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So here I am, sitting at my computer at 1am in the morning when I have to go to work tomorrow. I could have gone off to bed earlier on but I just had to catch up on one of my favourite shows in the whole world - Sex and the City.
Despite its racy name and even racier reputation, this is one show that is not just about sex, sex and sex. And oh yeah, did I mention the men and the troubled relationships? But seriously, there are lessons to be learnt from this show and it's not the 1001 sex positions flyer that Samantha bought for a dollar fifty from a man selling it on a corner street.
The first episode of the fourth season (I think I never did finish season three, things just got in the way) was about Carrie, Sarah Jessica Parker's character, celebrating her 35th birthday. It struck a chord in me because I was just sitting there and thinking, if I am a single in Singapore at the grand old age of 35, would I have a bunch of girlfriends to celebrate it with me and tell me that they are my soulmates and hence succeeding in an area where no man has ever accomplished?
And speaking of soulmates, is there really someone out there for everyone? If you have loved someone before but it didn't work out, does it mean that he was not the one and therefore the one (this is starting to sound like The Matrix) is still out there in the world? Does it really work that way?
And if my mother were to die one day (I don't even want to think about it), would my friends come for the funeral and stand by my side, holding my hand without my asking them to? Would they come rescue me when I have a crick in my neck and absolutely cannot move my body? Would they come over to my place with milk and oreos in the dead of the night to help me exorcise my ghosts?
Can we ever forgive and forget? And if we cannot forget, is it ever possible to simply forgive and then move on and start afresh? Or will we end up punishing the other person subconsciously?
Would I ever find someone who would try to help me save my Mac if it dies on me suddenly and then buy me a new iBook and a zip drive to back up my data? Even if he uses a PC and only knows how to use ControlAltDelete? Would he be able to love my friends and help them the way I would?
Suddenly, these are issues that are not just reel and fictitious but things which seem so real and so reality-like.
And then I wonder - would I be able to stand up and walk again after falling flat on my face in front of hundreds of people, the way Carrie did?
I guess I already have.
yAnn at 10/29/2003 12:56:00 AM
Nah, not quite.
I don't know but I am not really all that interested in Friendster and all.
It's just that I don't think it's really necessary to list your friends on your page and then write testimonials on them, telling the world how sweet they are, how wonderful they are?
I'm more of a heart person - I don't feel the need to shout to the whole world that you are wonderful and I am really grateful that I have you in my life. I know it in my heart that I love you and I always will. And you know it too, because you are my friend. You know that I will be there for you whenever you need me and that you can always count on me. And I know that you will always be there for me on those nights when I cry myself to sleep and I don't want to cry no more. You and I will know that we can tell each other everything, things that we wouldn't dream of telling others. And we know that whatever we say will not shock the other because we accept each other for who we are despite the many differences in opinion, action and lifestyle.
In fact, some of my dearest friends aren't even on Friendster.
Perhaps I am too private a person. Or unsociable. Or even, unfriendly. But I truly believe that if you love a person, you wouldn't need a medium like Friendster to prove it.
Or perhaps, just perhaps, I am taking it too seriously.
yAnn at 10/26/2003 05:34:00 PM
I fell in love twice yesterday, within the space of three hours.
Saw two gorgeous dresses, tried them on and as the song goes, I can't get them out of my head.
The first was at the Oppt Shop at The Heeren. My sister and I were ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the 1950s' dress, which reminds me very strongly of Julianne Moore in The Hours. The top of the dress is very simple - a u-shaped collar with two not-too-thin shoulder straps. The collar has an embroidered flower on it, breaking the monotony of the u-shape. It tapers down to a very fitted waist (22", I am told) before it flares out glamorously, with little pleats. The skirt has pretty prints of tulips and they look really exquisite. The back of the dress is a low u, with the zip in the middle.
The dress is made of stiff cotton or linen, I can't really tell. Plus, the skirt reminds me of the cancan, because of the stiff netting sewn into it. Anyway, I tried it on and the shopkeeper managed to zip it up but my oh my, it's a dress which you CANNOT eat or breathe in. Twirling in it makes me feel as if I was a suburban American housewife in the 1950s.
In short, I love it. But it costs a wicked $190. No go.
The next dress can be found at one of my favourite shop, Double Index, at Bugis Junction. Now, although this shop sells funky clothes, I was amazed at the dress that I unearthed.
