Tinker, Tailor

Looks like I might be getting a new boss. They say she can be quite a micro-manager, so here I am looking at my rubble-covered desk, and imagining what would happen when she drops by the first time…

“Why is there a whiteboard hanging on your cubicle partition??”

“Well… it’s uhmm…”

“And why are there stacks of books on the partition???”

“Well that’s the only…”

“And why does it say ‘VACANT’ here????” (The sign on my cubicle is supposed to have my name and job title.)

“Heh heh… I just put it there for…”

“And can you clear up your desk?????”

“Am I allowed to ask for a reason?”

“It’s so cluttered - how can anyone work like this????”

“It’s actually much more efficient.”

Pause, as her eyes widen.

“You see, when someone hands me a new document, I can either file it nicely and neatly in the filing cabinet, or I can put it on top of this pile over here. When I put it on top of this pile, it only takes a second, and requires no mental effort, since I do it instintively and automatically - I can go straight back to my work. Retrieving the document is easy - all piles are stacked in a reverse-chronological order, with the latest item on top, with the newest pile over here, and older piles spatially arranged in a clockwise direction, and urgent documents here on the monitor - all within arm’s length.

“Now if I decide to file the document in the filing cabinet, I’d have to think about which drawer I should put it in, under which section. And when I need to retrieve it, I need to think about which drawer and section it might be at. This act of filing or retrieving takes considerable time and mental effort, which will cost me even more time and thus efficiency because by then I would have lost my concentration and flow and I’d need more time to get back into that state of mind. Got it?”

“Got it. You’re promoted.”

I wish.

I’m learning that being unable to speak has many benefits. Here are just a few:

1. Builds self-control.
2. You look wiser.
3. Things become more peaceful.
4. You don’t have to brush your teeth - no one will notice.
5. The boss thinks you’re compliant.

However, things are seldom so straightforward, and being unable to speak may also work against you:

1. Causes stress and constipation.
2. You look dumber.
3. Things become more boring.
4. You brushed your teeth, but no one notices.
5. The boss thinks you’re compliant.

I hope to get my (normal) voice back. The current husky one is driving too many women crazy. Heh heh.

Thanks to my sore throat, I haven’t been saying very much.

It’s not like I’m one of those people who just love the sound of their own voice (it does sound really sexy today) and simply cannot stop talking - I’m perfectly happy sitting quietly and listening and observing others in a social situation. But when an interesting intellectual conversation occurs, things may be a little more tricky.

So I had a tough day today, when some colleagues were discussing death, religion, and beliefs (one of my favourite topics), and of course I had much to contribute to the discussion.

But there I was, eerily silent.

My colleague must have been uncomfortable with my uncharacteristic silence.

“So do you belief in rebirth?” she asked.

I gave her my I-think-it’s-implausible-but-I’m-open-and-I-really-have-more-to-say-but-I-can’t shrug. I wonder if she decoded it correctly.

Soon they were discussing the methods of a certain religion, which they felt were insensitve. They were soon reinforcing one another in their one-sided viewpoint, and I had to step in. To minimise my pain and maximise the impact, I had to make my statement pithy and concise, and very profound.

“It makes sense in their worldview,” I whispered in my husky, sexy voice. Sexy and profound.

Unfortunately, they didn’t hear me.

But it was good - good for me. Sitting there with an enigmatic I-know-something-you-don’t Mona Lisa smile and listening and letting the discussion run without my influence - it was good.

Now, if only more people would shut up and listen.

I’m having a sore throat and I’ve lost my voice (too much speaking), so I don’t feel like chatting with anyone now.

Not even on MSN.

Strange.

I feel stoned.

Particularly stoned.

I’ve been feeling particularly stoned for the past few days.

When I walked into the office in the morning, some of my colleagues were giggling at me.

I was too stoned to bother.

One of them revealed to me that they thought I was “walking like a space man”.

Or did she say “spaced man”?

Wide steps, slow motion, floating around. You get the idea.

I was too stoned to respond with more than a “yeah”.

Too stoned to do much work either.

My head rested on my desk.

Until lunchtime.

The big problem is, during my normal energetic days, some colleagues already think that I’m stoned.

Perhaps they’re right.

