Tinker, Tailor

Since we’re on the topic of eyes (my eyes, not yours, hurhurhur)…

This was when I was still in the army doing National Service. We were in our second year, so there was almost no training at all, and we were practically left to our own devices, to do just about anything we wanted.

So most of the guys just slept. Sure they got up for breakfast (with some exceptions who skipped it), then went back to sleep, until lunch, then back to sleep again, until late afternoon, when they couldn’t sleep it any longer, so they played cards or watched TV and smoked.

Things got so sedentary that some of the guys even decided to go jogging or swimming in the evenings - totally unbelievable.

Oh yeah, my eyes.

Well, after breakfast, I wouldn’t go straight to bed - I’d read my book (surprise!).

Eventually, I realised that a couple of my platoon mates were reading as well. Inspired by me? Perhaps.

So it was one such typical lazy day as I was perusing the pages of some book when one of them interrupted me.

“Hey you know something?” he asked, with a dreamy smile on his face.

“Yeah?” I thought he just read something interesting.

“You have sexy eyes.”

“What??” No, he didn’t say that!

“You have sexy eyes!” Damn. He did say that!

The last thing I needed was a guy who sleeps only a few bunks away to hit on me. What if he did things to me when I was asleep at night?

My mind raced, analysing him and wondering if he fit in the homo, metro, or hetero category.

“I’m serious! You have sexy eyes!”

Shuddup already!

“What makes you say so?” Stay calm, dude. Stay calm.

“You have double eyelids, and your eyelids are half-closed, and…”

“THOSE ARE CALLED ‘SLEEPY EYES’!!”

“Okay. But they are sexy!”

“Yah lah yah lah! Okay don’t disturb me I wanna read!”

Of course I couldn’t read anymore. Especially when I could see from the corner of my eye that he was still gazing at my sexy sleepy eyes.

P.S. Some one else has informed me that I have dead and lifeless eyes. I shall wear my shades more often from now on.

First, someone thinks that I’m cold and distant and curt. Then just now, someone sends me an MMS:

To the moody one

She doesn’t even read my blog.

I swear there’s some conspiracy against me.

And I bet those cupcakes taste bad.

;)

Update:

I’ve been informed by more than one person that my eyes look cold.

Maybe it’s the aircon. Or maybe I should blink more.

I attended a workshop recently, so I managed to make a couple of friends.

During a recent MSN chat, one of them told me that I was “cold and distant and curt”.

me: curt i can imagine lah
me: but why do u say i’m cold/distant?

friend: you’re wat…at least during the workshop

me: in what way?
me: tell me leh, i’d like to know

friend: how you carry yourself..
friend: and glance at people

me: elaborate!

friend: was it an experiment you’re trying on people?

Wow she’s already thinking that I do experiments on people? Hmmm…

me: nope
me: not enough eye contact?

friend: not that…
friend: how you initiate a conversation lo…

me: how did i initiate conversation??

friend: curt remarks

me: during discussion? or when [the trainer] was speaking?

You see, I have this tendency to make smark-alecky comments when other people are presenting. My defense is that I can’t help it, and it helps enliven the class.

friend: when you begin speaking to anyone in general…
friend: was wondering if that’s a deliberate style
friend: or an unconscious one

me: ok.. is it..
me: i initiate a conversation with a politically-incorrect comment?

friend: eh maybe

me: then that would be my subconscious style

friend: arh…

me: meaning that i know that’s my style, but i like it that way

friend: but why?

me: it depends on the situation though

friend: not everyone can take it

me: because it sets the ‘atmosphere’?
me: i can’t think of the right word
me: i know not everyone can take it

friend: some can laugh at it/ you…it might turn others off mah..

me: thing is, i don’t wanna bother with pple who cant take that kinda style
me: as friends
me: people who are uptight, too worried about impressions, cannot loosen up
me: my style would repel them, and it’s deliberate
me: saves me a lot of time and heartache
me: in a professional situation it might be different

friend: hmmm…

Yup. So I’m “cold and distant and curt”

I got spammed by HR, and they’re selling red t-shirts for us to wear during some company event on the 8th of August.

They’re not even asking us to wear them - they’re just assuming that we will.

No thanks. No red t-shirt for me.