It's black and made of two layers - the outer chiffon and the inner, satin. It's a very simple dress, again a u-shape collar with two not-too-thin straps. There is not zip so I had to slip it over my head. It's very streamlined, the length of it running down to my ankles. But the interesting detail of the dress was a strip of 2" wide black satin ribbon sewn across the hips. Both ends of the ribbon are left hanging at the side of the dress so you'll have to tie it up into a bow or something else. The whole look was rather elegant and glamorous. But glamour does come at a price and the dress would have set me back $50. Considering I still have two brand new black formal dresses hanging in my wardrobe, begging to be worn somewhere, it wouldn't have been prudent to buy yet another dress.
But oh, how I wish I could buy them both, if only for collection's sake (and gathering dust in the process) and to prevent other people from getting their hands on them.
Who says I am not evil?
yAnn at 10/26/2003 05:30:00 PM
Loosely translated, the title means "I am an angel."
According to this test written taken from The Sect of Homokaasu (right), this is a friendly and good site. Good taste they have, the good people of Homokaasu.
But when I tried it with my last posting about an ignorant journalist, the rating shot up to 68% evil! Oh why, oh why, oh why.
yAnn at 10/26/2003 05:10:00 PM
Now, don't get me wrong.
I have the utmost respect for many of the esteemed journalists who are writing for our national broadsheet.
Heck, I can even list some of my favourites - Richard Lim, Asad Latif, Sumiko Tan, Chua Lee Hoong....these are journalists whom I admire and whose works I truly enjoy(ed).
But, there will always be some idiots who spoil the good reputation that these hardworking journalists have built up.
My company (for the next four weeks, anyway) handles the account of a certain soda in Singapore. This brand of soda has just launched a new drink and to promote this new drink, my PR team comes up with a novel idea of sending out remote control racing cars to journalists as gifts. The car is attached to a gorgeous lacquer box below it. The box contains a press release, the new drink and the remote control of the car.
Now, the car is sent to all the lifestyle journalists who did not attend the launch itself. My colleague, in charge of the launch, then got a call from an irate journalist who writes for our national paper's lifestyle section (let's call her J) a day after the car was sent to her. J complained that she did not receive the press release along with the car and she wanted it immediately. This being a daily read by almost all Singaporeans, it got my colleague frantic. She ticked off another colleague who was in charge of packing the cars and sent him down to J's office with a new car.
On his return, colleague 2 nearly spat blood out as he related J's reaction to him turning up with a new car. She had demanded to know why he had brought a new car when she had merely wanted the press release. He asked to see her first car. He took a look, shook his head (mentally) and proceeded to teach her how to open the lacquer box to retrieve the new drink and the press release.
She simply had to slide it open.
Brilliant.
yAnn at 10/22/2003 11:07:00 PM
Remember my fiasco with a strip of errant toilet paper two years ago?
That happened in the evening, when we were all about to go home from school.
IT HAPPENED AGAIN!!!!
Yeah, I reached home, went for my bath and found it waiting for me sneakily.
I cannot believe that I have done it again.
Am going to bury my head in embarrassment for the next 20 years.
Thankfully, it was a knee length skirt. *phew*
yAnn at 10/21/2003 10:32:00 PM
If you have read today's Life! from Straits Times, you would have seen the gorgeous Anya Hindmarch bags on display. I have actually seen one up close and personal (my rich Citibanker cousin got herself one a couple of months back) and truly, they are exquisite.
Recently, the label asked several of our local artistes to design their own bags in the Be a Bag series for charity auction.
Now, I don't mean to be a snob but seriously, for the bags to really sell well, you must be someone really famous (like Zoe Tay or Fann Wong in the local context) or use a photo that's alluring. There's no way, for instance, that I am going to buy a bag, that costs SGD200 and above, such as the following:
Honestly, why would I want to carry a handbag that has David Gan's face imprinted on it? Unless I am his best friend Zoe Tay or I am a mere collector, the chances of me carrying that bag is low. Almost zero. No, make that zero.
But do drop by Anya Hindmarch's website, there are a lot more gorgeous designs shown on it. There are a couple of Be A Bag items that look really good, such as Claudia Schiffer's contribution.
Oh yeah, I'm finally on Friendster. Fur had kindly reminded me that I have an account which has not been activated. Until last night. So, do add me on as your friend. =)
yAnn at 10/16/2003 10:40:00 AM
Okiez I admit it.