But this time, I’m particularly stoned.

I’ve been feeling particularly stoned for the past few days.

Too stoned to blog

Captain Jack Sparrow, I mean.

Anyway, here’s a recent MSN conversation:

me: damn.. someone quoted our msn conversation
and didn’t change my nick
i think i’ll have to change my msn nick soon

friend: it’s not like we don’t know what you’re really like =)

me: well….
how do u know that u know what i’m really like?

friend: i know i know, i don’t need to know how i know

me: i know u think u know, but i think u don’t know that u don’t know
darn this reminds me of jack sparrow, at least in pirates 1 [I hadn’t watched pirates 2 then]

friend: <333
*squeal*

me: ok ok take it easy
it’s only me

friend: …

me: i’m sorry to disappoint u
i may remind u of jack, but i’m much more hygenic

friend: i wish i could merge orlando’s good looks with johnny’s wit

me: i’m already here…

This friend was just another one of my many friends who were totally obsessed with Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow. Because of that, I knew I had to catch Pirates 2 to figure out why he’s so sexayyy.

Except that everyone else has already watched it.

Well, after about 2 weeks of begging and pleading, I finally managed to convince someone to watch it with me.

After much scrutiny of Pirates 2, I’m still pretty mystified.

Jack Sparrow isn’t handsome, has bad teeth and long, unkept hair and beard and a dirty face and dirty clothing and is just generally dirty with absolutely no sense of hygiene…

He’s slightly effiminate, perhaps dorky, and when he walks, he sways and is unstable and seems perpetually drunk on rum. Okay, he’s pretty handy with the sword though.

Perhaps most intriguing is his complex personality and thinking. He’s totally untrustworthy and unreliable (unless he stands to gain), although it sometimes seems like he does have a sliver of goodness in him. He’s a coward, yet he’s often courageous and shows absolutely no fear in the face of hopeless circumstances. He’s brilliant, with unending of wiles and schemes (untrustworthy), but he’s also witty and funny. His inconsistent and contradicting personality makes him all the more complex and mysterious.

Mysterious.

Perhaps it’s because women are drawn to mysterious guys?

* * *

To make myself feel better, I stayed on after the movie ended till the end of the (very lengthy) credits (my friend was already complaining). Sure enough, there was an extra scene. Something to do with the dog that was chased by the natives

I suppose many who watched Pirates 1 also missed the extra scene after the credits, which showed the monkey.

Moral of the story: if the cinema lights are dimmer than usual, stay on!

Update: translation below

Had a rather strange chat on MSN recently.

It started innocently enough:

Friend: me sick.. give me some nice consoling words.

So she wants some sympathy. But how do I give a more interesting response?

Me: etg lewl onos

Friend: lahkantots

Me:

By the way, she’s my Scrabble mate. I really shouldn’t reveal this, but she’s pretty good, and beats me by an average of 100 points per game, only because she memorised more words, while I’ve long forgotten most of my 2-letter words.

Me: wats the illness?

Friend: luf

Okay, she’s obviously not that sick, so I’ll play along.

Me: wlle, stuj vhea ot tge rome ster

Friend: winko

Me: og meoh!

Friend: noso
Friend: wot erom ruhos

Me: tres no uory sked!

Friend: noctan.

Me: redun het sdke neth
Me: mi os ongna lobg hist!

I’m keeping my word, as you can see.

Friend: oyu rea yilsl

Me: on mi ocol

Friend: fi oyu ays os

Me: streho ays os oot

I don’t want to torment you with the rest of the chat, but I eventually had to take care of certain matters.

Me: brb - toshccaehma

My apologies for the brain cramp.

Update:

Okay to relieve your brain cramp, here’s the conversation, along with the translation:

Friend: me sick.. give me some nice consoling words.

Me: etg lewl onos
- get well soon

Friend: lahkantots
- thanksalot

Me:

Me: wats the illness?

Friend: luf
- flu (I hope you didn’t need help for this!)

Me: wlle, stuj vhea ot tge rome ster
- well, just have to get more rest

Friend: winko
- iknow

Me: og meoh!
- go home!

Friend: noso
- soon

Friend: wot erom ruhos
- two more hours

Me: tres no uory sked!
- rest on your desk!

