thesis.extraordinaire?

The culmination of a bad day in general. I probably woke up on the wrong side of bed today, having spent a sleepless and unbearably humid night tossing and turning in bed for endless hours, wishing and praying that that blardee damned mosquito would stop sucking my blood in the darkness when my eyes could not feign to see it, and just drop dead and die immediately. I took a cab to work ( yes yes.. AGAIN. No wonder the measley bonus ain't enough to cover all my additional uncalled for cab rides that somehow bring me to a place I have to desire to be in), and first thing in the morning I became pissed at a good friend whose comments/internal joke/haha humour I got overly-sensitive about, interpreted in the worst possible direction, reacted in the worst possible way, and ended myself up in the worst possible dilemma. All meant in good fun, but meanie jan spoilt everything for everyone as usual. I seem to find myself at the giving end of such dramatics very often recently, and I can only apologise for adding too much 'spice' into everyone's life in a negative way. Please forgive me, (esp ming, boh, cc and those who have stuck with me thru thick and thin) I am trying to change. I snap and I bite often, but I almost always regret it the moment I do. Don't know what's overcome me nowadays, my mean streak has started to get the better of me. Where has the 'nice' in Janice gone to I wonder? I remember being a happy and loveable kid with a big heart once. Shaddup jan, shaddup, for the love of God, and learn to take life with a pinch of salt. "Learn to let go, there is no need to be thinking too much about it", Ch says, but me the petty little xiaoqigui resents that he is right, and that I am too proud to do so naturally. Oh, that pride would be my downfall, me the scum of the earth, the muck of the sea, the jam with the higher sugar content with enough insecurities to sink the Titanic a thousand times over. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. And whispering into the crack in the wall, I let go of this matter. I must learn to be nice all over again. And as a final crackdown to send me spiralling down to the depths of darkness again, Jon my darling boy informs me that he has some comments about the way I write on this blog. "Too detached', "disassociated", "cannot feel your personality" encapsulated the gist of it all. "It's almost as if you were writing a thesis all the time", he ventured. "Thesis extraodinaire?" (haha I SO wish jon... this comment will tide me through when I actually do start on my thesis ok?) Well thank you my dear, I will learn to take criticism constructively and not personally. I will not get angry, I will not bite. *SMILE* Perhaps I should learn to write more casually so that it's an easier read. (Lahs, lors, aiyohs anyone?) Not so introspective so that my friends feel like a part of my life. Write like how I feel and not how I process my feelings from my brain. Write about happier stuff? Or not write at all? This is me, believe it or not, meanie petty jannyjam, thesis extraodinaire. Tomorrow will be a better day! Will the idiotic mosquito drop dead and die now please, and can all the cabbies refuse to drive me to work tomorrow?


P.S. I guess jam has replaced lulu, and you guys can all stop laughing hysterically at the absurdity of the title of this post now. IF you even managed to make it through that whole paragraph above. :)

left.on.a.jet.plane

Certain events, often deemed as milestones on hindsight, have the power to alter one's course of life drastically, be it for the better or for the worse.

I suppose this can be considered one of them, although at the moment I'm really not too sure about the extent of impact it'll have on my life. What I do know for certain, is that someone's life is totally changed, and that person is my mom.

She left for New Zealand last evening, to join some friends (and some strangers) who were looking to expand their business, in a partnership that would take her away from her family for months and perhaps even years. Computer-illiterate once, she had to pick up new skills fast, and venture into new territories (by her own standards) boldly. Granted, she's still not exactly considered computer-savvy, but the amount of determination and dedication expended on her task at hand was undeniably admirable for a fifty-three coming to fifty-four year-old housewife. In her new job, she's got to adapt to an entirely new culture, a different way of thinking, and integrate with a new way of life. She's got to learn how to manage people of various nationalities, and look at things from a macro-level while keeping an eye on the nitty-gritties. She's got to be prepared to defend herself against vicious back-stabbing and company politics when the time calls for it, and not let herself get stepped roughshod over like she normally does. Being overly nice really doesn't pay equal dividends sometimes. I feel as if she's almost like a young, helpless, domesticated pup unleashed into the wild and set free to act as hunting prey for scary animals.

