Letter to XM

Hey lady,

I cleaned up your room good. I cleared out everything, vacuumed every conceivable corner that could be vacuumed, and (briefly) wiped every flat surface - yes, even the top of the wardrobe!

Yep. And you know that I don't even vacuum my own room.

In my mind's eye, I saw you entering the room after a long flight, and leaving the Feng, and being disappointed if the room was less than spotless. I can see your mouth curve in disapproval, and feel your inward sigh at the irresponsible and untidy behaviour I know you've come to expect of me. And I could imagine how emotional you might get facing the room, especially with the tiring flight, while missing the Feng desperately, and feeling lonely in an empty house (I don't know what time you're coming back, and if anyone will be in).

I decided I didn't want you feeling depressed, and maybe regretful of the decision to stay here. So I cleaned up the room good, even though I myself don't place a high premium on cleanliness and tidiness, simply because I know it matters to you.

If I were your boyfriend, I'd even buy flowers and put in the room to surprise you. But regretfully, the reality is, I don't have a girlfriend, although I'd be the bestest boyfriend a girl could have, because I Am a girl, and know what girls want. I wish boys were more clued in in general.

Anyway, after my unusual effort to cheer you up on your return, I hope you don't feel too down. Things aren't too bad around the house:
With the shower curtains up (ahem.) the bathroom is finally fit for human use. Only Half of the stuff in the corridor is mine, I have no idea who the other half belongs to. I'll chuck them this weekend. Oh, and if you could, please save ZW's orchid. It's DYING.

Welcome home, girl. :-)

Olympic Heroes

The UK news channels have not stopped trumpeting Britain's double Golds on the penultimate day of Athens 2004: Women's 1500m (won by 34-year old Kelly Holmes, who also won the 800m. A historic double Gold matched by Morocco's El Guerrouj), and the Men's 4x100 Relay Race.

I have watched the Men's relay finals about 5 times, and replays of the final seconds of the race probably more than 10 times in the span of a few hours. But I have to admit that I am very very impressed with the British boys for clinching the Gold. They were up against the US relay team, which comprised of three finalists in the Men's 100m event, two of whom won Gold (Shawn Crawford), and Bronze (Maurice Greene). On the other hand, none of the British relay runners even so much as made it to the 100m Finals. So winning the Gold was no mean feat. Respect.

Being a shallow and superficial girl, with some leanings towards ditziness, probably half my Olympics-watching comments relate less to the athletic prowess of the athletes, and more to their looks and physiques.

Just thinking about the number of good-looking athletes makes my head spin. But I have a list of my favorite Olympic heroes, boys to watch out for in Beijing 2008 (who coincidentally also happen to be pretty good-looking):

- Teng Haibin (China: Gymnastics): The wonder boy who cost his team a medal after falling down 5 times during the qualifying and finals. This is the first time in a long while that the Chinese Men's team have not finished in the Top 3 in Gymnastics. But the beautiful boy is divine on the pommel horse. His movements fluid and graceful, he seems to be floating weightlessly in a timeless world filled with poetry. Only 18, I sure as hell hope he fulfils the potential that everyone seems to see in him in 2008 Olympics, and I'm very much looking forward to see him shine there. [Gold: Individual Pommel Horse]

Teng Haibin on the pommel horse


Teng Haibin: the golden boy


- Tian Liang (China: Diving): The Gold-winner in Individual Men's 10m Diving in the last Olympics, he underperformed quite badly in a few dives to finish Bronze behind the Bill Murray-lookalike Australian (Silver), and fellow Chinese diver Hu Jia (Gold). Even so, he is worth watching out for, because he is one of the few good-looking Chinese athletes, plus I love his physique - lean and sleek with a sexy subtle inverted-V shape, I am more partial to his physique compared to the other divers. And let me tell you, those divers have pretty hot bods. [Gold: Syncro-diving 10m; Bronze: Diving 10m)

Tian Liang in action



Diving medalists: Mathew Helm, Hu Jia, Tian Liang




- Koji Murofushi (Japan: Hammer): This Japanese-Romanian boy is to be watched out for in the next Olympics if genetics and fatherly-training have anything to do with it. Although Hammer-throwing isn't the sexiest of sports, and I do not like chunky, beefy guys in general, this handsome giant makes a compelling case for big sweaty men grunting and yelling while hurling metal balls. [Silver: Hammer-throw]

