I · am · the · fairer · sex

I realise that I update this blog only when someone reminds me I still have one. So by the frequency of the updates you'd have a rough idea just how many people remember this cobweb fiesta.

I am currently in the stage I call the JSA--job search angst. Up until recently when I went for a recruitment thing at HSBC i didn't know it's so cut throat out there. NUS has it's means of shielding the cruel cruel outside world from students' eyes. When I was busy finding out who's who on the dead poets' society in my department competition is constantly brewing out there. JSA also further fuelled my belief that doing well in university is overrated, something I heard from a friend recently. Of course, this is an extremely convenient belief system for me to adhere to, given that I AM already doing lousily in school. JSA also allows me to realise just how parasitic insurance companies can be. Now, they KNOW they are an irritating bunch of fellas and they KNOW that their industry is highly stigmatized in the society and so they go right ahead and gave themselves a shiny new branding--Personal Financial Consultancy/ Wealth Management/Personal Wealth Planner, and the list goes on. For people who were not in the know of this creative branding, (namely, myself)it can be very disillusioning. Disillusioning because when I received mailers from job databases on the internet these cunning folks do not specify the companies that they hail from, just the district and position. This then led to my having to travel all the way to Tampines, in search of a building I later found out to be AIA, sit through an hour long interview with this dude who showed me impressive ads his company, and finally sitting down in front of my computer typing this letter of apology for rejecting a position quickly offered to me. I KNOW everyone needs insurance, I KNOW everyone needs to buy insurance sometime in their lives, I KNOW there's good money in the industry but i want to retain that little bit of right in me to shun them and give them dirty faces when they approach me at MRT stations, thank you very much.

More on JSA and this time on the good parts of job searching. I have become a HUGE fan of Massimo Dutti and ALDO of late. I swear, if you're searching for a job and are looking to impress with what you're garbed in, go throw some good money in those stores. You won't regret splurging, man. I never understood retail therapy until I bought myself this pair of ALDO shoes that costs way too much, looks way too simple and is way too high-heeled for me. I keep telling myself: 'For work, I will', which is fast becoming the motto of my life. So, after being Miss Big Spender, what should complete the picture is a real job. Which brings me right back to JSA again. Argh.

I know Christmas is around the corner when I catch two great movies in one week. Even Zhang Yimou has cut us some slack and produced a movie that actually makes sense. Really, Curse of the Golden Flower more than makes sense, it is a tremendously, enormously sexy movie. S.E.X.Y. I mean, who could be a better female lead than Gongli, who mixes so very well ferocity, sensuality and beauty amidst a strict and restraining environment. She could so potentially propel many girls' dreams for an uprise of the Chinese empire so we could apply to be consorts and have affairs with our stepsons while the king is so very conveniently away at war. By far, I'd say Gongli is the sexiest Asian actress (in her age range) and if you could overlook or forgive the occasional comic relief contributed by Chow Yun Fatt and the queer aesthetic value given to spilling cleavage, Curse of the Golden Flower is easily the best movie of the year. Kudos, Yimou.

It's been so long since I last blogged. Now that I'm sure this is a ghost town it suddenly becomes a lot less stressful blogging. Anyway, I've just caught The Holiday and it has inspired me so much to start typing something here again, buy a Blackberry and visit Surrey. Actually, for the last one, I'd settle for any quiet alone-time vacation anywhere far. Quite obviously, I've enjoyed the movie tremendously, a lot like how I enjoyed Love, Actually--something about these shows with Brits in them that make Christmas a lot warmer and comforting than it really is. This is not to say that Christmas in reality isn't great and all but movies of this type just ooze so much fuzzy stuff out of you you can't help but just feel so awwwww (lack of a better word). So anyhoo, for those that have caught the show, how great is the idea of a vacation rental, huh. Now that's one more item to my list of things-to-do-in-my-lifetime, but not before I own a decent enough place of my own.

*Destination: Somewhere far away and secluded. Sometime in winter where I'll get snow and not rain. A handsome Englishman who'll come knocking on my door is a bonus. Am open to long distance relationships.*

This must sound like a load of hooey to those who haven't caught it, so note to slow coaches: go catch the feel good movie. Fuzzy oooohhhs coming up!

I've been watching (and re-watching) some of the best films in the century, so says Times, I think, both because I have, for some strange reasons, free time on my hands and also for a film module. That's one of the benefits of reading a module that allows you such privilege, although with the occasional Kurasawa and all those avant garde bs, I sometimes thank god for movies that make sense these days (mostly). So, should you feel like kicking back and indulging in some good'ol here's my recommendation.

