a lovely indentation in the sole of your foot to remind you to do so.
- Insurance, because there will be falling out of trees/ bee stings/ general lacerations requiring stitches.
- Intelligence may be hereditary but it is not accurately measured by the school exams. The school syllabus is churning out future employees but not individuals.
- Penggunaan Bahasa Malaysia dalam hidup seharian kita akan mempercepatkan kefahaman fonik anak-anak. Ini adalah kerana Bahasa Malaysia mempunyai ortografi yang telus.
- The Singapore education system is good preparation for Singapore society. That’s not a compliment.
- I will tell my child to pick up a skill that is in demand globally, rather than a degree. A chef is a chef in whatever country they go to, but professional qualifications don’t always translate well – or lead to a fulfilling life.
Open Mic Night
So I went down to Lasalle College of the Arts to support a couple of friends who were taking part in the Singapore Open Poetry Slam. For those of you not in the know, a poetry slam is basically like gymnastics, but with spoken word instead of floor routines or vaults or whatever. A slammer goes up, time starts when he starts talking, and the judges will award a score from 0 to 10, to one decimal place. It’s basically competitive poetry. And I bet you all thought poetry was just posh people standing on stage and reciting “I wandered lonely as a cloud” or some such. Hah!
Anyway, as part of the programme, there was also an open mic session, where anyone can go up and read their poetry. And I got sweet-talked into it. I wasn’t prepared at all, I didn’t have my poems on hand. You don’t have to memorise them, you can read from a script, but my laptop battery was flat. In the end I had to use 3G on my phone to access my blog and scribble down a couple of my poems by hand.
I did “Will”, which you can read here. My second choice was Fingers, but I’m glad I went with Will. I couldn’t judge by the applause because it seemed pretty ordinary, but the host (who is a poet herself) commented “I thought that was terrific” and that’s high praise, baby, high praise for a newbie. Later on I asked for feedback and it was pretty well received, even though I read in perhaps a lower tone of voice than my usual. I wasn’t even nervous, but that’s because I had a book to focus on and I didn’t have to make eye contact with the audience, and that’s perfectly acceptable.
It was fun, I might do it again on Sunday with a new poem if I can get to the session in time.
If I could travel back in time…
… I would tell my 1-year-old self that she is a very lucky baby.
… I would tell my 3-year-old self that she is about to meet the only other person on earth who knows what it’s like to grow up in my family.
… I would tell my 6-year-old self not to swing round the pole in the backyard, because I might fall and split my head.
… I would tell my 9-year-old self that teachers are human too, and are not above taking me down a notch or two.
… I would tell my 12-year-old self to stand up straight.
… I would tell my 15-year-old self that boys are also, sometimes, scared of girls.
… I would tell my 16-year-old self that “hey you, I mean me, I mean… ah, fuggedit, go take up the bass. Now. Even if you have to beg Mummy and Daddy for it.”
… I would tell my 17-year-old self that most boys aren’t worth the effort you put into impressing them.
… I would tell my 18-year-old self to believe in love.
… I would tell my 19-year-old self to remember this moment of triumph as she held her results slip.
… I would tell my 20-year-old self that decent boys will tell you how they feel, even if they feel nothing for you.
… I would tell my 21-year-old self that leaving someone is being cruel to be kind.
… I would tell my 22-year-old self that music will return the love you give it, so love it.
… I would tell my 23-year-old self to buy health insurance.
… I would tell my 24-year-old self that one day not too far away, I’ll look back and have a great story to tell.
… I would tell my 25-year-old self that you never forget how to love.
Partner Preferences, revisited
Take a look back at this old post from 3 years ago. Funny how most things haven’t changed at all, but then they’re all in the past anyway. I think, 3 years and another relationship on, it’s time to build another list. And it’s going to be terribly different – instead of focusing on the dude’s circumstances (which can be highly variable and subject to change anyway), it makes more sense to look at his personality.