Koji Murofushi


- Peter Waterfield (Great Britain: Diving): Along with Leon Taylor, he won the Silver Synchro-diving medal, Britain's first diving medal in 44 years. Not the tallest of guys at 1.68m, I nonetheless find him pretty sexy: good-looking (with a goofy toothy grin that makes him sooo adorable), bald (I have a thing for baldies and blondies), and a slurpable physique - uber cut and defined. [Silver: Synchro-diving]

Peter Waterfield


- Amir Khan (Great Britain: Boxing): A 17-year old boy who appeared from nowhere and caught the world by storm. Even I, who has had ZILCH interest in boxing, have come to hear of him (Okay... so the I was reading the Financial Times, and the FT had featured him). He is now guaranteed a silver at least, and will be boxing in tomorrow's finals. I haven't seen him in action, but might tune-in to watch wonder boy tomorrow. Oh... and he's not-bad looking too. :-)

Amir Khan


We actually ended up watching part of the Women's Volleyball Finals today with China facing off Russia. My housemate's friend and her British boyfriend had come over for dinner and was treated to a whole new experience of three girls' high-pitched shouting, sighing, and squealing with the changing fortunes of the Chinese team. I was incredibly amazed at the Chinese team's success, given that they had started off with two games against them, and given their midget-size compared to the lanky Russians. It sure did my short-heighted heart a whole world of good knowing that one can triumph in the face of giants.

Watching the Chinese team winning Women's Volleyball, I'm thinking of how far China has come from the past. I mean, in a freak turn of events, China even won Women's TENNIS (who has ever heard of Chinese tennis players??).

In the medals tally, as of today, US remained Number 1 at 34 golds, with China a close second at 31 Golds. That's a pretty impressive score. As an ethnic Chinese, I'm feeling pretty proud and happy at China's achievements. And I'm really hoping that they will finally get top spot in Beijing 2008. Isn't it time an Asian country won?

Finally, I believe that the South Korean Yang Tae Young should be awarded the Gold Medal for Individual All-Round Men's Gymnastics. It was a mistake in scoring you fuckwits. He deserves it. To refuse to award the true winner what he deserves over some technical rule is complete and utter bullshit. If an athlete who is found to have misused drugs can be stripped of a medal, then equally, redress should be made when an athlete is wrongly rewarded/penalised by a Mistake in scoring by fuckwitted judges.

I also believe that Svetlana Khorkina was marked unfairly in the Finals, and sincerely believe that she is the true star. But the Olympics have always been about politics. Gymnastics more so than others. I don't expect any fair treatment for her, because the world is unfair. But if the South Korean doesn't get his medal, then it really goes to show what a farce the Olympics is.



_{Source:
All images shamelessly nicked from the official Olympics website}

Friday freak fact

When I input one half of my chinese first name into babelfish.com, it returns: "Iraq". No, really. Try it: 伊

And if that isn't unhappy or freaky enough, when I plug in the other half of my chinese first name, the translator merely spits back the same chinese character at me. It seems that the standalone word has no meaning in and of its self, unlike thousands of other chinese characters, some of which form my friends' names.

When combined with other words though, my second character can mean "clever" or "alone and forsaken". Apparently, the first character has meaning when combined with other words too, because combination words appear when I type it out on my laptop. However, if you look up the character "伊" in most chinese dictionaries, the entry would waffle vaguely about nothing. It is apparently a word that has faded into obscurity.

Of course Shakespeare famously wrote "That which we call a rose/ By any other name would smell as sweet" . But Chinese people believe that names are very important, and can shape or influence a person's character, personality, and even life.

And so I often wonder what the significance of my name is, what it portends, how my life will be moulded by it. Does it mean that I am destined to obsolescence and obscurity, my freakish irrelevance marked out at birth by an antiquated name? Or does my name condemn me to a lifetime of unhappy dependence: my life will be as nothing unless I find a partner - that I am doomed to be an hollow cripple unless I obtain a human crutch to lend meaning to my very existence?

Even when my coupled name finally sheds some light on the person I was meant to be, the messages are mixed. No such poetic and wonderful names, which have standalone meanings, as Bright (慧), Jade (玉), Fragrance (芬), Strength (力), Splendour (辉), Good (佳), or Sensitive (敏). Oh Noooooo. It's "Clever" but "Alone and Forsaken".

