I figured it out; aka SNS for the anti-social

Facebook is for posting stuff you want friends to see, 'like' and comment on. And games.

Twitter is for geeky outbursts. Wry observations. Living vacariously through famous people's tweets. Responding to friends. Complaining about public transport.

Livejournal is for community-stalking and collective flailing. Also a goldmine for linguists who study fandom lingo and acronyms.

Blogger is for long posts that don't fit in anywhere else because they're so bloody boring.

Posterous is dead. Well at least mine is.

Flickr is for snobs with expensive cameras.

Grindr is for sex.

4chan is the corner of the internet where monsters lurk.

Myspace is for discovering music.

Pinterest is... Tumblr for housewives?!? No idea.

Tumblr is for INCESSANT fangirling. GIFs and photos of everything you love. Discovering there are others just like you. Short posts that reveal more than they should. And emo things. And secrets one can only reveal to strangers.

"Give the man a mask, and he'll tell you the truth."

Time out of joint

I wonder if the book was in any way an inspiration for The Truman Show?

That's one of my favourite movies.

Passage from my favourite book...

...so I'm just going to put it here for future reference (and not have to search through old entries):

"You ask me about regret? Let me tell you a few things about regret, my darling. There is no end to it. You cannot find the beginning of the chain that brought us from there to here. Should you regret the whole chain, and the air in between, or each link separately, as if you could uncouple them? Do you regret the beginning which ended so badly, or just the ending itself? I've given more thought to this than you can begin to imagine."

And because it seems to be a leitmotif in my life.

Three Things; TMI

I did this on FB in 2009. Thought I'd do it again, just to see what has changed.

Three Things You Want To Do Before You Die:
1. Live in a big city elsewhere for a while
2. Get a PhD
3. Something I wouldn’t have thought of, but with someone I love and trust.

Three Names You Go By:
1. Jinx
2. Jinxiepoo
3. JX

Three Screen Names You Have Had:
1. prettyboy
2. malfoyette
3. jinxiepoo

Three Physical Things You Like About Yourself:
1. Hair, since it’s the easiest to change
2. “Teardrop” mole
3. My nails

Three Parts Of Your Heritage:
1. Proud Singaporean. I love this place, but I do recognise its failings.
2. Cantonese. Thanks to my mom, I can go shopping in Hong Kong.
3. I believe I’ve been a palace maid or equivalent in my past lives. During the reign of Ramses II? Dowager Ci Xi? Or the Heian period? LOL

Three Things That Scare You:
1. Dying with too many regrets
2. Death of my parents and sister
3. Hating the way my life turned out

Three Of Your Everyday Essentials:
1. COFFEE!!!
2. Social media (sorry, I cheated)
3. My music

Three Of Your Favorite Bands/Musical Artists:
1. Adam Lambert (and TJR, IDGAF if I’m cheating)
2. The Beatles
3. Nicholas Tse And so many others!

Three Of Your Favorite Songs:
1. She’s Your Cocaine - Tori Amos
2. Sweet Child O’ Mine - Guns N’ Roses
3. Fever - Adam Lambert

And wayyy too many others: Kashmir, Rebel Rebel, Lady Stardust, School’s Out, I Believe In A Thing Called Love… OMG. SO MANY MORE.

Three Things You Want In A Relationship:
1. Trust and freedom
2. Silly banter, philosophical conversations
3. Easy affection, lots of cuddles

Three Physical Things About The Preferred Sex That Appeal To You:
1. Hair
2. Hips
3. Eyes/lashes

But of course D made the observation that this applied more to women… *eyeroll*

Three Of Your Favorite Hobbies:
1. Geeking out at the libraries (this has definitely not changed) and bookstore, reading and buying books…
2. Decorating things, being a bit crafty even though I suck at it
3. Listening/playing music

Three Things You Want To Do Really Badly Right Now:
1. Grab a piece of KitKat from the fridge
2. Read the book that my sis got me for Christmas
3. Sleep

Three Careers You’re Considering/You’ve Considered:
1. Librarian (DUH!)
2. Bookstore & cafe owner
3. Barista, overworked and underpaid TA, bartender, small B&B owner, bored call-centre operator, ruthless ad exec, corporate lawyer, cyberhacker, rockstar, cast or crew member on a movie set or theatre production… but you know what to thank for these.

Three Places You Want To Go On Vacation:
1. Vienna
2. Taipei
3. Kyoto

Three Kid’s Names You Like:
1. Molly
2. Ben
3. Tommy

Three Ways That You Are Stereotypically A Girl.
1. I like black boots
2. I wear skinny jeans with oversized hoodies
3. I love styling my hair

Three Ways That You Are Stereotypically A Boy:
1. I wear black nail polish
2. I like tank tops
3. I have a thing for guitar and bass players and their big amps.

