oh, what became of the likely lads.

music when the lights go out- the libertines
erratic, crazy rain/drizzle/downpour/clear skies with grumpiness aplenty.

well, it's been a sick, sick, sick kinda week. i've been ensconced in bed for the better part of the last few days, nursing a terrible, wracking cough, a sniffly nose and a throbbing head. but alas, that's part of the monsoon ain't it? how could you go thru it without a flu? that'd just be weird.

it hasn't been a complete loss however. i have rediscovered the joy of sleep and watching tv. it's brilliant- couch-potato-dom suits me.

my only really 'busy' day this week was wednesday. met jess and her australian cousin. poor bloke, we dragged him around town while we shopped and gabbed . but it sure was nice to get out of the house ! i did do a couple of worthwhile things (other than sitting at starbacks and squealing when pigeons approached).. i signed up for my california fitness gym membership! my first day is monday when i head down at... (shudder) 9.30am.. for my personal training session! it was quite daunting.. the whole experience.. the funny machines, the frighteningly large biceps and the copious amounts of sweat.. not the mention the wake-up call that i am really really really very unfit ! but it's good, walked outta there feeling a tad excited and a smidge pumped !
after that, i signed up for my korean classes. whee. starts on thursday. not toooo thrilled to be honest, but im sure it'll be good for me .

yawn. i start work with mark on monday. yawn. 4 times a week, noon-6pm. can't be too bad i reckon but im so sick and tired of work and this week of extreme decadence has just been too lovely. yawn. anyways the first edition of crave is finally out. good stuff. i hope it's received well, it'd be neat to see this project grow.

anyways, i am currently swooning (as usual) over my lovely pete doherty. i must say, he is so fine. (as is his steamy wife.. lucky bastards, the both of 'em).

for musical enlightenment and true swoonworthy moments, go to: http://youtube.com/watch?v=un_OAD8Y7FQ

inconceivable.

you're just too good to be true -mambo style
downpour with a dash of melancholy

this weekend has been a slow, morose one. ive been feeling so poorly and shuch has been in the deepest doldrums. so all in all it's been a silent, sick and stupor-filled 3 days. ah well. at least the weather seems to be commisserating.

i must say though that sleep is really so very delicious and gratifying. i must have slept a grand total of 30 hours over the past couple of days and it's been terrific. im lolling around like a slug now -the aftermath of lethargy- but it was worth it i think.

anyways. shuch has finally got his com up and running and the photos of yesteryear have finally surfaced from his long-abandoned camera. here's a recap of the past year in a nutshell eh?

when the romance first began. hanyang's birthday bash at shuch's place:

an unlikely pairing (can't remember where this was):

pinky and i both looking raaather ravishing:
k well some things don't change (hur. although ping looks pretty good here, i look.. well, there's much to be desired):
now this is the new life. the yesterdays:
our goodbye to scotts. a representation of IJ-life and scavengerdom gone forever: goodbye 2006 (new years' eve night 2006):
and our newfound 'mature' passion to bring in our 20th year, chess (which shuch keeps beating me at. tch):

way back then.

ok. i know this is going to sound painfully daft but i only JUST figured out how to work out the whole tagged on facebook thing. anyways. i was looking thru the photos and i found this:

alina, ex-classmate of mine from the british school and brilliant art student, tagged me... and i wondered why.. and i looked. it's ME! shocking. i'm the subject for one of her college art pieces. isn't that just so odd... it looks really cool though eh? very fancy. hurhur.

i'm in another one!:

i'm in the stupid one with my tongue sticking out, alina's the one at the end, in front of the pink facade.

anyway it got me thinking.. india seems ages away now....:

(basketball team, that's me on the extreme left, second row)

and the person i was seems like a distant memory:

byebye sph.

lights -scissor sisters
overcast and stormy with a cough and poofy eyes

it's 6pm and im here at my desk, suddenly clean of the piles of papers and books that once adorned it. 5 months and 8 days have passed and now it's time to leave. SPH has been good to me.. it's provided me with opportunities both vast and great, and has molded me into a better, more responsible, more knowledgeable person.

i just went to see 'big boss' ivan. he's not a dominating man in appearance but he exudes this firm calm that intimidates and demands respect. i've never spoken to him before. i didn't even know where his office was! but he invited me for a chat, so i went. we talked about all sorts of random things, i think i was slightly nervous or something because i just kept rambling and going completely off-tangent time and again. but he said more than once that i have talent, that i've been exceptional, that ive left my mark and ive contributed much to the paper. it was really quite something hearing all this from the big man himself. he told me that i have an instinct for writing that will get me far. after about a half hour, he shook my hand and wished me the best. before leaving tho, he said this:

"trust your instinct. it's underrated, but it's the most powerful tool you have."

beware of earthquakes.

ashtray girl- placebo
overcast skies, persistent drizzle and a persistent headcold.




