my hi-fi set has decided to develop a life of its own.

or is now possessed by a poltergist.

switched on my hi-fi a few minutes ago wanting to listen to a CD. Only problem was, the volume level refused to change. I thought hey, maybe it's got something to do with the buttons on the machine itself, so I tried my remote. No chance there.

Not sensing any alarm yet, I leave it alone for a while. Only thing is, I did not want to listen to track 1. No, I wanted track 7. So I pick up my remote and chose track 7.

That was when I realised my hi-fi was alive.

The numbers on the display kept skipping and refused to settle on a single track. When it finally did, it stayed for a few seconds and moved on. Then it just went absolutely insane.

I stopped it. (and this was probably the last time I managed that.)

I changed CDs. Hey, maybe it was my CD that was faulty.

The moment I put in the CD, I realised something was wrong. The hi-fi just read through ALL the tracks in my CD. It just kept reading the tracks without playing it.

I hit play. It ignored me.

I hit play again. It grudgingly obeys and plays track 1. But within a few seconds into the track, it figured it didn't like the song, and skips to track 2. I stare at it in disbelief. Then it decided it didn't quite like the starting intro music of track 2, so it forwards it a few seconds and then listens on...only to realise that it hadn't forwarded it enough....

My fight with the hi-fi (both using the remote and simply pushing the buttons on the machine itself) goes on for several seconds before I think, maybe I should try to change its function and see what it does in the radio function. Bad decision.

While in its radio function, it starts searching for all available radio stations under the sun, settling at certain ones for a few seconds before moving on. At one point, it stopped for a while at a Tamil station. Goodness knows why. It also stopped for a significant amount of time at Class 95FM.

Sometime while this was happening, I call Faith. It was her hi-fi before I owned it. Maybe she could tell me about the restless spirit haunting it. At the same time, I'm trying to change the function of the hi-fi again, to tape or CD, but it was simply having too much fun that it ignores me. Then I try switching it off. Once again, it refused to obey. It just went on and on, trying to find a station it liked.

After struggling for a good 5 minutes, she suggested I pull the plug. After pulling out 2 other ones thinking it was the correct one, and of course causing both of us to freak out because what would happen if the last plug didn't stop it? It finally stopped with the pulling of the last plug.

It was the only way it could be stopped.

I have a hi-fi that's alive.

While waiting to cross the road to get to the food court near my workplace, I turn to talk to my colleague. Turns out she was already looking at a spot just behind me, with a look of bewilderment on her face.

I turn to see what she's looking at, and took an involuntary jump back. The face of a grinning old grandma was mere inches away from mine. I stared at her in shock while she still stood there, holding an umbrella, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"It's so sunny, come under my shade," she said in Mandarin.

I nodded at her dumbly.

"What are you so afraid of? Did you think I was a guy?" she continued, drawing closer to me. "Now, if you were in Indonesia, where I'm from, you would have a lot to worry about. But it's so safe here. I walk around by myself late at night and I feel perfectly safe! There's nothing to be afraid of!"

My colleague, a much warmer and friendlier person than I am, responded with, "Yeah, you're right. It's is very safe here."

I simply continued staring, trying to smile politely.

"Actually, I'm afraid to cross this road alone. I was wanting some company," she admitted, firmly placing a tight grip around my wrist.

Now, grandma reaches only up to my shoulders, her hands therefore having a shorter distance away from the ground than I do. Suddenly, not only did I feel circulation being cut off from my hand, I find myself standing as if I have a severe back problem that required me to stand with one shoulder higher than the other.

"By the way, how old do you think I look?" she continued, never wavering in her grip.

Thoughts raced through my head:

If I say she's older than she is, I would piss her off and she probably would detach my hand from my arm within seconds.

If I say she's younger than she is, I may be so far off target that she would think I was being cheeky and would still detach my hand from my arm within seconds.

I turn to my colleague with a pleading look in my eyes.

"63," she guessed.

She smugly shakes her head and says, "No, I'm 71," and then goes on to rave and rant about this product that she was using that provided her with such a "youthful radiance".

Meanwhile, I am simply hoping that the traffic would clear within the next few heartbeats so that I am free of her iron grip and the uncomfortable stance I was in. Not mentioning the fact that I probably looked rather weird standing the way I did.

Suddenly, in her eagerness, she loosens her grip to gesticulate something or other. And at a beautiful coincidence, there was a break in the traffic. Quick as lightning, my hand moved to her back as we swiftly crossed the road to my freedom.

I can only thank God that it didn't occur to her to have lunch with us.

What is up with me and strange grandmas? At least this one isn't as vicious or long-term as the last one.

An appointment made with her a few days ago.

Me: "So we're going to the gym at Novena?"
Her: "Yeah, I'll be there early, so give me a buzz when you arrive and I'll tell you where I am."

The phonecall to her yesterday.

Me: "Hey, I'm here, where are you?"
Her: "Oh, I'm at Punggol Plaza." (For those not from Singapore, Punggol is where she lives. Novena is a full hour's train ride away.)

30 seconds of stunned silence.

Her: "Actually, at the Koufu food court having dinner."

Another 30 seconds of silence as I ponder if she was pulling my leg.

Then I hear a loud exclaimation, "OH MY GOSH! MEL!!!!! I'm so sorry!!! It totally slipped my mind that today is Tuesday!!!"

Now I've been called all sorts of different things since I came back to Singapore, but this has got to top everything.

While sitting quietly in a corner of the office trying to change the copy of one of our letters to our customers, I hear a voice behind me go, "Timothy?"

I turn around to find a UPS guy looking at me eagerly, face filled with expectation that I would respond to his call.

All he got was a blank look and a "sorry?"

His face fell and you could read it in his face that he fully expected me - full-blooded female with hair tied up in a pony tail, wearing a blouse and a skirt - to be Timothy. My response threw him off and he hesitated before he ventured, "I'm looking for Timothy?"

As I directed him to Timothy, the naturally would be male Timothy since Timothy is a male's name, he muttered, "so he's not sitting here..."

DO I LOOK LIKE A TIMOTHY?!?!

i finally have my own computer!

Not that this is the first computer in my house, but I've either been working from my ancient 5 year old laptop or my brother's computer before and to finally have my own private pc just feels like absolute bliss. Especially when we've finally moved on with the times and subscribed to cable internet.

Now I can download whatever programs I fancy without having to worry (much) about a lack of memory space.

Now I can play Gunbound without my brother breathing down my neck - a game that reminds one of its cousin, Worms 3D, but with interactive player options. A game in which I'm still trying to figure out.

Now I can surf the internet using the brilliant Mozilla Firefox web browser - much friendlier, powerful and intelligent.

Now I can write articles and do research at the same time.

Now I can stay online forever!

Ah, what has my life become that a computer makes me so happy?

feels like there're supernatural forces leading me to joining this competition.

Happened to have friends who were invited to the press conference of the contest last Monday.

These same friends are going to lend me the latest video camera that will help save time when it comes to transferring files from the camera to the computer for editing.

And so what if I have lousy editing equipment? I will have access to either a) Final Cut Pro, one of the best DV editing software to exist, or b) another software that my friends were given (really, press folks have all sorts of privileges).

In all honesty, I was still having some hesitation, having never actually written a proper script before. I have a storyline, but having a story is entirely different from an actual movie script.

Today, I had lunch with a former scriptwriter from Mediacorp.

He has since agreed to help me with my script, and get me in touch with people who will have all the equipment needed (eg. lights, sound, etc) to produce a short film for the competition. Not to mention the fact that he has a friend who just so happens to have full video editing software lying unused in his house somewhere.

Now all I need to do is actually get down and write the story.

Oh, as well as source for actors.

Volunteers, anyone?

I did something painful today. No, not that.

I wrote an email that I'm not even sure I should have written:

Dear Dr. Mika,

Thank you so much for your email. Of course I remember you.

I am extremely flattered with the offer and in all honesty, would have snapped up this offer had it been given me a few weeks back. The job description sounds really interesting and I could imagine myself loving the job.

Unfortunately, I am no longer able to accept the offer. After several long days of praying and pondering, I believe that God has someone else who would be much better for the job. It really pains me to turn down this offer, but I think God has something up his sleeve for both Mission College and me. Please accept my sincerest aplogies for any inconvenience caused.