Hmmm... so maybe I'm meant to lead a lonely and forsaken life thanks to my cleverness?? Once again, my mind conjures up an image of me dying a sad, bitter, and lonely old maid, with my imaginary cat gnawing on my cold, lifeless, blue body, if by a freakish twist of luck, I manage to succeed in my career. _{(This scenario is fueled by a lifetime of hearing the older generation talking about how overly clever or successful women will never find husbands, which is often followed by an exhortation not to be too smart, or become doctors or lawyers: "Girl... don't become a lawyer. Boys don't like marrying lawyers." For now, I believe the saying holds. But damn if I'm going to change my career/life-plan for some hypothetical guy with no balls.)}

Most of all, I wonder: WHAT was my dad thinking when he named me?? Someone please tell me again?

An early Friday afternoon

Hmm... where shall I begin?

It's a Friday afternoon and I'm back in my own lovely room, sitting in front of an open window enjoying the moody grey London skies - an experience Much better savoured indoors than out.

My heart is light because I've been let out at 2.30pm on a Friday, and the luxury of having an early long weekend (Monday is a Bank Holiday) thrills me. The possibilities are endless: I could lie around in bed, or lie around more in bed, or lie all day in bed! Haha.

The truth is, I probably will have to study. But for now, I feel like a little kid again. I am full of glee every time I have a short day, like the time I only had a one-hour day, but got paid as usual. My intense joy at every bit of leisure time (especially paid leisure time) is due to the fact that I know it will all come to a too-soon, cruel, abrupt end shortly. So now I want to breathe in the fresh air of a newly-washed London and just rejoice in the fact that I'm alive, and yes, that life is, when I remember to think about it, good.

One

It doesn't matter what a thousand people think. What matters is really just the One - yourself. What you know and feel.

Still, it would be nice to have someone who understands. But "O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;/ No more of that."

In defence of banking

Someone recently asked me why so many of my country(wo)men are in the finance industry, why my community seems so materialistic and money-obsessed.

I could go into the reasons why my community is has a more practical and pragmatic attitude towards money and careers. In Asia, unlike in fortunate North American and European countries, the concept of a welfare state doesn't exist. In Asia, taxes are lower, which is great. But it also means that Arts, Voluntary Unemployment, and other general kinds of impracticality aren't funded. The vast majority of the people I know therefore tend to be more practical-minded with regard to money. Artistic careers or pursuits are generally frowned upon by our families.

Another defence I offer is that London is The Financial Centre of Europe. London contributes 17% to UK GDP¹, and 73.7% of UK's GDP comprises of Services², the main contributors of which are banking and insurance, which employ 70% of the UK working population³. Therefore, it follows that those who do stay on to work in London work in the financial services industry. Yes, if you look hard enough, there Are other jobs in London, but the overwhelming number of jobs are in the financial services industry. There might be some of my brethren who are in London but not in banking/accountancy/insurance - I just don't happen to know them. After all, London is a city of 7 million people, and by selection bias, we tend to hang around with people with similar interests (especially having gone to certain universities), and I've never been an especially sociable person who has a wide circle of friends.

Given the Economic and Employment statistics of London, I strongly disagree that my country(wo)men are particularly grasping and mercenary. After all, we do not constitute a big proportion of people employed by my firm and firms around the City. There are far many more Continental Europeans, and British and Indians (British or otherwise).

And for the assertion that people who opt to work in the financial services industry are money-addicts, I have this to say:
- I won't lie and say that the compensation isn't a factor. It is. We won't be working crazy hours without at least above-average compensation. No sane person would, no matter how much they loved finance.
- BUT: money isn't the only factor. It may not even be the most important factor.

An aside: Banking isn't even a monolithic entity. In an investment bank alone, there are several functions, with very approximate working hours in parenthesis:
- Investment Banking/Corporate Finance (insane hours: 9am-12am are pretty decent hours)
- Sales/Trading/Structuring (7.30am-6pm)
- Research (7am- 8/9pm)

But there are other reasons why people choose to enter the industry, such as the experience, the training, the leverage it gives you for furthering your career.

I know someone who wants to work in the public sector doing Development work. From what I understand, the Development arena is extremely competitive and difficult to break into. They almost never take inexperienced people. Presumably one can slog away doing community service for several years, or do a Masters and PhD in order to enter the field. Alternatively, one can enter banking, get paid well in the meanwhile, and get the requisite experience.