Where does love begin and where does love end? Knowing how much my mom wanted this, we could only learn to let her go. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to find herself in the world, to carve a niche for herself, to garner achievements under her belt, now that her three chicks have grown up, ready to leave the coop and fly away. Really, it's the least we could do for her, setting her free to pursue her dreams, and dragging her down no longer. Not that she considers us chores or undesirables, I'm certain she does not. But the irrevocable fact remains that by putting us, her family, first at every point in her life, she has consciously let her own aspirations take a backseat, a supporting role. Not that this business venture was decided upon out of pure selfishness, in fact, wanting to provide more adequately for the family played a huge part in her decision. Somehow, I sense though, that this time round, she wanted it for herself as much as for the family. And that's a good thing.

They say you never know what you have until you lose it. It's only been barely a day, but already the air in the house seems so musty, the floor so dusty, and the walls silent without echo. Everyone chips in to help out with the housework but I wonder how long can this fervour last? Soon, I suspect, the house will begin to look like a hurricane just hit it, the heap of washing/folding/ironing will start to pile up even further, the ants and infinite number of pesky creatures will have a ball of a time on the unvacuumed floor. What else can we do but try to cope as best as we can? Everyone, be it daughter, son, father or mother, has a right to lead their own lives as they deem fit.

After all, it's never too late to start living.

f.i.n.a.l.l.y.!

On the 14th Feb 2005, 5.00pm, my sister's bf finally proposed!

He caught her unawares in her room (still wearing grubby tee and shorts), and entered toting a ring+matching earrings (read: blingbling!), his fluttering stomach, a beautiful bouquet of 24 red roses, a guitar, and revised lyrics to the Adam Sandler song "Grow Old With You". (collective Awwwwwwwww......)

Here's what he sang to her (I managed to convince him to pass them over to me.. heh):

I wanna make you smile
Whenever you're sad
Go to the gym
When I'm getting fat
All I wanna do
Is grow old with you

I'll get you Buscopan
When your tummy aches
Do your markings
If they're newspaper cuttings
O, it could be so nice
Growing old with you

C: I'll miss you, kiss you
Give you my quilt when you are cold
Need you, feed you
I'll let you hold the remote control

Let me do the dishes
In our kitchen sink
Do the cooking
When you're ironing
O, I could be da man
Who grows old with you

I wanna grow old with you.

There's physical evidence because we documented the entire process... Photos coming up once they're uploaded and passes the censorship board! Heh. :) This is a really special Vday (although it was spent moping at home and taking countless naps).

indie.s.e.x.y

You Are Independent Sexy You drive men crazy with your "playing hard to get act" Except, it's really not an act at all. You're a strong, sexy woman with her own life and interests. And makes men even more interested in you! What Kind of Sexy Are You? Take This Quiz :-) Find the Love of Your Life (and More Love Quizzes) at Your New Romance.

I think a major flaw in this test is that it automatically ASSUMES that you are sexy. Just what kind of sexy it seems. But what if you aren't sexy AT ALL? Kinda puts things on a whole new level of flightiness doesn't it? Now where are those men? Happy V Day everyone! Hope we all don't get left on the shelf and get hooked up with someone (anyone!) before we hit the big 40.

arh.chee.tek.

Your Dominant Intelligence is Spatial Intelligence

You've got a good sense of space and how the world around you looks. You can close your eyes and "see" images. You have innate artistic talent. An eye for color and shapes, you're also a natural designer. Since you think in pictures, visual aids and demonstartions help you learn best. You would make a good navigator, sculptor, visual artist, inventor, architect, interior designer, or engineer.

What Kind of Intelligence Do You Have?

