It's Tuesday, November 18, 2003, 11:14 p.m. Stop Bush Today I attended the Emergency (or was it 'Extraordinary'?) Union General Meeting (UGM) to vote on the motion "Reclaim LSE for Peace Teach-In/Sit-In". It was the first time I had ever attended the UGM. In three years. Imagine that. And LSE has the most active UGM in the whole of the UK. I saw this first year Malaysian guy there and asked him: "So do you come often?" And he was like: "This is my second one." I sheepishly admitted: "This is my first." And he was like: "And you're a third year?" Heh... oops. But then, they used to have really crappy and pointless motions just for the sake of holding the weekly UGM. (I think…) This year though, they've had at least 2 meaningful motions. One was on the motion to oppose the building of a wall in West Bank. Apparently people had to be turned away at the door for that UGM. I didn’t hear about that one until it was over and reported in The Beaver. Another one was today’s one. I had just left Old Theatre after Commercial Law and was on Houghton Street when a girl shoved a leaflet at me. As is my wont, I declined it and walked past. Just as I was doing that, what the girl was saying drifted into my consciousness: “…protest… George Bush…”. Being anti-Bush, I almost turned back, but was too lazy in the end. The second time I walked by, I took the leaflet handed to me. – I wanted to at least know what was going on. It was an 11 am meeting (it was already past 11)… but I didn’t really feel like attending the UGM alone, so I headed to S169 to use the net. Then Xinmin MSN-ed me a quote from an article from the Independent: “Ten thousand more police officers have been drafted in amid rising concerns about the threat from terrorists and the scale of anti-war demonstrations. That brings to 16,000 the number of policemen and women who will be deployed during the four-day trip. The bill will run to at least £7m, and the British taxpayer will pay for it.” £7m!!! No way. I am a British tax-payer (a very minor one right now) and will be a bigger contributer in the near future. To protect the war-mongering, divisive, deficit-creating Republican (!!) Bush!!! I was like: "Xinmin. There's a UGM to protest against Bush. You wanna go? Let's go." And she was up for it. Yay!! :) I wasn’t protesting against the war per se. Because I am a staunch Blairite. If Blair says we go to war, we go to war (yes… I’m one of those cult-of-personality people. But I generally like Labour and Democrats anyway), although I won’t support any further action against say, Iran. - I don’t want to hurt Blair, and this demonstration will hurt him, but I really cannot abide Bush. And him spending other people’s money to protect him, while putting London at risk of terrorist attack… The UGM was very interesting. Many of the people there were ex-Passfielders.. Someone challenged the validity of the UGM by calling for quoracy (I had to search the Web to find out the meaning of ‘quoracy’. “Quorum” means the number of people neeeded at any democratic forum in order for it to be able to make valid decisions. When people call for a quoracy count and the meeting is found to be inquorate, then no decisions made are valid). We had to raise our LSE cards to be counted, and to vote on the motion. The motion was passed by 100 over (I can’t remember if it was 132 or 156) to 6. All in all, it was a good experience. Again, I should have been more pro-active as a student. I can’t believe I have spent three years in a cloud of apathy in London. There are so many groups, each with their own cause. And LSE used to be famous for left-wing radicalism. But in my three years at LSE, I was blinkered, and all I cared about was banking and getting a job. LSE is truly becoming more a university for bankers and consultants than anything else, which is not altogether healthy, though it is certainly helpful for those with career-aspirations that incline that way, myself included. But this is not maximising university life, especially UK and London and LSE university life. Ah… if I were a postgraduate student… But then the life of a post-grad is different. Post-grads are supposed to walk around in their own intellectual clouds and not be embroiled in politics and causes. And anyway, I reckon I’ll be a broke post-grad who has to spend time teaching classes (if I even do well enough to get a class) and grading assignments. So I won’t be able to stuff anyway. Urgh. – Not like I even have a post-grad position, or any concrete plans to pursue that in the near future anyway. So… ‘nuff said about that for now. There’s going to be National Anti-Bush demonstration on Thirsday, 20th of November. I’m thinking whether I want to go. On one hand, the size of demonstration might be used as ammunition against Blair. On the other hand, I’m just one person. And this should be quite an interesting event. They are estimating up to 100,000 demonstrators… and they almost refused to allow the demonstration to march down Whitehall, past the Parliament. I want to take pictures from the midst of demonstration. "National Anti-Bush Demonstration. LSE contingent assemble Houghton Street 2pm, Thursday 20 November" Hmm… to go or not to go??