…TROLOLOL I shall stop myself before I launch into a rant about gender sterotypes and social constructs. ;)

Just noticed this interview with Tommy Koh

"Table Talk with Tommy Koh: Telling the Singapore story to the masses" by Cheong Suk-Wai published on 9 August 2011.

What caught my attention was this little snippet (emphasis mine):

CSW: But children here are still not allowed to fail.

TK: But we have got better; you now have so many role models of people who did not prosper academically but found themselves in the Institute of Technical Education and became successes. We are beginning to accept that early failure does not mean no future.

CSW: But you and your peers made gold the only acceptable future.

TK: We had a new nation to build; there was no time for failure. But now, having reached a certain comfort level... we are much more understanding. It is part of our growing maturity.

The interview was largely about his involvement in NHB and the arts.

Tough questions, but the answers are disappointing.

To quote Inception - your condescension, as always, is much appreciated.

Date a girl who reads redux : Date me! I read!

[Because I'm a girl who reads but doesn't write and has to resort to being derivative.]

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

I read. I love to read. I'm an equal-opportunity spender, I may spend as much on clothes as I do on books, but I value my books more. There is not enough shelf space in the the world for the books I want to read. As it is, there is not enough shelf space in my room for the books I already have. I've had a library card since I could read, and it has been the best gift my parents have given me.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

I'm the one with unread books in my bag, carrying a pile of books but yet scanning the library shelves for more. I'm the one who cries out when I find a book I want in a bookstore, only to handle it lovingly then place it back on the shelf because the book budget for the month has run out.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

I will read in a corner of the coffeeshop, tucked away from the rest of the world, creating a cocoon for myself as I enter a world of the author's making. Interrupt me and ask if I like the book, buy me another cup of coffee, and I will be amused because first-time meetings in coffeeshops must be a chick-lit cliche by now. But I will still be charmed because a girl who reads also imagines herself as the heroine in a romance novel - not that she will admit it.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

I have never read Alice in Wonderland. I don't like Murakami. I am halfway through Lord of the Rings at Book 4 but I stopped reading it six years ago. I will readily admit that I haven't read many impressive titles, but that's only if I deem you intelligent enough to be able to see through any lies. Go on, impress me.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Surround me with words, in books or accompanied by music. Introduce me to whole new worlds and take me on adventures. I may like exploring different realities and universes but I'm grounded in this one. I will come back, perhaps with a bit of jet-lag, but always with a new way of looking at this world that makes it seem exciting all over again, and we will share that excitement together.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Lie to me. It creates tension and drama. Girls who read understand that plots are driven by tension and drama. Life is an endless novel - or perhaps it's a multi-part series. Whatever it is, I appreciate the mystery and thrill of unravelling a lie. Does that conclude the chapter of my life with you, or is it only the opening sentence?

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

I do not understand the appeal of Twilight at all. I am a Harry Potter reader.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

Wait for me to return to the same plane after I finish a book. If you find me drying my tears, don't ask. I'll tell. I'll describe the tragedies that befall Catherine Lim's women. I'll read out loud the hilarious passage I've come across and try not to destroy the effect with fits of laughter. I'll explain why two generations can't communicate with with each other despite the love between them.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

Propose when I least expect it, so that I can recount in my autobiography (or at least in a lousy blog post) my surprise and joy. Read my favourite books and take notes when somebody is proposing (and when the answer is yes, of course).

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

I'm holding out for a boy who reads, because reading glasses are sexy. ;) We will get frustrated when we try to merge our libraries, sitting amongst knee-high piles of books trying to sort them out. And then we will laugh at how absurd it looks. Our children will add to the expanding collection, even as they attempt to go through what we already have and love. They will meet our favourite authors and characters, and we will be introduced to theirs.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

I believe I deserve someone with imagination. Someone who can think in abstract terms and will debate the most ridiculous things with me. Someone who see beyond his day-to-day interactions. Someone who imagines a future with me.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes...

Oh, damn.

Who needs style when you have substance?

A look at my laundry basket (which needs to be cleared soon before unidentified lifeforms emerge) shows that I've been wearing variations on the same theme:

1) Tank/racerback or ginormous loose top or both; and
2) Skinny jeans; with
3) Converse high tops, usually black.

With exceptions of hoodies (I NEED MOAR HOODIES!) for freezing libraries and that one event with a dress code *cough*, that has pretty much been my standard uniform for going out the past two weeks. Oh plus that plaid shirt, right at the bottom of the basket, which makes me feel both hipster(ish?) yet like Kris Allen.

And I haven't felt like buying new clothes, despite my mom's constant prodding to buy, buy, buy (no need money one ah?). It's the paradox of choice! Too many colours, cuts, styles... I get so overwhelmed that I give up trying to choose.

Besides, your 百变女王 goes through different phases of looks! LOL Let me get tired of/outgrow my current "uniform" before I buy anything again, because whatever I buy now will probably be more of the same thing, and where's the point in that? But I should probably think of my next wardrobe revamp... If only this overhaul is as easy and cheap as redecorating my Sims Social house. HURHUR.

