Tinker, Tailor

I was observing a lady cradling a baby in her arms, looking into his eyes, and talking to him. Just talking and talking to him.

Of course she knew that the baby couldn’t understand a word, but that didn’t deter her from acting like he did.

And that isn’t an uncommon scene - I’ve often witnessed women carry on conversations with babies. Some men do that too, but that seems more uncommon.

Admittedly, I’ve tried to do that myself. I enjoy carrying babies (provided they don’t puke or pee on me), and there was a time when I tried to talk to that adorable little thing, but, I found it really awkward, and it was only marginally easier than talking to, say, a dog or teddy bear or maybe an airconditioner.

But wait, my girl friends talk to dogs too. Fine, I talk to dogs as well. Maybe command would be a better word, since what I say is restricted to come! here! there! and the dog’s name. In other words, words that I think the dog might understand.

But when some girls talk to the dog, it’s no less than a conversation, which may sound something like “hi darling, how are you? Were you lonely today? You miss me har? Aww you’re so sweet. I’m glad to see you too. Come, let mommy give you a treat…”

Then one day this friend of mine showed me a little teddy bear she had in her bag. She didn’t just show it to me, she introduced him to me.

“Say hi to Paul*!”
(* Name changed to protect the innocent teddy bear.)

“Ermmm… how do you know it’s a male?” I had trouble saying hi, nor could I quite tell the gender from the area between the legs.

“He is lah,” she was unperturbed by my question, and proceeded on to talk to the both of us, probably hoping that Paul would get along with me, especially after I insulted his manhood.

Airconditioners aren’t spared either.

I remember reading a post by this blogger relating how her airconditioner malfunctioned, and she started talking to it, eventually shouting at it.

Which reminded me of a collegue, who, when her computer monitor blacked out, started patting it and saying “Oey! Don’t like that leh! Wake up! Wake up!”

To the male reader, all these may sound rather silly, but my purpose in writing this is not to offend my female friends (I wouldn’t dare!), but more to explore how the tendency to anthropomorphize* (fine, talking to babies isn’t technically athropomorhism) could be linked to other human traits.
(* To anthropomorphize an object is to give the object some human characteristics, such as the ability to understand speech.)

Other human traits like empathy. I am certain that an anthropomorphic tendency is positively correlated to the ability to empathize with others. I think the link is quite obvious - if I can talk to a teddy bear, giving him a name along with imagined feelings and the imagined ability to understand my speech, it shouldn’t be difficult for me to put myself in the proverbial shoes of another in empathy.

Let me step out further on the limb.

I suspect that the anthropomorphic tendency is also correlated to the belief in the supernatural or the existence of deity. Of course, this does not affect the question of whether the supernatural or deity actually exists - I’m just saying that it seems easier for a person with a stronger tendency to anthropomorphize to believe in the supernatural or the existence of deity.

Maybe I’ll ask Nicole my pillow her opinion on this later tonight.

When I was reading a book on Chinese grammar, I got a number of responses from those who know me.

Some would simply shake their heads, sigh, and walk away. Yet another weird book he’s reading, they must be thinking.

Others would ask, “Chinese got grammar meh?”

“Every language has grammar,” I would reply, “even Singlish has grammar!”

And a few would ask, “you mean you need to learn this?”

Of which I would reply, “those of us who’ve known Chinese since young already know the grammar intrinsically, but would you know how to explain it, say, to an angmoh friend who’s trying to learn Chinese? I doubt.”

To the last 2 groups, I often like to ask them this:

“How do you say ‘that person is very tall’ in Mandarin?”

“那个人很高” would be their typical reply.

“Ok. Then how do you say ‘that person is tall’?”

Pause.

“Ermmm… ‘那个人高’? No…”

“You see,” I explain slightly condescendingly, “we can say ‘那个人很高’ but we can’t say ‘那个人高’. Why? This is Chinese grammar.”

They get it.