It's Tuesday, November 18, 2003, 02:12 a.m. mortality I think I am very fortunate, that Death has never touched my life. Or in any case, on the very few occasions which it tangentially brushed my life, I remained unaffected. I never expected Death to touch my life anyway. Because I am young, and the people I know are young. And death is something that happens to old people. Youth is glorious, free, reckless and immune from Death. Youth is supposed to be a charm against the Grim Reaper. – Isn’t it? It always seems more tragic when someone young passes away. Is it because she hasn’t had the chance to live a full life yet? Or that one mourns the potential of a young life with boundless possibilities, brutally cut off? Is it because it is utterly unexpected? Or because it is the most frightening reminder of human frailty and mortality, of our powerlessness against cruel, unknowable Fate, that Death can strike down immortal youth? I don’t know. I doubt Death can ever be easy to bear. But I do believe that some are harder to bear than others. A parent should never ever have to see his/her child off. And when it is unexpected, I think it is all the worse, because there is no mental preparation. And sometimes, it can change the lives of those left behind forever. How about those who are well-prepared for death? If one has terminally ill child. Can one actually say it is better? To see a loved one in pain, wasting away. Is one ever really ‘prepared’ for death? I don’t know. And it is unfair to pass judgement on what kinds of deaths are “easier” to cope with. It is only someone untouched by Death like me, who can be callous enough to think that some deaths are worse than others. Death is always someone’s personal hell. Someone always gets hurt. I can only be selfish then, and pray that it doesn’t affect people I care for. I really hope that their lives will be untouched by death for a long while yet, so that they can still remain innocent. And I wish for love, strength, courage and peace for those who have encountered him, or stared him in the face. There is just too much pain in this world.

It's Monday, November 17, 2003, 02:10 a.m. What is love? Love is... wanting to be a better person. And I recall something Jack Nicholson's character said in "As Good As It Gets": Jack Nicholson (Melvin Udall): I've got a really great compliment for you, and its true. Helen Hunt (Carol Connelly): I'm so afraid you're about to say something awful. Jack Nicholson (Melvin Udall): Don't be pessimistic, it's not your style. Anyway, here goes: I've got this, what, ailment. Now, my doctor, this shrink I used to go to all the time, says that in fifty to sixty percent of cases, a pill really helps. I HATE pills, hate them. I'm using the word "hate" about pills. Anyway, my compliment to you is the night after you came over and said that you would never . . . well, you were there, you know what you said. Anyway, the very next morning, I started taking the pills. Helen Hunt (Carol): I don't quite get how that's a compliment for me. Jack Nicholson (Melvin): You make me want to be a better man. That is what love is. Footnotes: Source of this quote: http://www.fiftiesweb.com/movies/as-good.htm More "As Good As It Gets" quotes here at a private website, and from atlyrics.com.

It's Sunday, November 16, 2003, 01:58 a.m. How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand? Xinmin recently emailed me an article, entitled: "Young, successful - and in search of a dream". She thought that it was something I should read, since I will be heading into the working world soon. I quote from it: "...I am slowly realising that the achievements I have been chasing are, perhaps, a chimera. I have sought and yearned for success, when perhaps what I should have been looking for was happiness, or meaning in life. This is the dilemma that the youth in Singapore face - we cannot reconcile our apparent success with our gnawing dissatisfaction with life, and nobody can tell us why. What we suffer from is a crisis of the soul. Young Singaporeans are getting lost in a world in which our worth as human beings is tied to our material, social and physical successes. However, as we look behind these successes, we often find the faded vestiges of what once were our dreams. Thus, our life's purpose has been drowned in the ocean of practicality." I have always perhaps been more idealistic than most. Less inclined to practicality, and more towards chasing moonbeams. And the trouble with me is, I don't have a strong passion for very few things, which I can then concentrate all my efforts on doing/achieving. Instead, my passion is diffuse and all-encompassing. I like most forms of art (fine art, performing arts, books and literature), but I'm also an outdoors person. And I'm game to try almost everything at least once. - I'd like to learn so many things in life, to do it all... I'd like to learn to play many instruments, speak a couple of languages... I'd like to do research in the Amazon forest some day, I'd like to do marine biology research too, I'd like to climb a few mountains, now I'm eager to bike-travel, there are so many places I'd like to see and visit... the Grand Canyons, many waterfalls (Victoria, Angel, Niagara), many things I'd like to learn (skateboarding, sailing, scuba-diving). My ultimate fantasy is to travel around the world, doing things I like, taking up whatever I happen to fancy at the time, follow unexpected paths that I come across. I am too keen about too many things. Mostly I despair of achieving everything in one lifetime. I generally console myself by saying that whatever I don't choose in this lifetime (eg becoming a doctor), I will do in another life. But I just really wish that we could remember more than one lifetime (if there is such thing