Others want to move into Hedge Funds and Private Equity. Hedge Funds have better hours and very good compensation. But again, don't usually take fresh grads. I also know many Asians who intend to go back to Asia (some want to remain in the finance industry, others want to enter other fields). They choose to work in London, and in this industry because they want working experience in a big corporation in a major financial centre. And banking has a really solid training programme at a junior level.

Working in banking also seems to be a good launchpad for a variety of careers. Ex-bankers (all functions) are everywhere: politicians (Michael Bloomberg), writers (the most famous of which is probably Michael Lewis)... I can't name the rest offhand, but I've heard of ex-bankers being CEOs, working in World Bank, opening resorts off the coast of Brazil (which is totally removed from banking)... For a person like me, who still has several longer-term career and life options that I have not yet decided on, banking seems to be a great place to start.

Not having started work proper, I can't say much about what I will be doing - I can offer more insight in a month, 6 months, and a year's time. Most people have said that a lot of the work is pretty inane. But they also talk about a very steep learning curve in the first few months. I think that learning curve is worth it. Even before starting work, I have experienced a little bit of a learning curve over the past month or so. I've learnt and grown, mainly socially, and in cultural exposure, more in the past 6 weeks, than I probably have in the prior 3 years. For example, 8 nationalities will be represented among the new graduates on my floor alone. And the learning process, the freshness of my experience, makes me happy. It's probably why I feel almost as happy as I did in my old relationship. And my relationship was probably the happiest period in my life.

Finally, it could be that some of us actually are interested in, dare I say love? Finance. One boy I know has wanted to be in banking for as long as he can remember. He wants to open his own firm some day, or run the World Bank. A more senior guy has also told us that he became interested in banking while trying to raise finance for his start-up firm (his MBA-debt might have a part to play in his choice of industry too). My housemate went through a rather labourous process to get a job in a particular niche that he was specifically interested in. And myself, I can't think of another job, which pays the bills (let's face it... working as a ranger in a safari park in the African outback won't cut it. Nor will working in Oxfam while hoping that the UN might discover my hidden, under-appreciated talent), that will excite me as much the prospect of this job did to me during the application process. I might eventually find that I was deluded, that this job isn't what I thought it would be. For now, I can only expect the worst (inane, mindless robot-work) but hope for the best, not having experienced it myself.

I have a co-worker who, having interned before, doesn't like the job but chose to stick with it, despite his interest in Equity Sales. I asked him: "Why didn't you apply for Equity Sales instead?" His reply to that was: "I don't know what it was about." Unlike him though, my attitude towards the unknown is an exuberant embracing of it. I don't know first-hand what Corporate Finance is about, but I have spoken to people. Despite many negative ratings, I have perhaps a rather starry-eyed view that it might be worth it, that it will present an amazing learning opportunity, and so I had turned down my solid job offer to pursue the unknown. And I chose that because I was interested in the possibility, even though I may come to rue my choice in a few months. It isn't because of the money. Were it to be solely for the money, I would have taken my cushier, safe first job offer, which has far better hours, and identical compensation for the first year at least. But I know I would have regretted it if I hadn't gone for my current job, even if it turns out to be far worse than my worst nightmares. I'd rather embrace the unknown than spend forever wondering: "What if?"

I don't even know why I'm justifying what I choose to do. Maybe it's because I'm more sensitive to criticism (implied or otherwise). Also, because I think it's really strange how everyone I know (for now) refer to non-banking people as "normal" people. We'd say: "Oh I went out with some friends. With normal people, not in banking." And of course how this male co-worker of mine said he wouldn't want to date a girl in banking because she would be over-ambitious or intense - but that's another story for another time.

But the thing is, I think we're all normal people. We just happen to be maybe a little bit more impatient, and want to take the quickest and most intense route to get to where we want to go.

sources:
[1] London Facts


[2] CIA World Factbook


[3] UK Statistics

Enough is enough

There are times when I really can't stand older Y-chromosome-carriers. Guys who are 2, 4, or 8 years older than I am are inflicted by this I-am-older-than-you-therefore-know-more syndrome.

