Monday munchies

The Economist has just informed me that my subscription is due to expire in February. Part of me wants to fill up the form like I've habitually done every year or two for quite some time now; the other part of me is dissatisfied at the oftentimes biased commentaries, and worried that I won't have the time to read anyway -- as it is, I read an average of three articles per issue these days.

So this is where you come in, dear reader (and you must know how much this means to me because I would surely not otherwise address you as such): is there a more worthy publication that deserves my subscription? Which one(s), and why? Or should I channel this money towards acquiring a new pair of shoes? :)

***

Me (needing something to keep me awake during lecture): "Do you have any sweets for me to munch on?"

Z (holding out her arm self-sacrificially): "I have blood sugar if you want."

Me: "..."

Bleeding

It makes me sad that some people establish their self-worth by putting others down.

But it makes me mad when the people that they hurt are people that I love.

Posterior peril

While queuing up at the drinks stall, AY drops her mobile phone. She hurriedly picks it up.

AY: "Oh no! I hope it isn't spoilt!"

Me: "Try using your phone to call me, just to check that it's working."

AY: "Okay."

She proceeds to dial my number.

AY: "Where is your phone? Is it ringing?"

Me: "Oops, it's on vibration mode, in the back pocket (of my jeans)." (Both my hands were full.)

AY: "Oh. Well, is your butt vibrating?!"

Before I can respond, she grabs my butt...

Me (more than a little alarmed): "WHAT THE..."

AY (relieved, presumably at feeling my phone vibrate): "Oh good, it's still working."

Several passers-by who'd witnessed that last bit of our exchange threw me a dirty look. I don't want to know what they were thinking.

Just rewards?

I had to read this twice to be sure that I didn't get it wrong the first time; I'm not surprised that someone wrote it, but I'm somewhat amused that Today actually decided to publish it. Hur.

Please find the logic behind the decision to have some sort of road run that closed the main roads to traffic around the CBD on Friday late afternoon and early evening. This was a brilliant plan as it created the worst traffic snarl I have seen in that area.

Obviously there is a logical and sensible reason behind this decision, and we need to reward the person who made the decision to grant a permit for whatever noble event that required it.

After all, we should be identifying such individuals in our quest to source leading thinkers and administrators who can take their rightful place whenever Singapore reaches its goal of anointing itself as a global city.

Yes, I did contact the police requesting that they try to find those responsible so that just rewards could be given.

-- David Miller, letter to Today

(The situation explained in greater detail in a letter by Hariharan Gangadharan on the same page.)

All in a day's work

(Alternative title: "What were the chances?")

Yesterday, I...

(a) spilled mango juice all over myself in school
(b) fell down the stairs
(c) killed the ringing function of my mobile phone
(d) stabbed myself in the thigh with a penknife

No, they were not on my To Do List.

Presumption

By reader request, because someone asked why I don't write anything about relationships "of the romantic kind," here we go. Fresh from the oven too, from Monday's lab session. My friends have no sense of propriety. Nor volume, for that matter.

Me (having trouble with some computer simulation): "This is ridiculous. I've tried everything. It won't work!"

Z (relishing the moment, no doubt): "I know, I know! Why don't you ask TERRY for help?"

AY (overhearing): "Haha, Terry! Oh my gosh, too bad we don't keep in touch with him."

Me: (Dead silent.)

AY: "OH MY GOSH, YOU KEEP IN TOUCH WITH TERRY?!"

Me: (Dead silent. Squirming.)

AY (hyperventilating): "OH MY GOSH, YOU'RE HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH TERRY?!"

Me: "???"

***

(What do you mean this doesn't count?)

(For the record: I. AM. NOT.)

(Hi Terry. Sorry, we still call you Terry.)

***

Survival in Auschwitz

The story of my relationship with Lorenzo is both long and short, plain and enigmatic...

In concrete terms it amounts to little: an Italian civilian worker brought me a piece of bread and the remainder of his ration every day for six months; he gave me a vest of his, full of patches; he wrote a postcard on my behalf to Italy and brought me the reply. For all this he neither asked nor accepted any reward, because he was good and simple and did not think that one did good for a reward.