[ another self-indulgent post brought to you by jinxiepoo - i need to find another site for my srs bsns blogging. ]

Look what the cat dragged in...

And by cat, you know I'm talking about the pretty kitty known as Tommy.


This waste of makeup was inspired by Tommy Joe Ratliff (and Adam's awesome hair):



And I did this, since it's been a long time since I put up a vlog:

Business of Heritage Conference 2011

Before I lose all motivation to write about it...

Edit: So I did lose motivation to blog. This post was started on the 8th and continued on the 29th!

This year's conference felt more substantial to me, I guess because the organisers invited museum professionals/practitioners from the Smithsonian and the Australian Museum to talk on the theme of "Running World Class Museums". Last year's speakers talked about the "Sustainability of Museums" and from what I can remember, the content didn't really interest me that much. And the afternoon sessions were basically self-promotion - NUM was frankly quite embarrassing.

I enjoyed the talk by G.O.D. explaining how the company takes Hong Kong culture heritage and turns it into something worth buying. Let's compare it to what we have in SG - would I buy products from the museum shops here? Mayyyybe, but I really want these G.O.D. goods! Yeah which is probably why they're Goods Of Desire... LOL.

Call me a cynic, though I appreciate the intent behind Hi2P, which is to fund projects that promote heritage, I get the sense that the end products are pretty much one-off and feel a bit kitsch (and not even in an ironic way) to me. I liked the fact that there's a project producing a CD of Malay children's songs, but then again there's the marketability factor. Seems so crass to think of money when you're preserving culture... Sigh.

Does "heritage" necessarily mean "packaged" and "commercial"? Is it different from what we think of as "history"? And where does "culture" come in?

I love Singapore and I think we have much to offer the world, our visitors, our future generations (in terms of heritage and from our short history of around 700 years), but sometimes I feel that the things we are currently offering are... Outdated? Cliched? Perhaps that's why we do have Hi2P, to encourage people to think out of the box and generate new ideas to promote our heritage/history (maybe even shape our national identity) but so far it seems that nothing much interests the common man - until they're gone or going to go (see Bukit Brown, Bidadari, even City Hall Open House last year).

Is it just plain rubbernecking, a morbid curiousity? A temporary lack of other avenues of entertainment for the average Singaporean, like, "Oh, no new movies or shopping malls opening this weekend, let's go see what the hooha over (latest site of death and destruction/latest blockbuster exhibition from abroad) is about!"

Oh, listen to me being so condescending - "average Singaporean" indeed. As if I'm so noble. I'm not. In fact I'm sick of reading the Singapore Heritage yahoogroup emails over Bukit Brown - SO TIRESOME. We may get a few small concessions here and there, but ultimately, everything is sacrificed in the name of "progress". Yes, you never know what you can achieve unless you try, but it's disheartening to know that everything you've worked so hard for can be easily dismissed anytime.

And what is this "progress"? A tunnel to shave a few minutes off travelling time? What happened to reducing traffic on the roads? If people are sick and tired of waiting in traffic jams, maybe they'll try public transport - who knows? Instead of tearing things down, why not work around existing constraints? Creativity and all that jazz. Now that would be progress.

I'm reading an interesting book on book-burning and the destruction of libraries throughout history. Okay, so the connection I made in my mind is a bit tenuous, but I shall attempt to explain: books are physical embodiments of memories. By destroying books, and by extension libraries, you eradicate memories and links to your past, without which you lose your sense of identity. The case of our National Library building is slightly different, I must admit, but there's still the element of removing links to our common past. I often quote Ng Yi-Sheng, "A part of you dies when the architecture of your memories no longer remains."

This is why I feel a lot of us struggle when asked about national identity. We keep losing these markers of national identity. Yes, identity is fluid, and national identity much more so - social construct, imagined communities, yadda yadda, BUT there should still be a core to what makes a Singaporean, shouldn't there? So what do you think makes a Singaporean? What makes us uniquely Singapore, eh? O_o

Here I go on another meandering ramble. In a nutshell: BOH2011 was interesting, I felt it was better than last year's, and it sucks to be a graveyard in Singapore.

While searching for images to use as desktop backgrounds...

Look what I found!


Proof of my Tommy Joe Ratliff obsession. Description under the image is apt.

Rilke?

It is not inertia alone that is responsible for human relationships repeating themselves from case to case, indescribably monotonous and unrenewed: it is shyness before any sort of new, unforeseeable experience with which one does not think oneself able to cope. But only someone who is ready for everything, who excludes nothing, not even the most enigmatical, will live the relation to another as something alive.

I've got to stop quoting stuff and start writing!