- I have still only ever dated Chinese guys. I just like the way they look, even if they have single eyelids and flat noses.
- I have still only ever dated eldest children. That’s not a statistical surprise – think about it, the proportion of eldest/only children in the population for my generation must be close to 50%. Hypothetical example: Let’s say 50% of kids in a population are eldest or only children, 40% are second children (whose elder sibling is in the previous 50%), 7% are third children (with elder siblings in the preceding 90%) and the remaining 3% are fourth or subsequent children. Okay so my numbers may be a bit exaggerated, but you see how it goes? I don’t filter prospects by birth order, so this eldest kid streak of mine is probably just serendipity, and due to the fact that as an eldest child myself, there are parallels in personality that contribute to compatibility.
- Still have an overwhelming preference for younger guys, although it’s not on purpose. I’m not a cougar in the making, I swear! Age just isn’t an issue to me, and I don’t seek out older guys to take care of me or compensate for nonexistent daddy issues. I’m not looking to be someone’s replacement mum either. I’ve had enough of nagging and picking up after guys. I want to act my age for once.
- Nonreligious guys preferred. And I would actually prefer a lapsed/fallen/backslider/recovering/ex-Christian to someone who was a free thinker all along. Reason being, for them to have left their faith, there was thinking involved. A conscious choice was made. They’re not likely to go back, not without a really good reason. Also, it implies the presence of a somewhat logical brain.
- Nonsmokers. Without exception. I went on a date with a smoker once. That was the first and last time. Look, I know smokers aren’t evil. I’d be okay with them as friends. But constantly being around someone who carried lingering smoke on their clothes, and the accompanying fetid breath… no thanks.
- Good English, which also implies being literate. My litmus test – Neil Gaiman. They don’t necessarily have to have read him, but as long as they are capable of reading, understanding and APPRECIATING The Sandman and American Gods, they pass. I am a Gaiman fangirl and I make no apologies. The alternative is to use the Harry Potter series as my litmus test, but I think that would let in slightly more immature minds instead. They have to know the difference between “its” and “it’s”, even if they slip up sometimes. Gahd knows that while my written English is nearly perfect, my spoken English causes mirth and merriment.
- Animal lover. Fish are not pets. Dog, cat, rabbit, heck, even a parrot, yes. Hamsters… I’m tempted to say no, since I don’t really have much of a relationship with AdvoHam. But having to clean up after something, dealing with it making noise and pestering you for attention, paying enormous vet bills… that’s all good practice for the future.
- Dangerous. Not the criminally dangerous sort. But a risk-taker is always welcome in my sedate life. I’m not one for risks myself, but I’ll happily join in on the fun. Fast cars, extreme sports, taking tables that have already been reserved with tissue packets – you lead, I’ll follow.
- Must have a glamorous job! Hahahaha. Something that’s more interesting than “I work in an office and push papers around”. I don’t care if the papers you push around are worth millions. Tell me if your work excites you, makes you feel alive, motivates you to get up in the morning.
- Passionate about his dreams. Because I am, and I need someone who understands why. If you can’t share your passion with the one you love – then what good is the relationship? They don’t have to be directly involved in it, as long as they really, truly understand the high that I get from a good day at work. And they have to demonstrate that burning passion for something they really enjoy, because I will not settle for someone who settles.
- Neat, tidy, clean, capable of cleaning up after himself. Without being nagged. Trust me, the fulfilment of this criterion will save us both an enormous amount of emotional wear and tear.
- Decisive. I like being the girl in a relationship and delegating decision-making, but if you pass up the chance to decide, I WILL make a decision. Fast. With little consideration for your feelings, because you said you were fine with anything. So, either be a man and step up, or shut your whining when I take over.
- Must have seen and appreciated Monty Python. Because it’s clever and funny and humour is the mark of a sophisticate.
Love.