They patronise me. Think I'm talking out of my ass. Brush what I say aside. Tell me: "You don't know anything" or "It's different from what you think. I know because I'm: 1) older, 2) working, 3) speaking from experience." Or they call me a liar by saying: "No, I don't think you'll actually do that." Fucking BULLshit. If I say something, I am definitely thinking seriously about doing it.

Times like this, I get so frustrated that I wish time could speed up so I can just Fucking SHOW them. But I don't actually want to grow older at a faster rate. I want to enjoy and savour every moment of my life. I don't want to get old and wrinkly just because of a bunch of random guys at different points in my life, who may have issues of their own. But the fact is, I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder about stupid idiotic males who think they know it all. And yet I don't want to spend all of my life being angry, and wanting to Prove things to skeptics. The world will never be short of skeptics who take joy in deriding other people.

You know what? Yes, You might be older. But so fucking what? It just means you have less time in life to play with. Your time is running out, your tape is running down. Yes I'm growing older. Yes in the long run we're all dead. But just because you've used up more of your Life Time, doesn't mean I'm not going to live my life to the fullest in My own way, My own time. Just because You have had your experiences, doesn't mean my experience will be the same as yours. Doesn't mean that I won't have pulled through on what I said I wanted to, or will do.

My choice is my own. Yes there are times when I'm terrified. When I think I will be miserable. But you know what? I chose that. I want to experience the full range of emotions and life experiences. This is what I chose for now. This is the next piece in the great jigsaw puzzle that is my life. I have a picture of how it looks like in my mind.

I used to prefer guys At Least 2 years older than me. But now I'm beginning to think that all the stupid guys out in the world think they're just oh so smart and wise. There's definitely something to be said for guys my age or just a year older.

Alternatively, I could just forget they exist at all.

A bobbing buoy in the sea

Am happy for now. Enjoying 'work' and colleagues. As happy as during old relationship. Am laughing so much.

(I wrote a long post, which really was too wordy anyway. Blogger spared you guys by blinking on me.)

Random rubbish

T minus 3 weeks to the end of my training and to my actual work Work start date, and already I reach home past 11pm. What's more, when I left the office, there were still loads of people there - about 30 odd people out of a Class of 90+.

I was so amused at the whole idea of the bunch of us clowns staying back late During training, when we all know Full Well, that once we join our teams, we'd never leave workplace before midnight, very amusing, and so I decided to make an ass of myself, and take some random photos of people working.

Unfortunately, the photos can't be published in order to protect the identity of the innocent.

The latest (and last) Friday fun fact

This is probably the last of my Friday fun facts. The reality is, I'm actually getting bored with my colleagues' continually surprising antics. I now Expect outrageous behaviour that would be Scenario #5271 in "Inappropriate Work-Place Behaviour". What would be news-worthy instead, is if no one oversteps the bounds of common sense.

So, this Friday's fun fact, was that two co-workers fell down on the dance floor at the first party of the night. A wine glass smashed. A female co-worker was on flat her back, an Engaged male colleague was prostrate across her full length, squirming and greedily devouring her mouth, even in that horizontal position on the relatively empty floor, in full view of the entire room.

I found the sight extremely disturbing and off-putting. He had a fiancee, yet he was on the floor, squirming like a swimming frog trying to escape enemy clutches, or like a man dying of thirst, struggling to sip water from a puddle in the ground.

Whatever.

My way

I just found out today that except for me, all the Asians hired for the London office of my firm intend to return to Asian in a few years.

I'm almost beginning to wonder what is wrong with me. Why do all the other Asians want to go back? Is there something inherently unAsian/disloyal/unfilial/unnatural about me? Why is it that I lack that calling of my roots to return to the motherland?

The only other fellow countryman of mine in my class of analysts asked me today when I was next planning to return home. I was caught.

I hate it when people ask me when I intend to visit my homeland again, or when I intend to return to Asia. I feel trapped by the question. It seems like I ought to give the standard reply: "I'll visit at the end of the year." or "Within the next 5 years."

People rarely expect me to looked alarmed, and awkwardly hem and haw: "Erm... not before next next year?? *I get a blank stare*... Well.. at least not before summer you know. Difficult to take leave. That makes it next next year." or "Erm... definitely not within the next 10 years. But probably not for the rest of my life. *I get a blank stare* Erm... except maybe to retire you know..?"

Then follows the inevitable "Why?"

I often find it difficult to justify my desire to stay out of Asia, or at least out of the two countries that I refer to as 'home'.