My dinner today - 4 (or was it 5?) mugs of beer and 4 (could be 5, hmmm) tiny salmon rolls.
Think of your normal California roll. Downsize it by 3 times and you get the size of the pathetic roll.
And I only had 4 or 5 of that(!!) for dinner.
Now I am at that stage where I am hungry because I did not eat much and not that hungry cos of the beer.
But it was yummy beer! At the right temperature, neither too warm that it's sour and not too cold that it freezes my tongue.
I LOVE BEER!!
And oh, I just burped.
Company party, you see. This one for the clients and the media. Was stuck doing reception work so had to linger at the first floor for 3 hours. Hence the pathetic amount of food. Plus, the food was pathetically minuscue to begin with.
But hey, with the amount of eye candy, I guess I didn't have much appetite to eat.
When cute waiters with their shirts off, revealing toned abs, remember that you drink beer and keep coming back to ask if you want more beer, your appetite just takes a nosedive.
Heeeee I even resorted to not asking for food from that friendly but not too cute and not too toned (total understatement) waiter. Mean, I know. Hee.
Oooh I am so paying for it now. Blisters on my feet cos of the wretched shoes and cuts that appear out of nowhere.
Plus a headache.
I should sleep.
Or eat.
yAnn at 10/14/2003 11:00:00 PM
Believe me, there are such idiots hanging around on Earth, making themselves the butt(s) of all the jokes. I suspect that even the little Martians (alright, they may not be little and I am stereotyping) on the Red Planet are laughing themselves to extinction.
So where will you get to know about these doofuses? They are well documented in this CNET article. Here you will read about a man who was so frustrated with his laptop that he shot it with a gun (yes, a gun) before realising that he had important data saved on it. Well, he obviously wasn't using an Apple Machine. Yes, I am definitely smirking.
There's another dumb-dumb who threw his laptop out of the window when he found out that the police was going after him. And the best (in my opinion) story is the following: A man riding a moped dropped his laptop without realising it until after it got flattened by a lorry.
Go figure man.
yAnn at 10/14/2003 10:42:00 AM
Ohmigawd!!!
I lurvvvvve the new Apple iPod ads!
How funky are they?
I tell you, SUPER FUNKY!
Check it out here:
yAnn at 10/13/2003 11:31:00 PM
Sometimes, I astonish even myself.
I mean, living with me for the past 22 (long) years, I would have thought that I know me very well.
And yet, I do things that even I do not expect myself to be doing.
I am listening to Fatboy Slim!
Alright alright, it might not sound impressive to anyone out there but really, I amaze myself sometimes.
Look, here's a genre of music that I have not tried before and did not really have the inclination to. My very vague impression of it is techno and we all know what kind of people listen to techno music (looooosers!!). But when my baby came home from the hospital packed with all sorts of goodies (I am not going to tell you the origins of my goodies hah), I just had to try them out.
And I actually like it! I actually like Fatboy Slim's Halfway Between the Gutter and the Stars and I enjoy it tremendously.
Mama mia, I am EVOLVING.
Another fantastic group that comes highly recommended from me - Radiohead's Hail to the Thief. Experimental and highly palatable.
Mmmmmm.
yAnn at 10/13/2003 11:04:00 PM
Well, according to a test that I took at TheSpark anyway. *smirks*
Apparently, with a score of 32%, I am considerably less bitchy than my fellow worldwide females, who average 38% in the test.
How others compare:
2% (same as you)
30% (less bitchy than you)
68% (bitchier than you)
Oooooh so I am not that bad afterall. Wonder what score Claydoll and Dawn the*tooch* Sin (no I haven't forgiven you for blatantly revealing my bra size at the blardy dining table) would get. Hmm.
Quirky statistics - Of the 7,795,616 test takers so far:
52% can use a gun
51% been in a catfight
50% cheated in a relationship
50% forget birthdays
46% blamed a friend for farting (hey, ME!!!!)
28% gnawed during oral sex (ouch!)
26% wear lots of hairspray
24% stomped on someone with high heels (wish it's me *sulk*)
The bitchiest age group so far is 29 year olds. 29 year olds average 42% bitchy.
Women who like the taste of beer are more likely to cheat on their boyfriends. (err I like beer so.....)
Canadian women are more likely to consider themselves successful.
Girls with tattoos like authority less.
Girls who sleep with married men are more likely to forget their friends' birthdays.
yAnn at 10/13/2003 12:04:00 AM
As that very famous Norah Jones song goes, I really don't know why I am so zonked.