as reincarnation, and death is just not an endless void, khattam shud.). But asides from being more idealistic than most, I also think I am more conformist than most. I knuckle down to societal pressure to get a good/fancy/stable job, and am following the Singapore Plan (with reference to Colin Goh's article), with my eyes wide open. No, I am not one of the conditioned masses who believe that attaining the 5 Cs: Career, Credit Card, Condo, Car, and Club, is the ultimate goal in life that will bring happiness. Or perhaps some people out there are not conditioned by society, but are genuinely contented with a comfortable, affluent lifestyle. But neither am I one of them. Most people would say I'm just a perverse, trouble-stirring, restless, discontented, ungrateful little soul. Maybe I am. But the fact is, I don't buy into the Singapore Plan, yet I'm following it. And that is why I despise myself sometimes. For being dishonest. If I were following the Plan out of delusion, then I am pardonable, because I am just dumb. If I am one of those enviable fortunate people for whom Plan=Dream, then kudos to me, cos I am pursuing my dream, which happens to be the benchmark, hailed by all as the ideal state of affairs. But things being as they stand, I'm just being a spineless coward. I don't understand... why can't I just be like everyone else? Why can't I be happy with the Plan? Why is my hero Jason Shearer? A musician-drifter who collects homes, and follows his nose, whichever path that takes him down. Why do I see the person I could have been, and want to be, in him? And hence fervently wished him all the best in his life, that he may find peace. To me, if he finds peace and happiness in life, it would be all worth while for me. It was as if I lived through him. If he could find happiness, then there was hope for me. Then in another parallel universe, I would have been happy too. I always tell myself that I am not being cowardly. I am fulfilling my responsibilities as an only child. And that comes before everything else in life. I wish I was a better daughter to my parents. I wish I spent more time at home with them. But I have been away for so long, and independent for so long. Even before I was seven, I remember my dad used to exhort me to be independent. He used to be so proud of my independence. And so I grew up thinking it was a good thing. - Is it, really? Maybe that streak of independence, so carefully cultivated from early childhood, is what makes me long for the life of a drifter. That is the ultimate freedom. A life with no strings attached, no one to answer to, to one to care for, no one to love, miss and mourn. A life without burdens, lighter than air. And so I tell myself that I will live a conventional life. I will pursue a conventional, moderately prestigious career, to give my parents their well-deserved braggin rights. And it is for my own good anyway. After all, if I followed my heart, when I'm 40 and up to my neck in mortgage and debt, my life up till then would not have seemed a very wise path. Recently I've become interested in pursuing the life of academia. Or at least further studies and research... either into industrial economics (which I've been highly enthused about since Year 1, just like *that* *snaps fingers*, for no apparent reason), or development economics, or even possibly finance. I'd like to do some research work and perhaps work in the UN, or some inter-governmental organisation... an organisation that encompasses something wider than just a country, which will make a difference to the world we live in. I don't want to spend all my life as a banker. It has no meaning. I'm not a money addict after all. To me, money has always been a means to an end. A way of buying my freedom. I can still differentiate success (money) from happiness (meaning in life) right now. I want to live as deeply in this world, and experience it as fully as I can. And I want to make a difference to this beautiful, fragile world I was born into as well. I have always been a bit of a Pollyanna in that way (*wince*). As I grow older, my idealist-dreamer self becomes increasingly incongruous with the world at large. It is distinctly uncool to want to make a difference, to be motivated by things other than money and prestige, to have principles, and want to do the right thing. Especially in the banking world, where competitiveness and cynicism (although my schizoid alter-ego is sometimes highly competitive, always ambitious, rather ruthless and seriously cynical) are the sword and shield, and proudly-won battle scars, that act as a fortress against the world. I don't know how to reconcile my two halves. The human, caring, do-gooder, annoying (yes sometimes I think I am being TOO Anne of Green Gables, it's almost cloying, even if I know I'm being really sincere and earnest. Or perhaps more so.), uncool and unambitious side of me; and the ruthless, cool-headed, focused, jungle and rational side of me (this part wants to become a CEO one day). I just hope that the City doesn't consume me and devour the kinder half. Although success in the City will perhaps require a measure of ruthlessness. Hopefully relatively less political atmosphere of UBS will help preserve me, and I will survive the jungle. I guess I'll just take a step at a time. No use worrying too far ahead. And wondering painstakingly what path to choose (CEO or UN), because sometimes it really depends on what opportunities come up. On the other hand, I am a deep believer in the power of the will. And I believe that being prepared for the future, and setting up your plans will greatly help. Deciding on what you're aiming for will shift the cosmos and bring you one step closer to the dream. So, one must always focus. But perhaps now I should really just relax