The Depths Of Shallowness

Drowning, Drowning in Cynicism; Drunk, Drunk with Sentimentality; Down, Down with Love; Dunked, Dunked in Life. Desperate Discourse. Disposable Desires. Dusky Dreams. Delirium. Dignity. Despair. Doubt. Duty. Dewy Days. Divine Divide. Dump Everything that Bothers in The Depths of Defiance. 《我的快樂時代》唱爛 才領悟代價多高昂 不能滿足不敢停站 然後怎樣 All Rights Reserved ©Angeline Ang

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Location: Singapore

Tempestuous. Intense. Proud. Intellectual. Easily Bored. Consummate Performer. Very Chinese. Very Charming. Fair. Pale. Long, Curly, Black Hair. BA(Hons). Literature. Philosophy. Japanese. Law. Dense in Relationships. Denser in All Else. Brooding. Sceptical. Condescending. Daria Morgendorffer meets Kitiara Uth Matar meets Ally McBeal. Always dreamy, always cynical, always elusive. Struggling writer, artist and student, in that order please.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Other News

In other less strange news, work is slowly doing me in. There's plenty of panicky phonecalls and last minute requests, despite knowing (and admitting) I already have plenty on my hands.

You know what, I have everything nicely plotted and in it comes, flying and demanding (on a holiday somemore), and even the best laid plans go awry because of the sudden additional item to the list of must haves and the must be done now, now, now 1, 2, 3, and 4 and still counting.

The weekend is spent sending sporadic emails when I get a spasm attack myself and haunt people on what they owe me and hopefully cutting down time lag in a ridiculously parochial fashion.

It ain't heavy, there's another name for it, it's called professionalism.

Yuck.

Otherwise, it has been a great weekend.

Coolness Personified

I told Ruth on Saturday that I fear someone I know has visited this blog. Probably through some freak accident since I have never revealed my address to him. Oh yes, on the other hand, it would have been absolutely flattering and utterly presumptuous, but entirely possible, if he had reached me through a very specific search and some detective work.

Anyway, his IP address matches what shows up on my tracker and that, makes me a tad uneasy.

To Best Friend (in lesser terms but no less aghast): Tell me, that last entry of mine dashes whatever hopes a potential admirer might have, doesn’t it. All that nonsense about Mr Veins being The Guy. As if I would never be seduced or tempted. Hell, there are other males whom I find interesting too. If He Who I Think He Is Has Been Reading The Last Entry, I need to do damage control, quick!

Best Friend suggested a disclaimer of some sorts.

If you are reading this, I think you are really cool to be with.

If you read the last entry, Mr Veins is really cool too.


You are both cool, okay.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

A Short Exchange

Checked with Mr Veins, DPP for some navigation tips and directions. He insisted on knowing why I need to find out. Eventually it came out I had to stay in a hotel for a fair period of time.

Me: Oh, and you can come and visit me if you are having off peak. Can take a rest before you head home or something. I'm staying by myself. Nothing on for Wed so you can drop by during day then if you can be around.

Mr Veins: I'm serving the public including, but not limited to during the daytime, Wed or otherwise... if you have not already realised....

Me: But I'm also the public, why you cannot serve me.

Mr Veins: The public in general. Not a private individual. To service an individual (in a private hotel room), the services rendered have to be properly remunerated.

Me: I'm unsure of the nature of services you are referring to. Legally speaking, I can defend my modesty rather well.

Oh well. I'm repressed.

Addendum: Talked to him on the phone for half an hour or so. You know how with someone, things just fall into a natural rhythm, there's good familiar flow, and you smile and feel happy at how other things don't change over time, over distance, over so many else. I'm so used to him - I don't realise it when I'm with other guys but when I'm with him, I know the difference and why it is him.

Me: Well, in the event you do decide to turn up for all kinds of strange reasons, please give a call in advance first okay. You know, in case I need to throw people out or hide them in the bathroom and the the likes.