Got this off kerm's blog... She got the same result as well. She says architects have got fine minds? Seems like we're both destined to stick with architecture eh babe? *grin* Or perhaps I should consider a career change to a visual artist? Hmm. Interesting stuff this is.

beautifully.human.

Beautifully unashamedly human. Listening to the strains of Jill Scott's soulful vocals on her second album, I start to wonder what it really means to be beautifully human.

I am a boisterous river
I am a mountains story
I am a quiet healing
I am a fragrant flower
I am a moonlit evening
I am a peaceful nod
I am a writer's thinking
I am a welth unfathomed
And if you don't recognize my presence
I am here.

In my myopic perspective on life, being human constitutes the presence of flaws and cracks within the seeming perfection we all aspire to grasp. It is a very negative depressing outlook, much akin to saying that the glass is half empty instead of being half full. It is about the intolerance that we constantly feel towards people we care about, it is about the flagrant flaring of tempers and constant sulky disposition that clings like a black awful muck, it is about selfish endeavours at the expense of others, it is about a reluctance to let go and let love take over.

I am a source of power
I am excited journey
I am the rock of patience
I am a whisper singing
I am unbraided freedom
I am thought for the blinking
I am love unshattered
I am the great orgasm

Being human is one thing, but being beautifully human is another. The notion of being beautifully human does not in any way negate the flaws that we possess, but it talks about embracing those imperfections as qualities that make us all unique. It isn't a flauntering of the negative, but a quiet acceptance of being who we are, and knowing what makes us human. It is an acknowledgement of our shortcomings, supplanted by a conscious decision to keep them in check. It is embracing what life has to offer, imperatively rooted in a sincere appreciation of what God has given us. It is Grandma Sophie in Miyazaki's Howl's Moving Castle, it is Mr 'boing-boing' Turnip-head, it is Calcifer at the very end.

Be Beautifully Human. And be proud of it.

mimi.lala.lorlor.

jan, elsie cha-cha + jo: Three beauties hamming it up in front of the sneaky cameraman (ie. dad. Again.) Green is the new red!

good.batter.bestest!

super chio half-french cousin ailing who's studying art history in france is oh-so-hip-and-funky... keep batting those lovely eyelashes babe!

excuse.me.are.you.a.model?

super chio half-french cousin ailing striking an inpromptu pose for the sneaky cameraman (ie. dad)

auntie.jan.

baby kyra, jan + jo: Maternal instincts coming into play finally? eeks. I hate babies.. I really do. Especially when they scream their lungs out and all eardrums within the radius of 1km pops as a result. Fortunately, baby kyra here is as docile as a deer, due in no small part to the comfortable 'cushioned' arms she rests on. :)

first.kiss.

jonah and luohan sitting on a tree... K-I-S-S-I-N-G *muak!*

jonah+jan

gong.xi.fa.cai.

Annual traditional bai-nian-ing to parents in living room on the 1st day of Chinese New Year before setting out for relatives' houses.

happy.c.n.y.2005!

Woah. This has become such an unfamiliar feeling. (Blogging that is.) It almost seems surreal that I can get to do this in the comfort of my own home and in broad daylight! Hmmm... where shall I start from after such a long period of inactivity? There's been too many things happening around: Yvette and nik leaving for aust, work, movie outings, work, gym sessions with ch, work, birthdays that have come and gone, work, cookout at boh's (read ch's blog "two marthas, six manslaves, one janice..." where I was condemned as being inept in a kitchen setting), work, beer+chix wings+peanuts, work, diet pineapple tarts + yummilicious jap green pea cookies, work, russell wong's exhibition, work, celebrations at little bali with sec sch kakis, work, wonderfully manicured nails + torturous eating at crystal jade immediately after........ Gosh. How ever can one fit so many activities into a single lifetime?