The reason I often end up giving is that I've spent almost 20 years of my life in Asia, it's kind of boring by now, so I want to spend many many years of my life seeing the rest of the world - the world is so big, there's so much more to explore. And that's why I don't want to go back any. time. soon.

I'm not good at giving explanations. I am not good at putting across my feelings into words. My feelings are all a jumble. All I know is what I feel. If you probe, I will only be able to give you an approximate answer. If you probe further, and I peel off another layer ("My mind is an onion.") and give you a reason closer to the core. So if you ask me the same question five times, I may very well give you five different answers. Not because I am lying, or I am twisting my words. But because I myself am finding out a little bit more of the reason each time you ask me the question, and I am forced to analyse my feelings more deeply.

All I know, is that I want to roam further afield from home for a long while yet. I am not completely against all of Asia though. I would very much like to spend some time in China, for example.

One reason I can perhaps give, is that, away from Asia, I am closer to my dreams. I feel that the things I want to do, places I want to go, are nearer at hand. Given my experience growing up there, I am afraid that if I return to the two countries that have shaped me, my dreams will be stifled, like a stillborn child.

Abroad, there is more scope to choose what you want to do, who you want to be in life. I like that freedom, that I feel is lacking back home.

It is the same reason why people from hick towns migrate to cities. Why people from the heart of middle-America move to New York City, Los Angeles. Why people from Mexico cross the American border. The metropolises are like huge airport terminals, or ports. They are the Gateway to Dreams.

People with dreams flock to these huge cities, clutching their little tickets printed with their destinations, and look for the ship to board, that will bring them to their promised land. The cities are like living organisms that seeth with masses of little people, and heave under the burden of their dreams.

Some people board their ship of dreams. Others get on the wrong ship, then maybe try, successfully or not, to turn back. Others change their destination. Some are pushed, shoved, and are trampled underfoot by the continuing waves of humanity, all pushing forward.

Okay.. so this piece started with me asking why I am different from the other Asians I know in respect to returning home, and ended with a completely tangential discourse on migration and/or dreams. Hmmmm...

Unusually enough, for a headstrong girl like me, I am feeling guilt, almost shame, at being different from the rest. I feel like there is an invisible being reproaching me. But maybe really, I am not so different. I just haven't found/met someone like me, who will understand, whose hand I can grab and can squeal with joy: "Yes, me too! Exactly!"

But my guilt, and the fact that most people I know probably think I'm illogical, insane, or just really full of shit (Why is she being so unreasonable in refusing to go back anyway??), aren't going to change anything. I am still going to follow the calling of my heart. And so for now, I am staying out of my two home countries.

Colour my world

I'd like to say how much Blogspot ROcks. Whoo-Hoo!!!

Why??

Because it allows me to host images free (see below). And for that, I'd like to blow air kisses to which ever kind soul(s) who made this possible.

For my inaugural image(s), I have chosen a series of snapshots taken in a Safeway in San Francisco, which is appropriate on so many levels.

A simple image, but one that I like very much.

I liked the colours, and the fact that they are one, yet two. There's also something very cosy about the picture, it feels like the two groups are cuddling up together, like a family. - Do you get that feeling too?

Again I wanted to capture the colours, but the effect wasn't as dramatic.

If I had were to give the picture a title, it would probably be: "Abundance": fruits spilling out abundantly from barrels.

I framed the picture to give the impression of sewer pipes pouring forth (fruits in this case) into a drainage system. A bizarre idea perhaps, given that I was in grocery store, and fruit generally bring the idea of freshness to mind.

Choice.

Playing with composition.

Again playing with composition.

Friday night fever

Time: Friday night
Location: A nightclub in London
Cast: Co-workers

As I made my way across the dance floor, and slipped past a few co-workers, I blinked: there was a male colleague with his jeans unzipped to reveal a pair of blue checkered boxers. I looked up. It was a colleague that I had never spoken to before. But I raised my eyebrows questioningly and threw him a quizzical look, only to have him smile back at me good-naturedly.

Somewhat bewildered but extremely amused, I laughingly put it down to Italian craziness.

A while later, I come across another male co-worker in the process of zipping up his jeans, right in the middle of the dance floor.

Two in a row was too much for my curiosity, so I asked a female colleague: "What's up with all this underwear flashing?"

