the failed campaign

Waiting...
Waiting...
Waiting...
...for what seems like eternity.

I suspect that the year-end would look pretty different from how it began. In a good way, I hope. Comparing myself with me 12 months ago, I can't help but be amazed at how much better and simpler life is right now. I hope that this sets the trend. That it can only go uphill. Afterall, it's not so much the external circumstances that determine how good life is as it is the internal state of mind. (Ok, I watched ONE episode of Oprah). But seriously, I think I've discovered the art of being content with what I have. If traveling has taught me anything, it's that we need to take life a lot less seriously. We need to slow down. We need to realize that what matter the most are relationships - with God, family, and friends.

The first thing that struck me when I touched down in Singapore was how impolite we are. No smiles, no greetings. Just a huge, state-of-the-art airport and people wearing their solemn faces. 10 days in and I've already seen how ugly some of us are - the way we speak, how we respond to each other, our pathetic brand of humour, our excessive use of sarcasm, our lack of tact. We aren't as nice as we ought to be.

Unfortunately for us, a fine can't fix this.

the new experience

it's amazing how much there is to learn in life. especially when you think you've figured it all out. it's a never-ending journey of changing perspectives, priorities and mentalities. and as we change, we begin to make more sense of it all. we begin to understand how foolish we were before. we progress. or in some cases, regress. that's what wisdom must be - the sum of all our experiences and memories that culminates in our unique perspective on life and its many issues.

i'm not exactly happy. but i'm glad for the new experiences. the new feelings. i'm thankful, in all seasons, for a God who is in control.... if I let Him be.

the barcap interview

so after behaving like a proper nerd, borrowing 2 fixed income textbooks from the library although school's out, i've come to realise that the interview with barcap that i believe i flunked last week wouldn't have been all that bad if i had actually studied the right stuff. the consolation is that everyone feels that way after a major exam. so i'm hoping that the other candidates screwed up as badly as i did. whatever the case, my interviewer seemed to think (or at least, claimed) that i had done well. he said that he hoped i would do just as well in the next interview round as i had done with him. my response was a chuckle. he reciprocated. i sure hope he wasn't just paying lip service.

i found it rather amusing that my interviewer was calling in from LA, when I was in London, regarding a job in Singapore.

moving on to the next round, my interview's going to be with another American. i quite dislike the incomprehensible accent. i'll just keep my fingers crossed and hope that i ace this one and move on to the next round.

meanwhile, i'll just be thankful that i have choices, diverse as they may be.

oh, merry xmas & a happy new year. (",)

the sights and sounds on a snowy night

I took a nice long walk from Waterloo to Marble Arch one winter evening. In the freezing cold. Armed with my trusty Primark scarf and Ralph Lauren snow hat. Oh, and my 'Made in China' leather gloves - the nicest-looking things gifted by the nicest person I know. I've never really done a solo walk like this before, not in London at least. Cos it seems pretty sad, and lonely, roaming about aimlessly on your own. But a friend recently did it, twice actually, and told me that it felt really good. So I decided to give it a go. What's the fun in binging night after night anyway? Also, I had been cooped up in the halls for more than 24hours, down with fever, flu, sore throat - the usual shit. I needed to get out. Even if that meant that I would die of hypothermia on the streets like some hobo.

I pick up the Evening Standard. First 5 pages are all about the unexpected snowfall and how it has disrupted the lives of many Londoners. Closed schools. Delayed trains. Trapped commuters. One would think that last February's events would have prepared the city for the worst. Apparently not. Well, good for the school kids then. I look up from the paper, distracted by a stumpy-looking punk trying to hit on a decent looking lady. Nothing really wrong with that. But the conversation is pretty sad, albeit slightly entertaining for me. It goes roughly like this:

Stumpy: Hey there, would you know if this train heads to London Bridge?
Lady: Hmm.. I don't really know. Sorry.
Stumpy: Are you sure? Does it really not go? I need to get to London Bridge.
Lady: There's a rail map right there. It'll tell you. (looks at the map). Oh yes, it does.
Stumpy: And how do I get back to this station from there?
Lady: (blank look)
(Tube arrives and saves the lady.)