I wish Mission College all the best in finding THE person for the job and I trust that the person will be a real asset to you and the team.

My warmest regards,
Melody

So well, I have turned down the job at Mission College in Thailand. The one and only job offer I've got so far that offers me security. The job is gone. For some other lucky soul to accept.

The position with Adventist World Radio (AWR) in Singapore is not quite finalised yet, and knowing Adventist organisations, that probably means the position will come up within the next 5 years.

I'm back at Citibank, working long crazy hours for an organisation with an aim I don't believe in.

My wings clipped. My spirit diminished. My soul sobbing.

All these to save up for a future with no uncertainty. A life without security. To be where my dreams will come true.

Let's just hope I'm not chasing pipe dreams. Or look back to this day in regret, or extreme poverty.

I return home to an egg shortage.

Yup. Eggs. Chicken eggs to be precise.

Apparently, due to the bird flu epidemic in Malaysia, Singapore has stopped importing chicken and eggs.

The price of eggs has skyrocketed and today, my mom told me that each individual was only allowed to purchase a dozen eggs from the supermarket.

We have resorted to rationing for eggs.

Am I the only one who sees the humour in this?

isn't it amazing how much people just settle into their comfort zones?

In January, upon arrival in Singapore, I was determined to return to England.

In August, after almost 8 months back home, I suddenly felt an inertia. The thought of leaving on this trip seemed somewhat daunting.

I've been back in England for almost a month now, and once again, I am experiencing a reluctance to leave.

Granted, the main reason has to do with the fact that I really dread saying goodbye to my friends, but I know part of the reason is also because I've gotten comfortable and found somewhat of a routine (which involves alternating nights at different friends' houses, babysitting, fighting for the bathroom with 9 other housemates, eating, sleeping, shopping, some travelling, chatting and doing absolutely nothing).

In 15 minutes, I'll be making my way to the airport for home, and I have to admit the voice inside of me is screaming for me to stay. On the other hand, I want to go home. I miss my room, my own bathroom, my family, my friends. And it never ceases to amaze me, how the precious people I meet constantly welcome me with open arms back into their lives as if nothing has changed.

If only life were less complex. If only I would stop making it worse by leaving a piece of my heart in different parts of the world.

If only Jesus would return soon...

someone knew what they were saying when they came out with the quote "when it rains, it pours". I am in such a fix now I have no idea where to turn.

Currently, here are the options I have:

1. Citibank

The job which we have in mind is for APB23. Thus in term of timeline, this should be a 2-mth project....(the exact duration, we are still checking and hope to know the details by early next week). In the interim, if you are keen, we shan't talk to the agency in sourcing for the person for us. BUT will need to know when you are coming back should u be interested.....!!!

2. Mission College in Thailand

I have just spent today putting together a position description for aPR/Promotions Officer. Are you still interested? We are almost ready to employ.

3. AWR in Singapore

I also wanted to tell you that yesterday I received an email from Akinori Kaibe, the AWR Region Director for Asia and he was inquiring as to whether you might be available to work in the AWR office in Singapore. As I understand it, he needs someone with special skills to work with their program distribution system for Asia.

4. My heart's desire

You can stay in the UK for two years as a working holidaymaker, from the date you were first given permission to enter the UK in this category. There are no restrictions on the type of work you can do as a working holidaymaker. There is also no restriction on the amount of work that you can do (part-time or full-time), but we do expect you to take a holiday during your stay. If you are given permission to enter as a working holidaymaker you may also be allowed to switch into Work Permit employment after one year in the UK.

Strange that the one option that I would like to take the most is the one with the least security, the one with the most number of unknowns (will I actually get a job? Will I be able to afford living in the UK? Will I be able so support myself?).

Goodness knows how much I want to live and work in the UK. Not for the rest of my life, but at least for a few more years. Yet, it is filled with so many uncertainties. The option is there, but it is what requires the biggest amount of faith.

Will I regret my decision if I went with option 4? I'll be giving up job security, steady income, a guaranteed comfortable life. No, it will not be luxurious, but the worries I will have is going to be considerably less. At least I would not have to worry if I can afford my next meal. At least home will be close, so so close.

What do I do? Where do I go? What should I think? What does God want for me?

And God is strangely silent...

you know you've been a nomad way too often when you have absolutely no idea where you are after waking up from a nap.

in the state of semi-consciousness, my brain struggled to register just where I was sleeping. I fought to open my eyes to find out and when I did, I still had no idea where I was. My mind said Germany, yet I was dreaming of my friends in Australia. A friend from Germany suddenly appeared in my dream, but yet my mind told me I had to go home from London.

I was dreaming of the Tower Bridge, of my friends from all over the world, of strange unknown places but yet, I had no idea where I was. I fought to wake up, yet I couldn't and I honestly had no idea where I was.

It was only after about 10 minutes of dreaming, wondering and struggling, did I manage to successfully pry my eyes open, have it stay open and then finally realise I was in England.

I really need to find a place to grow roots in soon.

on another note...went off to Hampton Court Palace yesterday with Glauber (my accidental housemate from Brazil. None of us even actually belong in the house, but I was at least visiting friends who lived in the house. He was...well...I'm not entirely sure how he is even connected to the house, seeing that his friend who lives in the house also does not belong in the house. There are currently 10 people living in a house I swear is meant for 4, and it is great fun, although I have to say I am grateful I no longer have to sleep in the living room.) and we had a real great time. Of course, in typical English style, the trains were delayed on our way to Hampton, and what would have been a 1.5 hours ride turned into a 3 hour nightmare.

The palace was absolutely magnificent and what honestly took our breaths away were the gardens. Very similar to that in Versailles, which was no wonder since William III built Hampton Court after being inspired by Versailles. There were mushroom shaped trees and Hershey's Kisses bushes all around the gardens, beautiful fountains and lakes that seem to stretch on forever, brilliantly coloured flowers and a maze we got lost in for about half an hour.

The interior of the palace looked perfectly well-maintained and it stirred in me a certain awe to know that I was in the very same palace Edward I was born in, where Henry VIII, Elizabeth I and Mary lived in, and where A Midsummer's Night Dream was staged in front of Shakespeare himself.

We came so close to attending a Sunday service in Chapel Royal - the same Chapel a huge majority of English kings worshipped in, but unfortunately they were only resuming services next Sunday. We strolled through the dark corridors where sunlight never shone because it was meant only for servants, housing the wine cellar and kitchens. We attended a mini-concert performed by musicians dressed in period costumes, using medieval instruments.

We stood amazed by the beautiful floor to ceiling paintings and tapestries of various religious motifs as well as Greek gods (how these two differing beliefs were reconciled I would like to know). We experienced the richness of the place with its gold-plated and silver crockery, the magnificant four-postered beds that enables one to shut out the world (there was even a travelling bed, and I'm not talking about sleeping bags. This was a proper four-postered bed with mattress. How it was considered a travelling bed, I have no idea. Try travelling with that on the plane.) We even had lunch in the beautiful sunshine in a garden I'm sure many courtiers have strolled in.

It was a glorious day-out filled with much beauty, as well as an enormous amount of time spent on the wonderful English "I'm sorry to announce, but the 1127 Southwest Train to London Waterloo has been delayed" trains.

And I believe it will also be the day that Glauber will recall as the one where a strange Singaporean girl first walked him to death and then starved him to the point of unconsciousness - upon arriving at Hampton at 2pm, we only sat down for a brief 15 minutes for lunch, which consisted of two jelly sandwiches.

Judging by the fact that he is currently unconscious on the couch next to me tells me that he hasn't quite recovered from his trauma...

i've been a babysitter for the last 2 days and by the end of it, I have come to this conclusion - I am not going to have kids of my own.

Don't get me wrong, Ameya is an absolutely adorable baby and I love playing with her, hearing her laugh and watching her being just unbelievably cute.

Yet, at the same time, the amount of attention a baby needs, the feeding, the drooling, the nappy changing (which thankfully, Guisele spared me from doing), the...oh, the everyday baby chores, are enough to convince me that babies and me do not go well together. We are only able to communicate on short 10 minute bursts. After that, baby goes back to mummy.