You're Culture Curious

(It's official, I've reverted to those post-quiz-results-on-your-blog days circa 2000. They didn't include the wedding cake topper! It was my answer for the question: "Which issue are you most passionate about?" #duh)


Modern in your thinking and fun loving in your outlook on life, you are on the pulse of what's hot and you are not afraid to push the boundaries in the name of style and creativity. Moving forward with the times is what's important to you. When all is said and done, you are a bit of an intellect with a tendency to do a spot of soul searching from time to time.

You're sophisticated and inquisitive with a real passion for art and culture. You pride yourself on being an early adopter of the latest music and films and always like to have a good book on the go. Your ability to bring together very diverse and even dissenting opinions is rooted in your appreciation for all points of view. You believe in immersing yourself in interesting experiences that make you look at people, places and opportunities from new angles. Being sensitive and creative you want to feel connected to the world around you and actively seek out opportunities to explore it. It's all about broadening your horizons and living life to the full. Anything else would not fulfill your curious nature. You'll love the list of The Best 1,000 Movies Ever Made, the Critics' Picks and Arts Beat.

So I went to do one of those quiz/meme things

Your rainbow is strongly shaded black and red.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What is says about you: You are a passionate person. You appreciate mystery. You get bored easily and want friends who will keep up with you. You may meet people who are afraid of you.

Find the colors of your rainbow at spacefem.com.

That last sentence, I don't like it too much. :( I'm a shy little thing, who'd be afraid of me?

But yes, I do get distracted easily - not bored, I think, and I do appreciate a good mystery, but as in knowing more about an interesting person. For one, I'd like to know more about Tommy Joe, because he's such an enigma! Identifies as straight, but is an unapologetic pretty kitty to Adam Lambert's lead, and likes his makeup. He subverts all stupid social expectations and doesn't give a damn.

I want a Tommy Joe. *POUTS*

In my own world

I love the author and I think this is a wonderful description:

Tommy's world was centered around time that belonged to himself only. He forgot about everything. It was his, and he didn't need anything else. And this made him a sucky boyfriend. Adam had seen girls cry because Tommy didn't need them, didn't ask anything from them, didn't feel like he wanted to even have a life with them. Not because he didn't care, but because he sank deep into his own world.

When I forget, please remember it's not because I don't care. I'm self-centred and self-absorbed, and I need people to bring me out of my own head. I need you. Just tell me what you want from me in easy, baby steps - I can do that. And sometimes I care so much that I get overwhelmed and don't know where to start so I retreat into my shell where things are safe and simple.

It's not that I don't care.

Bizarre doesn't even begin to cover it.

So I had a little dream last night...

I WAS GETTING MARRIED. (I should probably write about the coop meet-up yesterday but this definitely tops it. Sorry, dudes.)

It felt so awkward! Before the ceremony, we were talking to each other politely - and you know me (on second thoughts, maybe not when it comes to this), I don't do polite nor disinterested nor distance, not when it comes to my own freaking wedding. I'd probably be Bridezilla trying to control every aspect of the wedding or just leave everything to the planners (or my bridesmaids c.f. Bridesmaids that the coop watched together last month) or just adopt a fuck-'em-all attitude and have a super secret wedding somewhere. Vegas?

Also - who would be talking to their husband politely? Maybe people in arranged marriages. Shit, subconscious was probably processing all that harlequinkradam. *shakes fist at own brain* The actual ceremony itself was on board a train or some similar moving platform thing. I have no idea. Dreaming and surreal, yeah? Dali had something there. There were people, though, and I remember there wasn't any particular person I knew, just a faceless mob... Wow, that is depressing. No friends at my own wedding?!?

Future self, please remember to invite your friends.

Then my parents arrived just in time for my dad to walk me down the short narrow aisle. Not too much space nor maneuverability in a moving train.

Note to future self #2: Don't get married to someone you barely know.
#3: Don't get married on a moving train.

I DON'T KNOW. MY FREAKING BRAIN, MAN. Ohhh, I remember my dress was pretty poufy - either it had many layers of petticoats or a big crinoline. I think it was the former; I remember hoisting layers of material when I had to move through the aforementioned faceless mob.

I woke up at 5.34AM, stunned, and I hadn't even gotten to the wedding vows, man! Life is unfair - it gives you a bizarre dream of your own wedding and stops before it gets to the sappy, romantic, oh-my-god-this-man-loves-me-and-we're-really-really-getting-married part. DAMN YOU, LIFE. But it made me start thinking of my dream wedding (not literally the "dream" one I had - oh god, this is terrible) because I have Ideas and Plans For My Wedding, and marriage, and what kind of person I would want to spend the rest of my life with.

Anyway, I also thought about the idea of falling in love.