and chill and let go. That is something I find really difficult to do though, to live in the moment. My great joy in life is planning ahead, or else living in the past. Baaddd... I hope I will be able to fulfill my little girl dream and do all the things I want to do before I die. Otherwise, I hope I learn to focus and like only a few things, or find a simpler dream that will keep me happy. But most fundamentally, I hope I will always always have a deep passion for life, and pursue my dreams tirelessly, even if I seem to have hit a wall and made no progress for some time. "Climb ev'ry mountain Search high and low Follow ev'ry by-way Every path you know Climb ev'ry mountain Ford ev'ry stream Follow ev'ry rainbow 'Till you find your dream A dream that will need All the love you can give Everyday of your life For as long as you live Climb ev'ry mountain Ford ev'ry stream Follow ev'ry rainbow 'Till you find your dream" Postscript: But right now I must seize the day and make some headway on the things I want to do before I die, for time flies! ( Among other things, I should just sit my ass down and do work, instead of rambling on and on)

It's Saturday, November 15, 2003, 02:01 a.m. A day in the life... Today (Friday) after the 320 lecture, I blithely cut my Development Econs class, and went to Chinatown with Xinmin and Mai, my ex-housemates, to have a late-lunch/early dinner. Mai did some grocery shopping in Loon Foong and Si4 He2. Then Xinmin and I ate duck rice at Jen's Cafe while Mai drank watermelon juice. She told us about some musings she wrote about our future paths (the four of us ex-housemates) the day after we had dinner at C&R some weeks ago. I was being ridiculous, talking through my poster tube.. and we talked about what were our next short to medium term plans. Went back to school thereafter to meet my current housemates. My entire household was in the Brunch Bowl, and all the girls were in a bit of a funk, although I guess I was in the best state, having no sudden, specific cause for emotional upheaval. It's not like I'm out of my general state of mild melancholy/depression/ennui. But I've gotten used to that dull feeling and it's all good. Came back home, watched the rest of 'Finding Nemo', then started downloading 'Kill Bill'. As a poor student, I need a cheap, or preferably free, source of entertainment. Since I have net access, I have decided that I shall download one movie after another to watch, then delete. It's something for me to do in my spare time, sitting in my tiny room in my cold house (literally. the kitchen and living rooms are freezing, although my room is kept warm by the finally-working heater). Then Leng Tuan (my current housemate) came back home. She bought the Lord of the Ring version of Risk, the ruthless game of world domination. We played one, not at all ruthless game together, during which we mainly attacked the neutral army. I have to be careful when playing Risk though. I can sometimes get really competitive at games, and Risk is one of those which I'll have a tendency to get super competitive over... After that, I checked mail, surfed the net, checked out a couple of blogs that I usually follow, then started cooking my midnight meal to last me till the next sundown. Tonight I have wheatgerm spaghetti with spaghetti sauce (tomato based), with stir-fried and peppered chestnut mushrooms, and melted cheddar cheese, with two fried eggs on the side. My brain still feels like it's at the point of exploding from lack of sleep. The pressure inside is pushing outwards against my skull. But I wanted to just write this anyway. A day I want to keep for remembrance, although it wasn't outstanding in itself. It's one of those funny sort of days.. significant in its ordinariness.

It's Friday, November 14, 2003, 12:00 a.m. What I did wrong, that I will do differently with my kids... Given that I am now an L-i-T (Lesbian-in-Training), in the highly unlikely event that I ever get married and have kids, I will: 1) Force my kids to learn math and be exceptionally good at it. So they can sleep, breathe and eat numbers, twist contort and manipulate equations into pretzels and back again, juggle multiple unknown variables and spit out the correct algebraic formulae. 2) Marry a mathmo who will force-feed my kids more and more math and sit down and teach them every single trick up his sleeve. ARGHHHH... math is the bane of my life, yet as essential to everything in the world as breathing. I hate equations, I hate differentiating and all the second order derivative, increasing decreasing function crap, concave and convex curve shit. At this moment, I hate Econs altogether!! Why wasn't I: 1) Born a mathematical genius? 2) Sent to a mathematical-genius-training school? 3) Endowed with a perennial math-genius as my Siamese twin? 4) Blessed with a mathematical genius forever life-partner who will have accompanied me from the cradle (since our baby cots were located next to each other at the hospital and our moms were best friends?)? WHY WHY WHY?!!!! Life is so unfair. [Friday, November 14, 2003, 01:21 p.m.] Postcript: - Heh... actually the industrial econs assignment wasn't that hard after all. Reading the textbook helped a lot (haha.. something basic I almost never ever do!)! ;p - I eventually stayed up till 2.30am with the classwork. Then ate instant noodles and watched 30 minutes of 'Finding Nemo' (Bruce the shark is really quite scary and very sharky-looking), before hitting the pillows. - So today I'm totally zonked out. Slept in my law class, half my AC320 (corporate finance) lecture. And now I'm too brain-dead to do my development econs assignment in my one hour break. The first time I'm not doing it since week 1. Feel quite bad. But it's a great record by my standards. So it's all good...