It seems to me that I have nothing much to say nowadays (hence the silence on this blog). Nothing as funny and entertaining as ch, nothing as whimsical and fluffy as ming, nothing as thought-provoking and deep as yuwen, nothing as everyday as leesh, nothing as been-there-done-that as elyse, nothing as crappy as crapchannel kullwee, nothing as sincere and honest-to-the-heart as stacey, nothing as straightforward and emotionally-grabbing as kerms. Nothing. Zilch. Great... Now the word 'nothing' is even starting to look weird on me. I don't even have nothing anymore.

Anyway, Happy Chinese New Year to one and all, Gong Xi Fa Cai, Hong Bao Na Lai (That must be the only Chinese phrase I really understand heh). May you be prosperous as you spread your fortune to me. :) Time to look forward to collecting all the red packets even though the numerical value of the total sum collected seems to diminish and wane into inconspicuous existence by the year. Time to reiterate one's goals in life/plans for the future/current standing in the big bad working world to the high heavens, time to put on that smile and greet countless strangers with great zeal and energy (some of whom have been strangers you meet every year since you were born). Chinese NewYear. It's so tiring I cannot believe we put ourselves up to it annually. All the same, this year's celebrations are especially poignant to me, considering how I might not get to enjoy the entire process again for the next few years if all goes well in the area of overseas education. I'm not sure what I'll miss more though: the money, or the child-like anticipation of it? *grins*

HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR! I'm glad to be a Chinese I really am. (Slitty eyes and flat nose notwithstanding of course.)

what.is.life?

Life works in strange ways, yuwen said when I broke the news to her. Mrs Creffield (also known to us affectionately as Mrs C in acjc, head of the lit department and formidable independent and intellectual woman, coach of the accolade-winning national debate team, passionate teacher and incredible mentor), lost her husband to a rock-climbing accident on saturday morning. The whole irony of the matter was that they had just managed to return unscathed from phuket where they had been holidaying when the tsunamis struck. Having made it back to Singapore safe and sound, he went for his usual weekend mountain-climbing, and that was when tragedy struck.

As a tribute to Mrs C's fame in the teaching circles, the news of her husband's death was reported in an article in Sunday Times page 3. This death leaves her all alone without any children to depend on when she grows old, without any companionship when her eyesight fails her and her senses start to numb. What is life that it could be so fragile? That one could lose it in an instant just as much as one could gain it? As much as I was never really close to Mrs C, and definitely not close to her heart as wen and the rest of the debaters are, I somehow feel an urge to show her that in her time of personal loss and sorrow, there are people who are willing to sacrifice their time and energy to support her, just as she had done the same for us in our time of need. To our beloved Mrs C, stay strong of mind and calm in spirit, our thoughts are continually with you now.

and.the.room.goes.boom!

Boom Boom Room's closing down! After 15 years of being Singapore's longest running cabaret show (or as kumar puts it succinctly, the ONLY one), the days of feather plumes and glittery opulence has finally come to an end. And what a loss for the next generation of the Singaporean society, for if not for anything else, kumar and his gang have taught us not to take ourselves to seriously, to laugh at our own faults, our government, and our society. This light-hearted take on essentially who Singaporeans are, being deeply-rooted in cultural norms and biases, and continually kept up-to-date on current trends and news headlines, serve to widen our often miopic and narcissistic perspective on life, by showing us that our own flaws (as embodied by the cast of hip-thrusting, breast-pumping cross-dressers) are not the be all and end all to living to the fullest.

While I marvel at their ability to balance and even dance on sky-high wobbly stilettos, and still manage to look the more graceful for it, I also admire their courage to put themselves up on the stage as individuals who demand the understanding of the greater public. It is not easy being in their shoes (both literally and metaphorically), being as different as they are, and having to cope with a lot more prejudices than us 'normal' folks are accustomed to. What is being short, fat an ugly compared to being a person born with the wrong sex organ? And what is earning $1600 a month and an uncertain future compared to the certainty of an unstable job where it will definitely be difficult to make ends meet if there is even a job available?