Had to go to the office (on a *toot* Sunday no less) early in the morning for an internal staff "party" to celebrate the opening of a new office location. Don't know why anyone can call it a party when it starts at 10 in the morning on a Sunday morning. Hello, the definitions of a party is as follows: Friday/Saturday nights, lots of funky beats and cool music, lots of happening metrosexual men (for me haha), plenty of good food, slosh that appeals (cheap champagne doesn't count) and good company. By all accounts, the company "party" has failed. Miserably.
Anyway, I had a very mild and early Saturday night and was actually home by 12. That's actually quite early considering that my record was 6 in the morning (it was kinda like "Morning Mum" and straight to bed). So I slept pretty early. And with the weather so cool and balmy, I had to sleep in later than planned (well, I sleep in late almost every morning, waking up at 8 when I need to reach work by 9. But that's another story).
So I pretty much slept for about 7 hours. So why am I still so zonked? I came home in the afternoon and took a quick nap of 2 hours and I am still zonked.
Does this mean I am getting old????? *sob*
yAnn at 10/12/2003 10:54:00 PM
Was reading through the this very interesting article on blogging today (and no, I wasn't skiving) and was pretty amused by its contents.
My initial intention was to unearth an article by John Dvorak of PC Magazine, one that is described as "universally panned" by blog circles. In it, he blasted people who started blogs as ego-gratification and stated his opinion that most blogs were full of crap. Anyway, instead of that (in)famous article, I found this one instead, on Wired News.
Now, I admit that sometimes I post crap on my bloggie. I post things that I feel. My point is, so what if people post crap on their blogs? So what if I don't generate hits from the external world, a world of strangers who are intrigued/interested in what I am writing? My intention in starting a blog was never about getting famous - it was a creative outlet for me to express my feelings and opinions. Besides, it does get a bit boring since the only coherent things that I type at work (nowadays, anyway) are: "Dear XXX, Internet security blah blah blah. YYY from ABC Company is holding a tea/lunch at DEF Hotel blah blah blah". It's boring, inane.
So what if I don't post informative nuggets of news, spectacular and sensational information or helpful and useful advice? So what if my blog looks boring? Hell, to wilfully misquote a song, "it's my blog and I'll write what I want to". So there.
Oh hey darlings, I'm back to the wired world! Been too zonked out by the coronavirus (AKA flu) and unending tuition to want to lift a finger at home.
yAnn at 10/10/2003 01:45:00 PM
Is it that hard to listen to someone's troubles?
It is that tough to be a counsel, to hear one's unhappiness and just be there?
Is solving the problem more important that providing a listening ear to someone who is tired?
Is empathy such a difficult word to understand?
Why is pouring out one's heart and soul always construed as complaining and whining?
Why can't one just talk one's thoughts?
Why can't people just try to understand why such thoughts are being thought of in the first place instead of glancing at the superficial?
I'm so frustrated at people who wouldn't just listen.
yAnn at 10/06/2003 11:55:00 PM
No no, lest you think this is some X-rated posting, this is not about that passion but about passion someone has for something.
I used to be passionate about so many things.
I loved Literature. I used to go to the library to borrow literary works. Some of my favourites include Shakespeare, Elizabeth Barrett Browning (yes, she of "How do I love Thee, Let me count the ways), Sylvia Plath and Edna St Vincent Millay. But somehow along the way, I dropped Literature and went into contemporary novels.
I loved being in Theatre Studies and Drama too, back in JC times. Although I was crap at acting, I loved being in the studio and doing improvisation with my classmates, who were all extremely talented. In year one, we bitched about demanding and unreasonable seniors who expected us to stay well till midnight with them, rehearsing. In year two, when deadlines loomed and inspiration just would not come, tempers flared, tears flowed and angry words were exchanged. But through all these turmoil, beautiful works of theatre would flourish and the sense of satisfaction that one got from seeing the audience's awe was well worth every ounce of sweat and tears. My proudest achievements in life remain my two group pieces. We deserve the As that we got.
And then there is the great love of my life - choir. VJChoir was never just a choir, it was a home away from home, a sanctuary from the humdrum of stressful life. Skipping lessons and hiding in choir room playing scrabble are just some of my fondest memories in life. I enjoyed practising till 9 or 10 at night. I skipped extra TSD classes just so I could go and watch the meteor shower with choir. I cried bitterly when we lost SYF in 1999, sneaking to school late the next day with puffy eyes. I laughed merrily when we won the competition in Germany and had my hands warmed by a very special someone. Hell, I even let two cute Caucasians put their arms around me when we took pictures.