It's Wednesday, November 12, 2003, 12:58 p.m. Day 2 Jobless no more My net access conked out at home yesterday. Grr... wanted to write an entry last night, after I create a huge dent in my bank account by treating my entire household. The reason for the celebration was that I had been made a job offer. Yes, I did the unthinkable by giving up my Equity Sales offer to pursue my dream of IBD instead. I know that ultimately, selling is a fundamental, and one of the most critical skills for a successful career. You're either selling yourself, or a product, solution, idea, or your firm. It all boils down to building and maintaining relationships. Even in IB. But that is true at the higher level. The point was, I didn't want to be ONLY able to sell. And broking is a career, which you either go into it for life, or not at all, because the task you do is highly specialised. I do not want to spend my whole life broking, and IB would give me broader opportunities. So, I took the plunge. Almost by accident really. I had reconciled myself to taking up the job first, then finding a way out later, by taking an MBA after working a couple of years or something. But anyway... it has been tough, living in suspense, especially given my responsibilities. A new lease of life But now, all is good. Yesterday, the world seemed so beautiful all of a sudden. After ages of closing myself off to the outer world, and only concentrating on one point, my world burst open with vibrance. I felt like a newborn babe, and noticed every detail of my surroundings with crystal-like clarity. I feel like a rock has rolled off my chest, and I can breathe once more. Puasa I promised I'd fast for the rest of Ramadan if I get a job before Ramadan ended. So, I started yesterday. As luck would have it, the start of my fast had to coincide with the time of the month. So the first day was quite an experience, especially since I'm doing the whole thing.. no water and all. And, Farhan-style, I eat the night before instead of waking up early in the morning to eat. I felt slightly lightheaded towards the later part of yesterday afternoon. But I'm fortunate enough that I get to break the fast at 4.30pm here, because of the early sunset. I was ravenous and pigged out after 4.30. I decided to eat fish with 6 mozarella sticks (which tasted divine!!) at school. I am supposed to have restarted being vegetarian. But I reckoned that doing all three on the same day and first day would be too much. Besides, if I was going to go out to Chinatown to eat later that night, I was sure to eat meat. And I have lunch with my firm on Thursday, which would include meat as well. So I might as well eat fish. Later on at quarter to nine, I ate at Chinatown again, and I was stuffed after that, and my stomach felt queasy. I don't know whether it was because I stayed hungry the whole day, or because I over-ate after staying hungry the whole day. But I really have compassion for Muslims who have to fast, especially those in the equatorial regions. Or those in Australia right now. It's summer right now, and imagine the long hours *they* have to fast! *shudder* Day 2 seems slightly better though... Visited the temple In other news, I went to the London Fo Guang Temple, the only (I think) Buddhist temple in Central London. It's really weird. I've been to a temple 4 times in about 6 weeks maybe? Once many weeks ago (to this Fo Guang temple), then to a Hindu temple for Diwali, then last week to the Fo Guang temple again, then today. It seems like I'm almost turning religious or something. How bizarre. I'd be a lot more philosophical (I've been overflowing with thoughts I wanted to record down over the past two days), but I'm kinda hungry right now. And a bit sleepy too. So I'll write more tonight (with food in my stomach), if the net finally works again at home.

It's Thursday, November 6, 2003, 12:01 a.m. Hear hear! I came across a witty, incisive entry which I really liked by Diantha. Lest the page and entry get removed some other day (like Jeff Cotten did with one particular entry I liked), I have taken the liberty to reproduce the entry here, so that this piece of pottery will exist forever, independent of its sculptor's hand. And here it is: "_ _ _ Yo ho, yo ho a convent life for me... God, according to the popular portrayal, is a big floaty male thing which loves us all unconditionally, will never leave, will never fuck with our minds, will always forgive us, and will never ignore us. Yeah. Sounds like a crock of shit to me too. Mainly because all male things I've ever known have exhibited none of these qualities. The killer thing is that all through our lives, women are promised men like this. Prince Charming and Mr Right. It comes as an awful shock when all we meet is Prince Godawful and Mr terribly Wrong. Ladies, it is not us. It is them. Stop having faith that the gorilla-like mass you continually allow to grope your body will show signs of human decency. It will not happen. Or if it appears to, it is a fluke. It won't happen again. Hello, I'm Diantha, and I hate men. I have been a victim since birth, and the trend continues. What's funny is that even though I continue to attempt to guard myself, I'm ever so willing to have faith in yet another unworthy male. This must stop. I should just give up, realise that I can't shake this suicidal belief in a decent man and enter a convent." I hope she doesn't mind. But anyway, here her site is: http://diantha.pitas.com/