I'm really a sappy shit at heart and it's easy for me to be caught up with the idea of being in love. But I don't think I ever truly have, nor have I been heartbroken. That's really sad, isn't it? I'm happy that I've sort-of a Brad to my Adam, someone who knows me and shares the same interests and eccentric tastes and with whom I can discuss my passion, and that relationship has evolved through the years into something I cherish now, but who's gonna be in my future? I'm fine on my own but occasionally, it strikes me that I've been missing out on a lot of things. As Adam Lambert says, " [...] if you didn't know heartbreak, you wouldn't know the real stuff. You wouldn't know true love." And not just the lovey-dovey crap, but also jealousy, possessiveness... Okay, and a lot of lovey-dovey crap like taking care of another person, being taken care of, knowing that you mean something to someone enough for him to put up with your shit.

Blah blah blah. (This is why I'm like fanon!Tommy, apart from him being a kitty and a cuddleslut - he's sappy up to a point where he can't take himself seriously anymore, 'cause duuuude, Tommy still has balls and is NOT a girl, no matter how much he looks or dresses like one.)

So yeah, can't believe rambling about love and emo shit AGAIN. I'm pretty sure I've covered the same things at least two other times before.

Need to go do readings and be less of a pansy. Damn Blogger for this huge empty space that I feel compelled to fill with all these words.

The blog is dead, long live the blog!

Wow, there's so much white in the new Blogger interface.

I remember the very first interface Blogger had. There was a lot of blue, much like Tumblr now - come to think of it, Facebook and Twitter use blue too. Is it a neutral or universally-pleasing colour in design or something? Why not orange or pink?

The split screen showed an editing area and a "live" view of the entry, and the templates were easy to customise... It's been 8 years since I first posted, I think? Wow. One of my first posts was about 2002 Tong Xun Yuan camp.

Anyway, I'm just posting to say that this blog isn't dead - at least not so soon. [Catchy topic for presentation: "The blog is dead, long live the blog!"] I have yet to decide whether to keep this (and my two other blogs) up along with my BLAB tumblr.

Should I move my blog posts to Wordpress? And my book blog to a Wordpress blog too? 'Cuz Tumblr really sucks as a serious blogging tool.

I've also been reading my backlog of blog feeds (uhm, 800+ of them) which include librarians' blogs, which got me thinking, how do you decide what to blog about? Where do you draw the line between professional and personal issues to raise in your entries, and is the line effective? What is your aim? Do you want to connect to your fellow colleagues through your blog, or do you want your blog to represent (as well as a online representation can, anyway) yourself? Or do you want to use the platform to share your expertise on a topic/hobby with other people who are interested, and keep most professional and personal issues out of it?

Choices and decisions...

Oh and about that "long live the blog" thing - when you post something online, think about what you want to get out there very carefully. You never know who will read it, and more importantly, when they will. Imagine posting something X years ago in the heat of the moment, when noone else knows what happened and you think the ambiguous shit you just posted is safe from being deciphered. Then the truth comes out X years later and some nosy parkers go through your archives.

Not so scary if you're okay with owning up to what you posted, but if you're the type who just wanted to publish something semi-private to vent while being obscure about what you were venting about? Write it in your physical journal instead.

On archives

The question of the archive is not, we repeat, a question of the past. It is not the question of a concept dealing with the past that might already be at our disposal, an archivable concept of the archive. It is a question of the future, the question of the future itself, the question of a response, of a promise, and of a responsibility for tomorrow.

The archive: if we want to know what that will have meant, we will only know in times to come. Perhaps. Not tomorrow but in times to come, later on or perhaps never.

- Jacques Derrida, Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression.

Shoes and guitars - things a girl can't have enough of.

I swear I own only sneakers and high heels. (Okay and two pairs of slippers and a pair of gladiator sandals.) I bought a pair of black sneakers yesterday! So excited about wearing them out tomorrow.

Still thinking about the guitar though. I definitely want an electric guitar, but I'm not sure if I should "upgrade" my acoustic as well. Then comes the question of which electric guitar to buy, and cost considerations. DECISIONS, DECISIONS.

In the spirit of "show, not tell" regarding my current obsession, here are a few books I've been dipping into:

The Girls' Guide to Rocking by Jessica Hopper



"... the book is a comprehensive guide to finding your way to rock stardom that covers all of the basic information as well as answers embarrassing questions that you don’t feel comfortable asking the grizzled, goateed rock veterans working at Guitar Center.

From finding an instrument to forming a band and writing songs, The Girls’ Guide To Rocking is teeming with immensely useful information that’s not always intuitive..."

Review here.

This is a really cute book, and pretty inspiring. Well, if I were a teenage girl in suburban America, I would totally use Hopper's advice and start my own band rightaway. Even if the band didn't go anywhere, it's a valuable experience. Life is for living, you know? Unfortunately this book came about 10 years too late for me, and Singapore is just...

I feel a rant about Singapore society and education and mindsets coming up - next book!

The Fender Electric Guitar Book by Tony Bacon


The story of Fender guitars, with LOTS of photos and illustrations and a complete listing of models at the end. As my sis would say, "coolios!" Yeah, I don't know how that word came about either.