Everyone tries so hard to live a detached, nonchalant, I-can't-care-less-what-you-think life all the time. It's a bold statement but you know it's true when you're looking at a rotund, middle aged woman wearing a mini skirt and a top that barely makes it over the mountain of a belly, or when you see a burly man driving a small little car with bigass Hello Kitty stickers all over it, or when you meet an ah beng blasting his crap choice of music on his handphone while waiting in line for a cab, or when you see a grown up girl carrying a huge bouquet of helium-blown balloons walking to the cab stand at Raffles City waiting for her ride. It's almost amazing how people engage in deceit on a daily basis. They go around and try so darn hard to tell themselves they don't live for others and what people think are the furthest from their minds. They tell themselves that they have the right to dress the certain way they want, drive the certain kinds of cars they want, blast the certain music they want and pretty much do whatever they want and they don't have to care what the world has to say. WRONG. Everyone cares what everyone thinks, and that's the truth. So shoot me. The problem is everyone assumes that everyone else is empathetic enough to understand their reasons for doing things. Fat lady in mini skirt probably thinks we'll understand that she was on her way to her line-dance class. Big guy in car probably thinks we're gonna understand that it was his girlfriend that made him do the ridiculous stickers. Ah beng with music blasting from his handphone probably thinks we'll understand his need to live up to his ah beng image. Girl with larger than life balloons probably wants us to think that she really was only carrying that ridiculous bunch of "princess" balloons because she was given the job of decorating a function hall for her niece's 1st month celebration. I know, because girl with balloons was me.

It's the same with everything else really. For instance, you buy a cheap weekend car. You drive with a certain nonchalance. You know what it says about your financial situation but you think everyone else is going to understand that the only reason you bought a cheap weekend car is because you don't use the road often. You console yourself that you beat the thousands of others without the wheels. You tell yourself that you are really OK with pasting that bigass of a coupon that covers half your windshield on days that you need to use the car outside the allocated time slots. Recently I saw a brand new Fairlady with a red plate. Now, that's what I call an oxymoron. I hear a "what's wrong" somewhere, but I'll bet you know the answer yourself. I can be sure that beneath those indifferent faces are thought bubbles that'll go "I DON'T USE THE ROADS BETWEEN 7AM TO 7PM ON WEEKDAYS AND BEFORE 3PM ON SATURDAYS!!" I'm no one to judge, my mom absolutely refuses to buy me a car now, the best I can milk outta her, she says, is the downpayment when I get a real job. Also, think those that are going to graduate without honors. They want so much for others to think that they have a clear view in life and that they are almost definitely going to work in a private firm (where honours don't count for much. they really dont!!!!) But you know it's because they screwed their results up enough to not get a decent honours. I know, because I'm going to be one of those glorious ones graduating in right about 8 months' time. Woo! I simply love shooting myself in the foot. I'd rather myself than someone else do it for me.

By the way, I just caught ANTM. Seriously, it's not as if the world doesn't already have a bad impression of Asians, there's always the usual William-what's-his-face in AI and now, Gina Choe in ANTM to push what's left of our reputation lower down the gutter. What's with all the fidgeting?? Get a grip already.

Today brought back memories from the past. For one, I had to wake up like I did in junior college and secondary school (read: so early it should be illegal) for a lecture that had to be placed at an ungodly hour of 8am. Secondly I spotted a good few guys' faces familiar from my JC days with some obviously trying to conjure up a new image for themselves, what with the fiercely coloured hair and pretty new Ibooks for a lecture that needs a laptop like a blind man needing spectacles.

Today I also made such a BIGASS boo-boo of myself. After my horrendously early lecture I had intended to grab a bite and chat with a friend for abit then head for my other lecture which, by some queer tricks from the gods above, I was convinced is at 1 instead of 12. So we ended up chatting for 3 whole hours and I even found myself perfecting my art of paper-crane folding at a corner of my school in an effort to do some good deed in the 1-bowl-of-rice-donated-to-the-Red-Cross-with-1-paper-crane charity event. Seriously, like I can even care less for the cause. So, of course, I was 1 whole bleeding hour late for my first lecture which turns out to be a small class so everyone could see my blur gundu face while I strolled in. Really, 'strolled' is a bit of a compliment to how I entered. It was more like retarded-fidgety look-for-a-damn-seat-frantically face. I would be what people would classically refer to as the blessed cannot-make-its. My lecturer had a full profile of me and I find 1 word for myself: Godspeed.

I think I may have just watched the best episode of Grey's Anatomy yet. Mostly because Josh Duhamel, better known as Danny McCoy of Las Vegas appeared on the show. Now that we know who that Mark aka dirty mistress is, who can blame Addison Shepherd for cheating on McDreamy? It was a kickass episode also because of the beautiful soundtrack at the end of the show. Since I've been discouraged by many to not post music up on my blog, here's a simple recommendation: Go listen to Corinne Bailey Rae's "Like a Star". That said, I just made a pretty crude connection between a couple of episodes. If you watch the show, you'd remember a guy Meredith slept with who came into the emergency room because his penis was stiff for an unnaturally long period of time. And the last episode featured a girl with spontaneous orgasms. Boy, would the two of them make a cute couple.

I have had it with xanga, as have some of you, I suppose. For the past year and a half that I have stubbornly, fervently, proudly, cockily stood by that crap piece of blogging platform it has given me trouble after trouble. I mean, what on earth is that dumb Activex, really? So, at the encouragement of a friend I have chosen to live an easier, more user-friendly, less virus-bombarded life. Until Livejournal gives me some nonsense of its own, watch this space for my rambles.