Although, I have had a great 2 days, taking Ameya out for a walk (we survived 20 minutes before she started whinging, then tearing, then crying, then falling asleep in my arms, which then meant I had to walk 10 minutes home with my arms protesting for the uncalled for exercise).

I enjoyed being silly and trying to make her laugh. It was also interesting trying to dodge her saliva-filled fingers that almost always find my mouth or hair...and of course, to see her laughing excitedly when Guisele sings and dances with her.

I love the child. She's incredibly cute. And thankfully, she's not mine.

of all the strange places I've slept in, my accommodation this week has gotta be in the top 5.

I'm sharing a queen-size mattress (note: mattress, not bed) with Nat, in a corner of a living room in a typical British house.

The house is shared by 6 people, but at times has more than twice the number of people in it. So we almost constantly have people watching movies, eating, checking their emails in our 'bedroom'.

I have my sleeping bag as a blanket, and next to me is the big glass door that leads to the garden. Just last night, we had a visitor in the form of a frog. As well as a mosquito that kept attempting to live in my ear. It was quite a sight seeing Nat chasing the frog all around the living room trying to catch it.

At my foot is an unused computer that I constantly kick because my legs are too long. On my right, near my head, hiding behind the curtains, are the legs to the ironing table threatening to fall on you.

When you are half asleep and do not have your glasses on. When the light has already been turned down low, you turn to your side and get the heck scared out of you because you imagine that someone has entered the house through the garden door beside you and is standing behind the curtain.

On Nat's side of the bed, near her head, is the ironing board that belongs to the legs of the ironing table. That too, threatens to fall on us.

Anca put it very aptly when she mentioned that we are sleeping in between an ironing board.

Ahhh....how many people travel 13 hours from Singapore to England to do that? I love the good ole' English life.

ah..to be online again. To be updating again. Won't stay long but thought I owe it to my huge fanbase to write a few words on what I have been up to since I left Singapore on the 19th.

Firstly, Cydknee and Edy's wedding in Germany was absolutely beautiful. And mercies of all mercies, I managed to fit into the gorgeous baby blue bridesmaid dress. The bridal party (6 bridesmaids and groomsmen) took photos in front of this castle in Munich, causing quite a stir and tourists were all taking photos of Cyd and Ed because they looked simply stunning together.

Love the community there. From the minute I arrived, I felt totally welcome and everybody practically embraced me into the community. Very warm and friendly folks with ready smiles and open hearts. Then again, these folks are largely Romanians living in Germany...

Was a real international wedding. 23 or so nationalities represented in a reception of 90 guests. Needless to say I was the only one from Singapore there.

The best part of the wedding had to be when we were driving from the church where the vows were said to another church about 10 minutes drive away for the reception. We drove in a convey of 20 over cars and all of them had lavenders and blue ribbons tied to the car antenna. Everybody was tooting their horns as we drove along, waving out the windows to astonished but smiling bystanders...then Cyd and Ed both peeked out from the sunroof and stood there as the car drove, waving and smiling like they were royalty...it was simply beautiful.

I had such a wonderful time in Germany even though I never ever had enough sleep, having to help with decorations and everything else. The people were great and I had so much fun meeting up with old friends and making new ones. It had been a real fantastic trip.

In England now. Basically slacking and finally recovering from my jet lag. Have to start hunting down old friends and attempt to surprise them, although I doubt it would work coz it would seem that my arrival had been announced several weeks before.

Typical English weather....rainy day today...although would have to leave for town soon to meet up with a friend...

Till later!

oh to be able to wake up late

oh to be able to choose where you can go and when you want to leave the house

oh to be able to dress what you want, without being dictated by office policy

oh to be able to enjoy lunch without being restricted to 1 hour

oh to be able to go online, chat on msn and check mail without being annoyed by firewalls

oh to be able to do what you want

oh to be able to enjoy the freedom of not working and being stressed by unnecessary matters

oh to be able to let loose the free spirit in you

oh to end up going back to your old workplace the day after your last day because you have to do some filming at the building next to it

one can never escape the clutches of Citibank...

some really cool photos here

never thought one could generate such good pics in Singapore.

*dodges the daggers for making the sweeping, prejudiced statement*

cornered like a mouse

"Hi, may I speak with Melody please?"
"Yes, speaking."
"Melody, Kenny here."
Stunned silence, followed by a timid, "oh, hi."
"Hey, you have not SMS me your email address yet."
"Er, yeah, I forgot."
"That busy huh?"
"Yes, that busy. And I don't have your number anymore."
"Why don't you just tell it to me now. I'll write it down."
"Er...now?"
"Yup. And don't give me your Citibank email."
"Oh."
"So?"
Wishing for the ground to swallow me whole..."Ok, here it is..."

I’m not sure if I should be freaked out or traumatised.

As part of one of our Marketing promotions, we regularly give away crystal vases to customers. These vases are kept with the supplier and are delivered to us only when we require them. As such, I have been put in charge of calling the sales rep whenever we need any vases.

Today, I get a call from the sales rep, Kenny, telling me that he would be able to deliver 10 of them to me this afternoon.

K: singing “Melody, this is Kenny.”
M: “Oh, hi. I was just thinking of calling you this morning to ask you about the vases.”
K: “You only were thinking about it? But why didn’t you call?”
M: “Er, I was busy?”
K: “How could you? And I even left you a message. Why didn’t you return my call?”
M: “Sorry, but I haven’t had the time to check my phone messages.”
K: “I’m so hurt.”
M: “…”
K: “Anyway, your vases will be delivered in an hour’s time.”
M: “Ok, great!”
K: “Hey, what happened to Hoon Hoon?” (Note: Hoon Hoon is the lady I took over)
M: “She’s on maternity leave, she’ll be back soon.”
K: “Oh, you know, I prefer talking to you. Hoon Hoon is always scolding me. But you’re really nice.”
M: “Er, thanks? Anyway, she’ll be scolding you again in a months’ time.”
K: “Huh? Why? What about you?”
M: “I’m leaving.”
K: “Where?”
M: “I’m leaving the bank.”
K: “Why?”
M: “Because I’ve got other plans.”
K: “How can you leave so soon? How am I going to talk to you then?”
M: “…” but thinking “You don’t, bozo.”
K: “But I just got to know you.”
M: thinking - no you haven’t
K: “Why don’t you give me your handphone number?”
M: “Why don’t you just email me?”
K: “Why?”
M: “I’m leaving the country so the handphone number wouldn’t work anyway.”
K: “Really? Why?”
M: “My friend’s getting married.”
K: “So where are you going?”
M: “Germany.”
K: “Oh, so will you check your email? Will you reply?”
M: “Of course!” (fingers crossed)
K: “Ok, you sms me your email address then.”
M: “Ok.”
K: “Then when you sms me I’ll get your handphone number as well!”
M: thinking – Crap.
K: “Ok, so my handphone number is……are you taking it down?”
M: exasperatedly “Yes, what is it?”
K: provides handphone number and continues “We should meet up one day, have coffee or something. Nothing to do with Citibank you know?”
M: “Erm, yeah, sure…”

Two hours later, the vases were still nowhere in sight. Reluctantly I have to call him again. After checking it out, he calls me back to tell me they would be there soon, and then continues…

K: “Hey, I’m still waiting for your sms.”
M: “Oh, sorry, I’ve been busy.”
K: “You know, I’m a sales person, so I know how to hassle you for it ok.”
M: “Ok, will you just be patient, I’m really busy.”
K: “Ok ok, make sure you sms it to me later ok?”
M: “Yeah, sure, whatever, bye.”

oh, the beautiful English language

Cocktail lounge, Norway:
LADIES ARE REQUESTED NOT TO HAVE CHILDREN IN THE BAR.

At a Budapest zoo:
PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS. IF YOU HAVE ANY SUITABLE FOOD, GIVE IT TO THE GUARD ON
DUTY.

Doctor's office in Rome:
SPECIALIST IN WOMEN AND OTHER DISEASES.

Information booklet about using a hotel air conditioner. Japan:
COOLES AND HEATES: IF YOU WANT CONDITION OF WARM AIR IN YOUR ROOM, PLEASE CONTROL YOURSELF.

In a Nairobi restaurant:
CUSTOMERS WHO FIND OUR WAITRESSES RUDE OUGHT TO SEE THE MANAGER.