* * * * *

In case you’re still wondering how to translate “that person is tall”, I’d probably translate it “那个人长的高” (”that person has grown tall”). There seems to be no straightforward way of translating it.

The grammar book I was reading says that “that person is tall” should be “那个人很高”, and “that person is very tall” is “那个人非常高”. I would disagree with this in the Singapore context, since I would understand “那个人非常高” to be closer to “that person is extremely tall”.

But hey, I was never a good student of the Chinese language, so take my views with some crystals of salt.

I was chatting with a law lecturer, when the conversation somehow turned to mathematics, and he started to express that he wouldn’t mind teaching it.

My parting words to him:

“Well, mathematics and law aren’t that much different after all!”

He stopped in his tracks.

“Is it?”

I wasn’t expecting him to question me, and I didn’t know how to answer.

“For some reason, I somehow sense a link connecting the two, but I can’t quite place it now. I’ll let you know if it becomes clear!”

Law and math. Math and law. Hmmm….

They both rely heavily on logic?

That’s the best I’m able to come up with so far. Oh well…

I sometimes have friends who are parents asking me for advice on raising kids. I wonder why, since I’m sure I don’t have kids myself.

Anyway, the first thing I normally say to them is “don’t watch TV!”

Whoa! they go. Too radical!

After the initial shock, they might ask for the reason.

“It’s bad for the brain.”

Most of them take what I say with a huge pile of salt, since my views tend to be a little unconventional, and thus impractical (unless you’re me).

But really, I stopped watching TV when I was a kid. To be more precise, I was stopped - my parents got rid of the TV. At that time I was already quite addicted to certain TV shows, so I was naturally quite unhappy about it (kicking and screaming). But looking back now, I think it was one of the best things that they ever did for me and my brain.

So why is TV bad for the brain?

Kathy Sierra did a great job explaining it in her post, Kill the television, keep the shows - much better than I would have done. So go read it.

P.S. I’ve never heard a really smart person say that TV is good. Seems like most of them say it’s bad. Go figure.

P.P.S. Seems like the only advantage that TV might offer is in language learning, where it helps kids learn a language not proficiently spoken at home.

Every now and then, someone would ask me which schools I went to, what courses I studied, and so on.

Building a mental model of my mentality?

I’m guilty of that too.

For instance, if a guy says he’s from ACS, then you half-expect him to be pretty fluent in English and not Chinese, and he might be slightly cocky or snobbish. No wonder so many people suspect that I was from that school.

But stereotyping is useful only to a certain extent.

I know that too well because people who attempt to figure me out using stereotypes often fail quite spectacularly.

Like this particular colleague of mine, who was sure that I was educated overseas. After I assured him that I didn’t study overseas, he could even ask “are you sure or not?”

Then a few months later, he’d ask “are you sure you didn’t study overseas?”

And the same question again, another few months on.

I’m often reluctant to talk about the schools I’ve been through, because it only paints the wrong picture, especially if I’m dealing with someone less sophisticated, meaning that I’ll have to spend even more time explaining why I’m not like your typical RGS girl (just kidding - I didn’t study there, although I sometimes wish I did - LOL).

Granted that there are a lot of things I learnt in school, but the values that define me and set me apart from others are there because I refused to learn what was taught, or managed to unlearn them.

I refused to learn that the teacher is always right. That grades are important. That certificates are the reason we go to school.

I had to unlearn the ‘fact’ that teachers are necessary for us to learn. That knowledge should be hoarded selfishly. That one can’t go far without a degree (quite true if you’re in the civil service).

I am not a product of any school.

I am what I am, not because I went to this or that school, but in spite of going there.

I am not a product of the education system here, but despite it.

I am not a product of Singapore.

These are the typical conversations I have when I’m walking along Orchard Road:

“Excuse me, would you like to dona…”

“No thank you.”

or

“Excuse me sir, could you spare me five minutes of your time to fill up this survey?”