It's Wednesday, November 5, 2003, 12:35 p.m. this is london Tower Bridge reopens Tower Bridge finally reopened today, after being shut since Friday because of a man, dressed as Spiderman, who had climbed up a crane to protest for father's rights. Apparently, two other fathers, also part of the Fathers 4 Justice movement, dressed up as Batman and Robin, had previously climbed up the Royal Courts of Justice, just behind school. I don't see how the guy has furthered his cause, except to raise awareness that this campaign exists. And even then, for the first couple of days, I thought it was just a guy wanting to commit suicide. I doubt this actions have endeared him to anyone, especially not to residents living in the area, nor to tourists wanting to visit the Tower Bridge, nor to motorists who have had to take detours and who have been stuck in the resultant traffic jams, nor to Londoners whose movements have been affected by the fact that buses cannot cross the bridge. I find it entirely amazing that he has even been allowed to hold the Bridge hostage. Surely the inconvenience caused would only encourage a few reckless individuals to undertake demonstrations and further disrupt peoples' lives? I would have just ignored him, sealed off just a small area of the bridge and get on with business as usual. The scenario was mildly interesting when I had to go through St Katherine's Docks to cross the bridge on Halloween Friday. And I didn't really mind the inconvenience. To me it was a robust indication of the freedom of speech etc of the West, and only slightly inconvenient. But as the days went on, and the cordoned off area progressively expanded, I became a lot less tolerant and it has begun to be distinctly unamusing. I'm glad that Ken Livingstone has finally gotten the bridge reopened. ... then there was David Blaine ... who spent 44 days without food in a box on the other end of Tower Bridge from where I live. He too created a stir in this part of the world. Especially in the first few days, random passers-by would ask me: "Where is David Blaine?" After all the fuss, I actually made my across the Bridge to gawk at the spectacle once, one week-night. On weekends, the entire area was way too crowded for my taste. Until now, I don't actually know what point he was trying to make. I don't think he had any real point, or noble purpose rreally. It's just one of those things he does, just because. Like being buried alive in a coffin for seven days, and being buried in the ice for i don't know how long, and standing on top a pole for 48 hours... at least those are his escapades that I've heard mentioned. Postal strike Otherwise, in London town, there's a wildcat postal strike that has been on for over a week now. I think it's for a pay rise. Although apparently they had previously striked once for longer time to drink coffee and read the papers in the morning (!!!). Didn't anyone think to tell them that the solution to that is to drag their arses out of bed earlier in the morning, so they can spend the pre-dawn leisurely sipping their cuppa? Let's not leave out the firemen And I've heard that the firemen are planning to go on strike (again). Which means that the tube services will be disrupted (again), in addition to the signal failures that seem to beset the chronically unreliable Circle and District lines virtually every other day, and on top of the Central line being shut down last year because of a train derailing, not forgetting the closure of the Circle, District and Metropolitan line between Tower Hill and Baker Street on weekends and some weekdays for quite some time this summer-autumn due to works being done at Kings Cross. London town London is derelict, decrepit, dilapidated, and seems to be tottering on its last legs. The Economist has called, more than once, for London's infrastructure to be maintained and improved, and made threatening Doomsday-like predictions about the decline of London as an international city otherwise. But London seems to trudge on, silent, uncomplaining. London contributes significantly to the central government's budget, but gets little in return. The teachers and lecturers are underpaid, and I think many London civil servants are also severely underpaid relative to their counterparts in other parts of UK simply due to the high cost of living. Yet when these people go on strike, they ask for a blanket raise for all of their kind, which is unjustified. After all, what would a firemen in Strathclyde (or some other mountainous, sheep-populated wasteland) need with a wage rise? So he can buy more woolcoats? I think the government should increase the London pay for workers, not the main component of the pay. And I certainly London should get more of its share of the money. We're not a charity to feed all the other parts of the UK which are not pulling their weight. Yes London can subsidise other places, but only to a limited extent, and after its own needs are met. Surely that is reasonable? But I'm sure there are many eminent economists (many from the LSE) who are advising them. So why are more sensible measures not being implemented? Unless these are already the most sensible? The people of London Why don't more people complain about London's plight though? Why don't more people demand their rights? Maybe it's because this is a city of immigrants. So many people are just passing by. It's a city of students, who just knuckle down, take the bashing, sigh about the high cost of living, and fork out. Multi-cultural to the point of being identityless. It is a city of Indians (Wembley, Neasden and outer zones), Middle-Easterners (Edgeware Road etc..), Europeans (South Kensington is a French bastion)... some second or third generation immigrants beginning to settle down, some first generation (il?)legal immigrants trying to blend into the crowd and forge a new life, some (Eastern, Central and Western) Europeans also seeking greener pastures. All of whom either don't have the confidence, or courage to stand up for their rights, or else don't care enough to stand up for their rights. If one has a 'I'm just passing through' mentality and sees herself leaving soon, one is not apt to exert the effort to make a difference for those who will follow. And many of those who stay on work in the City. And the City is a city of Investment Bankers, Stock Brokers, Fund Managers, and Corporate Lawyers. Who get paid obscene amounts of money, such that they are insulated from the petty concerns that trouble hoi polloi. Tube strikes don't penetrate their rarefied universe. They take cabs. Although that is not always true. One of my bosses (a