Teach yourself [visually] Bass Guitar by Ryan Williams and Richard Hammond


Yes, I blame this entirely on Tommy Joe Ratliff. No, I won't be getting a bass anytime soon, but the finger exercises and introductory bits (parts of the guitar, fixing your gear, sounds of different styles of music, etc) are really helpful so I've been using the book these few days.

Talking to Girls about Duran Duran by Rob Sheffield


It had me at Duran Duran. And BOWIE! It's a memoir about (1) GROWING UP as a (2) MUSIC (3) NERD in the (4) EIGHTIES. That's already freaking four things I love reading about already. Jackpot! Sheffield is hilarious in a self-deprecating manner and can somehow write about how great the women in his life are without seeming like a sap about it. My only question is, where can I get his first book, "Love Is a Mix Tape"? Look at that title, it sounds awesome already!

...

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got about ten other books that I have yet to START on. So many books, so little time. Good thing I own some of these books so they can be put off indefinitely... *side eyes self*

She knew money was an illusion, but she also knew that she needed food in her hardly illusory belly.

"Inglorious" by Joanna Kavenna

The tone in this novel is pretty detached, but I feel that it works even better this way since the protagonist seems self-centred but at the same time, lost. Okay I'm only 50 pages in, so I should be reserving judgment...

This passage stood out, though, because job-hunting $&*#!*ing sucks.

Whatever they might all say, she had really been trying to get a job. She knew money was an illusion, but she also knew that she needed food in her hardly illusory belly. ... She had been applying for a variety of things, writing letters.

Dear Sir, I would like a job. Actually that's not true. Without wanting to trouble you with my ambivalence, a job is what I need. Sheer bloody debt has forced me back. I am quite free of many of the more fashionable varieties of hypocrisy, though I suffer from many unfashionable varieties of my own. I have many strengths, most of which I seem for the moment to have forgotten. However, I am a goal-oriented person and so on, und so weiter... Yours ever, Rosa Lane.

Dear Madam, I am a person of inconstant aims and mild destitution. I find this combination of qualities excludes me from many jobs. But working together, I'm sure we can exploit my talents successfully. I still have a cream suit, a relic from a former life. I am unexceptional in every way, and eager to serve. You can find me in a borrowed room, in west London. Yours faithfully, Rosa Lane.

More recently, she had written to landlords and restauranteurs.

Dear Sir/Madam, I would like to be considered for the post of barmaid. I have no experience at all, but I have an abiding interest in bars. I like a nice glass of beer, from time to time. Some of my most memorable moments have occurred in bars, some of my most desperate humiliations and fleeting patches of pure claritas. So far she had been dismissed by every barman she met. Kindly, politely, but dismissed all the same.

I wish I could write cover letters like that. NOT - I would have to mooch off my parents for another year if I really did send them.

Finished reading "Joystick Nation" by JC Herz

The 1997 book's a bit dated, but the discussions on the history and evolution of videogames as well as arcades are still quite relevant. AND SO FUNNY, I was laughing out loud on the train. Didn't really see if people were looking at me funny because I was too absorbed in the book.

Personal computers simplified the requisite record keeping and took RPGs out of the closet by adding graphics, so that the player could look like a videogame jock rather than a hopeless Dungeon and Dragons geek.

Chuckling right now.

Also - there was a rather lengthy section on magazines which I would've appreciated a LOT if I'd read the book more closely before embarking on my videogame magazines paper. I did come across the book before writing, I just thought there was nothing helpful inside when I skimmed through it.

Still got an A anyway. *self-satisfied smirk*

Just read "Literacy and Longing in L.A."

It starts with that quote from Borges:

"I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library."

How could I not love it?

This novel by Jennifer Kaufman and Karen Mack has so many elements I love - bibliophilia, the glitz of L.A. (thank Adam for that), witty bookstore people, single (okay, technically separated) woman NOT living in a messy one-room apartment, name-dropping everywhere, and hilarious out-of-this-world characters.

I love reading about characters who can afford to enjoy life, you know? Not having to work at a shitty job every day, lamenting the drudgery of life until that love of her life complete with mysterious past (like mad-wife-in-the-attic mysterious) shows up saving her from all that. SINGLE WOMAN IN THE DUMPS CLICHE. JUST, NO.

Then again, it's not like Dora the explorer protagonist is so much different, though she has money from her trust fund and can afford to live in a luxurious serviced apartment in L.A. with a great sea view. -_- Ultimately, all a girl wants is just to find love.

"All we need in this world is some love." Adam Lambert! LOL!

So... Dora loves reading. She has stacks of unread books in her house. She reads according to her mood. Her books are arranged to suit her moods. Her sister used to teach Latin (&hearts!) in private school. She has friends in high places and her (ex?-)husband is the head of Sony Pictures who regularly attends society functions. She falls in and subsequently out of love with Fred, an assistant in a bookstore who is also a playwright, and can quote passages from his favourite books for any occasion. He's basically the male version of the manic pixie dream girl! Fred's mother and niece are such lovely people. Her BFF Darlene is the wildchild middle-aged sidekick (aha, stereotype).