“No thank you.”

or

“Excuse me sir, would you like to have this Platinum…”

“It’s okay I don’t need it thank you.”

But today’s was slightly different, and a little more interesting:

“Excuse me sir, could you spare a short moment please?”

I noticed she was holding a notepad, and not a survey form. Hmmm…

“I don’t mind, if you don’t mind walking along with me.” This normally weeds out the less desperate ones.

“Sure!” Drat, looks like she’s desperate. “Would you like to be a model?”

“A model?” I raised my eyebrow suspiciously. She didn’t look like a model to me. “Nah I don’t think I’m interested…”

“It’s okay,” she persisted, “but can you give me your number, so maybe the modelling agency can discuss this with you, and let you have some time to think this over?”

Images of lusty male homosexuals calling my number flashed through my mind.

“No thank you, I’m really not interested in becoming a model.”

“Well, you can just give me your number? No obligations!”

“Really, I don’t wanna be a model.”

She finally gave up.

Phew.

P.S. She’s obviously seriously myopic or she has bad cataracts.

Update: Ex-model Blinkymummy has an informative post about being a model in Singapore.

Update: I better clarify this upfront - I’m writing as a woman here.

* * * * *

“Aren’t you gonna give me a hug?”

It’s hard to resist, especially when I’m looking into those soulful eyes. Maybe I should - he really needs it. I guess I need it too.

It always feels comforting clinging tightly onto him, leaning on his wide chest, feeling his arms wrap firmly but gently around me, as I catch a bit of his distinct scent…

“Instinct,” I tried to tell him the other time, “it’s just instinct.”

But instinct wasn’t good enough for him, for he was one who needed to understand why, and instinct was too fuzzy, too nebulous, too misty an explanation for that penetrating mind of his.

Maybe he was just too serious. Too passionate, too intense, even for someone like me.

Or perhaps, I’m too afraid to lose him, the way I lost the others because those relationships didn’t quite work out. No, I cannot lose him. He’s the only one who’s come so close, who really understands me, whom I can really connect with. I must not lose him…

“Your train is here,” I whisper, releasing my hold as the train approached.

“The next one,” he says with finality.

I don’t mind at all, so I cling on again.

After so many tumultous weeks, it finally looks like he’s accepted the fact that it was not to be. Or shall I say, he’s resigned to that fact.

I still see the resignation in those tear-brimmed eyes, the intense disappointment choking his forlorn soul, when it finally sunk in that I would never, ever, ever, be in a romantic relationship with him. I had to assure him that I love him deeply as a friend, but never romantically, and he had to give it up. I suppose it was my repeated insistence that finally convinced him, since he couldn’t take instinct as a valid reason.

Today marks a new chapter in our lives, now that things are finally clear to him. Those 2 difficult hours at our favourite Italian cafe just now were certainly worth the pain. We can finally be the closest and bestest of friends, without the complications of a romantic relationship…

It feels good as he stealthily draws a breath through my hair. He likes the scent of my hair, but he’s just too shy to admit it, just as I won’t admit my secret delight in him inhaling me in…

“Please stand behind the yellow line,” the familiar recoded female voice sounds throughout the station.

A train is approaching. I need to go.

It’s hard to push him away, even gently, as I know he doesn’t want to go. But I know he’s a man of his word - the next train is here, and he will go.

“Your train is here, and I have to go,” I glance at my watch, “it’s almost 4:30.”

It hurts to see those eyes brimming with tears, and I know mine will soon follow.

“Goodbye.”

He must be too emotional to respond.

It doesn’t matter. I have to go. Fast. Don’t think. Can’t let him see me tearing. Don’t look back. Keep walking. He’ll be ok, I’m sure. He’ll be ok…

But I look back, when the screams of a woman and the squeal of the train hits my ears.

And I see those soulful eyes again, looking back at me, just as the train hits him.

I scream out loud.