Things I have claimed to love in the past 2 weeks:
- LASIK surgery
- Potatoes
- My mice
- Neil Gaiman’s work
- The night
- My job
- Myself
- “Defying Gravity”
- My life.
S-O!
Man, trolls are so lame. On a social networking site, I put in my profile: “You should message me if you want to learn how to make the most of your life.” I’m in the personal development line, so I do truly mean that. But then some asshole decides to take umbrage at it or something, and sends me a message: “Show me how to make the most of my life, or are you just blowing smoke?”
Troll. So I just respond “Why don’t you start with trolling less? I don’t think we have anything in common. Thanks for reading my profile!” and leave it at that. Kill ‘em with kindness, ya know? I don’t have time for lame-ass young punks with giant chips on their shoulders. Well today I get a reply that is essentially a straw man argument, and I just go “Welp, time to block you, asshole!” Pffft. His argument basically went “the world will be so boring if everyone has the same opinion, and I’m serious when I asked!” Yeah well, fallacy run-down: I didn’t ask for anyone to agree with me 100%, but 0% agreement and 98% OPPOSITION says that you’re pretty much not worth my time. Secondly, if you’re serious, maybe you should ask more nicely. How can you learn when your cup is already full, grasshopper? I couldn’t think of any proverbs to use that would not be construed as an insult – “throwing pearls before swine” and “dui niu tan qin (playing the zither for cows)” were 2 that sprang to mind. Then again, maybe those proverbs are insulting for a reason.
Avatar, the 2nd watching
Today I was out with my friends, and we decided to watch Avatar in 3D. The initial vote was for Sherlock Holmes, but there was opposition, so we went for Avatar even though I’ve seen it before. I didn’t mind, I figured I could lose myself in the visuals and story analysis since I didn’t have to pay attention to the movie plot.
First up: a side-by-side comparison of Avatar and Pocahontas. Most movie reviewers likened the plot to that of Dances with Wolves, but I think Pocahontas is a better comparative base.
John Smith (JS) and Jake Sully (JS) are both paid to go to this new world. Pocahontas (Neytiri) is the clan leader’s daughter, betrothed to the great warrior Kocoum (Tsu’tey). There’s an important tree, Grandmother Willow (the Tree of Souls). And instead of a raccoon and a hummingbird for sidekicks, you have the direhorse and the ikran (banshee), which I think are much cooler anyway. In Pocahontas, the settlers from the Virginia Company are seeking gold, while Avatar‘s RDA is seeking unobtanium. And of course, our hero has to fall in love with the clan princess, angering her betrothed. Standard “dude stole my woman” fare. And there’s a big ol’ fight, and our hero gets wounded. Only, in Pocahontas there’s not really a happy ending because John Smith has to go back to England, whereas Jake Sully does the opposite and leaves his human life behind.
I also noticed that James Cameron used a little bit of bullet-time in the fighting sequences, such as when Tsu’tey, Neytiri and Jakesully (as I refer to the avatar to differentiate him from the human Jake Sully) are preparing to deliver a blow or release an arrow. And I laughed at the sight of Norm’s avatar holding a machine gun, though Jakesully is perhaps more preposterous with his weapons belt and machine gun because he’s not wearing human clothes. Truth be told, I find Jakesully pretty sexy when he’s throwing grenades. Very strong and manly. It wouldn’t be the first time fictional characters have me swooning with their fighting skills – I fould Legolas super-mega-sexy in The Two Towers during the battle of Helm’s Deep, when he was dual-wielding swords while sliding down the stairs. Also, the sex scene that I saw in full in Singapore was censored in Malaysia. Not that there’s much to see anyway, as Na’vi don’t wear much clothing to start with.
After looking through the IMDb listing for Avatar, I found that the main Na’vi characters are played by black actors, with the exception of Eytucan, the clan leader, who is played by a Native American. I don’t think it’s racism or discrimination or anything – maybe the facial features of black actors fit the Na’vi face better, mostly because of the wider, flatter feline nose. Oh, and who caught the fact that Jakesully got to be clan leader? Unless I’m very wrong, he was wearing the fancy necklace that Eytucan and then Tsu’tey wore. So the clan leader and the Tsa’hik (that’ll be Neytiri when her mother passes on) get to be a mated pair after all, how convenient.