TELL ME, what's not to love about this book?

Sara leans in and searchingly asks me, "So what kind of books do you like?"

"Yikes." I start maniacally thinking aloud. "There are so many different categories, it's impossible to just name a few, don' you think?"

"Try," Sara presses.

"Okay, okay, I'm thinking. I like stories about lovers, seduction, sex, marriage, violence, murder, dreams, and death, and also stories that focus on the family with all its dysfunction and grief. I love writers who make their women characters independent, smart, and courageous but also passionate and romantic. I love plots about bitter old men and women who turn all soft and mushy for the love of a child. I love writers who focus on women who reach middle age and then ask, 'Now what?' or lonely disappointed women who live in suburbia and can't get out, or authors who write about the pain of growing up, searching for identity. But most of all I love books about spontaneous love affairs that go wrong or veer off into unchartered territory. It's the sudden twists f fate that I like and the unexpected outcomes. Doesn't everyone?"

YES, everyone does, or at least I do!

Well, except for the bit about bitter old men and women. Not a fan of the "old", but heart of stone melting into mush for that child who changes your life? Yes please. I don't like much violence, unless there's comfort at the end of it. I especially love mid-life, or even quarter-life, crises. Anyway, the passage continues -

"Jesus, Dora." Fred is taken aback. He's quiet for a minute and then starts to say something.

I'm on a roll. I keep blathering on. "How about authors like Carson McCullers, Anne Tyler, William Styron, Mary Gordon, Faulkner, Fitzgerald, Mary McCarthy, Alice Munro?" I look up and realize that they're both staring at me. How embarrassing. I've fallen into that god-awful abyss that voracious readers often fall into, a pious, smug, self-congratulatory, virtuous display of "what a thoughtful, superior, and sensitive well-read person I am." They've probably heard this a zillion times. They work in a bookstore. I'm such a bore.

"My personal favourite," says Fred, "is Dorothy Parker, who wrote lines like, 'His voice was as intimate as the rustle of sheets and he kissed easily.'"

My god. Just kill me now.

One of Dora's favourite writers is Dorothy Parker. She sounds awesome.

"Tell him I've been too fucking busy - or vice versa." - Dorothy Parker to Harold Ross, when asked why she had not delivered her manuscript on time.

There is a booklist at the end, with all the titles and writers mentioned. WONDERFUL. Going to Popular sale at the Expo tomorrow.

Currently reading "Zero Degrees of Empathy" by Simon Baron-Cohen

This book caught my eye right away; it comes right after I told a newspaper intern how great museum docents should have empathy for their visitors and historical empathy towards, well, historical figures and the periods that they've lived through.

It also comes after I read articles on schizoid personality disorder and avoidant personality disorder. And before that, I was reading up on Asperger's Syndrome.

Man, I love knowing more about these things! Makes me feel I'm not alone, and that there are always more extreme cases out there.

Anyway, in what I've read of "Zero Degrees" so far, the author's main argument is that we all lie somewhere on an "empathy" scale and people who score a zero tend to be what we consider "evil" because they simply cannot look at things from another person's point of view. And then he describes cases of borderline personality disorder, as well as posits the reasons why people develop the disorder - early childhood, issues of abandonment (very armchair psychologist), etc, relating it to the larger discussion of empathy. Marilyn Monroe is one of those intriguing examples. Colour me intrigued.

However, a zero on the empathy scale doesn't always mean that the person will be a psychopath (though analysis of prison inmates does point out a high correlation) as it can have positive outcomes.

Like what, I have no idea. I'm waiting to get to that part!



EDITED TO ADD: According to the author's test here (link), I scored 37! I'm average! Then again, the author also says that self-testing often leads to people thinking they're more empathetic than they really are, since people who lack empathy are also unable to (rephrasing in my own words) empathise with themselves.

I don't think I'll be torturing fluffy little kittens anytime soon.

OMG, DEXTER!!!

Date a Girl Who Reads [a response]

[I love these things! Thanks, Mel.]

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes...

You Should Date An Illiterate Girl

By CHARLES WARNKE

Date a girl who doesn’t read. Find her in the weary squalor of a Midwestern bar. Find her in the smoke, drunken sweat, and varicolored light of an upscale nightclub. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure that it lingers when the people that are talking to her look away. Engage her with unsentimental trivialities. Use pick-up lines and laugh inwardly. Take her outside when the night overstays its welcome. Ignore the palpable weight of fatigue. Kiss her in the rain under the weak glow of a streetlamp because you’ve seen it in film. Remark at its lack of significance. Take her to your apartment. Dispatch with making love. Fuck her.