On the grounds of a Nairobi private school:
NO TRESPASSING WITHOUT PERMISSION.

In Aamchi Mumbai restaurant:
OPEN SEVEN DAYS A WEEK, AND WEEKENDS TOO.

In a Tokyo bar:
SPECIAL COCKTAILS FOR THE LADIES WITH NUTS.

Hotel, Japan:
YOU ARE INVITED TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE CHAMBERMAID.

In the lobby of a Moscow hotel across from a Russian Orthodox monastery:
YOU ARE WELCOME TO VISIT THE CEMETERY WHERE FAMOUS RUSSIAN AND SOVIET COMPOSERS, ARTISTS, AND WRITERS ARE BURIED DAILY EXCEPT THURSDAY.

Hotel, Zurich:
BECAUSE OF THE IMPROPRIETY OF ENTERTAINING GUESTS OF THE OPPOSITE SEX IN THE BEDROOM, IT IS SUGGESTED THAT THE LOBBY BE USED FOR THIS PURPOSE.

Advertisement by a Hong Kong dentist:
TEETH EXTRACTED BY THE LATEST METHODISTS.

A laundry in Rome:
LADIES, LEAVE YOUR CLOTHES HERE AND SPEND THE AFTERNOON HAVING A GOOD TIME.

Tourist agency, Czechoslovakia:
TAKE ONE OF OUR HORSE-DRIVEN CITY TOURS. WE GUARANTEE NO MISCARRIAGES.

Advertisement for donkey rides, Thailand:
WOULD YOU LIKE TO RIDE ON YOUR OWN ASS?

The box of a clockwork toy made in Hong Kong:
GUARANTEED TO WORK THROUGHOUT ITS USEFUL LIFE.

Airline ticket office, Copenhagen:
WE TAKE YOUR BAGS AND SEND THEM IN ALL DIRECTIONS.

In a Japanese cemetery:
PERSONS ARE PROHIBITED FROM PICKING FLOWERS FROM ANY BUT THEIR OWN GRAVES.

Before I started work at Citibank, I was always under the impression that there was only one way to pronounce my name.

I mean, Melody is not a strange foreign word. But the different variations I get of my name in a matter of 3 months has proven to me that maybe Melody really isn't that common a word, even amongst the English-educated.

Starting from the most common mispronounciation, not including the numerous times I get called Melanie and Madeline.....

Meh-Do-Lee

Meh-Der-Lee

Me-Low-Dee

Mer-Low-Dee

Meh-Low-Dee

Med-Lee

And the one that leaves me dumbstruck with bafflement....

Maria

Hi Melody. How are things.

Dr Valentine and I have been away for quite some time during the past couple of months. We are here (Mission College, Thailand) for about 2 weeks and then to Europe to a Youth Congress in Poland. We may see the Newbold folk there.

So how is your work going? Anything permament come up yet?

Our VP for Marketing and Development has been away for a couple of months and will not reutrn until the end of August, but we do need to make some appointments then.

Are you still interested? We still need someone to coordinate Events (alongside a Thai speaker) as well as someone to do PR. So the offer is still on the table.

Would love to hear from you.

Sincerely
Gail Valentine
 
Need I say that I am extremely interested?
 
On another note, I love this new feature of blogger. Multicoloured text!

somehow, asking, "Hello, may I speak with Mr Tetet?" sounds vulgar...

it's been almost 24 hours. I still cannot bring myself to make the call.

What if I burst out laughing? What if I burst out laughing in the middle of the sentence? What if all the other person hear is me laughing?

My mobile started ringing at 4.50am this morning.

Reaching for it and forcing my eyes open, I see an unidentified number on my caller ID. I promptly hung up. (Fanja and Anca forgive me).

A few minutes later, it started ringing again. After realising that it could be an overseas call (hey, it was 5am, my mind works at half the speed at 5am) I picked up the call.

Me: "mmmmm...."
Caller: "Hi, is that Melody?"
Me: "mmmmm...."
Caller: silently whispering "1, 2" and then a loud chorus "Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to Melody, Happy Birthday to you."
Me: "awwwww...soh schweet...."
Fanja & Anca: "Mel, are you awake? What time is it?"
Me: "Fiiiiveeee"
Anca: "Oh, Fanja said it was 6. I'm so sorry..."
(Me wondering - would it really make a difference if it were 6, especially since they know I'm no where near a morning person. Yes, I'm grumpy when I'm woken from my sleep.)

After about 3 minutes of me mumbling something incoherant and them telling me really sweet things like that I need to make sure I have fun because if I were with them in England they would make sure I enjoyed myself, they realised the conversation was not going to work. With a final goodbye and love-yous, we hung up. I turned over and went back to sleep.

My phone went off again. This time it was a text message from another friend in England.

The feeling that I am missed and not forgotten, that even though I'm halfway across the world in a totally different timezone is not making a difference, that I have such wonderful and dear friends who bother to make contact with me and wish me a happy birthday touches me.

And sensing a wave of protests from my dear friends in Singapore, I feel loved here too. Even before my day started, I have already received several birthday wishes. And I am touched that the time I've spent away has not seem to dilute our friendship. That I have friends who make an effort, wanting to celebrate my birthday with me.

Today is a great day. Not because I've grown OLD-er, but because I feel incredibly affirmed and love. That my friends whom I hold extremely dear to my life, love and care for me. That despite my warts and all, I still have a group of people who will stand by me and support me.

That I am so loved by my family that my mother hugs me tight and wishes me a happy birthday in the morning.

That I have a brother who shows his love for me in strange warped way, slapping my stomach, insulting me and wishing me happy birthday all at the same time.

And most of all, that I have a God who is in charge of my life and who will never let me go.

I honestly feel blessed.

My shopping list yesterday:

1. 17 fat white candles
2. 15 rattan basket/candle holder
3. 2 tall black candle stands
4. 10 can-openers
5. 1 blue flower vase
6. 3 bags of stones
7. 1 pale orange daisy

What happened to shopping for dresses, skirts, shoes, pretty dangling earrings, etc?

What happened to increasing my collection of CDs, DVDs and books?

I have become one of them who go to Ikea on the weekends just to enjoy 2 glasses of free drinks.

My slow and sure morphing into a drone is becoming complete...

It’s one of those overlooked TV shows on Central, airing on a Thursday night at 11.30pm.

It’s one of those unknown TV shows that may garner a blank look when you mention it to your colleagues.

But it’s also one of those brilliant comedies that draw you in from the word “go”.

The Sketch Show is 30 minutes of pure unadulterated British humour experience, filled with wit that hits you left of the centre. Written and performed by 5 insane folks, it is art at its best and entertainment at it finest.

It is 30 minutes of short sketches that satirises anything and everything from travelling chess sets to airport security. It doesn’t even matter that you’re not British, so long as you haven’t just emerged from under a rock and are completely oblivious to pop culture.

For a generation raised by MTV, you will find the Sketch Show catering to your short attention span. Not only that, nothing will be missed, even if you decide to switch on your TV set only at 11.45pm. (But why would you? The fun starts at 11.30pm!)

True, you may not get to know the actors like you would your Chandlers and Phoebes, but it’s hardly a bad deal when you get at least 10 standalone comedic acts and 5 actors playing 30 different characters. (The make-up and costume changes alone would suffice as entertainment.)

So you know where I’ll be on Thursday nights – watching a father try to tell his daughter a bedtime story about Freddie Krueger, and experiencing the first landing on the Moon – Sketch Show style.

Faith: > ASF Day RoxXors!!! (translation : I say, old bean, this ASF Day celebration is going to be absolutely spiffy!)

--> insert plug <--

ASF Day is for all Adventist students between 16 and 26 (or thereabouts)
ASF Day will be on the evening of July 24, 2004.
ASF Day will be an event to remember.
ASF Day will have a mountain-climbing/base camp/Band of Brothers-Currahee-We Stand Alone Together theme.
ASF Day events management is something that Faith has dragged me into helping.
ASF Day is not the only thing that Faith has dragged me into helping.

--> end plug <--

My reply:

old bean?????????????????

green, red, yellow, black???

do old beans all turn into one single colour?

And who are you calling bean?