So loud, that it wakes me up.

It’s 4:30am, but I doubt I can get back to sleep.

I hope he’s ok.

* * * * *

Fiction. Obviously.

* * * * *

I’m writing as a woman, in case you’re still wondering.
And I’ve done it such that there are many gaps in the story for your mind to fill in.
Tell me if it works, or which parts you don’t get.

* * * * *

update:
mis_nomer tries her hand at writing a similar story, but as a guy.

I’m the blogger who never blogs the same meme twice.

I’m the blogger who doesn’t neef a spell cheker.

I’m the blogger who blog grammatically. In complete sentence.

I’m the blogger who never write in Singrish, wait people see me no up how? Sibei malu leh, because hor, my Engrish actually got standard one leh…

I’m the blogger who writes, you know, coherently, as though, I mean, like it’s like more, like I’m clearer and all, you see, it’s like easier, so much more, much easier, like, better also, you know, understand and all, others can understand, I mean people get it, like what I’m writing.

I’m the blogger who never rambles, because I know that once you ramble, you start to get boring, and readers slowly but surely lose interest in what you’re blogging about, and will find it difficult or even impossible to follow your increasingly lengthy train of thought, which has probably derailed when you start to ramble, otherwise you wouldn’t be rambling in the first place, and you probably would have forgotten why you started in the first place, and you may start to become repetitious, which gets boring, and readers slowly but surely lose interest in what you’re blogging about, and will find it difficult or even impossible to follow your increasingly lengthy train of thought… uhmm… where was I?

I’m the blogger who does not see the need to use f*cking strong language.

I’m the blogger who is way too busy to write silly stuff.

I’m the blogger who completes everything I

I’m the blogger who isn’t into memes. But who joins in anyway sometimes. And regrets almost immediately because there’s nothing much to write if nothing much is to be revealed. But decides it’s worth trying anyway.

I’m the blogger who blogs at too many blogs, like some people have too many cars, except that I have none.

I’m the kid who likes to draw cars. And doesn’t talk very much.

I’m the child who is too bitter. And doesn’t want to talk about it.

I’m the student who doesn’t pay attention in class, because you’re less interesting than the Little Drummer Girl under my table, that is, until you make a mistake in your lesson, on which I will immediately and ravenously pounce upon and rip apart until you have no choice but to admit it.

I’m the student who doesn’t do homework, whom you make to stand outside the class (or sometimes in class, on the table), who flunks too many tests, but who, after you give up on me, still finishes fine for the finals.

I’m the recruit who has a serious attitude problem, who has to do more push-ups than everyone else, who gets confined more than anyone else in the company, who doesn’t seem to recognise the insignia on your uniform, and dares to question you and make you look like the fool you really are.

I’m the unwilling soldier who has to be promoted because the system gives no choice, whom you wonder why I’m not an officer (are you nuts?), who refuses to believe in the “platoon integrity” baloney, and never really fit in with the rest of the platoon, but will help you anyway.

I’m the classmate who doesn’t like to study, and if I do, I study the ‘wrong’ things. I’m the classmate whom you want in your group, yet you regret when it happens, because I always have the whackiest ideas. But then you still want me in anyway because you know I’m ready to mow down the other groups during presentation the way I mowed down Dr Wong during lecture. I’m the classmate who is always happy to let you look at (and copy, if you want) my assignment, but you eventually stop asking because mine’s just too different.

I’m the classmate who eventually disappears, and you still don’t understand why, even though I have told you many times already, because you know what a geek I really am.

I’m the geek who always has a book nearby. I’m the geek who reads code at bedtime, who goes into ecstacy when the code bug is quashed, with 0 errors returned.

I’m the hacker who loves computers and the internet. Who finds out your Hotmail password, but comes away disappointed, because it’s a lovey-dovey phrase with your boyfriend’s name in there.

I’m the hacker who doesn’t hack technology anymore. Who prefers to hack minds. Especially my own.