Let the anxious contract you’ve unwittingly written evolve slowly and uncomfortably into a relationship. Find shared interests and common ground like sushi, and folk music. Build an impenetrable bastion upon that ground. Make it sacred. Retreat into it every time the air gets stale, or the evenings get long. Talk about nothing of significance. Do little thinking. Let the months pass unnoticed. Ask her to move in. Let her decorate. Get into fights about inconsequential things like how the fucking shower curtain needs to be closed so that it doesn’t fucking collect mold. Let a year pass unnoticed. Begin to notice.

Figure that you should probably get married because you will have wasted a lot of time otherwise. Take her to dinner on the forty-fifth floor at a restaurant far beyond your means. Make sure there is a beautiful view of the city. Sheepishly ask a waiter to bring her a glass of champagne with a modest ring in it. When she notices, propose to her with all of the enthusiasm and sincerity you can muster. Do not be overly concerned if you feel your heart leap through a pane of sheet glass. For that matter, do not be overly concerned if you cannot feel it at all. If there is applause, let it stagnate. If she cries, smile as if you’ve never been happier. If she doesn’t, smile all the same.

Let the years pass unnoticed. Get a career, not a job. Buy a house. Have two striking children. Try to raise them well. Fail, frequently. Lapse into a bored indifference. Lapse into an indifferent sadness. Have a mid-life crisis. Grow old. Wonder at your lack of achievement. Feel sometimes contented, but mostly vacant and ethereal. Feel, during walks, as if you might never return, or as if you might blow away on the wind. Contract a terminal illness. Die, but only after you observe that the girl who didn’t read never made your heart oscillate with any significant passion, that no one will write the story of your lives, and that she will die, too, with only a mild and tempered regret that nothing ever came of her capacity to love.

Do those things, god damnit, because nothing sucks worse than a girl who reads. Do it, I say, because a life in purgatory is better than a life in hell. Do it, because a girl who reads possesses a vocabulary that can describe that amorphous discontent as a life unfulfilled—a vocabulary that parses the innate beauty of the world and makes it an accessible necessity instead of an alien wonder. A girl who reads lays claim to a vocabulary that distinguishes between the specious and soulless rhetoric of someone who cannot love her, and the inarticulate desperation of someone who loves her too much. A vocabulary, god damnit, that makes my vacuous sophistry a cheap trick.

Do it, because a girl who reads understands syntax. Literature has taught her that moments of tenderness come in sporadic but knowable intervals. A girl who reads knows that life is not planar; she knows, and rightly demands, that the ebb comes along with the flow of disappointment. A girl who has read up on her syntax senses the irregular pauses—the hesitation of breath—endemic to a lie. A girl who reads perceives the difference between a parenthetical moment of anger and the entrenched habits of someone whose bitter cynicism will run on, run on well past any point of reason, or purpose, run on far after she has packed a suitcase and said a reluctant goodbye and she has decided that I am an ellipsis and not a period and run on and run on. Syntax that knows the rhythm and cadence of a life well lived.

Date a girl who doesn’t read because the girl who reads knows the importance of plot. She can trace out the demarcations of a prologue and the sharp ridges of a climax. She feels them in her skin. The girl who reads will be patient with an intermission and expedite a denouement. But of all things, the girl who reads knows most the ineluctable significance of an end. She is comfortable with them. She has bid farewell to a thousand heroes with only a twinge of sadness.

Don’t date a girl who reads because girls who read are the storytellers. You with the Joyce, you with the Nabokov, you with the Woolf. You there in the library, on the platform of the metro, you in the corner of the café, you in the window of your room. You, who make my life so god damned difficult. The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life that I told of at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being storied. So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. I hate you. I really, really, really hate you.

[From Mel. I'm archiving my emails!]

FLUFF

YAY it's another high school AU. Speaking of high school, I just watched Glee!prom. FM(Singaporean)L, I'll never have a prom like that. Nor the college years. Nor living in a tiny apartment in the city after graduation, looking out my window (or hey, the balcony) with a steaming mug of cocoa in my hands (no wine), mesmerised by the bright lights outside and incessant city sounds in the background, and wanting that peace and contentment to last forever. So reading is my escape.

Texting.

A: baby
K: yes?
A: honey
K: darling
A: sweetheart
K: pumpkin
A: honeybear
K: porkchop
A: honeybun
K: cupcake
A: snuggle bunny
K: studmuffin
A: pookie
K: buttercup
A: boobear
K: ...........really?
A: cutie patootie
K: Please don't ever use any of these in public
A: shmoopsie poo
K: Where do you get this stuff
A: tootsie wootsy
A: cuddly wuddly
A: lover
A: loverboy?
A: k i'm done :* i love you, k
K: <3 love you too

(sauce)

How cute was that?!? And kind of embarrassing but SO FUNNYYYY. LOL plus, schmoopsie poo takes the cake which is a lie oh my god.