Failed attempt at conversation. But hey, at least he tried.

Tube reaches my destination. I start walking. I realise that I've never actually seen the Westminster area after dusk before. If I do go out in the night, it's usually to the binge spots. Or to some performing arts venue at the West End. Or to Zones 5 or 6. Or to the kebab stands. Or to St Paul's - my favorite building in the whole of London. I stop to admire the Big Ben. It's gorgeous how the clock face seems to magically illuminate the whole tower to paint a picture of artistic serenity in a borough known mainly for politics. A couple of Asian tourists (Yeah, I'm SO not one of 'em) start taking pictures. I follow suit. But my attempts fail miserably. I don't own a friggin DSLR, you see.

I continue walking. Then it suddenly occurs to me that I'm still sick. And that my fever's coming back. Not a good thing at all, considering that the temperature's in the vicinity of ZERO. I feel my heart palpitating. It seems to be slowing down actually. I comically think that I'm going to die - The Straits Times headline: "SMU exchange student dies in freak weather at Westminster" flashes across my mind. Ok maybe not.

I spot Macs and head in for hot chocolate. There's a dude there, standing around suspiciously. The moment I get my drink, he approaches me and asks for the stamp on my cup. You get a free drink when you collect 6. I'm tempted to say that I'm collecting too. Then for some reason, I think of 'The Pursuit of Happyness'. He kinda looks like Will Smith (alright, he was black). He probably needs the free drink more than me. Might even have a hungry son waiting outside. So I give it to him. He seems grateful, and he goes off.

Trafalgar Square. Lots seem to be happening here. Some carolers in front of the huge Norwegian Christmas tree catch my attention. Quite a bit of snickering going on in the audience. The lead female voice is out of tune. But that's not it. The lead is actually a male in his 30s. I stay for awhile. I've never heard a castrato before. As I take my leave, an Indian girl approaches me. She's from the WWF and goes on and on about wild life conservation, how the polar caps are melting and how I should commit my support in the form of an email address. An overgrown Husky comes by. I exclaim at the size of the dog. She corrects me and says that it's a wolf. She goes on about how different dogs and wolves are for about 30 seconds. Then she asks the owner. It's a dog.

I see a protest going on with a number of banners with headings like "Copenhagen", and "Give Us Our Future". How cool is that. I've never seen a protest of any sort before so I go nearer and take some shots inconspicuously. I want to join them for the fun of it, but it's too cold. And also cos I'm wearing leather gloves.

Oxford Street. It truly feels like Christmas. Everyone's doing last minute shopping. The lights and deco glimmer in the icy night. A little snow on the ground. Lots of snow on the passing cars. Brass band playing outside Mark & Spenser's. Poor old ladies siting outside large department stores trying their luck at emotional blackmail. But, alas, the spirit of giving is not as compelling as the spirit of buying. Me? I have my hands full of winter clothing I have just bought for my family so I can't reach in for spare change. -_-

Marble Arch. I spot a drug store. I need to get medication for my wretched flu and fever anyway so I head in. I see a dude about my age trying to look invisible as he picks up his purchases. He seems to be getting condoms. Big deal. But no. Being the busybody that I am, I look closer. I think I see the word 'VIAGRA'. Sucks to be you, buddy.

I head home. People-watching isn't all that boring once in while, I guess. And I am not dead of hypothermia yet.

Cheers to that.

:)

the northern star

What have I in this life
But the love in Your eyes
This empty world will one day fade
Only Your truth will remain

Jesus, all I have is You
You're the hope I'm holding to
I might weep but still my faith
Rests in You

As the heavens hold the skies
It's Your hand that holds my life
And Your love will lead me on
When all else is gone

i see you.

the season to be jolly, 'tis

So he singled me out and that got me freaked out. He said that I've been testing the water with my toes when I should be cannon-balling right into it. Now what could he possibly be referring to? Hmmm...

Questions about ambiguity aside, I'm excited about the festive season. It's going to be a different year-end experience again. Two in a row. I like! I've been in the mood ever since the lights went on at Oxford Circus two weeks ago. They're nothing compared to what you get along Orchard Road (either that's true or I've been looking at the wrong street), but they do the job just as well.

Can't wait for my final term of undergraduate life to end. But I don't want exchange to end. Oh the dilemma. :s

the case for divorce

I was discussing sex with a friend of mine, and then we started talking about divorce (sadly). On what grounds is it permitted? When is it an indication of frivolity? After some research, here are my thoughts.

I agree that the bible is our measure of morality. But we need to take this with a pinch of salt (for lack of a better idiom). Carl Braaten mentions in Christian Dogmatics that “The ultimate authority of Christian theology is not the biblical canon as such, but the gospel of Jesus Christ to which the Scriptures bear witness ”. So it really isn’t the bible that gives us our norms. The bible needs to be read in the context of those days. Laws and commandments set in the bible should not be taken to be morals cast in stone. We need to ask what the underlying principle of those laws are. But the underlying principle is not enough. The core of our moral decisions should be how they reflect the love that we have learnt to know in Christ. We need to relate morals to Christ. This is when it becomes subjective. Whenever there is an element of interpretation, there is an element of subjectivity. Let me go a step further to say that.... Even if we’ve established morals in relation to Christ (even if you argue that there is no subjectivity involved), there are exceptions! Let me paraphrase from the writings of Bruce V. Malchow from the Lutheran School of Theology and Mission to illustrate this:

In Mark, Jesus says the following: "Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery" (10:11-12). However, in Matthew, Jesus says the following: "anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery; and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery" (5:32). Now, there is one reason why divorce may be acceptable - unchastity. Paul adds another exception to Jesus' rule when he says, "if the unbelieving partner separates, let it be so, in such a case the brother or sister is not bound" (1 Cor 7:15). So now there is a second reason that divorce can be all right--desertion. There are other valid causes for divorce! While Jesus' rule stands as our general guide, we pastorally evaluate every case to see whether divorce is the better alternative.

My point is that morals are dynamic. It doesn’t always mean that we’re compromising. It could very well be a well-intentioned effort at staying relevant to our times. This makes it subjective.

the bonfire weekend

i like having fun. i like gyrating to club beats all night long. i like making out with the only person I have ever dared give my heart to. if only she were here.

but still, i like having fun. especially on a boat sailing along the River Thames.

how cool is that.

the reason i'm a skeptic

strangely enough, the music still suits this...

the justification

I am NOT just like everybody else. I'm not perfect. but I'm me.

the prego song

I can be really ambiguous and difficult about things I'm afraid of. It doesn't necessarily mean I'm unsure about what I want or need. In retrospect, deep down I always knew. All I needed was time. But you gave me so much more. I don't know how you did it - not knowing where the path would lead to; not even knowing if we were on the same path. But you did anyway.

Thank you for waiting.

I pray you never leave.

:)

the linguistic incompetencies of our nation

Unless you've been living under a rock, you would have come across the flurry of criticism following Ris Low's infamous post-pageant interview. It's one of those videos we share on Youtube and Facebook just for laughs, like we did for the other great Youtube funnies - Dramatic Gopher or Chinese Backstreet Boys or Leave Britney Alone. Simply because her command of the English language was comical..to us. When I first watched the video, I was appalled. Not at her diction (lack of, rather), but at the fact that the judges let her win. My criticism was directed at the judges. How could they let someone with such substandard English represent the nation at a world class pageant. Just compare her to Ms Singapore Universe 2009 - Rachel Kum. The differences are glaring. Is one more appealing than the other? To me, yes. No prizes for guessing who (especially with her scandalous pictures floating around). But is one necessarily better than the other? That wholly depends on the standards we're using.

If we are basing it merely on linguistic competency, then we are fools. Because unless you speak Queen's English (ie. Received Pronunciation) with that pompous accent, we're going to sound just as foreign and incomprehensible to non-Singaporeans as the French or Yorkshire accents are to us at first. I can't tell you how many times I've been exasperated when people here in London respond to me with a 'sorry?' or 'what was that again?' despite me speaking perfectly good English most of the time.

But I digress. My point of all this is not that speaking good English isn't/shouldn't be the criteria for judgment. At the end of the day, when we have crowned the winner, we should be able to look at her and say, "Hmm. Yep, that's definitely Singaporean". And I think Ris Low definitely fits the bill - discounting her credit card fraud cases, of course. We need to face the facts. Not everyone in Singapore speaks good English. We have Singlish, and we have Engrish. And for now, at least, that's who we are; that's what we speak. There are so many families that use Mandarin, Malay or Tamil as their primary mode of communication. Consequently, their English may not be as polished. And there's nothing really wrong with that. It doesn't happen just in the heartlands (and I hate that term, by the way). Considerable volume of local business transactions occur between the Mandarin-speaking wealthy. Even in premier schools (once again, a term I don't exactly like because of the scorn it generates), Engrish is spoken by a decent number. Although the numbers could be more pronounced at "neighborhood" schools, the point is that it is widespread. Singaporean subcultures exist. And my take is that we shouldn't be ashamed of who we are - weird as it is for me to say.

Of course, that doesn't mean we don't improve on our English. Or that we don't grimace when someone butchers the language. We're entitled to be put off by people. It isn't discrimination, it's preference. Be gracious about it. But we aren't entitled to portray Singapore as something that she isn't.

So the pageant judges were sort of justified afterall.

PS: Oh, and while we're on the topic of linguistic capabilities. I think it works both ways. Typical conversation -

Person: You speak Tamil?
Me: I think I do. Er.. yes.
Person: Oh really? let me hear!
Me: (incomprehensible Anglicized Tamil)
Person: Ok, you really should stop talking. And your mom's a Tamil teacher! (criticise criticise)

Sure, most of the time it's harmless fun. Sometimes it's funny. But it sure as hell infuriates me when the critics aren't able to speak proper English, and I'm gentlemanly enough to overlook all that.

Or maybe being ignorantly critical is a Singaporean thing too...

the aquarium

today it occurred to me... most guys all over the world, Asian or European, are losers. At least, they behave like they are.

Some girls too.

Except the ones who can dance to Soulja Boy on stage.

Jägermeister and Sambuca shots do the trick.

the tube

So it's been a couple of days and here are my first impressions...

I see this city as an unpolished form of Singapore. Unpolished, yet refined, rustic, yet appealing. It's like Singapore in many ways - excellent infrastructure, congested traffic, a ballooning international population, mild (harmless?) racism. Yet it's so much better in many other ways - beautiful colonial buildings bordering every street in central London, working fireplaces, John Wesley's home, linguistic superiority, a thriving arts scene, accental sensuality, an authentic and natural cosmopolitan feel, harmony in diversity, a delicate mishmash of the traditional and the modern, the reality and harshness of life that every child should face while growing up, political maturity, communal spirit, freedom to express, freedom to choose, freedom to accept, freedom to reject.

We'll see....

the blower's daughter

i like piano

the juxtaposition of music

so after another night of pointless clubbing, with pounding music and random chatter , I come home to the mac, open firefox, and hear Hillsong play.

and it sounds so much more peaceful and fulfilling. it sounds more real and hopeful. it sounds right.

so i turn off the music, and get on with life.

the all brits partyyyy

New Asia is the New Attica.

the team i've grown to like

Today, we were trying to dig ALOT of coins out of an acrylic structure with a small opening after a photo shoot. My boss became quite vigorous with her fingers. And at that instant, a colleague exclaimed, "Eeeee... you damn disgustingggg!!!".

My team cannot be any more.. adult:

the month of reconciliations

July's almost over and it has turned out to be the most peaceful month since the year began. It feels good to mend broken relationships, to know that you matter enough for the other party to want to help pick up the pieces, not really bothering about whose fault it was to begin with. It feels good to go the extra mile for someone. It feels good to forgive, and be forgiven. It feels good to forget about forgiving, because you don't see a need to revisit the past. It feels good to uncomplicate things, to press the reboot button, to find depth in simplicity.

But more than it feeling good, it's the right thing to do.