Are you trying to imply that a certain member of the committee resembles a bean (pudgy and small) or that he is like Mr. Bean??

Do we all fall under the category of bean-ness (where's Brian the grammar police) or are you just talking about one person?

Then again, if you're talking about all of us, shouldn't it be beanS (that's the Brian in me talking)?

If we or one member is a bean, do we eventually have to be cooked?

The violent response I get:

*throws a pot of garbanzo at mel*

now you're bean'n silly!

my worst nightmare came true yesterday...well sort of.

Eversince I started working at Citibank, I've been terrified that one morning, I would stroll into my office and find two policeman standing by my desk waiting for me. Not that I am into money laundering or anything, it's just that the stress of dealing with other people's money kind of got to me.

So yesterday afternoon, I was talking to my boss at the far end of the office when this girl comes up to me and goes "Melody, there's somebody here to see you."

I did a complete 180 degree turn and found two policeman standing by my desk.

Really, I nearly fainted. It was a scene right out of my imagination.

Then it turned out that they were merely delivering some plastic cards. Don't ask me why they need CISCO guards for that.

my past has returned to haunt me.

One of the main reasons why I agreed to go on stage was because I assumed that having just returned home after being away for 4 years, there would hardly be anyone I know who would recognise me. Besides, it was a silly party whom I didn't think many people I know would attend.

Ha.

It's a small small world.

I got a message on my phone from a friend this afternoon: "Hey! I've reliable news that u were on stage at a cleo bachelor bash at zouk couple mths back. So is this true?"

I have been tracked down. By a schoolmate I have not met for about 6 years. Who so happened to be at the event because she was working at a company that represented a few of the bachelors. Who so happened to be my friend's new colleague.

Who so happened to find out that their mutual friend is me.

what more to say to this besides that the glory and power of God should never be underestimated.

The weekend re-opened my eyes to the power of prayer, the inspiration faith brings and the beauty of the church family who are willing to pray and plead for help to the Almighty simply because.

The courage of the ones involved impressed me. And the love of their friends touched me.

It was a weekend where one was reminded that miracles still happen...

I am impressed. Not all bankers are dull. (Granted he isn't exactly a banker since he's actually here on an internship...)

Not only can he draw, he does it darn well too!

I defy the norms by being an oxymoron...

I am an intelligent beauty...

How to make a Mel

Ingredients: 5 parts intelligence 3 parts crazyiness 5 parts beauty

Method: Add to a cocktail shaker and mix vigorously. Serve with a slice of fitness and a pinch of salt. Yum!

Username:

Personality cocktail
From Go-Quiz.com

You can stop rolling your eyes now.

my dearly missed brother finally came back from Thailand.

And to show his immense love for his sister, he bought me.....facial wash.

Don't get me wrong, I think it's incredibly sweet of him to buy me something, but facial wash??? Only a 16 year old BROTHER would do that. Honestly, facial wash?

To top it off, he doesn't even have it with him. Someone else took his suitcase by mistake, leaving him theirs. So he had to make a report with the airport and left the wrong suitcase with them.

The airport called later this morning saying that they've found his suitcase and would send it to him this afternoon.

They brought him the suitcase he left them.

Yes, his suitcase is still missing.

See what Care Bear you are.

I'm a pink bear...

Think it fits Shimona better. Pink has never been my colour.

(Although I know my mom would beg to differ, having to raise a daughter who insisted on having a room with pink walls and who 10 years later would ask her "Why is my room pink?")

She expects me to solve this.

Yeah right.

1. I cannot count.
2. Numbers freak me out.
3. I cannot count.
3. My brain freezes at the sight of numbers.
4. I cannot count.
5. 1996 was the last time I ever had anything to do with Math as a subject.
6. I cannot count.

And she expects me to work out how the computer calculates something?

Maybe I will do it sometime.

But not now when I'm supposed to be working....at a bank...where numbers practically fly around the entire office.

*bursts sporadically*

For a really long time, I had wanted to be a part of the corporate world - the big board meetings, the fast-paced environment, working with executives and managers making decisions that would impact many people...

I dreamt of being a part of an organisation that was practically living and breathing, moving on its own momentum. I imagined owning a fast car, living in a penthouse apartment...practically living the high life.

Maybe it's just my general world-weary cynicism. Maybe it's simply because I'm sick of my job. Or it could be that I'm just plain lazy.

I am now a part of the living, breathing organisation. And although I am most certainly not living the high life or even anywhere near it, I come in constant contact with people who are almost there. And I realise I do not want the life I thought I wanted, if I have to pay the price they did.

Coming to work at 9 in the morning, then staying till close to midnight during weekdays. Having to come back to work during the weekends, or even during public holidays. An in-tray that's never empty. The constant pressure to perform or risk losing your job. Having to deal with office politics. Surviving in the cut-throat, dog-eat-dog of a world. Running the rat race....

No thank you. There is more to life than that.

They may have their fast cars. They may have their penthouse apartment. But how much time do they actually have to enjoy it? The office has become their house. Why the need for luxurious living when one's life has practically been sold to the company?

I will not deny the fact that I would love to lead a luxurious lifestyle, but more importantly, I want meaning in my life. I want a life not sold to my work, unless it is work that is sold to God.

So give me my simple apartment. Give me my public transport. Give me my friends who care and love me with no hidden agendas. Give me my Levi's. Give me my foodcourt meals. Give me a life where I can come home to my family, to my candlelit room, to my novels, to my writing, to my photography, to my craftwork, to my little artistic indulgences.

Give me my time with God who will in turn give me everything I've ever wanted - peace, happiness and contentment.

Faith is a genius.

Thanks for coming up with this new design!

And for all of you who are blinded by the yellow/orange. Too bad.

I like it.

He never wrote, much less called.

When I met him on MSN, our conversations lasted hours, three quarters of which was filled with silence. The other quarter consisted of me asking questions and him giving vague answers.

When we did talk on the phone, I had glorious monosyllabic responses.

It's been a long journey.

It started with the longing for a playmate, then the fervent wish that I never had one, but on the night I first left Singapore, I found myself wondering.

Would he forget me?

Would we become strangers upon my return?

Would he ever establish a relationship with God?

It goes without saying the amount of joy and relief to nkow that he has decided to make a stand to live for God and it honestly amazes me he got this far.

He was only 11 when our father passed away. The robbing away of his male role figure. The confusion, the agony and the numerous questions as to why our father? Why us? Why? Especially since my father lived as best as he could to please the God he loved.

I was afraid. We were all afraid. Would Shannon ever learn to love and trust God? Would he out of sheer spite transform into this uncontrollable rebellious teenager who hates God? After all, the odds were against him. It looked like God robbed his father away from him.

I left Singapore less than 2 years after our father passed away. And when I returned for the holidays, I realised that he had indeed changed. But amazingly, he rose above everything to become the sweetest, best brother one could ever have.

Of course, it was rather annoying to have your 14 year old brother wanting to keep tabs on you, refusing to let you leave the house until you gave him the low down as to who you were going out with, where you were going and what time you were going to be back. But it touched me to know how much he cared.

It was as if I never existed in his life when I was away, but when I came home, I saw a change in him. It was as if he took it upon himself to be the man of the house, excusing the occasional teenage moodswing. He stayed with the family, and best of all, he stayed with God.

It is easy to dismiss him as another lost teenager when you look at him. With his shocking mess of strange coloured hair, his love of so called worldly music and that swagger when he walks, who can ever guess that deep down, he has got a soul that is willing to listen. A heart that is so open to love?

Honestly, I cannot tell you what his relationship wit God is like. That is his story to tell. But I can say that it is not a frivolous decision on his part to commit his life to God.

The journey has just begun Shannon.

Jesus promised those who would follow him 3 things:

That they would be absurdly happy, entirely fearless and always in trouble.

Your decision will bring you on a path where challenges seem unending, where pain seem unbearable. But never forget this. You are now God's child, and if you hold fast to your faith, stay firm with what you believe, you will not only see the light at the end of the tunnel. You will get little safety lamps along the way.

My dear brother got dunked by the pastor on Saturday (May 29)...

I am enjoying being a Punggolian.

Every morning, I would take a 3 minute walk to the bus-stop, artfully dodging earthworms making the epic journey from one side of the pavement to the other…at the same time walking past an old Indian man decked out in sarong, sneakers and a shirt unbuttoned to show off his hairy chest. The very man who would be brisk walking and killing the very same earthworms I had danced around a few seconds ago…

The cool breeze would be blowing in my face, children would be laughing as they chased each other around the playground, baffling my half-awakened mind as to why they would even be awake at this hour…

Maids would sit around watching their charges while chatting and catching up on the latest gossip. Occasionally I would even spy a group of senior citizens, arms outstretched, legs apart, practicing their tai-chi.

There would be cute little flowers on the grass patch as I approach the bus-stop, and a stray cat would be waiting eagerly for some resident to feed it. And this is not wishful thinking on behalf of the cat. It actually gets fed.

Of course, there is also the part where without fail, I see the bus I was meant to be on zoom past my very eyes because I am standing across the road from the bus-stop I should be.

While waiting for the bus with half-opened eyes, people emerge from the bottom of their flats, milling towards the bus-stop like ants. Quietly, but with firm determination to get to work, we would all squash up the bus towards the train station…as if we were part of George Orwell’s 1984.

At the end of the day, when I arrive home, it is already dark. Suddenly, there are no signs of life anywhere. There is actually peace and quiet in the bustling city of Singapore.

Then I get into my room, switch on my air-conditioner, play some soft mellow music, light a few candles, burn some essential oils and start relaxing in a place with an interior I designed and created…a room where I can escape into another world. A room where I can feed my soul. A room with a “beachfront” view or of Mordor, depending on where you look…

Moving has been a good decision, despite all the pain and hard work we had to go through to make it come true…

drumroll please....i am alive.

i have moved house.

i am still at the bank.

i have been extremely busy.

i am still single.

i have not had much internet access (you wouldn't have guessed would you?)

i am still going to Germany/England in August (collecting the ticket tomorrow!).

and i had a rather interesting phone conversation today:

Me: "Hi, may I speak with Penny please?"
Strange guy on other line: "She's on the line."
Me: "Can I leave a message?"
SGOOL: "Sure."
Me: "Could you let her know that Melody from Citibank called?"
SGOOL: "WAH! Melody?! Your name so stylo!"
Me: "Er...thanks?"
SGOOL: "Wah, steady lah...so stylo! How to spell?"
Me: "M-E-L-O-D-Y"
SGOOL: "So cool..."
Me: "..."
SGOOL: "Melody,very nice name ah? Very stylo."
Me: *laughing uneasily* "Anyway, get her to call me back, thanks."
SGOOL: "Ok, bye, stylo-milo."

The world is still insane...

An excerpt from Time magazine, April 26, 2004.

The Passion of the Christ, which has so far been seen by tens of millions of people in the U.S. alone, proves again what we have long known about movies: artists should write about and direct what they know. They should produce from their passion. But too often pictures made by Christians have been thinly veiled propaganda vehicles. They have not been the sort of art that comes from the gut.

Some evangelical consultants urged Gibson to add explanatory verses of Scripture at the end of The Passion. To his credit, Gibson insisted that he wanted to retain some mystery, some impetus for viewers to return to their churches and their Bibles to ferret out the truths represented in the art.

Gibson succeeded becauses he produced a film from that place within the fiber of his being where his own passions lie. The public responded, providing a lesson for other people of faith.

From Gibson we have learned that we should not be afraid, should not run from controversy and should be willing to employ a work ethic and invest the dollars necessary to compete in the markeplace of ideas.

i feel obese.

as well as jinxed.

all coz i have not been swimming for three weeks.

first week, i ended up having to work till 9pm.

second week...i would have turn the pool a pretty shade of red if i did.

this week...the meeting i was in did not end till 8pm. by the time I got to the pool, i was in time to see the gates shut in my face.

Well, not quite, but you get the idea.

Maybe next time, I should pretend I wasn't going swimming, get off work early, and actually go swimming.

Except, who am I trying to trick?

In the meantime, I'll continue feeling obese.

Bring on the Oreo cookies...

without going into details as to what prompted my words...a text message between Maya and I...

Me: Argh! I work in a office full of b*tches.
Maya: Please explain? Are you working in a dog pound?

At least that made my morning better...

I am now rendered a member of the dog-eat-dog, rat race world of business.

Every morning and evening, I squeeze into the train with the peak hour crowd. Every lunchtime, I leave and return to the office en masse with the rest of the building.

Jeans and T-shirts no longer exist in my vocabulary. It is now replaced with dress pants, shirts and heeled shoes.

I am now an automaton, and my world has narrowed into an endless cycle of travel, work and sleep.

Despite it all though, I am thankful for the job. And I think God had his hand in it all.

It is extremely challenging, and I’m not talking about the bit where I have to book conference rooms and order stationery. I have to juggle three people’s responsibilities, of which one I actually quite enjoy. This job also has the potential to give me a great network of friends.

Citibank is established and prestigious, and they really do not pay that badly. At least enough for me to afford going to Germany in August.

But somehow, I still can’t shrug off the feeling of dread that I am now one of them.

I found work!

Granted, it's only a 5 month temp assignment, but after 2 months of inactivity and weeks of either turning down jobs or getting turned down...this job souonds pretty good.

Working at Citibank as an assistant in the marketing department (yes, I book conference rooms and order pens for the department). And yes, my life seems to gravitate towards marketing and PR, no matter how hard I fight it.

I'm not complaining (much) though.

Not only do I get Sabbaths off, I am now able to afford my trip to Germany for Cydknee's wedding (with a short detour back to England...I couldn't resist) in August.

I can spend as much time away as I want overseas as well since my assignment would have ended then. Or till my money runs out. Or till I outstay my welcome.

Honestly, not my dream job (seriously, I didn't get a degree to book conference rooms), but God knows best and right now, the timing for everything seems pretty darn good to me!

currently sitting in Gail's bedroom getting my eardrums assaulted.

No, Gail isn't the one doing the assaulting.

There seems to be some kind of live performance going on somewhere in her neighbourhood and as sound travels, I am listening to the singing live and LOUD.

Initially, I thought the singing was bad, but since I had no idea what they were singing about, could somehow managed to block it out.

Currently though, I am sitting here listening not just to whoever it is mutilate Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit, I'm also subjected to extremely bad guitar playing.

Isn't there a law somewhere against bad live singing that would cause people's ears to bleed?

Today, I realise that the B3 that I got for my Chinese for my A levels have gone down the drain.

Went for a second interview with a PR firm and had to translate an English press release into Chinese. The number of blanks, the inability to translate accurately as well as the number of hanyu pinyin words I used in place of the proper Chinese symbols were atrocious.

As if my humiliation wasn't complete, I then had to read a Chinese article. Ended up misreading half of the words, and skipping over the other quarter.

Was I surprised that they decided not to hire me?

The Cleo saga continues...

Just got back from schmoozing with 50 "Eligable Bachelors" and virtually the rest of Singapore - it really felt like the entire country was packed into Zouk Disco tonight.

And rather than sitting in a corner and laughing at everybody, I found myself on stage, pairing up with one of the bachelors, trying to stick post-its all over him...without using my hands.

Let me just take this opportunity to say that Urban Decay Lip Gunk is the stickiest lip gloss to ever exist in this world coz the post-its were stuck on my lips rather than on his jacket. I even had my nose squashed coz I was trying desperately to get the post-its off my lips.

Did I say I wanted to laugh at everybody?

He ended up grabbing a post-it off my hand and sticking it onto himself and to make matters worse, he whispered "use your hands!" into my ear. Talk about cheating.

Should have known that going to such things with Maya would result in some attention grabbing antic or another. That girl attracts attention wherever she goes.

At least I got a whole bunch of freebies for my participation...

I honestly hope I will not live to say that I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.

After rejecting the job for the second time to the boss of Image Marcom last night, he sent me a text message an hour later saying that he would give me more time to reconsider, and that he’ll wait for my reply this afternoon.

Sent him a text message this morning saying that I really am unable to change my commitment on the Sabbath, and asked if he would be willing to put me on trial for 3 months instead.

He replied saying, “No. You need to accommodate to the industry, not the other way around.”

Honestly, this lost chance is extremely painful to me and friends will hear me whinging about it in the weeks to come.

Ouch.

I wonder...would I say that I've made the biggest mistake of my life ten years from now?

Had an interview with Image Marcom & Productions this evening. The job was everything I've ever wanted and could dream of - video & film production.

I would be overseeing projects, conceptualising videos, working with storyboard artists, coordinating personnels, going on shoots, finding locations and talents...it is my ultimate dream job. And the best thing was the boss really wanted me for the job. So much so that he was ready to have me start work tomorrow.

And I said no.

The boss spent the next 2 hours trying to convince me otherwise.

But I just can't. The job requires me to work on the Sabbath and I will never be able to live with myself if I chose to give up God's holy day to pursue my dream.

God made me who I am and has blessed me tremendously. Granted, He is not going to strike me dead if I take up the job. In fact, I know for a fact that He would still love me.

But I simply cannot live with the fact that I cannot even keep one day holy for the God I love. That I cannot even grant Him the one tiny request He has from me, especially after all the countless blessings He has poured on me and will continue to do so.

And so now I'm left mourning the loss of what I believe is my dream job but having the hope and knowledge that God will provide something better.

I hope I will not live to regret this decision.

a weekend at Mersing has rendered me a reversed panda.

I am now extremely sunburnt and bear tan lines where my sunglasses used to be. All because my brother and I decided to go on a 1.5 hour canoe trip.

And I'm supposed to go for the Clep's 50 Eligable Bachelor's Party this Thursday looking all red and brown and yellow in different places...extremely charming, I'm sure.

By the way, don't ask as to why I'm going to the party...it's Maya's fault.

Ned Kelly and I are a pair of star-crossed lovers...

I have been wanting to watch the movie for close to two years now, and have chased it all around the world and yet, have only been able to catch glimpses of it.

It was due to open in Australia a few months after I left.

When it opened in England, it did so for a grand total of 3 days which resulted in me missing it.

Now it's in Singapore for the Australian Film Festival, except that it will be showing this Saturday and Sunday evenings and guess what?

I'M NOT GOING TO BE IN SINGAPORE!

if there's anything I hate more than having to wake up at an early hour (and I count anything before 8am early), it's being woken up 5 minutes before my alarm rings.

I love my sleep. I can stay awake till all hours, but once my eyes are actually closed and I escape into dreamland, I really do not like to wake up, especially against my will.

So having to wake up at 7.15am for the last few days have been absolutely killing for me. The agony of having to wake up at such an unholy hour was enough to test my patience. And to be robbed of the extra 5 minutes of sleep was just utterly wrong.

I was supposed to wake up at 7.15am this morning. The telephone rang at 7.10am, jarring my out of a beautiful sleep and dream. It only rang once, but it was more than enough to wake me up.

My precious 5 minutes...

no, the aliens have not got to me. It was just pure and simply exhaustion.

So, what's been happening?

1. I went for a 2nd interview with Cleo last Thursday and I think I absolutely messed up on it. I would like to cite sheer nervousness because of having to face the ENTIRE Cleo team as an excuse, but I think the main reason is that I simply do very badly at interviews.

2. The Minitoons schedule is an absolute nightmare, requiring me to stand for 12 straight hours 5 days a week. The consolation is that I'll probably develop really nice calves by the end of it all.

3. Am currently temping at a furniture fair. This thing is huuuge! And open only to trade and business personnels. So for this whole week, I've been holed up in an exhibition centre trying to sell antique reproduction furniture. Irony of it all is that I'm working for a UK based company, with three guys from the UK.

I've returned all the way from the UK back to Singapore to work for a UK company.

Unfortunately, although this job is only for 8 hours a day, it not only requires me to stand all day, but IN HEELS as well. My calves....and it also takes me one hour to get to work, hence the exhaustion and lack of desire to do anything else but to go home and sleep.

woohoo!

Check out Features #1.

Seven looong hours of either listening to annoying techno music with dodgy artists covering good songs mixed with repetitive beats or listening to Eminem sing about male body parts and where they get stuck into.

Shudder.

My temp job stints have led me to a shop called Minitoons, royal hangout place of the unique to Singapore Ah Lians.

On the up side, my colleagues are very nice girls. The shop is a stone’s throw from where I live and I get to practice my Chinese seeing that whenever I try to speak English to the customers, I either get looks of bewilderment or confusion.

Does not prevent my colleagues from calling me a potato…and I trust that it is not a reference to my body shape, but an allusion to the Caucasians’ choice of staple food.

Temping with Kelly Services (thanks Gail for letting me know about them) has brought me to work at strange places.

Have been at Woodbridge - Institute of Mental Health, for the last 2 days, and will probably continue to be there till the end of the week. Fortunately, it is not as Gail has thought - the heat has not driven me mad. Or other circumstances for that matter. I'm still mentally healthy. I think.

Dreadfully boring work though. Data entry. What else when it comes to temp jobs? And I think I'm going to suffer from repetitive strain injury soon.

This evening found me at an interview at the Social Development Unit (SDU - the government's attempt to encourage procreation amongst Singaporeans). Apparently I'm supposed to help encourage and convince businesses to organise events for singles. All part of the Romancing Singapore 2004 campaign. (And believe me, I have something to say about that too - honestly, Singaporeans need to be taught how to be romantic?!? But I'll leave that for another day.)

Whether I get the job is still uncertain since I'm required to work on Saturdays. They really want me on board though. So one wonders if they'll work some magic...

Weeks of unemployment is extremely bad for my mental health. Besides being bored to the brink of insanity, I am now beginning to question my point of existence.

I feel absolutely useless and can find no meaning to my life. Of course, before I cause all of you to panic, I am not suicidal. I’m just in a blasé mood because I have nothing to do.

It’s not just being unemployed that is doing it to me. It’s the whole point of working. I am just not entirely sure why I want to work for a corporation whose sole purpose is to maximise profit, horde up millions of dollars, at the expense of others.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate money. In fact, you can give me all the money that you’ve got and I will thank you sweetly for it.

It’s just the point of it all.

We spend 8 to 9 hours a day slogging away, earning money, but all for a company that, besides promoting consumerism and materialism, is not doing anything to better the state of the world. Yes, it’s helping the economy, but somehow, I feel there’s got to be more to work than that.

I don’t want to work just to earn money. I want to work for something I believe in. I want to work for an organization that actually does something to help the world. I don’t want to promote inane and senseless things that does not help a person’s life. I want something more meaningful than that.

Then I realise that I have a BA in Communications. Mass media. Public Relations. Writing.

It’s all about consumerism. It’s not like a degree in Medicine, or Social Affairs or Development Studies. It’s about entertainment and in entertainment, it’s more like choosing between the devil and the deep blue sea than the simple choice of good and evil.

Can I actually find a job that I’m qualified in, and yet be able to contribute to a better world?

one cannot speak good English in Singapore anymore...

Went for an interview today and was told that I may have difficulty getting a job because of my accent.

Hello?!?! What accent? Any accent I have is a Singaporean one sans lahs and lehs...

No Aussie or Brit would ever claim me to be one of their own from hearing my accent. In fact, I'm recognised to be from Singapore because of the way I speak.

So what accent do I have?!?! And why am I discriminated simply because of the way that I speak???

Anyone familiar with the on goings of show business would readily recognise that February is a special month.

The Golden Globes, the Grammies, the Oscars and closer to home, the MTV Asia Music Awards, all happen within a few weeks of each other. We find ourselves inadvertently glued to our TVs, or reading snippets from magazines or newspapers about who’s been nominated, who’s won and even who’s who.

Let’s face it. No matter what we do, or don’t do, no matter where in the world we may be, we will know all about the awards sooner or later.

Ironical to remember that as recent as the 19th century, the arena of performing arts was seen in a completely different light. It’s true that Art has been in existence practically forever. People like to be entertained, whether in the past or in the present. And now our version of Greek entertainment comes in the form of movies, concerts and all sorts of popular art form.

The basic premise of the performing arts has not changed, but the status of artistes most certainly have.

Actors and singers used to be penniless, depending on the lords to support them. A parent hearing his child intending to walk down the path of the arts is most likely to either suffer from a cardiac arrest or disown his own flesh and blood. As the performing arts became more and more secular in the 15th century, the association of its participants with loose morals and vice became inseparable. To be a part of the performing arts was highly frowned upon.