While jostling with the overwhelming crowd last night, (some of whom had turned up in a show of support for BBR, many others, I suspect, came to gape at the freakshow for the novelty of it), I spotted a friend whom I had not met in over a year. Whilst still in Singapore, she had worked at BBR for awhile, after which she switched to a waitressing job. she was frugal, and worried about how to pay the next electricity bill, all the while hoping that she would somehow get talent-spotted and get a contract to sing for a bar. Such heart-breakingly simple aspirations, but how impossible the odds are against her to succeed. The last I heard of her was that she was in Sydney without a work permit and trying desperately to look for a job to support herself. She had been convinced that Singapore no longer held any opportunity for her, and that she was sick and tired of the societal condemnations that she had to go through since her sex operation 9 years ago. Unfortunately, she had to settle for a waitressing job over there as well.

Looking at her, and talking to her, I cannot help but feel that while that fateful operation took away the one thing that obstructed her from fulfilling her destiny as a woman, it inevitably also left an indelible scar on her self esteem. She, who needs constant reassurance and encouragement, also happens to be one of the sweetest-natured person I have come across in my life. She, who had returned to Singapore some time back for a holiday, decided not to contact me for a short chat over a coffee because she thought I would be busy. I suspect though, that it's more the case of sparing me the embarrassment of having to deal with the constant stares if I'm seen in the company of the likes of her in public. Still, I'm grateful to her for teaching me the importance of accepting people with their flaws and eccentricities, for showing me that ultimately, we as fallible human beings are one and the same. For who are we to judge others when we are just as imperfect and unsightly in the purity of God's eyes? I can only hope for a better life for my friend, and pray that I may have the love and the patience to continue to reach out to her.

my.love.

Caught Aviator today, in a rather excrutiatingly cramped Lido Theatre 4. Poor legs had to settle with minimum space needed to keep blood flowing for a lengthy (and on hindsight, pointless) THREE HOURS. For me, Aviator failed to take off because it's leading man, Mr "Titanic-died-for-a-heavy-cause" Leo Di Cap couldn't convince me of the role he was playing. Such a good actor, especially in the scenes showing his inner torment and madness, but pity about the undermining wrinkle-free boyish face that survived a masive plane crash without so much as a blemish. Someone should ask him if he uses SKII.

Anyway, back to the topic of this post. My Love refers to Jude Law, my latest obsession, the source of my heart palpitations (and he ain't no Apple product), who appeared in Aviator for a total of 3 seconds, but who filled up the big screen fully with his easy grace, his aura, and his greek-god-worthy looks. (Amazing how fast I switch camps from the Pitts to the Laws.) He and Ethan Hawke made Gattaca one of the most swoonsome movies of all time, although I sadly could not recall the title of that movie until bohboh reminded me. He is also the reason why Alfie MUSTMUSTMUST be watched. Hey Jude my love. I shall sleep with sweet dreams tonight. :)

pitch.fever.

Wassup with all the sold out soccer tickets man?!? After the entire wild goose chase on foot (!!!)from Shenton Way to Amara Hotel to Tanjong Pagar Centre to Chinatown Market to People's Park to the sleazysleazy Chinatown Point (yes sernhong made us tackle the horrendously planned internal circulation ALL the way to the top floor in search of the elusive Turf Club Ticket Counter nestled in between dark and ominous-looking foot relexology shops with heavily made-up, scantily-clad middle-aged women guarding the doorways and soliciting business from wizened old greasy bald-heads who can't wait to get their hands on some flesh for carnal pleasure...) and we STILL CANNOT GET TICKETS?!? Even resourceful funky brudder aka cl and menacing bookie kee did not manage to do the impossible.

Gosh.

holl.ee.woot

Have you heard the latest gossip from hollywood? Brad and jan's the latest couple!! w00tw00t! (I SO wish.)

eh.see.jay.see.