She was shaking her head and smiling when she said: "Ohh nooooo... it's much worse than underwear flashing. [gesturing] Those three are comparing to see who is more shaven [points] down there. [pointing at one guy] He's the winner."

I looked up the the guy she pointed at, who had an easy smile on his face. I shook my head, covered my ears, and laughing replied: "That's too much information!" and walked away, entirely amazed, but in a good, funny way.

I can't believe the things I'm hearing and witnessing. Just two weeks ago, I might have been flabbergasted and scandalised by such shocking behaviour. But now, I just think it's crazy hilarious. I have to bow down to the genius of their inventive wackiness.

Who would have thought that I'd be working with such a bunch of clowns? I have to shake my head and laugh every time I think of it. But right now I'm glad I'm going to spend my long long hours in the company of people who know how to have fun.

A couple of weeks ago, I was scandalised at the behaviour of some co-workers at a club. But since then I've realised that there was a reason behind it. The girl involved had just broken up with her boyfriend, and presumably was in some kind of weird rebound warped zone.

This time round, I saw many guys just dicking around with each other, dancing pseudo-provocatively with fellow males in a joking manner. So I'm beginning to realise that it's all just good-natured fun and games with them. Because I know these guys are 100% straight. They are merely confident of their sexuality, and very much just boys having a laugh.

Also, I'm beginning to realise that many of these folks are really decent guys (and girls too). My comfort zone of acceptable behaviour was just somewhat narrower than some of theirs. But with time, interaction, and observation, I'm seeing that there is diversity in the values, and social behaviour of those brought up in the West too, and I'm less label behaviours as scandalous, or to feel a cultural gap between me and me other colleagues.

I did however, ask a co-worker today, if the semi-flashing behaviour was a common occurrence here in the UK. He was like: "No. Erm... well sometimes... maybe... hmmm.. nah not really. No." So apparently such behaviour is still considered outrageous here.

All in all, it was an interesting night. I almost can't wait for the weekend, to see what new stories another Friday night will bring.

Another way?

As a person who always thinks she knows best, it is very difficult for me to stand aside (袖手旁观) when I see people make choices which I think are wrong.

But I guess everybody is master of their own fate and life, and ultimately it is up to them to choices that face them in life.

So it is not up to me to judge them.

But it is rarely my intention to judge. I just want what I think is best for them. I want them to be happy. But it is none of my business. To each her own burdens and crosses. And to each her own way.

All I have to learn to do then, is to keep emotional distance. I have to learn to stop caring about random things, people, who I encounter in this long road of life. Passing faces in a sea of millions.

Besides, I'm confused too.

So maybe their way is valid.

***

In other news:
- My internet connection has been down for a couple of days. But now that it's up again, I want to write about the things that have happened over the past few days. I have so much to say.

I had a dream early this morning.

It was about The Boy (my erm.. Ex, so to speak).

It was dark. Somehow we met. Or did I see/meet his current girlfriend first? In the dream, two years have passed since we broke up, or was it since we last spoke? Because in reality.. Ahhh... I just realised why I may be having this dream. It could be because, in reality, the third anniversary of our break-up is coming up: August 6.

So we spoke. It was awkward at first. Both of us starting and stopping, not knowing where to start, what to say, uncertain what is appropriate, perhaps not wanting to hurt the other party further. - How that reminds me of our real-life interaction indeed. Not always of course, but sometimes, after a fight.

I think I was with someone too. Or at least I have the impression that I had something to apologise for, to explain.

Haltingly, we both explained why we were with someone else, what had happened in the tumultuous period before during and after our break up, what happened since then.

An unspoken moment passed between us. We were to overlook what had transpired to us since the day we broke up until today. We were to find a way to forgive, forget, achieve closure, and maybe start anew. Maybe not as lovers, but as two people who care deeply for each other, or who have shared much together.

But in reality, I doubt that will happen. The boy I knew was surprisingly unforgiving, and dismissive. And from what I gather, he only has bad memories of our times together.

I wish though, that it wasn't like that. I wish we could talk and be normal people. I sometimes wonder where he is, what he's doing. And sometimes it stings to know that every other random person on the street knows more about him, his whereabouts, than I do.

When the boy heard that in my younger days I used to write letters addressed to myself 10 years in future, he wrote one to me too, but addressed to myself 5 years in the future, just so I would read his letter before I read a single one of mine.

I am due to read his letter next year, on my 23rd birthday.