[...]

However little sense there may be in trying to specify why I, rather than thousands of others, managed to survive the test, I believe that it was really due to Lorenzo that I am alive today; and not so much for his material aid, as for his having constantly reminded me by his presence, by his natural and plain manner of being good, that there still existed a just world outside our own, something and someone still pure and whole, not corrupt, not savage, extraneous to hatred and terror; something difficult to define, a remote possibility of good, but for which it was worth surviving.

The personages in these pages are not men. Their humanity is buried, or they themselves have buried it, under an offence received or inflicted on someone else. The evil and insane SS men, the Kapos, the politicals, the criminals, the prominents, great and small, down to the indifferent slave Häftlinge, all the grades of the mad hierarchy created by the Germans paradoxically fraternized in a uniform internal desolation.

But Lorenzo was a man; his humanity was pure and uncontaminated, he was outside this world of negation. Thanks to Lorenzo, I managed to not forget that I myself was a man.

-- Survival in Auschwitz by Primo Levi

Survival in Auschwitz reminds me of why I'm often tempted to give up reading fiction entirely. It is one thing for a trained writer to turn in a masterpiece, and quite another for the man on the street to tell the story through his eyes; there is something even more exquisite when that story is able to delocalise itself -- to transcend beyond a single time and place.

I'm generally aware and at least somewhat understanding (even if not always in agreement) towards good and bad critiques of any piece of writing, but I cannot comprehend the label of "boring" that I've heard slapped onto this book. Perhaps the fact that Levi was a chemist by training makes it even more intriguing a read for me. I'm no scientist, and my linguistic abilities are largely inadequate, but Levi gives me hope that you don't necessarily need to excel in either fields (not in the academic sense of the word, anyway); in this small way, at least, Levi is my Lorenzo.

Random spurts

I can't remember what I used to write about, or how I managed to write multiple entries in a day. Where did all those words come from? They seem to have stopped flowing lately. I don't think this was induced by anything in particular; I suppose we all go through these phases.

The funny stories are still there -- if yet untold -- as are the jaded ones, the poignant ones, and the whiney ones. I guess some things, like laughter, are best enjoyed in the moment, and a lot of the time, there are linguistic limitations to blogging; language, tone, context, are sometimes too much to cram into words on a page -- like how I can tell you that M and I *compared penis sizes (at a paltry zero inches, I lost), or that I had to explain to X the mechanics of operating an auto car ("Yes, you press on the accelerator to move faster. Yes, you press on the brake to slow down. Yes, you press on the accelerator to move faster again." Repeat 213351 times.), or that I tried to draw the Leaning Tower during Pictionary, only to have my partner guess, rather confidently, "Rocket!" -- but all of those moments lose a little something in translation, and there are times where I wonder if it is worth it to pen down what is left over.

***


Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson

***

(*No articles of clothing were removed in the making of this blog post.)

Quarter-life crisis?

AY (to XL): "Where did you get your green top from? It's pretty!"

XL: "I got it from Forever 21, because I'm forever 21 [years old]!"

Me: "You're 22." (She's 22.)

XL (defiantly): "NO!!! I'M FOREVER 21!!!"

Me: "..."

From a frozen chicken near you

Frozen eggs in a milk carton, and I really do mean hard-as-a-rock frozen. I can understand frozen foods in general -- you might even call me a fan -- but eggs? When would this ever be preferable over fresh eggs? I can't imagine that it's nutritionally more advantageous, and it isn't as if frozen eggs are more convenient to use... They're eggs! Step one, crack. Step two, use.

So why? Or, more importantly, who would buy frozen eggs?

(Googling for "frozen eggs" turned up all sorts of articles on IVF. Now those kinds of frozen eggs I can understand. Hur hur.)

Home-made stories

Turns out Marshall's Cat is male. Sigh. I don't get it, but nevermind. His name is Kiddo, but we still refer to him as "Marshall's Cat" half the time. ;)

He drops by our house almost every night now, but is only occasionally friendly. We took lots of pictures last night, so I played around with Picasa's collage function. I think he hung around because we had fish for dinner. Hur hur.