Mr Veins: *chuckles* Ha, I thought I should be the one hiding.

Sunday, May 15, 2005

Q & A

Is there ever a right time to ask questions, so that you optimise the possibility of getting the answer you wish to hear?

I have stopped asking altogether for that one person who matters. I hear the same things over and over again.


Yet the inability to ask is obviously killing me, since it leaves out any possibility of getting an answer at all by not setting up the crazy context. At least I can be hopeful the moment before the world comes crashing down if there is a question to begin with.

I end up asking other people about most ordinary of things, just so the repression surfaces itself tangentially and I feel less bad.

I am dying.

Do I really want to ask, or am I just whining, because life is too staid and fucking dull?

Over sms to Minxiu last week: Why is life so boring? Is it because I do not have a lover?

Minxiu: You are asking me? Should go and read my blog.

But back to asking questions.

There is a right time, but there’s a catch, for the answer can be a lie.

Have you ever liked me? – No.

So I was a substitute. – Yes

If the above are the answers you wish to hear, well and good. Congratulations on being the recipient of my half-truths, for asking in an impossible context, when we both know better.

离开你是傻是对是错 是看破是软弱
这结果是爱是恨或者是什么
如果是种解脱 怎么会还有眷恋在我心窝
那么爱你为什么

Maybe if he comes back to me, I would realise, that once again, like it was so many silly years ago, it was absence that moulds him into an image I worshipped, that he could never live up to.

So the outcome of past few months of deprivation – no contact cold turkey – is rearing its ugly head. I alternate feeling proud and shit. I am suddenly snappier towards friends (I blame them for not being him, for not being like him), and sometimes overwhelmingly appreciative they are just there to tide me over this present screw-up state.

I went to Kbox Cineleisure last night, and then to Cocco Latte @Gallery Hotel. Reached home at 4am.

Asked my companion, why’s a girl like you doing with a guy like me on a Friday night.

I refused to dignify that question with a reply. The truth does nobody good.

But you know what. I can tell you the secondary truth if you are reading: You are relatively charming and we can hold a nice conversation together with no strings attached. Company is ok, and you sing.

Hell, I can share the primary too. Truth is, I’m running away from an image in my head (not my heart, please. I told you it lies uselessly in a chute, spread-eagled. Doesn’t seem too eager to return).

Thank you my friends and especially my sister, for being really here, there and everywhere, and putting up with little eccentricities magnified by work and lack of a lover. For those who can’t be here (Ezo – My thoughts are with you too - and Huixin etc), I carry your good wishes wherever I go. For those who care deeply but are not in the know ‘cos they never know I have a blog and I seldom do updates, I know you will jump in at notice.

But for those who read my blog without a squeak and who once lay claims to knowing me intimately, I say what goes around, comes around. Fuck you.

I’m such a softie.

从女性观点让我明白地说
无论你是挖心掏肺呼天抢地 或是热情如火
不止白白惹人讨厌让人嫌你罗嗦 恨不得没跟你认识过
你讲也讲不听听又听不懂 懂也不会做你做又做不好
你现在唱个这样的歌 你到底是想对我说什么

有太多男女就象你就象我
年纪轻轻开始拍拖纯纯的爱或者天雷地火
眼看卿卿我我眼看情海生波
最终日子还得往下过
你可以说我冷漠或是怪我刻薄
我到想等着看你没我能不能活
你现在唱个这样的歌
你以为我们之间还会有什么


Call For Submissions

Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.

A couple of days ago, I got a call inviting me to attend an interview. I wasn’t particularly thrilled upon knowing I was being considered for another position different from what I had applied for. It was still writing-related, but hell, I don’t even read that magazine.

Still, I was determined to give the magazine and myself a fair opportunity to fall in love. So I bought copies of it the night before The Big One to go through the features and formulae. Obviously, I thought to myself, I can write all these stuff effortlessly. A bit of a sell-out, but I guess we all gotta start somewhere.

That morning, stylishly dressed in an embroidered asymmetrical skirt, cheery yellow tank top with a Tommy Hilfiger denim jacket thrown over, I was ready to charm and conquer.

Things obviously go very wrong after this.

Out of The Holy Trinity of Power, I was apparently important enough to warrant personal attention from Father and Son.

I was incredibly awed that they took time off to speak to me personally, face to face, to tell me they actually have no vacancies. So they lied (and their HR was the accomplice, since the directives have to come from them), and frankly, I don’t know why. It’s bizarre that the top senior management has to resort to lying and waste my precious time and their own. You know what, I have a new show coming up, and am fucking busy.

It gets more fucking fucked up.

They only told me they have no vacancies after they prefaced it with another question. Have I applied to Company A, they asked smilingly, and said I really should.

Following which both of them took turns to be condescending and patronizing, all the while insinuating I can’t write, can’t take pressure, don’t have the relevant grounding. Well, I’m sure they know better. *rolls eyes*

They did not bother to ask questions related to my qualifications and experience, did not express interest in me as a person or potential employee. There’s something seriously wrong here.

Oh, but all is not lost, they added winsomely. You can send in some writing samples to us and we will read to offer some insights and feedback in return. You may find out writing is really not your calling and that you can’t write.

WHAT THE FUCK.

Excuse me, I’m sure I can write okay. And you haven’t even read my pieces, what do you know, how can you judge, and how could you be so negative. You have conducted yourself most unprofessionally through remarks out to insult and provoke. I don’t even say that your writings are passé to your face. And at least I’m making an informed statement, since I have read them.

I wish they had the manners and sincerity I has demonstrated from the start. At least, I tried to overcome my initial prejudice and inherent bias to stay open to options. I learnt to be enthusiastic. It wasn’t easy for me to come down from my pedestal as a literature and philosophy graduate to write for a particular format which I was neither dying to exploit or explore. But I’m willing to give it my best shot and treat the whole ballgame fairly.

I actually bothered to explain that I have never stopped writing and that the two years in another field while making me more sure that I want to return to my first love, also have equipped me with various skills which I believe will be very useful in writing. Beside, I do write a fair bit in my current job.

The two men laughed and one remarked, oh journalism is very different from PR.

WHAT THE FUCK


Hello, do you push out what is considered journalistic writing in the first place. It’s all about marketing and advertorials as far as I can see. And journalism in Singapore, you mean it exists?

But I held my tongue and endured staunchly the repressed anger and indignation and hurt that threatened to erupt any moment.

This is outright rejection and there is no point in extending the session.

I thanked them prettily for their time. They smiled another winsome one together and apologized if they had spoiled my day.

No problem, I’m crushed of course, by this surprising turn of events, but I’ll bounce back.

I walked out with my head held high but collapsed into a blubbering mess in the cab due to the repression. So friends who heard from me, at the point in time, basically heard sobbing. Which is like, yeeks, yucks, how embarrassing (for me).

I spoke to my officers about this (I have to keep them informed apparently) and they were appalled. They were also horrified no HR personnel were present during the pseudo-interview.

I recovered within 5 hours. By then, self-pity and the sense of myself as the tragic figure were well-dissipated. Replaced by Du Lan-ness and Anger and Irritation, I’m pleased to announce.

I wonder if I did the right thing by rein-ing in my tempestuous streak and scary sarcasm. I was pissed big-time at the unjust, uncalled-for treatment and the ridiculous suggestion that I can neither write nor take pressure.

Please.

I can fully sympathise with bond-breakers, and people who quit Singapore in the light of this incident. I’m sure it’s not an isolated one. When you are in possession of an ardent, sincere desire to serve and contribute, you receive shit. It gets unbearable, really. This disillusionment and wretchedness is too heavy not to leave it here.

Whether you are a friend or stranger reading this, do consider sharing your sad scholar stories. Email them to me.

Something is rotting in the Singapore publishing scene.

Monday, May 09, 2005

The Personal Is Political II

I've been thinking about AcidFlask Chen Jiahao since his premature exit from bloggerdom weeks back.

Some background for people not in the know:

AcidFlask is a first year graduate student in the chemical physics PhD program at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, USA. At the moment, he has Philip Yeo, chairman of A*STAR hot in pursuit. The latter is the incessant and ardent wooer.

In the past, AcidFlask had attracted PSC with his apparent academic brilliance only to break free due to irreconcilable differences. He ignited the passion of A*STAR when his story appeared in
The New Paper (Aside: Jen Lee who wrote the article and Alvin Chiang – also TNP reporter are long-lost seniors. We all sold out! :X ) and A*STAR officials started reading his blog.

AcidFlask was subsequently found to make remarks that defame A*STAR and Philip Yeo himself. The latter sprang into action and fired an email to AcidFlask personally (important note: first point of contact at this point) to remove all defamatory posts or face legal action.

Smack of hot-headed, hot-blooded true love and lust huh.

In a nutshell, AcidFlask took down his
blog altogether and issued an apology where his site used to be. Philip Yeo is immensely unhappy with the lack of proper reciprocrity, reply and response to his attentions. So A*STAR held this press conference to make public its affections for AcidFlask and gave him a dateline: 8 May (that’s today!) to review his emotions and come to terms with conscience. AcidFlask should decide by today and revert in accordance to proper protocol: That is, apologise unreservedly, retract what he had previously said in his blog and promise not to do it again. AcidFlask has exams till 14 May and they know. I think. Well.

The whole still in process saga is well-documented and kept up to date
here.

AcidFlask's reality from his side -
this is the latest revelation which has yet to make it to print or TV (bloggers are the ones with the newest news, trust me).

The least immediate important thing is whether AcidFlask did write what was offensive to Philip Yeo. Hell, justified and otherwise. We have no access to that information.

The most immediate and important things to consider:

(1) Whether it was necessary for Philip Yeo to act as he did. Threatening to sue a student over remarks in his personal blog?

(2) That of (1) and airing the whole saga publicly – ever thought of the PR damage done to A*STAR and Singapore?

(3) Opening up of a promising new debate as to throw up exciting, profound insights into the cross-border jurisdictional issue of whether a person based in Singapore can successfully sue a person based in the United States for messages hosted on a US server, and how the applicable law may actually turn out to be the US law of defamation which, in deference to the constitutional freedom of speech, gives much more room for individuals to criticise public figures (plagiarised from
Gibert Koh who beat me to writing such well-wrought (twisty) and witty prose on the exact same theme).

(4) What can of worms does the AcidFlask saga open up for Singaporean bloggers? That we can sue and be sued anytime, everytime, over remarks made in our personal capacity in our personal blogs, unless we signed the non-official secrets pact for non-work coverage?

And so on.

For me, the most immediate and important thing is that Singapore and its government bodies, and in particular, Singapore bloggers are only beginning to experience, understand and appreciate the true meaning of
Personal is Political in the local context (they probably won't know the academic term unless they read up on feminism). Bad thing for bodies, if they want be in absolute control and censor censor, because the Internet makes information (let's set aside whether info is accurate or misleading or biased) free and easily accessible. Good for Singapore as a country on the way to more openness. Hopefully.

For bloggers, our blogs, by being personal, are therefore political in nature. We invoke the wrath and irk of those in power simply by our writings, even if we are nobody to begin with. Imagine, Miss Nobody elicited an email and an invite to tea from some top (politicised) management just because he read her blog. By the power of her personal writings, she has attracted his attentions enough to initiate first contact, and the attraction for Mr LHL the public figure is strong enough to oversee any possibility of subsequent humiliation and embarrassment.

THE PERSONAL IS POLITICAL

Don't you ever forget that if you blog. Together, bloggers can make a positive change to local political scene, simply by writing our life stories. Yes, you have seen how it can happen.

This blog is political, because it is personal.

And I leave you with this for thought.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

THE FALSE FACE MUST HIDE WHAT THE FALSE HEART DOTH KNOW

I got a frivolous wish coming true: That I'd be so occupied, I start thinking about what's going to happen, than what's never going to happen. By Sunday, I would have presumably collapsed, hopefully too happy to think. T'is true, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Wait, that's too corny and uncool. Let me replace that:


THE FALSE FACE MUST HIDE WHAT THE FALSE HEART DOTH KNOW

Wednesday - ABC concert
Thursday - It Takes Two
Friday - Intimate Letters
Saturday - Business Meetings (!)
Saturday Night - KM8 (!!)

Special mention must be made for
Intimate Letters. It stars my friend, Joyce. Her contribution, to be exact. Joyce is an artist and the show is a dance collaboration initiated by the choreographer based on the art pieces contributed by the artists involved. I suppose we could use the horrid word, intertextuality, here. But hey, that word aside, I'm looking forward to supporting her and the event. The synopsis reads good, no? The excellent photography (as seen on the page) is done by Watson Lau.

I have business meetings on Saturday. AHHHHHHHHHHHH.

KM8 - !!!!!!!!!! N'uff said.

Distraction comes at a price, before discount. Tickets have not been bought but all in due time.

Happy - $45
Amber - $21 (or $32)
Spirits - $32
The Busker's Opera - $32

*chokes*


I'm not sure why I'm peaking - this odd obsessing over wanting to be with someone. Must be the cycle thing. Yet resistance to the obvious solution is strong, very strong. I really should just see the person, get pissed, get grossed out and be immune to all yearnings for 3 months.

No, you can't.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Prison Vs Promise

I worry I'm placing (projecting?) too much hope and potential happiness on things that don't matter and straying far from the meaningful.

A stranger's blog I read sporadically reveals that she quitted her job as a lawyer last week. Given that she's my age, it must have been two years at most before she decided enough is enough.

Today, I managed to tidy some a couple of manuscripts for submission. I remember shaking my head and going, damn you need new works! There are at least half a dozen unfinished tales, but why have I stop telling?

My dream is to write fiction for a living and earning enough to keep me wandering the earth.

Everything else is a contribution to the fulfilment of that dream. Especially disasterous romances. It's never painful in that light. You learn to anticipate the moment and milk it for all its worth.

It's a promise; it's not a prison.

And Chinyi has bought a portable keyboard just so we can work on the compositions.

I must be 争气。Must see beyond petty romances and other trivia.

Monday, May 02, 2005

How To Elude Happiness

I don't want to think about it.

I don't want to remember that I remember.

I don't want to contact the person.

I have two more hours before the day officially expires and escapes into the past.

*

It would have been rather simple had I just allowed myself the tiny pleasure of wishing him Happy Birthday. But no, it must not be so.

And so sparked off a series of crazy things. Like going off to town on my own, alternating between feeling cool and loser-like, buying stuff, all the while thinking it would be so nice if he could spend some time with me.

It's difficult to admit a person, even harder to admit a desire.

I don't think people who were unfortunate enough to get a casual sms from me today understand that I was yearning for company. I din say, but part of me wished the vibes were received, or that even those who din hear from me could give me a ring, somehow. It was that bad.

Given that only one person can make me happy, and that's the one person that I am consciously avoiding, does that make everyone else a substitute?

There's nothing wrong with being a substitute. I'm sure we're all some kind of substitutes for one another.

Derridean stories speak of an absence, against an original, so what do I do with the repetitions?

Perhaps he's more a philosopher than I ever was. Repetitions don't bother him, for I was never an original, and he can always repeat, with anyone else.

Sunday, May 01, 2005

April Is The Cruelest Month

The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
Endeavours to engage her in caresses
Which are still unreproved, if undesired.
Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
Exploring hands encounter no defence;
His vanity requires no response,
And makes a welcome of indifference.

On the social front, this week has been nothing short of disasterous. Packed, but bad.

My three filmfest movies early in the week were bland. I had forgotten The Movie Moral/Lesson(Curse): Be firm and say NO. History has proven if I were any less stringent and gave nod anyhow due to a certain willingness to hang out/haven't figured how to say no due to tenuous connections, I am doomed to sit through a sleepy series.

I never watch bad movies. I only attend screenings I like, and even if they disappoint, I see the value and that's NOT BAD. BAD MOVIES are movies I am not interested in to begin with and if they turn out okay, well and fine. But usually, I do walk out stewing quietly. Oh, time, my time! So if I experience Bad Movies, it's 'cos I'm hanging out with someone new or someone not-so-close. I have no qualms rejecting bad movie dates, if we are very friendly and familiar.

The seats were yucky. And, somehow, despite the friend buying tickets very early in person, he was given A row for two movies screenings. We then seat-hopped, yes, of course. It was possibly my worst filmfest year - dearth of crops and death by discomfit.


I should just stop watching movies with people whom I have yet to figure how to place them, as friends, as casualties, well, you know. Then again, they can have longer shelf lives if I perpetuate this mock stupidity.

WHATEVER.

'My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
'Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
'I never know what you are thinking. Think.'

I'm tired shit of guessing.

The awful daring of a moment's surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract

No, I do not know what I want. But I like certainty from you. And I hate nua-ness, laziness and inconsistency. I like certainty from you, because it gives me a basis to found (and find) my own readings. But I don't read anymore - I tried - but not only is there nothing; there's no heart. So. I. Sing. Nothing beats imitation to irritate repetition back.

Weather has been dreadfully warm, even an invite to the excellent Lord Of The Dance failed to keep spirits up. LOTD was really electrifying and exuberant though. I don't think I have ever enjoyed a dance performance so.

Was happy for a while - not even the lack of air in Kallang Theatre got to me. Everyone was complaining how hot it was.

Just as I thought it can't get any worse, and in fact, things were looking up because Friday's movie picks were good: My die die must watch Japanese movie Tokyo Noir was good and so was Ryan's choice of Splendid Float(Chinese name: 艳光四射歌舞团 - the original film score is to die for too. Everything's really 將帶你一起進入永恆的天堂) . You'd imagine two movies in a row would have finished me off, esp by then I had full blown flu and felt as if my nose is no longer my own (numbed by all the pinching and rubbing), but my eyes were wide open from start to finish. This is what good movies do for you - keep you captivated while distracting from The Real Peripherals. So SIFF 2005 ended with a bang, yay to that.

But as we stumbled out of the theatre, I thought I saw him, yes, busy him - actually watching a Japanese movie of his own initiative, without me? Forlorn-ness struck and was the killing blow that destroyed me completely for the night. Sure I could write it off as my blunder, that I wasn't wearing glasses and he was at a distance. But it could be him, that's all that matters.

'Do
'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
'Nothing?'
I remember
Those are pearls that were his eyes.
'Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?

I'm not alive. No. There's nothing in my head now that he cannot belong to it.

'What shall I do now? What shall I do?'
'I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
'With my hair down, so. What shall we do tomorrow?
'What shall we ever do?'

It has been a terrible month. Why should I expect any less? April has always been the cruelest month. Come May, I must stop this horrid long-distance dependency. We mean nothing. There should be nothing in my head. My heart is lying in the chute. It can come back to me when it so chooses.

May can be better, barring the fact Mayday is his birthday. I got invites to It Takes Two (Hossan and Selena)and the ABC concert (Wu Bai, Huang Pin Yuan and Zhang Yu).

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.