But first, I’ll need some excuses explanations, just in case…

1. I’m allergic to red dye.

2. I’m wearing red where it’s more intimate - like my underwear. (Note: this excuse should not be used with #1.)

3. What are you talking about - you mean this isn’t red? This is brown?? Ah shoot, that’s the problem with being colour-blind…

4. Brown is the new red.

5. Red is for blood. But when blood dries, guess what colour it becomes?

6. Sure it looks brown now, but it’s actually red under UV light.

7. Patriotism isn’t about what colour we wear - it’s about the heart.

8. Can’t you see I’m holding a red book? I’ll be reading this book for a few weeks, which makes me more patriotic than those who wear a red t-shirt for only one day.

9. I’m against communism. Better dead than red.

10.

Ugh… I’m gonna need some help for #10.

Imaginary conversation, inspired by real life events.

Carl: I’ve learnt to be adaptable to the situation. There are situations where it’s good to be more sensitive, more empathatic, and there are situations where it’s better to be more insensitive. I adjust accordingly.

Sam: I’m not comfortable about this “adapting to the situation” thing. I think you should be true to yourself, and not have to “adapt”.

Carl: I don’t buy this “being true to yourself” business.

Sam: Why not?

Carl: If I were true to myself, I’d beat you if I’m unhappy with you. I’d burp and fart loudly and pick my nose and roll up the snot and flick it at you. I’d pee and shit whenever I have the urge. Heck, I wouldn’t even be wearing clothes. The only time I was true to myself was when I was an infant!

Sam: Well that’s different…

Carl: When we learn something, we’re changed by what we learn. We learn not to pee whenever we feel an urge because it results in some discomfort if we do it in our pants; we learn not to fart loudly because it’s socially unacceptable; I learn to be more empathetic and sensitive to others because it helps in my relationships. We weren’t originally this way, but we were changed because we learned. Being true to yourself assumes that you shouldn’t change, that you should stick to who and what you are.

Sam: …

Carl: I know what people really mean when they talk about being true to oneself. What they really mean is this: you should be true to yourself and not change because it’s assumed that your current self is already pleasant enough so there’s really no need to change according to the situation.

Sam: Yeah I guess you’re right…

Carl: But what if the person can still become an even better person? Asking them to be true to themself is really asking them to stop learning. This is why I don’t buy the “be true to yourself” idea.

Sam: I see, I see…

I mentioned a while back about that new whiteboard hanging on the outside of my cubicle wall.

Well, here’s the latest update:

Original text was:

DO NOT DISTURB!
HARD AT WORK!
REALLY!

May the stomachs of those evil colleagues roast in hell!!!

So the consultant from the insurance company decided not to call me to meet up with me. So there’s no free lunch for me after all. But the loss is really his - he missed out on great company and a life-changing conversation just because he wanted save on that few bucks. Too bad.

In other news, I decided to take half day leave. Reason given:

running away from work

I actually started off typing this into the leave application system:

contemplating suicide due to excessive workload

but I changed my mind. Just in case they decide to send me for some compulsory counselling, or worse.

Every now and then, I get one of those pesky calls from a bank or an insurance company, promising me easy riches and untold wealth yada yada, if I give them a lot of money.

Like today, when I got a call from this cute girl from this insurance company. Okay, I imagine her to be cute, from the sound of her voice.

“Hello, is that…” then she struggled to pronounce my tongue-twisting name.

“Yeah that’s me,” I interrupted, hating to hear my name butchered, even though she sounds cute.

She introduced herself, and told me she was going to introduce a savings plan to me.

“Nah I’m not interested.”

“Could you just spare me a few minutes of your time to hear what I have to say?” she pleaded.

“Well…” I replied with less certainty, “a few minutes is a long time…”

I could almost see her large, doleful eyes as she pleaded again. She might be some poor university student trying to eke out a living doing this stupid telemarketing job so she won’t have to consider prostitution.

“Fine. Tell me about it.”

“Do you know how much interest you get from your local bank?”

“Not very much I’m sure.”

So she told me it was zero point something something percent, while her company could offer me something substantially higher.

“So what’s the fine print?”

“The what?”

“The fine print. The terms and conditions.”

“Why not I arrange a meeting so that our consultant can talk to you further about it?”

“Why don’t you tell me the fine print now?”

“Our consultant will be more qualified to tell you the details. It will only take 30 minutes.”

“Thirty minutes??? I don’t have that kind of time!” because I need to blog.

“He could meet you during lunchtime when you’re free…”

“I don’t see why I should waste 30 minutes of my time with him. Unless he’s buying me lunch.”

So it looks like I might be getting free lunch next week.