I wonder if he knew we would break up. I'm sure he would have thought of the possibility. Would he have had a contingency plan? Would he have said for us to meet again, talk?

Time will tell.

Adventures of Blender

In the bid to start a healthy (fruitful?) lifestyle, I had asked my parents to bring over a blender for me. My intentions were to blend fruit with yoghurt for a nutritious breakfast filled with fibre and vitamins.

Thus, about half an hour ago, I decided to have a go at blending bananas and strawberries with natural yoghurt for my breakfast tomorrow.

I set up the blender, sliced the bananas, rinsed the strawberries, scooped a couple of spoonfuls of yoghurt, and then peered into the blender: Hmmm... where do all the things go??

I had never used a blender before, and didn't know the mechanics of it. Still, I figured it would be self-evident enough: plug in the blender, throw the sliced foodstuff in (I've heard that some form of liquid is also necessary??), press some button, and hey presto, it's good to go!

And, ever eager to escape my books (I have a regulatory exam that I should be studying for), I was tingling with excitement at the prospect of a new experience and kitchen adventure. Wheee....

But as I peered down into the blender, and realised that I had No clue whatsoever how to operate this contraption, I was thinking that this was more of an adventure than I had bargained for.

I conjectured that logically, the fruits et cetera should go into that cylinder in the centre, with the blender blades at the bottom. Down went the banana slices, strawberries, and yoghurt. On went the lid. Half-wincing, mentally preparing myself for the jarring sound as the blender roars to life, I hit the "Slow" button.

Nothing.

What an anti-climax.

I pushed the plug further in. Switched the blender on and off several times. Removed the blender jug and examined the bottom: had I placed the jug in correctly? Placed it backed and jiggled it around.

No response.

I frowned at the recalcitrant blender. Then did the only thing I could think of: "Hey [my temporary housemate's name]... Do you know how to use a blender by any chance??"

Thankfully, it seems like most of the world is more well-versed in culinary matters than I am. She jiggled the parts for a bit, then diagnosed the problem: I had to turn the blender jug more thoroughly so that it would fit properly in its place and wouldn't fall out. Right.

Except for the strawberries getting stuck halfway through, the blending proceeded fairly uneventfully. I was quite enraptured by the slowly rising level of the banana-strawberry-yoghurt liquid in the jug though. Pale yellow with red bleeding in as the strawberries got blended. It's like magic!

But when I tried to pour the stuff out into a cup, *Boom* the cap fell off and pink goo slopped all over the floor and splattered some of the cupboards. Definitely waaayy more trouble than expected. The stuff didn't taste too hot either. But hey, I never said I was a cook.

Pictures here.

"I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion"

I liked the book "On the Road" very much, back in my A-level days when I read it. I remember starting off quite disconcerted by Keruoac's writing style, which I found slightly yawn-inducing.

But as I read on, I ended up being very excited about it. Inside, I was jumping up and down like some crazed rabbit high on drugs. Some of it spoke to me, of me. The solution it seemed, was to get on the road, get moving. And I wanted to jump up and take off into the wild unknown at once.

I want so much to write. But I find that I write, then choose not to post it. Or take it down after a while. I feel like a sputtering engine: start - stop - start - stop.

I want to say everything and nothing. There are times when I want to say: "I wish someone would pull the plug." But I don't want to whine. Don't want to sit here and wallow in self-pity. Don't want to admit how lost I feel. After all, no one likes a depressive girl.

Also, I believe in the power of the mind. I believe that we can affect, if not create, reality. Yes, cornily enough, I believe in the power of positive and negative thinking. I believe that if you believe in something long enough, determinedly enough, it will happen. Many things boil down to a mental condition.

And that is why, I don't wish to dwell on my unhappiness. I don't wish to dwell on my confusion and internal noise. I'm afraid that if I obsess about it too much, I shall spiral downwards into a dark place.

I want to be happy crappy clappy. I want to radiate joy, energy and exuberance. I want to be in love with the world. So I'm thinking that if I don't talk about it, the problem will go away. After this post, if I can't write about something positive, I will not write at all.

Honestly, in real life, I'm not always like that. Well, I am rather numb at the moment, even in real life. But I have not always been like that. I am not always like that. I actually know how to laugh and smile.

But for now, this quote from "On the Road" best describes my condition:
- "... I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion."