Under that smile I was thinking..hurry up take the picture I very cold!!!! 

Charmaine, Daphne and myself at the end of the races 

There is Only One Reason Why I go to the Spring Races: The Girls

Melbourne Cup, according to the newspaper is 'the race that stops the nation.' Alot of horses, alot of jockeys and alot of beautiful and drunk people in pretty cocktail dresses and fancy hats sitting on picnic mats in all kinds of obscene positions eating chips and chugging champagne. It is an excuse for girls to dress like a lady but act like homeless tramp. I was sitting cross-legged in a cocktail dress, so I was very in tune with that aspect of racing culture. People are suppose to go there to bet on horses, but I think the real reason why people are there is to pick up. When else would you ever have a massive racecourse full of men in suits, women who are inadequately covered, all are drunk, and it is bright daylight so you do get to see how they look like and a good pick up line to do with horses.

As ditzy as this sounds, I was there to check out the fashion scene. To gwak at pretty dresses and hats that I can't afford. It is almost like a fashion show with some faux pau in the middle. Some things I learned: never wear a translucent skin coloured chiffon dress with no bra. Never wear a polka dotted hair band, coat and dress at the same time. Never wear leggings under a pretty cocktail dress no matter how cold it is. Always tape up when wearing a plunging neckline. There is a difference between suggestive clevage and hello mama. And finally, words from the mouth of the drunk lady who was chatting with us, there is a difference between dressing to go clubbing and dressing for the races. One assumes more quiet dignity than the other.


I however failed in my mission to bet on a horse. I had it down to bet on delta blue since it was the first time I saw a Japanese jockey and pop rock cuz i like the pop rock sweet. But the line at the betting booth was too long. And both horses won! dammit.

Still it was pretty fun. We met a couple of drunk ladies and froze all the way through the race wishing that I had brought socks and a winter jacket. That's the price you pay for being vain.

The Aliens are Coming! - Thanks Jus for the correction!

I dreamt last night that my honour's thesis proposal got rejected because they didn't think it was cool enough. And I was trying to convince them how 'cool' my topic was and they weren't buying it. Now everyone knows how incredibly nerdy I am. Feel free to throw rocks at the geek.

I also spent 2 hours frying up tempura shrimp and veggies and throwing away all the shrimp after that because it smelled funny and felt like an amputated finger left in salt water for a very long time. It smelled exactly like how it felt.

Now I'm listening to The Hills Are Alive as I embark on yet another essay. The fourth one in two weeks. I can't wait for next monday to come when its gonna be all over and I am going to be at the Melbourne Cup so high on campagne that I will bet my next year's tuition fees on the oldest horse with the fattest jockey on the racecourse and scream "Go Donkey GO!' throughout the race. Sigh.

Comfort Food is....

Chicken soup made with carrots, potatoes, onions, mushroom and lots of pepper.
Sambal eggplant.
Chicken curry.
Avocado.
Pan-fried dumplings.
KFC.
Thick soggy fries.
Milo.
Chocolate.
Gummy bears.
Pie.
Ham and cheese sausage.
Pate and crackers.
Nasi Lemak.

The Finals Fashion Victim

I envy people who are able to look glamorous during the exam period and winter. Once Swot Vac approaches, I live in sweat pants, my ratty “got-it-free-when-applying-for-bank-account” tshirts and my “never-see-the-world” before fleece jumpers. Anything food-stained and vaguely pajamasy crawls onto me while I forsake normal shoes for bright pink rubber slippers even though it obviously doesn’t match green thai pants or the cold weather. Occasionally, I wear my IH jumper or my Upenn hoodie, and that’s a high fashion day. I roll out of bed and walk straight out into the world while everyone else bothers to put on a pair of jeans at least. I suddenly forget how to use conceler or powder and the only beauty products in my vocab currently are: shower gel, toothpaste and shampoo. People keep asking me if I’m stressed or tired. Not really. You are just seeing me sans make up. And then of course there is the consumption of large amounts of junk food while studying. I polished off half a kg of gummy bears, sour hearts and chocolate balls through the weekend, and now I’m on to my next chocolate bar. It is not stress eating. The concept of stress eating gives me an excuse to eat.

I can’t wait for the 7^th of Nov where everything is over, I can take a long shower, put on a pretty frock, dust off my make up collection and attend the Melbourne Cup bright and sparkly.

Things that pissed me off in the news today...

A pole dancing kit for girls 4-6 year old has just been launched in the UK. What the..? The toy kit which promises to help little kids "unleash the sex kitten inside" includes a pole, sexy gear and a dvd showing little girls how to make suggestive and sexy moves.

Seriously, which depraved parent is going to buy that for their children? And which depraved person came up with that idea?

And I thought the padded bras for girls under 10 was bad enough.

And then there was the Muslim cleric who said women in immodest clothing aka not wearing the hijab invited sexual assault. He claims the 4 women who were ganged raped in 2000 invited it upon themselves because they were not covered up.

"He said there were women who "sway suggestively" and wore make-up and inappropriate clothes, "and then you get a judge without mercy (rahma) and gives you 65 years".

"If you take out uncovered meat and place it outside on the street, or in the the garden or in the park, or in the backyard without a cover, and the cats come and eat it ... whose fault is it, the cats or the uncovered meat," the sheik asked.

"The uncovered meat is the problem."

"If she was in her room, in her home, in her hijib (head scarf), no problem would have occurred."

So, in 2005, two pastors were hauled to court over vilifying statements against Muslims, but in the cleric's case, he was given a warning when what he said was vilifying against ALL women. Why is it for the christian case, it was judged by a court, and for his case, he was only judged by seniors in the Mosque. Someone tell me there isn't inconsistency here.

I am all for multiculturalism, and my internship at the Ethnic Communities Council Victoria opened up my eyes to the need for everyone to be sensitive to the beliefs of others. Note: Sensitive. I am happy that town councils have special times in the day where the public bath and pools are women only. I am all for neighbourhood centres having women only activities. I am glad there are laws against assaulting a woman in her traditional hijab. And I am glad for translation services across most public services. And I am happy the Racial and Religious Tolerance Act is here and standing. However, there is a tension between freedom of speech and multicultural sensitivity, and it has to work both ways. Fanatics from both sections of society have to be disciplined. There is a difference between appreciation for the freedom to wear any traditional/ethnic clothing including the burka in the public, and closing down nude beaches, and getting assaulted for suntanning in your bathers just because it offends the staunch religious fanatic. It is the same theory. I will not force my neighbour to eat meat if he is vegetarian, but it will not stop me from eating meat on the same table as him. If he wants, he can get up and leave. Just as I, as a guest in Australia, know that I should never be physically or verbally assaulted for my race, but if something in the society, for e.g people saying Good Day Mate, offends me so much, I should pack up and leave instead of expecting them to stop saying it.

Maybe what he said was indeed taken out of context. No doubt, I don't believe in the objectivity of the media. But if you want others to watch their speech around you, you have to watch your speech around others too.

And of course there is the case of the girl who was sexually assaulted and filmed on DVD. I don't even want to start on that...it makes my blood boil.

Last Day Maybe?

It has been a long time since I just sat down and talked with a group of friends with the same struggles and fears as me. Shivering in the wind, and back into the closed Barettos, we chatted and confided and open up our minds to the things beyond us that bothers us. Are we going home? Back to the country that put us here. Are we going back to change things? Can we change things? What about the world's poor? Are we staying? Are we succumbing to our position as second class citizens? Faith, religion, politics and humanity. It was a good way to end my possibly last day of my undergraduate life.

Dumbass.

Right now I am just overwhelmed. Yes that's what happens when you are silly enough to pick up 6 different projects during the final semester into honours year, when grades do count. Not doing that again. My brain has been separated into a thousand post-it notes, each screaming for attention. Prioritising is hard when the thing that needs your immediate attention is not the most important but necessary to get done because of time sensitivity. On the 6th of Nov I am just going to sit on the beach and stone for my sanity. And kick myself for being an idiot and bringing it upon myself.

Oh shit.

I was happily in la-la "I'm not graduating till next year cuz I'll be doing honours" land, until suddenly the last few days an avalanche of graduatesque fell on me. Over the weekend I was talking to Fang and Sne about it. Today i spoke to Ven who persuaded me to graduate this year. I checked my email and found my "Please Declare Your Major" form. Five minutes ago and munching on my ham and cheese sausage, I bumped into Anna who is facing the same issue.

Everyone who is applying for honours have the same worries. Will I or will I not get into honours? Will I be eligible for it? What if I do screw up?

I am banking 100% of my life on getting into honours. I am shifting my graduation ceremony to next year, I am booking a flight back to extend my visa and I am not applying for any jobs. So if I do screw up, I will have no job, 3 months in Australia to find one and missing out the chance to graduate with my friends. And that is a very foolish decision. I have exactly 50% chance of getting into honours. My grades are teetering on the minimum requirement. This is the first time in my life I am playing with chance, and for someone who books hotel rooms for Dec in Aug, this is the first time I have no idea what is going to happen next year.

Ice cream, Chris, Amma and I in Floriade...Chris looking slightly out of place among the flowers... 

Amma and I at Floriade, the highlight of Canberra as Amma puts it 

Part of the Tent Embassy Protest for Aboriginal Rights outside old Parli house 

Old parliament house in front of new parliament house 

Falun Gong Protesters outside Parliament House

Parliament House in Canberra, where all the activity happens 

Meeting with MP for Melbourne, Lindsay Tanner...and that's Stephen and Toby 

Meeting with MP for my electorate, Michael Danby for Port Melbourne 

Make Poverty History: Idealism or Reality?

I was sitting in the lobby of the Parliament House in Canberra, waiting for a certain politician's PA to escort me into the hidden recesses of the political world. My Singaporean passport was tucked gently in between scraps of paper with foreign aid figures on them. What the hell am I doing here? I keep asking myself. Here, in the nation's capital, not my nation, but some other that I am a guest in, attempting to persuade them into increasing aid and cancelling debt to the poorest countries in the world.

The last three days in Canberra have been simply amazing. I learned more about politics than any uni class could teach me. I was part of the Micah Challenge, a sister campaign of the Make Poverty History Campaign, to go to Canberra and lobby for debt cancellation to be on the G20 summit agenda, and for Australia to increase foreign aid to 0.7% by 2015.

The last few days have been a crazy jam packed schedule of morning worship and seminars on aid and political issues, afternoon appointment with politicians and attending question time and parliamentary debates, and more evening sessions on aid and economic issues. We had speakers from AusAid, and various economic advisors to ministers to inundate us with facts, figures and policy material. As we walk, as we eat, it is bam bam bam...information flying from every direction at us..."his party just released a white paper discussing the various policy initiatives on increasing aid but have not committed to actual figures, you have to remember to talk to him about XYZ...." ......" he is connected to so-and-so, and is part of the so-and -s0 party...."...."this is the opposition whip for blah blah blah..and is a key target to the microeconomic reforms that we have been talking about.."

So my brain is in a state of overheat right now on information and problems that seem so beyond me. I was taught to think deeper, beyond short term, into the bigger picture, the connections and the complications. Aid isn't just about the money. It is about corruption, governance and long term interlinking benefits. Yes, we can provide a million dollars to train teachers in developing countries. Then what? They get great well-paid jobs in the urban areas, and the poor rural areas still have no education. Ok, so they go back to the rural villages to teach. There is no money for books, no money for a school house, no money for materials. The children in the village are hungry and sick. They have to help their parents and thus have no time for school. Just like the lady at the AIDS forum said, you can't just throw drugs at people in third world countries who are suffering from HIV. They don't have the food or portable water to take it with. You can't just immunise a bunch of kids and leave it there. So they no longer have TB, but what about HIV, other forms of illnesses or just pure starvation. And children will keep coming. Batch after batch. Is there a kind of long term government engagement to keep ALL the children immunised?

The more I learned, the more the hole got bigger and bigger. 11 million children die every year from totally preventable diseases. These are not statistics, but people with the same emotions as us. It needs a combination of both money from the top, and credible manpower at the bottom to ensure the money goes to the root of the problem.

But there was some positive outcome in it all. We heard both liberal and labour members talk about the Micah challenge and mentioned the option of increasing aid during question time, and we got valuable cooperation into the policy making process. All this time I was thinking, this is amazing. With all the selfishness and image-conscious corruption in a democracy, this is one of its beauties. That the people can go up to their government and tell them what they want done. It is no guarantee that the government will hear, but it is still a step in a particular direction. While trying to hide my identity as a non-Australian at least for the meetings so the ministers will hear me out for a bit, I thought about Australians and the possibility of voting for your values, and having your views heard. And I thought about Singapore, and the possibility of raising the issue of Singapore's contribution to the Millennium development goals for world poverty. While I am part fighting for it on another turf, I want my country to do their fair share too. It would be interesting to see what happens when I put that in question to the MP when I go back to Singapore at the end of the year.