***

X came over to watch TV yesterday (don't ask), and as we sat down at the dinner table, she marvelled at the variety of home-cooked food. Meat, check. Fish, check. Vegetables, check. Fruit, check.

Since the semester started, I've been eating out a lot, mostly because of the full days and late lessons spent in school, and I've come to appreciate the simplicity and warmth of dinner at home; there really is nothing quite like it.

"Mmm," X muttered as she chewed on her food. "I haven't had home-cooked food in so long. This tastes so good! Quick, you have to learn how to cook from your mom, so you can teach me!"

"Uh-huh, okay. Tomorrow," I said, not taking my eyes of the TV screen.

"You liar!"

***

Later in the night, as I sat with Mom, I asked where she'd learn to cook -- she's a pretty good cook; you need only to look at the size of my dad's tummy before and after marriage.

"From Grandma, of course," she replied.

"So you grew up learning how to cook from her, huh."

She thought for a while, and then laughed. "Nah, I only learned to cook when the two of you (my sister and I) were born, and I stayed at home to look after you."

She paused again, and gave an even louder chuckle. "You know what? The first few months I cooked dinner, we had to eat burnt food every night!"

And then it was my turn to burst out laughing.

***

I must've been too young to remember eating charred globules. Or perhaps my tastebuds had an affinity of their own back then. On hindsight, I wonder if I should be concerned about this at all. Maybe I need to get my carbon levels checked.

But it was a nice lesson for me; a reminder that sometimes when things don't look (or taste) so good, they're merely in preparation for something better.

Stories like these? They're the bonus that comes with home-cooked meals.

Five

For Photo Friday.

Mistaken identity

I ran into K in school today. I didn't have class, but I wanted to watch a movie from this book I'm doing for my lit class.

K: "What movie is it?"

Me: "The Remains of the Day."

K: "Oh, the one about the caves?"

Me: "No."

K: "Then what is it about?"

Me (too lazy to explain): "It's just an old movie, lah. Well, not old, but in the movie, Christopher Reeve could still walk, so you get the idea."

K (puzzled): "Who's Christopher Reeve?"

Me: "Are you kidding me? Christopher Reeve. You don't know Christopher Reeve?!"

K: "I know Keanu Reaves."

Me: "Christopher Reeve! The guy who played Superman and had an accident while filming? The guy who was paralysed from the neck down? The guy who just died last year?"

K (realisation dawning, or so I thought): "OH! I know, I know. The guy who played Anakin Skywalker, right?"

Me: "???"

Short takes (still swamped)

Some time back, I mentioned a free song download released by Third Day. Now, for every download, Third Day will donate one dollar to World Vision to help those devastated by Hurricane Katrina. So if you want to help out, just follow the link at the bottom of the Third Day website.

On a separate note, it looks like Blogger finally got itself sorted out. Good riddance to the annoying vertical toolbar. ;)

True, but still...

Me: "I'm drowning in my work. BLOOB BLOOB BLOOB."

X: "Just tie a balloon to your ear!"

Me: "Why ear?"

X: "Because if you tie it to your neck, you'll die."

Me: "..."

Things I miss

Reading the papers used to be a daily adventure, at times taking up to an hour, because Rocky had this uncanny ability to know the exact moment that I was going to flip the page, and he'd plop himself right in the way.



These days, it takes me about 15 minutes to get through the news. It's a lot less laborious, but it's also a lot less fun.

TAR 8

I only managed to catch snippets of The Amazing Race on Wednesday, but if first impressions count for anything, here are mine.

Most annoying family: The Linz family (I always thought it might be cool to have an older brother; the Linz family shattered those illusions)

Most predictable family: The Paolo family (Puberty and Parents; what did you expect?)

Most adorable family: The Gaghan family (Carissa!)

There were rumours that TAR 8 would take place entirely within the US. I haven't read or heard of any official news, but the graphic on the official website seems to suggest that this might be the case. I guess having four people in a team would inevitably result in logistical difficulty, but I can't help being a tad disappointed. I suspect the contestants might be too.

P.S. Happy Children's Day, everyone! :)