Met up with ru and grace (ailing) for lunchie and kopie on New Year's Day. Haven't seen either one of them in almost a year... Although grace's in s'pore, we seldom seem to meet up unless ru's back from new york. Pretty weird, but that's the way things go.

The both of them were my close friends in back during my jc days, having been in the same class and all. Together we've endured small shit's (my form teacher who's indian and really really short and stumpy-looking- hence the nickname) sarcastic nonsense, miss marhaini's (malay econs teacher who used to scare the shitout of all of us) screaming, mr welch's (english litereature teacher who's also english by the way) b-o-r-i-n-g, sleep-inducing, yet oftentimes hilarious comments on chaucer, and harvindar singh's (pe teacher who SO DOES NOT sing(h).) weekly physical torture. (Wassup with all these races man!?!) We've had our good moments and bad in our AH container (air-con classroom due to renovations works.. woohoo!), enjoying the a/c while the rest of the school sweated it out in the sweltering heat, but also suffering from fleabites around our ankles because we happily brought in our plush toys (and left them there forever) into our contained classroom. HAHAHA. Those were really the days. There are lots more stories to tell, but the gist of it all is basically that my jc class comprised of super funky, wacky, intellectual and cool characters, mostly over-achievers in their own right, and grace and ru fit right in. Where does this leave me then, you may ask. Out-of-place definitely, but that's another story to tell.

Anyway, grace and ru are really fun people to hang out with. Anyone who's met them before will tell you exactly the same thing. Between grace's rocket-mouth and rolling eyes, and ru's funky clothes and off-beat whims, there just isn't any place for boredom. Conversations flit from topic to topic, from person to person, from place to place. Which makes it all the more boring when silence occasionally sets in into the conversations, as it normally does in any conversation. We talked about people we haven't seen for ages, people whom were in school, caught up on gossip, caught up on each other's lives, more gossip, mentioned names which would otherwise have been shrouded in dust at the back of our minds (no robbie poo, this does not include you...), and of course, some more gossip. The both of them are doing really well now, and I'm happy for them. Ru's graduated from NYU and is currently writing for New York Magazine; Grace won the prestigious L'Oreal international marketing thingamajig and is currently working at L'Oreal as a marketing executive. Me? Still a lowly intern with a lowly-paid job with an uncertain 2005 ahead and an even more uncertain future. I guess I asked for it, choosing to go the path that I did.

Met up with the both of them again tonight, along with wen the fern (who's graduated for Brown with honours and will be going back to AC to teach soon), and Liz (who's married!!!! and working at mindef and whom I haven't seen since we graduated from jc).Gosh. That's like 6 years already. And almost as if we're trying to make up for lost time, we're planning a class gathering this coming friday, which will probably just be the 5 of us and another additional 3-4 people, as all class gatherings go. I know I've had conversations with kimmie before, ranging from the topics of how we think everyone in our class is so up-there and pretentious, and how we don't like to meet up with them because it's just so trying, but right now, after all these years and after a certain mellowing of thought maturity, I can't help but feel that friendships can (and will) start all over again if you want them to. Hopefully I'll get to make a trip to either Taiwan or Japan with grace and ru this year... and no, I've not forgotten Cambodia, ming, or NY, ern... but oh well. Everything just depends on the timing and of course the available funds. :)

This week's schedule goes:
Monday- gym
Tuesday- dinner with ru, grace, wen and liz
Wednesday- dinner+drinks+velvet(?!?) with vy, qing, jan, grace (low) and other sec sch kakis
Thursday- gym
Friday- dinner with ac classmates
Sat- dinner+drinks with aki people
Sun- mani+pedi with ming and nik? (how abt it ming?!? or sat is fine too I guess.. I can always go shopping on sunday... hee)

What fun! 2005 is starting on a good note. (And I don't mean gym!) Muahahaha. :)

P.S. chinny says elyse has a blog! Go check it out peeps!
http://www.livejournal.com/users/elysesewell/