But now, I just don't feel the drive anymore, especially in Chorale. Sure, I still love singing and I enjoy doing PR but somehow, that motivation to excel is not there anymore. When practices run a little late, I feel grumpy and tired. Yet in VJ, we would all pile on extra sectionals just so that we could perfect our notes.
What has happened? I know we can't compare, these are two different groups. But how can feelings change so drastically? I love Chorale and it has become like family to me. But I don't feel the urge to improve anymore. I don't feel the passion, the intensity, the push, the drive.
Perhaps it's due to all that has happened recently, what with all the politicking and nonsensical bitching from some immatured souls. I'm more blase than before. And everywhere I look, people either seem to be tired of putting Chorale as their priority only to be disappointed or they treat Chorale as a walk-in hotel. This is not the Chorale that I love.
I fear I am beginning to lose it.
yAnn at 10/06/2003 09:23:00 PM
Now, I am a total fan of Bridget Jones.
In fact, sometimes, I think that the book was written for me. Yeah call me egoistic. But I can seriously identify with her neurotic thoughts and insecurity.
But anyway, that's not the point. The point is, Bridget has a gay best friend named Tom and I have a gay (half, anyway) best friend (well, close enough) too. And so, whenever I chat with him on the phone, both of us moaning and groaning about how unattractive we feel and then bitching about common enemies to drive away the gloom, I feel like Bridget talking to Tom. I especially love bitching whenever I am with him. Somehow, we can both weave the most outrageous story and ridiculous dialogue around that poor unfortunate soul (well, actually, they probably deserve it hah) and then dissolve into peals of laughter. We are truly amazed at how clever we are to come up with such zany plots (and songs, in his case).
I am Bridget!
Except that I am 22, not 32.
Except that I am a UK6 (an occasional Mango UK4) and not UK12/14.
I don't smoke. Don't drink (not enough money). Don't have my own apartment (Ditto money).
I'm not very likely to wear a bunny suit to a Tarts and Vicars party.
And my mum is not very likely to run away with a sexy Portuguese.
And no sexy Daniel Cleaver is going to be interested in the absence of my skirt.
Now, all I need is Shazzer and Jude to complete my life. And I can so totally see Claydoll as my Shazzer, the vindictive man-hater. I can just imagine her yelling at the top of her voice, drunk, "Down with emotional f***wittage!" Fur as Jude? ;)
Oh, and a darling Mark Darcy wouldn't hurt either.
yAnn at 10/02/2003 11:41:00 PM
*zooooooooooooooom*
Alright, that's not the sound of aeroplanes cutting through the sky, which, incidentally, is a frequent occurrance at my place. To whet your appetite, let's backtrack a few hours.
I was walking down at the tunnel of Outram MRT station this evening (at 7.30pm, may I add, since I had to rush two reports) to get to the NEL. The underground linkway (duh, it's a tunnel) is quite long and you do have to walk a bit to get to the other platform.
I was plugged in on my iPod and strolling along, enjoying the fact that for once, I do not have to rush to get to somewhere. Such a refreshing change.
All of a sudden, I see a man lumbering past me, trying desperately to run fast and hang on to his briefcase at the same time. Forgive me but it really was a sorry sight and I was attempting not to laugh out loud. Imagine a tall, big man clambering in haste, one hand holding on to a boring black briefcase (alliteration, wow!) and his other hand flopping by his side.
Soon, he rounded the bend and disappeared.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see swift movement.
Yet another fellow rushing to catch the connecting train. This time, a small man trying to look cool while he is running. And then he too rounded the bend and disappeared.
And then, I heard footsteps and to my amazement, I see yet another chap running as if his very life depended on his catching the train. I began to wonder if I was walking in the middle of a marathon that was taking place in reality without my knowing.
The funniest thing happened.
The third participant met a friend while he was puffing away in his desire to get to the platform before any of us did. He did not stop to say hi, he just continued his jog and held out a hand to hi-five his friend. From my angle, it looked as if he was passing a baton while in the middle of a relay.
I burst out laughing, half expecting some other twerp to come zooming past me. Thankfully, there were none. So hilarious.
yAnn at 10/02/2003 11:24:00 PM