On second watching, you pick up little details that explain the world of Pandora more. The colonel refers to the lower gravity on Pandora, and Pandorapedia confirms that Pandoran atmosphere has higher density. Just like, you know, the undersea world that’s a very obvious inspiration for the flora and fauna in the movie. That explains how the sacred seeds are able to push off. And the scene where they alight on Jakesully is really reminiscent of a scene from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, when little birdies stand on Beast after he feeds them seeds.
At a family dinner after the movie, a fly alighted on the tablecloth right in front of my sister, and while it was licking its chops, I threw a paper napkin over it and smacked it down. My sister didn’t believe it was dead, and squished the paper napkin some more with a glass. I pointed out that the fly “doesn’t have a carbon fibre skeleton”, so I’m pretty sure it’s dead. She called me an Avatar geek. I’m so happy *grin*. Don’t you know, geeking out is a matter of pride for me. I don’t want to be a Na’vi though. I have a snowball’s chance in hell of becoming a 3-meter tall blue alien. I’d rather be a Jedi, there’s at least a very, very tiny chance that I can develop telekinetic powers. And the whole Eywa concept is so “the Force”. Just minus the midichlorians.
The “first!” mindset pervading pop culture today
So I went to watch (500) Days of Summer yesterday. I quite liked it based on its movie merits, although the ending left me unsatisfied and dissatisfied, but one doesn’t write reviews based on the last 5 minutes and 47 seconds of a film. This isn’t a review anyway.
I went to watch the movie because of one name: Joseph Gordon-Levitt. I can unabashedly say that I have been his fan for more than 10 years, when he was a skinny longhaired kid playing Tommy on 3rd Rock from the Sun. I would have squeed my head off in ecstasy, had I known of the word ‘squee’, when he played opposite Heath Ledger in 10 Things.
But I wouldn’t be surprised if some indie folks went to watch the movie for the music. And Zooey Deschanel. Yup, the music’s pretty good. We had a “heads ‘splode” moment when the Tom character took the stage to belt out the Pixies. What karaoke joint is this, that they have the Pixies? I can’t even find one with a decent Muse catalogue.
I liked the songs so much I went about wiki’ing them. And what I found out made me feel like a pretender.
I didn’t know Morrissey was once the lead singer of The Smiths. I mean, I know who Morrissey is, I just never listened to his stuff, and… should I disqualify myself from talking about the film now, before the diehard indie crowd call for my head?
I’d never heard of Wolfmother before the movie, and I sure as hell ain’t never heard of Mumm-ra, whose song “She’s Got You High” is in the running to be my next ringtone. Ooops, I see the torches and pitchforks coming over the hill.
Am I supposed to know who these bands are before heading to see the film? Does it make me a poser if I get into their music “only because” I heard it in a film? Does it make me an even worse poser if I just know that one song by them, because the rest of their discography is just not my style? Why am I even thinking this way? Is it true that indie fans/followers/supporters/cultists are only too ready to immolate those who lack the relevant “qualifications” to join their so-cool hipster demographic?
I guess it’s true of practically all genres of music, film, art, dance, sports… the “diehard fans since day one” in general will look for ways to feel superior to the “johnny come latelies”. Kid, I was using FireFox since 2.xxx. Heh, you newbies – I introduced my whole office on to Thunderbird! (not really) and the list goes on…
So, heck care what the hypothetical indies might think of me – there aren’t a lot of them in Singapore anyway. It’s a nice song, I like it, and I’m going to buy it. You have a problem with that?
*Also, my beloved MUSE contributed yet another song to yet another Twilight movie soundtrack. Fighting the snobbery rising up in my throat…*