whilst scanning the web for photos of kate, who i adore ( i know it's sad having a celebrity fascination/obsession etc. but she's just divine. she's beautiful -okay, fine she's just so H.A.W.T- and there's something amiss about her. a darkness about her. her addictions, her sad eyes, her accent that is incongruous with her pretty face. her marriage to my other love, pete. she's my epitome of dark beauty, haunted beauty, real beauty. ahh. the vicarious living of an 'obsessed' fan. hur.), i found this gorgeous shot and had to reveal it to the world.

anyway. mambo last night was mambo last night. same ol' things, really. a flaming (that fucking burns burns burns) and some glugs of beer later, it was of to the dancefloor to some swashbuckling, groovy tunes (hur. let's speak in the retro way out of reverence for mambo, eh?) like love in the first degree, that thing you do, leave a light on for me etc., and some eyebrow-raising ones -like the very strange addition of 'if you're happy and you know it, clap your hands'. as jess rightly put it, the night seemed to be taking an irreparable turn for the worse at that point. but it was fun, as always, to ogle at the mambo-ers on the podium and try -oftentimes ending in futile defeat- to copy the moves with the same grace and poise. even though i probably look like a flailing chimpanzee on the dancefloor, it's really a different experience when the music plays and you lose yourself in it. it's stupid at one level and childish at another, but it's liberating i tell you. the cheesiness of it all.

but today, upon awaking (groggy, panda-eyed and with hair like a mass of tangled weeds), i felt somehow unhinged. strange, it was. it was just something about the whole experience last night (an experience i've relived time and time again but i just haven't seemed to get used to it). the whole social construct. the partying, the flirting, the fishing for compliments. the judgement, the silent criticism, the constant need to prove one's worth/popularity/level of accomplishment or beauty or personality. it leaves me feeling uncomfortable and edgy. a sort of upheaval of the soul, a drifting away from personal beliefs and self-confidence and sense of self-worth. a lot of things suffer and fade when you allow your life to be scrutinised under society's microscope. i don't think it can be avoided or ignored. and i think that for most people, there's always a phase -sometimes short, sometimes lasting a lifetime- when all this happens. for me, it was the indian experience. the social ladder climbing, the caring of what other people thought and felt, the maintainance of a certain facade at all times and in all settings. it was exhausting and at the time, seemingly fulfilling. but when i left, i found that i had taken away nothing from the experience. nothing worth knowing except the knowledge that i would avoid, with all my heart, that road again.

but the road is always near. it's always just a left turn or a right turn away. a step, a trip, a fall. it's just as far away as you think it is. it's just as far away from you as your own shadow. i'm not sure how i feel about the whole thing and to be honest, i don't think ill understand what i'm saying when i re-read what ive written. but in my heart, i know. but i don't know what to do.

why do we care when actually don't care at all?

or is that the misconception that needs to be rectified?

..what's wrong with this picture?

p.s. by the way, some photos are in! courtesy of jess/aude/vick:

it all started when jess and i met for dinner:

then, the real shit began:
lots of five-ten

lots of cigarettes

and girl shtuff
oh and of course, the inevitable.. ugly faces:

jostling for another shot.

cigarette smoke (yea cigarette smoke in your eye) -arctic monkeys
clear skies and a heavy heart

i have this perpetual flu that will not go away. for the past fortnight, i awake every single morning with a stuffed nose and a stuffed head and it's infuriating. im so absurdly frightened that im going to follow the footsteps of my family members (i.e. my mom) and become sinusibeasts (i.e. people who are riddled with sinus problems and who end up making unflattering and somtimes, downright scary, noises every once in a while in the attempt to .. clear one's nose, clear one's throat, etc. etc.).

anyways on other things, today i had sumptious lunch at this new french salad/sandwich bar. im not sure what it's called exactly but i know it had the word 'french' in its name and its located on the first floor in vivo city (not that those details will really help you find the place in that behemoth of a mall). i had an italianne salad (rocket, mozzarella bits, fresh mushrooms, olives etc.) and it was super good and super huge! with rustic rye bread. mmm. it was really delish and not too expensive and it makes you feel good to eat something soo healthy once in a bit. two french dudes -reeeal frenchies- run the place and chat with customers in this genial, french manner. nice guys. it was funny cos one of the french dudes was scowling at the very idea of delifrance... 'it's disgusting', he said, 'nothing bloody french about it.' oh well. i quite like delifrance to be honest. i guess im not really a gourmet/connoisseur or anything. haha, bring on the "croissants" !

mambo tonight, after the usual dinner / scavenging meal with jess. im quite excited about mambo -esp since i haven't been in flippin ages. but at the same time, im afraid that the inevitable will happen....