D) takes a bus to work. And so does the first year associate who interviewed me today. But anyway, I'm just taking the piss of course. The point is, these corporate types don't really care about London. They have enough money to at least keep the machinery that is their lives smoothly running, and to them, London is just a place that they are in to make the money. They don't intend to be here for the long haul. So again, why bother? And if they are in here for the long haul, then they're fucking loaded anyway. Though my big boss complained that the school system here is dismal and private schools are expensive. So the only people who care are the blue-collar workers. Or the teachers and poor academics. But academics, at least the ones at LSE, tend to continue teaching. Again, most of them tend to be foreign though, and perhaps less inclined to create trouble in foreign land. Besides, life of the academic is also insulated. Presumably they too move about in their own rarefied circles of wisdom, knowledge, and political savvy. And academics are also quite mobile. And the blue-collar workers who strike don't think about the transport system or infrastructure, because they, in a sense, *are* the infrastructure. They are an integral part in keeping the entire system up and running. And they want more food in their bellies. Hence the strikes for wage increases. Which unfortunately, are done through unions, which demand blanket increases which will increase their credibility and power (more workers will join), and don't give any consideration to what the government's budget constraint. And clearly, I'm talking way out of my depth cos I too am a poor, ignorant, first generation would-be immigrant university student. So what do I know or care? But I certainly hope something is done, and have to trust in Ken Livingstone. (Let me not even start on the issue of university top up fees!! *throws up hands* - the political difficulty of managing this country! the simplest and most pragmatic os solutions are opposed at every turn by different factions!) Til the next time, this is london.

It's Monday, November 3, 2003, 11:31 p.m. Entry number: 116 It's been more than a year since I joined Pitas. In fact, in a few months' time, I will celebrate my second anniversary on Pitas. But looking back over the past year and a half or so, I've only written about 115 entries, and that includes a couple of crappy 'testing' entries. Not counting the duplicate 'Spring for my Soul' entry the last month, this entry should be my 116th, if I'm not mistaken. And I'm of course not counting the entries I took off pitas impulsively when Kev complained long ago. So how has this Pita reflected my life? As a record of my life, it does dismally. Huge chunks of my life leave no trace on these virtual pages. Or at least, it seems like my revolves around dismally few themes... studies, exams, applying for internships, housing. Two years of my life have gone, the most crucial and exciting part of youth-and-young adulthood, and I have almost nothing to show for it. It's depressing that I read endless records of these few pathetic issues, which have so consumed me. Is that what life is for? Are we on this earth just to worry about a piece of paper with our grades? Are we on this earth to strive against our fellow students to get a glamorous-sounding job which will deprive us of sleep, saddle us with eyebags, and compensate us for our youth, energy, and life with just money, generous though it maybe, which will mostly be taxed away for the haemorrhaging NHS and other Gordon Brown projects? How did I transform into this alien, soulless, anti-social being? Since when did my ultimate dream consist of climbing up the infernal corporate ladder? Since when did virtually my ENTIRE social circle consist of people who want to become bankers or consultants? Or else whose feelings of self-worth are still measured by success at work, or some numerical scale of compensation. I have joined the vast, nameless, identical, faceless, sea of invisible people - hoi polloi. I feel positively physically ill. I have succumbed to mediocrity, to the bourgeois trap. The question is: Is this a function of being at the LSE? Or is it the function of being abroad and broke? Or is it simply a function of growing up? In which case my insidious morphing into Ms Hyde is as inexorable as the march to Death. Is this the price I have to pay for coming over here? Like dealing with the Devil, perhaps the price of overcoming almost-impossibility is too high. - Is it? The other day (a couple of months ago), I spoke to Kev. He said that going abroad has been good for me. I asked him: "How has it been good, please tell me? Because right now I can't see a single good thing about it." And he said:"You've grown. Still a duckweed. But bigger." Most of the time, I feel like Holly Golightly from "Breakfast at Tiffany's": "You know the terrible thing, Fred darling? I am still Lulamae. Fourteen years old, stealing turkey eggs and running through a briar patch. 'Cept now I call it 'having the mean reds.'" "No... the blues are because you're getting fat or because it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?" "I don't want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together. I'm not sure where that is, but I know what it's like. It's like Tiffany's." "If I could find a real life place to make me feel like Tiffany's, then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name." "I'm not Holly. I'm not Lulamae either. I don't know who I am. I'm like Cat here. We're a couple of no-name slobs. We belong to nobody and nobody belongs to us. We don't even belong to each other." That's how I feel. I know what Siew Wei means when she says "rather rootless". "Rather" because she's found a home. I understand perfectly the way it is. Jason once said he likes to say that he's in the business of collecting homes. That's the same for me. After being in the business of collecting homes for so long, everywhere is home, yet nowhere is truly home. Only once, or maybe I should say, at least once, I felt at home. The only home I truly felt I had in my 21 years of life. And that wasn't even mine, not in any concrete tangible way. And I was forcibly ejected from my only heart's home. Since then I've been running through a briar patch. Running for my life. Always running, never daring to stop. Looking for my Tiffany's, and a reason to buy furniture and give the cat a name. Will that day ever come for me? Or am I one of the desperately discontented? Maybe now, a directionless drifter, adrift in the turbulent seas, I long for a more sedentary life. But once I am still, I will long once more to run free. Who knows? I know one thing though. On one level I am ready to go home. Ready to put down my sword and build a home. But on the other hand, I don't see forever more in the little island that has taken me for so many years, and even less in the land which gave birth to me. On another level, as time passed, a split has torn me asunder. One half of me longs to return and misses home very much. Another half of me feels increasingly remote and detached from the land of skinny girls with rebonded hair in spaghetti straps and capri pants. And this part of me, though sometimes deeply longing for this particular 'home' of mine, is terrified of going back. Terrified of the memories that I am beginning to fear time will never efface from my mind. Or maybe it's just that my imagination has magnified my personal goblins into gargantuan proportions. But I reckon that staying here can't be as bad as it currently seems. After all, I need only to bury my head and slog my guts out for three years to buy my freedom. And then I will be free to pursue my dreams. And while going back 'home' seems tempting now, only because while I was there, I was not thus-burdened as I have been over the past three years, the fact is, even if I go home now, the burden will not disappear and it only means that I will take a longer time to pay the price of venturing into the wider world. My fantasy now is for Jason to come across the pond. It doesn't make any sense. For what can Jason do after all, but to remind me of what life could be? A life which most people find incredulous for me to aspire to. So perhaps it is better for me to soldier on alone after all. After three years of university, I will spend another three years alone working long hours and sleeping scarcely at all. I'm sure it is character-building. And then I will be 25. And that is time enough to throw off the shackles that have bound me for so many years and take someone's hand, knowing that at last, I have the freedom to go wherever I want, and do whatever I want. And maybe by then I will have earned my peace, and there will finally be a happily ever after for me.

It's Saturday, November 1, 2003, 09:47 p.m. Halloween Halloween Went to a Halloween party at No 3 Green Street last night. It was the first time I'd been to a party like this, and the first time I'd been to a Halloween party. Most of the people there actually made the effort to dress up. One guy had a knife handle sticking out of this forehead, and blood running down from it. City of London I think that everyone who stays on in London, no matter what degree course they do, whether it be economics, finance or engineering, wherever they're from, whether it be from cambridge or imperial, they all defect to banking. Someone at the party asked me: "So are you a banker too?" I'm beginning to wonder if anyone does anything else. Doesn't it get boring? Blogging I've also discovered a whole community of Singaporean bloggers at xanga.com. It seems like more and more people are spending more of their lives online. They live, love, rant and rave online. They even create online, publishing their music or pieces of writing on their blogs. Perhaps it's the 21st century mode of self-expression and communication. We're all seeking our own way to break free, to create a space of our own, to gain affirmation, and to perform before a wide, unseen audience. We all of us build walls around us, and so we need a place to vent, or we need support, from those around us, and those who we can't usually reach. Beverly Hills 90210 At the same time, people are increasingly becoming slavish "trend whores", to use a peculiarly acute term I came across in another's pita. Take the friendster phenomenon. It seems like the world is becoming more Beverly Hills 90210 every day. So maybe some people are just hopping on the blogging bandwagon because it's the "in" thing. Not that trend-following per se is necessarily a bad thing. But I get the impression that there is an increasing tendency to posing and upkeeping a cool image. I've been told that there is a place called myspace.com which is friendster and a blogspot combined. How scary is that? But not all sections of all communities are Beverly Hills 90210 I don't think. Wall of Silence I too, am stuck behind a wall of silence. There are things I can tell no one about, or at least things where there are none around who I can tell them to. And so I have another secret blog that I keep just for the times when I'm weak and I cry. And even then I write in code, so that none may recognise me should they ever happen to stumble across it. Perhaps that is the only thing I miss about having a relationship. I miss having someone to share my life with. I miss having someone I can absolutely trust and absolutely count on. I miss having someone I can cry to, I can tell all my problems to; someone I can tell all my joys to, the first person I want to share all the good things in life with, all the details and nitty gritty. Essentially, I miss having a best friend who just happens to have a dick. The dick is not really material though. It's the best friend bit which is more important. But a best friend with an exclusive contract, who you can count on not going off and losing his heart to another and leaving you high and dry. I don't want to have to be strong. But neither do I want to end up crying for someone, when that someone will never cry over me.