My Own Farewell Speech

My experience in IH is like a really dramatic and bittersweet TV serial, that I keep watching over and over and over again to find out what's next. Last night was Valedictory dinner, and I came/crash/was invited to see my fellow batch, the ones I step foot into IH with and went crazy during oweek with, valedict. This was the batch that I should be valedicting with. But sitting at lower high, wasn't me, but them. And in my heart, I felt a sense of longing to be there. To say my aspirations, and get a goblet, and just complete my entrance into IH with an exit.

I had a crazy time. No there was no drunkenness involved (considering I only had 3 glasses of alcoholic substance), but just high on hope, aspirations, laughter, applause and memories.

Sitting there, facing high table, eating the dried out chicken, looking at photos, hearing the gossip, I still feel exactly the same way I felt about myself 2 years ago whenever I am there. Insecure. Needy. Ashamed. Painful. Hopeless. Pathetic. Fake. Afraid. Angry. Desperate. Stupid. It is hard to sit among people, some who you know are your real friends, and some who you thought were your friends. And not being able to shift the flour.

IH brought many great and beautiful people into my life. But it didn't bring the best out of me. It brought out my insecurity and my ugliness. And no matter when I am there, it will still bring that part of me out. It wasn't people that cause that. Just dynamics of any communal place which favours gossip and drama over truth and acceptance. But that could be anywhere in the world.

And I think I need to start accepting, that IH is a chapter in my life that I cannot resolve. There are so so so many things I want to say to so many people. Both good things and bad things. Both rebukes and apologies. But it is all unnecessary, but only for my own self-fulfilment. I want to unwind the clock and start again. But I think things will still turn out the same way. Life isn't perfect, and I need to stop blaming the institution and others for my own imperfection.

To Canberra With Love

After a week of putting up posters, scuttling around uni, distributing flyers, chalking, hanging up banners, spilling wax over the table cloth and desperate prayer, the Melbourne Uni Club United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) film screening and public forum on HIV/AIDS is finally over!

Both the film and forum were profoundly touching for me. Everyone go watch the film Yesterday. It was only the second time I watched it that it hit me, the desperation, the stigma of Aids, the helplessness. So beautiful. Just basic things like, she can't get to the clinic and see a doctor, was beyond me. It was touching to put a humanising face to an entire generation in Africa wiping out at a exponential rate, and another generation of orphans the world doesn't remember.

Today the forum was a huge success. A mother who was living with Aids talked about her experience, and her optimism and matter-of-factness touched me.

She said, "When you tell people about a crisis that happened to you, you end up looking after them. I have to come to grips with my illness before they can."

I shivered when she said "I am keeping a diary for my daughter, just in case I don't make it to tell her."

Now that the hustle of the Aids Awareness week is over, I will be leaving for Canberra tomorrow for the Voices for Justice Micah Challenge National Gathering. Micah Challenge is a global Christian organisation working for and with poor communities around the world, alongside the Make Poverty History Campaign. We will be visiting politicians to discuss, in particular, the G20 meeting, debt, trade and aid. There will also be seminars on faith, politics and justice, and the political processes in Australia. I am really excited, and it would be a good opportunity to see Chris and Amma from my Upenn life. I also need a break and get out of Melby for a bit before I start the crazy essay writing spree of 4 essays in 3 weeks.

Will be back with pictures soon!

I Want to Sue Cindy Crawford For My Lack of Self Esteem, and the Internet, for Making Me Less Productive

Before this, people sued Macdonalds for making them fat. Because their clever ads and 'delicious' food tempted people beyond reasonable control to upsize their meal and have it three times a day.

Now, someone is suing iPod for hearing problems. He alleges "the sound produced by an iPod can exceed 115 decibels, a volume which is dangerous to be exposed to for more than 28 seconds."

So turn the damm thing lower! Would you knowingly and eagerly run to a job site and put your ear next to the drill just to see how long it takes before your eardrums explode? iPod didn't force you to turn the dial until you hit the loudest volume. Any decent coherent human being knows that excessive loud noise over a period of time results in hearing damage. Not rocket science.

This made me think about the whole "blame others" society we now live in. Low self esteem? Blame your harsh back-beating parents. Spoiled brat? Blame your stifling moddle-coddling parents. Don't know the multiplication table at age 21? Blame your school. Have no creative spark? Blame the Singapore education system. Fat, poor and broke? Blame your credit card company. Don't like to walk on grass and drink from an outdoor water cooler? Blame my government. Or that is me at least.

Is this the result of the new eternal adolescent society? Where 18 year olds still let their mum wash their socks, 22 year olds are still in school on parental support, 26 year olds still live with their parents, 35 year olds are still wondering what they want to do in life and 40 year olds are still picking up at bars. Play stations, simple to read chick lit that has the vocab of sweet valley high, and toys for adults that we call vintage collectables. This has replaced being drafted for war at 17, getting married at 16 and child labour at 12. At least in the developed world.

Without responsibility, we find no need to be responsible. And part of being responsible and an adult, is realising you can't run up to your friend's parents and complain that they bullied you in school. The day I realised that I freaked out.

So we continue to assign blame, so that we can assign responsibility on others for our lives. People assign fast food companies responsibility for our health. People assign TV stations responsibility for baby sitting their children. People assign the government responsibility for keeping the roads safe. And when something wrong happens, we blame our city councils. In the past, people grab pitch forks and fire and hunt the bloody thing down. Of course nowadays, that is illegal.

Maybe it is all in the evolution of society. In olden times, people trusted the Church. Then they trusted their government. And now with the possibility of suing every Tom, Dick and Harry that made us overweight and deaf, we have put our trust in corporations and companies to handle our lives for us.

If you don't hear from me for a long time, remember to help collect my drycleaning

So it is official. I went up in front of my entire class and embarrassed Singapore with my presentation on Romancing Singapore. I am waiting for men dressed in black suits to knock on my door and cover my head with a sack and drag me away to some remote political jail somewhere under the desert. Well I'm not the one that came up with a Baby Making Competition for prime time TV ok!

My Tupperware Fetish

The last 11 days of my holidays have been juggling a full time internship at the Ethnics Council, racing against time to write a 6000 word policy paper with a million sources and interviews (I have eight days to do the paper, normally it takes 9 weeks), planning publicity for the Christmas concert, planning publicity for the Unicef screening, fighting over copyright issues with a film company, writing a policy proposal for my internship with the police, writing for the SSAV newsletter, preparing for my term two assignments and trying to ensure I have a healthy social life. It has been enjoyable and exciting, and honestly quite exhausting. Cooking is my reprieve and I have developed an unhealthy obsession with Tupperware. I was this close to buying a Hello Kitty Tupperware yesterday. Then Bob told me that if I buy my Hello Kitty Tupperware, it is grounds to break up. And Regine told me it is grounds to evict me. Tupperware, or my boyfriend and house? Tough choices abound everyday.

It's Either Too Much Law or Too Little

I haven’t felt so good and energized about work for a long time. I am currently interning at the Ethnic Community Council Victoria drafting a policy proposal for this coming state election on multicultural policing strategies. And I am just in awe at the amount of things I learn everyday. While here I was feeling all good about myself for going to to Philadelphia alone, many refugees arrive in Australia with no social network, no job, no school, no friends, no community, no money and no comprehension of English. Many have no idea what the police does, or who to contact for help because they do not come from societies with operates by the rule of law. Being so Singaporean that I sweat when I break copyright laws, I cannot imagine being in a country without a police force, or with a corrupt (we are not talking about asking for coffee money kind of corrupt, we are talking will kill or rape you kind of corrupt) police. A place with no law, no rules, no system, no right from wrong and no justice. A system that can’t stop your neighbour from raiding your house, raping your children or killing you. And there is nothing you can do about it except suck it up or do the same back to him. I take my legal system and my police force for granted because I assume that they are as necessary and obviously available as oxygen. And I am humbled by my ignorance. Everyday I am learning, and everyday I am thankful and everyday I feel like I am making some kind of difference. Thank God.

Almost Like An Ailen

Today a government official asked me if I was naturalized. I don’t know why but I felt irrationally upset and offended by that statement. I checked the exact definition of naturalized and it said “naturalization is the act whereby a person voluntarily and actively acquires a nationality which is not his or her nationality at birth.” Somehow, I can’t shake off the image of someone holding me down on an electric chair, and brainwashing me into the propaganda of my adopted country. Then he or she, dressed in the KBG uniform, will force me to say the pledge of allegiance of my new country and burn the flag of my home country. They will never let me return home again, and my adopted country will forever treat me like a second class citizen because they think that my home country wasn’t able to provide for me and that’s why I am crawling to another country so I can get some semblance of basic rights.

I think I have been reading off too many government websites. I just spend 5 hours reading government and police reports for my internship. The scary part was, I found it so fun I almost forgot to have lunch.

How About You?

The first time I stopped feeling like a kid was: at the Philly train station, during my first ten minutes in philly. I was completely alone with two big suitcases and no clue where to go.

The first time I stopped feeling like a teenager was: when instead of being mad at someone for doing something really immature, I caught myself thinking, she is only behaving like that because she is still young.

I will feel like an adult when I: learn how to pick fresh vegetables from the unfresh ones, and pass my driving test.

The future doctor and the imposter medical student.. 

Regine was stylist for the night.. 

Medical Ball! 

Pretty pretty dresses! 

Melissa and me! 

At the end of the night.. 

The best place to get alcohol poisoning and injured is at the medical ball..at least the sober ones know what to do with you 

The perfect ending to a ball is brunch the next morning 

Do I Really Want to Know What my Doctor Does at Night?

Medical Ball was much better than I expected. Seriously, I couldn't believe that everyone at the ball were going to be future doctors. I know medical students have fun and drink like fishes, but I wouldn't want to know that my family doctor dressed up like a dominatrix hooker in black patent and was jigging with it while sloshed in her university days. I don't want to be at the operating theatre, look up at the face of my surgeon and go, "hey you puked on my shoe and walked straight into the hotel's kitchen completely smashed five years ago," before blacking out from anaesthesia. Ok so I'm stereotyping, people can get a good job done and still have a fabulous party life. I just don't want to know about their fabulous party life. Would you want to know your doctor was chugging 100 shots of beer and rubbing against someone's ass the night before he does a heart bypass on you? It's double standards. But then again, I wouldn't want to know what my dentist, accountant, lecturer, chiropractor and child's Sunday school teacher do in their spare time either.

So it was all fun and good. Bob's medical friends are really friendly and nice, and I spend quite a bit of time with my IH med friends standing in line for alcohol.

By the end of the night, I was nowhere near high, but quite ready to go home. I went from "cherry- the- I- want- to- go- clubbing- every- night-till-I-spew-blood" to "cherry-the-I-just-want-to-sit-at-home-and-check-my-email" person. If I already feel too old to party at 22, I'm going to be playing bingo and coquette at the nursing home when I'm 26.

The Secret to Happiness: Mooning at Tourists and Scratching Your Ass

Today on my way home. I saw space man doing his thing on the corner of lonsdale and swanston. I saw drummer guy with his newly acquired snare drum and bottles. I saw a bearded man in tattered clothes calling out for change. And I saw two homeless guys talking to Big Issue Man at the dodgy KFC on swanston.

The shallow-pathetic-selfish-materialistic part of me thinks, how can they be happy? Growing up in a very materialistic asian country, I have came to associate happiness with a comfortable life. As much as my politically-correct answer to happiness is, love joy peace and harmony, and I would always tick the "happy and poor" box than the "rich but sad" box, I have a shallow conception of happiness. If everyone likes me, I am happy. If I am constantly doing something useful, I am happy. If I feel wanted and needed, I am happy. If I have something to do on Fridays, I am happy. If I am surrounded by people, I am happy. When I am with Bob, I am very happy. If I watch "The Devil Wears Prada" in the next week, I will be happy. If I get into honours next year, I will be happy. If the weather is warm and sunny, I am happy. When I eat something nice, I feel happy. If I wear something beautiful, I feel happy. When I find a pair of jeans that fit, I am happy. When I find pretty and comfortable shoes, I am happy. When I find a strapless bra that stays on while I jump up and down like a mad rocker, I am very happy. And trust me, my housemate and I were doing exactly that in Myers. In the fitting room of course.

But when I saw the three men laughing outside KFC, it hit me. That if I'm bankrupt.homeless.penniless.disfigured.limbless.status-less.pointless.meaningless. Will I still be happy?If happiness is what I have and what I do, then the yardstick for my happiness comes from how much society values what I have and what I do.

People always say they rather be happy and poor than rich and sad. But by poor, they always mean being where they are right now in the economic strata, and not moving up from it. Poor comes to mean comfortably poor. If poor meant being a limbless beggar, will we still choose the happy option?

I came to the conclusion that being happy meant being thankful. Because that is one of the things, besides your faith, that society can't take from you. If they take away your money, you have your family. If they take away your family, you have yourself. If they take away your limbs, you have your torso. If they take away your senses, you have your life. And if they take away your life, then we wouldn't even be having this conversation.

Sunrise on Mt Oberon 

The tour guide said: See the rock in the distance. It's called whale rock. Cuz it looks like a whale. Now go take lots of pictures of it and tell all your friends and family back home how awesome it is.  

Looks like dinosaur times eh... 

Frolicking with the rock 

The Kangaroo was like..screw you humans!! Stop staring at me! Ok fine...I'm gonna scratch my ass at you. You think its funny. Huh huh huh!  

whao a human..never seen one of those before 

Survivor Wilsons Prom

There I was lying. In a shrimp like position. Knees to my chest. Hands in between by knees. Clutching desperately to my hotpack. I would twist myself into any contorted position to get warm. The storm was going crazy outside the tent. The tent was shaking violently and threatening to collapse on me.

Yes, that's what happens when you chose to go camping in Wilson's Prom on an exceptionally cold weekend, and not figure out before hand how to get the sleeping bag zipper to work. Smart.

Still it was a pretty good trip. The highlight has to be the sunrise walk up Mt Oberon. It was 5:30am. Blue-grey darkness. The forest was still, and I was kicking myself for being there. The whole climb up I was so tired I was thinking morbid thoughts. What if I saw a dead body now? Would I a) sit next to it and rest? b) run down in the pretext of getting help? Then I thought about juice. And how nice it would be if there was boost juice at the top. And why i should open a boost juice stall at the top. And then I thought about bob. And then juice. And the dead body. And bob. And juice. Yeah you get the general idea.

But as I kept climbing, the forest slowly roused. The blue-greyness was tinged with warm yellow, and tress started rustling. The birds started chirping, one song at a time. There was a certain unexplainable energy about the forest, like a million soft alarm bells going off at the same time. There was such a sense of anticipation about it. And I felt like I was part of that tableau of morning ness.

The moment I stepped on the last rock at the summit, the sun exploded above the dense clouds, creating a harsh silhouette against the twisted landscape of trees. The misty sky was the exact same colour as the grey-blue sea, so no horizon could be seen. The waves, beach, sea, sky, rocks were a continuation of each other, making this just a small part of the larger earth.

Being up there, looking at this God-perfected image, was absolutely amazing. Every photo I took was only cheapening its beauty. The only thing that would make it better was Bob and a cup of juice.

Is There Any Difference Between Dating an Asian Guy from Dating a White Guy?

My recent conversation with a close girlfriend was about the differences between dating an Asian man and a Caucasian guy, ironic since I am doing an essay on the differences between the Asian and western press. Considering I have never seriously dated anyone non-Asian before or have any close white male friends, I have absolutely no expertise in that area. To me, I have never felt the impulse to date someone based on race. I absolutely adore my international friends but I also wouldn't mind if my life partner is so local that he can understand what I am saying when I'm muttering singlish in my sleep, and consider having Nasi Briyani and Assam Laksa for my wedding reception. And I am very much in love and happy with my Malaysian Chinese better half.

But that got me thinking, is there really a blinking difference between an Asian guy and a non-Asian guy? Considering about half my friends are dating people from another races:

Singaporean Chinese/White Aussie 3x,Chinese Singaporean/White French, Taiwanese/Brazilian, Chinese Singaporean/English, White English/Sri Lankan, Chinese Singaporean/White American, Chinese Singaporean/White Canadian, Japanese/White American, Vietnamese/White American, White Aussie/Chinese are just some examples

does race really matter when you are dating someone? Or are we just bounded by the stereotypes of people we see around us? The typical ones I have heard, which I think are all gross generalisations include: white guys are better in bed. White guys just want to get you in bed and then leave. Asian guys are all mummies’ boys. Asian guys are gentler and make better husbands. Asian men are weak. White men are violent and will get drunk and beat the shit out of you. White men who are dating Asian girls all have Asian fetish. Asian girls who date white guys are all SPGs (Sarong party girls: a Singaporean term for Asian girls who dig white men for their money and their supposed expertise in bed)

Well I have seen big strapping Asian men as much as I have seen white men that are geeky and total pansies. So are we just demonising the "other"? Or just thinking that the grass is greener on the other side? Is it just an exotic factor? I mean, it is kinda novel for a while to say, hi I'm dating a Persian-Swedish-Russian-Latino mixed blooded dude rather than I'm dating a fellow Singaporean who I met in school and we are going to apply for a HDB flat together? Do people consciously pick people of a certain race to prove a point? Like, if you are an Asian girl, pick an Asian dude to prove you are not an SPG. Or pick a white dude just to prove you are not the “Fobby/Cheena-chinese” sort?

Or does it really not matter at all? That race has absolutely nothing to do with the person as a whole, and none of the other person's cultural baggage is ever going to affect true love?

The Gum Syndicate

Today I was a total Singaporean.

I went to Norsiah's kitchen again, for the second time in twenty-four hours.

Then I went to 7-11 and thought...hmm...let's get a pack of gum. Seriously, I thought that was the coolest thing I could be doing for the moment. I don't know why I did it, but I looked around, and then gingerly took a pack of gum and paid, with adrenalin rushing through me.

The minute I stepped out of the shop, a police car stopped right in front of me. And for a moment there, my heart stopped. I was about to turn and run with my pack of gum when I remembered, bloody hell, I'm in Australia. Not at the Malaysian causeway trying to smuggle in packets of gum.

Knock knock knock. Sir, today you attempted procreation how many times?

" Having babies is a duty. Make that a duty to self, society and country. MPs like Dr Ong Seh Hong (Aljunied GRC) want to pump up the social pressure on such people whom he described as 'irresponsible'. Yesterday, even as their counterparts continued pushing for carrots such as a five-day work week and cash incentives, Dr Ong and several MPs suggested it was also time to use the stick. Indeed, the MPs argued passionately that procreation was a responsibility that people should fulfil regardless of sweeteners. Adopting the most hardline stance among them all, Dr Ong emphasised traditional Asian values as he dismissed the common refrain that family planning is a personal decision. Declared the father of three: 'Procreation is not only the duty of everyone, but also the responsibility of every citizen towards his family, parents, society and country.' Those 'irresponsible' people who shun the stork, he said, should realise they would become a liability to the society in future. " quoted from The Straits Times

So exactly which part of my life does the government not control? Procreation is an individual choice, and never a duty. Maybe if they took a bit of human geography they will realise that an aging population is a problem ALL developing countries are facing. Modernisation is the best contraception. And it is not going to change. How about tackling it sensibly like creating a more viable pension scheme, increasing the retirement age, helping middle-aged retrenched people get a job, improving our age-care scheme etc.? Or start changing the working culture in Singapore into one that promotes family life, a.k.a children can see their parents before 6pm everyday, and couples don't work till 10pm, come home and pass out on the bed. What is not sensible: TV dramas 'highlighting the sorry plight of a childless old couple and the great problems faced by an ageing society'.

Soon they will increase the price of condoms, tell me how many times a year I should have sex and ask me to fill in the times I attempt procreation in a little brown book with the Singapore core values printed on the front page.

For the Collective Good of Society?

From Demystifying Asian Values in Journalism,

"the destination Singapore wants to reach has been the progress and prosperity of the nation - a goal ingrained in the mind of every citizen from the moment he goes to school, when he has to recite the national pledge. The mass media as ally in the lofty aim of national upliftment: who can quarrel with that?"

Do all Singaporeans have the lofty aim of wanting Singapore to prosper as a Nation? Or do we want Singapore to prosper only so that we can prosper? What if Singapore wasn't a prosperous nation? Is that what happens when you have a nation build upon the ideals of prosperity and economic progress?

Singapore ranks 147th in the press freedom index. That's way below Arfganistan, Iraq and Palestine. In our category, we are the only developed country there. But no worries, at least the word freedom is not in our pledge. The U.S was founded on freedom, and with all the emphasis on the First Ammendment, they rank 44th.

I am taking a subject now that looks at Singapore from an outside point of view, and everyday I learn things that blow me away. Go read the Newspaper Printing and Presse Act, the Sedition Act and the Official Secrets Act. It says that if the newspaper doesn't cooperate with the government, its license will be revoked. Considering we only have ONE broadsheet newspaper in Singapore, then revoke how? We got no newspaper to read.