Funny how all that has turned around.

The loose morals and vice are still there of course, in many varied disguised forms that I’m sure do not need spelling out. But since the turn of the 20th century, performers have never been more exalted. The actors and singers have now become the new elite, with their huge mansions and diamond-studded lifestyles.

Practically every young person dreams of making it big. A look at the turnout for the American Idol auditions says it all. The arena of performing arts has never enjoyed a better reputation.

Kudos to the entertainment business for flipping the tables. From a despised career, performers are suddenly what everyone wants to be, or tries to be with. The hours spent in queues just to get a glimpse of their idols, the desperation to get an autograph, the tears, the euphoria of making eye contact with Brad Pitt…the almost fanatical worshipping of people who, if born a few centuries earlier, would have been seen to be slightly better than the scum of the earth.

Show business’s marketing strategy should probably be written into a textbook for any aspiring marketeer.

Don’t get me wrong. I am all for creative expression. I thoroughly enjoy a good play or movie. I like listening to different sorts of music and I am a voracious reader. Creative and talented people need to be recognised and encouraged, like all other people in any honest form of living.

But have we gone a tad overboard? Has the tinsel blinded us?

Many follow the lives of the stars with an insatiable appetite. What we choose to see now lies on the outside – what a person possesses, be it jewellery, good looks or his latest girlfriend. What we hold important, what our values are, seems to have changed somewhat.

The Oscars started in 1927 for the purpose of raising the cultural and technical standards of professional filmmaking. But as we watch the Charlize Therons and Johnny Depps walk down the red carpet, what we focus on are the designer clothing, the gigantic and endless number of diamonds, the make-up, their private lives…the superficiality of it all. It’s no longer about talent, but an image. An image that would be bought up by adoring fans all over the world.

Appreciating a creative art form is one thing. Following it to be point of obsession is another.

Recognising and acknowledging talent is one thing. Spending millions of dollars letting everybody know about it is another.

God wanted us to encourage each other in the things that we do. But I’m sure He never meant for us to pat each other on the back for a job well done, to the point where his own creation has taken over His place.

Instead of chasing after God and being like Him, we now look to the exalted artistes whose talents God gave, for direction.

Can one catch cancer like one can catch SARS?

First my dad, then my uncle, THEN my great uncle…now my cousin has just been diagnosed with bone cancer.

Maybe my family should get a VIP card from the damn cancer society…

My “interview” with Cleo yesterday turned out to be a rather strange affair.

Arriving at the office, the receptionist directed me into the conference room where about 9 other girls were already waiting. Most were dressed rather casually, which made my shirt and trousers seem like an overkill – and I thought I was not dressed smartly enough.

What made it worse, however, was the fact that I had with me two big folders containing my portfolio. As I plomped them down onto the table, I found much to my unease that the other girls only had cute little handbags.

After about 5 mins wait, and two other girls joining the group, I realised that the room was filled with way too much tension and silence. Everybody was trying hard to find an empty spot on the wall to stare at, or silently twiddling their thumbs.

In a moment of insanity, I decided that I should try to break the ice. I broke out into a cheerful, “So, does anybody quite know what to expect?” and tried to flash what I thought was a friendly smile.

I was rewarded with the girls staring back at me like as if I had just spoken in German or Swahili for that matter. On the up side, I did get a few blank looks and slow shaking of heads. But that was the most I got out of them.

Needless to say, I decided to shut up from then onwards.

The meeting was not an interview per se. We were set a subbing test (the correcting of grammar and sentence structure and the like), and given two tasks to take home – one was a 500 word article and the other was to write up a calendar of events.

The Cleo saga continues…

It was a miracle that Maya and I got home safe and sound after Shimona’s gig at Swing last night.

Conversation with the taxi driver:

Me: Uncle, we’re making two stops. First to Bishan, then to Woodlands.
Taxi Driver (TD): What? Where?
Me: Bishan, then Woodlands.
TD: Oh, Jurong?
Maya and I: BISHAN
TD: Huh? Bishan?

And he nearly gets into an accident by turning out from a corner without looking.

Nearing Bishan…

TD: Bishan where?
Me: Street 12
TD: Oh, Street 21?
Me: No, Street 12. (Fingers the number 1 and 2)
TD: Street 12 ah? One stop only right?
Me: No, you have to go to Woodlands after that.
TD: Where?
Me: WOODLANDS!
TD: (looking confused) Woodlands?

What happens after I got home would be Maya’s tale to tell…

By the way, there was no yodelling at Swing last night despite the lack of people. I thank Maya for her graciousness.

Disclaimer: this post is written with love. Truly.

The extent to which some people are addicted to their TV shows.

Planning to go for Shimona’s last gig at Swing tomorrow and decided to ask Maya to come along with Gail and I. Can’t believe that woman.

She would rather stay at home and watch an old man (Simon Cowell & American Idol) and an older man who is conveniently dead (Akira Kurosawa & The Seven Samurai) than come with us.

Finally managed to convince her to come along, enticing her with the possibility of cute-looking people at Swing. She has since assured me that if the crowd at Swing turns out to be lacklustre, she is making me go up on stage to yodel.

and they say it never stops raining in England....

I have been back in Singapore for 6 days and it has rained for 4. Not only that, it has rained cats and dogs during those days. There has been so much rain that I'm beginning to wonder if the island is going to be covered over with all the water.

Never imagined I would say this, but I miss the fine weather and occassional soft rain of England...

Don't believe them when they say the weather is bad in England. At least the rain does not threaten to drown you there.

been back in Singapore for 2 days now and guess what? My sinus problems, without fail, have struck again. Wondering if I'm going to have to live with non-stop sneezing and sniffing for the rest of my life...what makes it worse is the fact that Chinese New Year is coming up in 2 days...

Met up with Maya yesterday evening for dinner. Isn't it great to have friends whom you have not met for ages, but when you do, things are still the same?

No, we're no longer the young and skinny innocents we were when we first got to know each other in 1997, but the connection, the understanding and the relationship is still there.

The biggest cons of my somewhat nomadic life is the number of friends that I have to leave behind. But I'm so glad to be blessed with friends who genuinely love and care. Friends who bother to make an effort. Friends who will not forget me just because I'm not around. Friends whom I can spend hours talking with even though we're meeting for the first time in months or years.

This is an ode to my friends.

Hi there,

You've been shortlisted for the CLEO Win A Job Contest.

We would like to meet you on 29 January, 2004, at 2.30pm.

We hope to hear from you soon. See you then.

Warmest regards,
Deborah Tan
CLEO

AAAAHHHH!!!! Guess what I'm going to be doing on the 29th? Will this be the start of my magazine career????

AAAAAHHHH!!!!!! Guisele has given birth!! I don't know when it happened, how it happened (well, that's actually pretty self-explanatory) but I know it happened about a week ago!!! Now I just need to find out if it's a boy or girl!!!!

MOZZY, WHEN YOU ARE FINALLY ABLE TO READ, REMEMBER THAT I AM GIVING YOU A HUUUUGE WELCOME TO THIS ASYLUM WE CALL EARTH!

On another note, I went to Lantau Island this afternoon to look at this gigantic Buddha statue built atop a mountain. Only problem is that it was extremely misty and all I saw were the frothy lotus looking thing at his foot....and I had to climb like thousands of steps...

Not to mention the strange toilet facilities they had at the monastary nearby. Not only was it the primative squatting type, the doors did not exactly conceal much, starting from one's knees and going up to the chest level. I felt very...vulnerable. Was tempted to take a photo of the place but didn't think the other occupants would be too amused.

much celebration will need to take place tonight because for the first time since I arrived in Hong Kong 4 days ago, I DID NOT GET LOST.

"I guessed you were from Singapore when you spoke Chinese but couldn't read it," said the restaurant lady.

Thing is, I can read Chinese. Only problem is that I would have starved to death by the time I actually deciphered the menu.

I am regretting that I lost my ability to read and write Chinese. To think I used to score As and Bs for my Chinese exams. 4 years without practice has led me to this - asking the resturant lady to help me out so that I can actually order something to eat.

What is even more shocking is that Singaporeans are defined as such: able to speak our mother tongue, but unable to read...