Friend: noctan.
- cannot

Me: redun het sdke neth
- under the desk then

Me: mi os ongna lobg hist!
- im so gonna blog this!

Friend: oyu rea yilsl
- you are silly

Me: on mi ocol
- no im cool

Friend: fi oyu ays os
- if you say so

Me: streho ays os oot
- others say so too

[…]

Me: brb - toshccaehma
- brb - stomachache

It was a dark and stormy night…

Okay it wasn’t very dark, nor was it stormy, when I popped back at the office. As I rounded the corner, a female colleague was standing there staring at me with wide eyes and mouth, before patting herself on the chest in relief.

“Eh why so scared? It’s only me!”

“Aiyah, you know lah, it’s seventh month**…”

[**that’s when ghosts are released from hell to roam the earth]

“What’s wrong with that? When you meet one of them, just say ‘hi’!”

“You siao ah!”

“Come on, they don’t get to come out often…”

“Shuddup…”

“Imagine if you’re one of them, and when people see you, they all run away, how would you feel?”

“SHUDDUP!!!”

*sigh* My colleagues are intolerant.

I was reading an article by Paul Graham at work yesterday when bubbles started floating nearby.

This friend with too much free time was having fun blowing bubbles from her pink Snoopy bottle filled with soapy liquid. How childish.

As I progressed through the article, bubbles started floating past my screen. Concentrate.

She had this evil grin as she blew the bubbles towards me, testing the limits of my sangfroid. Concentrate.

More bubbles floated by, landing on my screen. Landing on my head. Bursting on my face. Dammit!

If you can’t beat em, join em. I decided to reactivate my long-dormant skill of bubble blowing, using purely natural means. Unfortunately, I could only launch about one bubble every ten seconds successfully, and most of them were less than a centimetre in diameter, and couldn’t fly very far. She didn’t even notice!

I think she eventually took pity on me, so I finally had a chance use the bubble generator.

I was soon out the room, blowing bubbles like there was no tomorrow. (If you saw this weirdo blowing bubbles yesterday, hello!)

Even she felt embarrassed for me.

“Blowing bubbles is strangely therapeutic!” I shouted after her.

If I were a smoker trying to quit, I’d take up bubble-blowing as a replacement.

Smoking and blowing-bubbles aren’t that much different, as both:

• require controlled inhaling and exhaling
• soothe the nerves
• allow you to see how your breath travels
• can be irritating to those around you

And bubble-blowing has obvious advantages:

• not (as) addictive
• healthier
• cheap

But just before I’d quit, I’d smoke and blow bubbles at the same time. Smoke bubbles are gonna be so cool.

I was born here. And engineered here.

I went through school here. But I still can think.

I sang the national anthem in school. Off key, for fun.

I recited the pledge. With wrong hand over wrong breast.

I served National Service. It was either that or jail.

I love my work. But not my cubicle. Nor my pay.

I live in a nice castle. In the air.

I walk on safe streets. Nothing happens here.

I like the cleanliness. The apparent cleanliness.

I appreciate efficiency. Not bureaucratic inflexibility.

I respect the government. Those fools think they know it all.

I’m told to think out of the box. But not too far out.

A flag is fabric with an attitude.

A country is a big village with a big ego.

Mine has a massive ego, and is just as insecure.

But I like it here. And I complain a lot.

Typical Singaporean.

There’s this girl who’s been hitting on me, and, I later found out, a friend of mine. She obviously has good taste, since this friend of mine is a pretty cool dude (I don’t say that about many people). Oh, he was on that dating show which I missed.

Unfortunately for her, neither of us are interested in her.

Anyway, both of us had this msn conversation:

me: have u watched ‘lake house’?

friend: is it worth it?

me: it’s a romance movie
me: go watch with pauline so she won’t bother me

friend: you stole my line,..

me: she asked me to watch with her tonight

friend: funny she asked me to watch something else with her tonight..

me: hahaha

friend: hahhaa
friend: so you rejected her
friend: i rejected her…

me: how did u reject her?

friend: i said i was busy packing
friend: you?

me: i told her that i’m watching with some other girl

friend: hahaha

me: am i mean or am i mean

friend: seriously that is cool

Am I mean or am I mean?