see, based on past experience, it will all begin like this:

then, there will be a gradual disintegration... to this:


then this:




and finally, if all goes well/badly.. this:
sigh. and you can only imagine how i look when i come to work the next day. a bit like a cross between dead pete doherty and a retarded panda bear.

i know im quitting soon and everything but i can't help but feel stressed! there's just so much i "think" i need to do. like fill in my evaluation (which i could probably finish in 15 minutes but which has taken me 3 days thus far), do my checklist (which, again, i could probably finish in 15 minutes but im too lazy to do), pack up my desk (a bit more tricky.... you should see it.. it's appalling) and.. and... well that's about it. it WILL be weird not having to come to office everyday though. it sounds daft but ill miss the coldness of the aircon, the company of busy colleagues and the familiar sight of a computer that is always on and always works (sigh. no more computer usage till i get a laptop man... unless you count shuch's com, which i -granted- use very often. hurhur).

another thing- my granddad fell on monday.. low blood sugar. and he didn't tell anyone! gawd. i tell you. what do you say/do to/for someone like that. shocking. and horrifying at the same time.

the words of a journalist.

with my time at sph drawing to an abrupt end, i leave with a full heart and a dash of sadness. on friday i have to submit an evaluation form. detailing what i have learned etc. from this experience.

here's a snippet of it:

Journalism, as a career, has always appealed to me. As a pre-pubescent adolescent, I used to follow the illustrious career of Christine Amanpour on CNN and I yearned for her job and her place in the world. I thought being a journalist meant actively being a bridge that connects the public with the important news of the world -large-scale disaster, war, financial crises and all those other earth-shattering tragedies that often shake the globe.

After my stint at The New Paper, I've realised that being a journalist entails much much more than just that. Prior to this internship, I had only been interested in world news, 'big' news, news that I thought would be impactful to a majority of people. Local news, on the other hand, was irrelevant in my opinion -too insignificant in the big scheme of things. I had also seen journalism as a career that was both glamorous and dangerous, one in which fame would be easily sought and where one's voice would be easily heard.

I realise now, however, that journalism is not a job for the weak, the self-indulgent, the narrow-minded or the fame-seeking. It's not merely a job, but a vocation, where there is a deep-rooted responsibility to one's colleagues and to the public who read and trust what you've written. It's an immense responsibility, one that entails great integrity, thorough knowledge and a drive for excellence. This drive also means a great amount of personal sacrifice. I knew journalism was not a simple career but I never really appreciated the full extent of it. Journalism is a vocation that requires time, plenty of effort and lots of heart. At times, it also requires you to grapple with your self-confidence and with difficult characters and personalities -both newsmakers and colleagues alike. As a journalist, you are constantly pushing yourself -for greater stories, for better writing abilities, for more attuned interview skills, for more passion and drive, etc. It's a learning journey, one which is speckled with a vast array of characters and personalities, difficulties and triumphs.

More than anything, I have finally witnessed and experienced the significance of what I once deemed 'small' news. At The New Paper, where a majority of the news stories are local news stories, my eyes were opened to how local news is tremendously important to a great many people. I saw how certain stories impacted the public in ways I would never have imagined possible. I met with newsmakers who had stories to share that surpassed any of my preconceived expectations. I realised that local news matters and is no less important, or less significant, than the 'big' news that I was previously so keen to write about.

In many ways, it was a humbling realisation. One that made me proud to be Singaporean, to be a Singaporean journalist, who can see big things in what to the naked eye seems insignificant. I think many journalists, particularly those that report for the big news channels and agencies, forget how important local news is to local people. Big news shapes the world, that is true undoubtedly; but it is the small news that shapes a person, that shapes a culture, that shapes an identity -particularly in a small place like Singapore.

During my time at SPH, I have had the opportunity to meet people from all walks of life -many of whom I never would have come across had I not taken this internship. My eyes were opened to the underbelly of Singapore society, to the heartache behind the otherwise perfect facade of our little country.

I feel I've grown tremendously as a person through this interaction and this experience; I feel I'm more open, more inquisitive, more informed and most importantly, more interested in the plights and triumphs of the people around me. Everyone, I've found, has a story to tell. It's just whether or not you have the time, patience, humility or drive to not just listen, but to really hear what they have to say.

All in all, I've learned a tremendous deal, both at a personal and professional level. Personally, I've grown in my understanding of myself and I've gained great insight into the workings of a human being -in times of joy, in times of grief and everything in between. Professionally, my eyes have been opened to the reality of a journalist's life- the difficulties and the long hours, the emotional connection with newsmakers and the triumphs in getting a great scoop. More than anything, I now know for a fact that journalists are truly the bridges that connect the public to information they otherwise would not have known -but this information is not necessarily the big news on earthquakes and wars, it can also be the local news -the news that gives a people its heart.

Because of this incredible, eye-opening experience, I know for a fact that I want to be a journalist. I know for a fact that this is my calling.