I’m the jock who plays a lazy game, because I know I don’t need to play any harder.

I’m the jock who plays a crazy game. Even though my face is bleeding because you scratched me, and I’m limping because I’ve just sprained my right ankle, but it still doesn’t mean you get to shoot the ball.

I’m the geek who reads too much (every day?), maybe because I started too late; and reads too widely (from sports to philosophy), because I want to know too much; and reads too much weird stuff (ancient texts?), because… I’m just weird?

I’m the man who falls for you, because, I’m the man you want to love, because, really,

I’m the boy who falls for you, because, I’m the boy you want to love, because, really,

I’m the girl who listens and tries to understand you, and connects with you, and doesn’t mind your girly talk with your other girlfriends, or your whining and bitching over the phone, or even going shopping with you, because, I actually find it interesting.

I’m the one who knows myself more than you know yourself. I’m the one who knows you more than you know yourself. I’m the one who knows myself, and knows what I don’t know about myself, and… I don’t know myself.

I’m the one who thinks that you think you know me.

I’m the one.

But not the one you know.

Update: Someone reminded me that I forgot an important point. How could I. It’s now #9.

If you’re male and the blogger is female…

1. Read her blog religiously, at least once a day. Subscribing to her blog RSS feed will be very useful, especially if you have multiple targets.

2. Find out as much as you can about her, especially her likes and dislikes. This will come naturally if you follow step 1. If you have a poor memory, or if you’re tracking multiple targets, an Excel spreadsheet might come in handy.

3. Do research on the things she likes. If she likes cats, borrow books on cats, subscribe to cat blogs, visit the pet shop and talk to the shop owner about rearing cats, etc. Tip: when a female blogger says she likes cats, you can safely assume that she does not like cat meat. Avoid any mention of cat meat, unless it’s in a very negative light.

4. Start your own blog if you don’t already have one. It should at least be marginally interesting. Since you should be doing research on her interest areas by now, it wouldn’t harm mentioning some interesting bits you’ve learnt. Like “oh I just found out today that cats have a third eyelid!”

5. Comment on her blog every now and then. She needs to know that you exist. And who doesn’t like a comment or two on their blog?

6. Link her on your blogroll. She needs to know that you’re not ashamed to let the world know that you appreciate her blog, no matter how bimbotic it is.

7. Comment on her blog often. In other words, comment on every single one of her posts.

8. Blog about her or her blog. Flattery is essential, but be careful to sound sincere. Comments like “she is prettier/writes better than xiaxue” usually does the trick. If you’re lucky, she will leave a comment on your blog, or even mention that post in her own blog. Who knows, you might find your blog on her blogroll!

9. Submit her blog post to Tomorrow.sg, and pray that the editors will approve it. If it gets published, she will know without a doubt that you view her blog with such great esteem that you even deem it worthy to be Tomorrowed. Remember to be logged on when you submit, or she wouldn’t know that you’re the Anonymous Coward (who wants to date a coward anyway). Also, exercise some discretion - if she’s a scholar making racist comments living in a mansion at the heart of Orchard Road and she got dumped by her boyfriend because he made her pregnant, you might want to move on to the next step. Tip: As a Tomorrow.sg editor, I suggest that the posts you submit had better be good ones, otherwise you’d just be wasting your effort, and all the Tomorrow.sg editors will know what a pathetic loser you are (trust me, people are actually attempting this).

10. Pop her an email. Be friendly, but do not ask for a date yet! You have come a long way by now; the last thing you want to do is to scare her away. You probably need an excuse to send the email, like “hey I think I saw you at the pet store the other day, but I wasn’t sure…”

11. Have an email conversation with her. This should be easy, provided she replies your first email.

12. Ask for her MSN. This is the next logical step after email. You may want to change your MSN avatar to a cat.

13. Chat with her on MSN. Chat about common interests, like cats. Get to know about her even more. Keep google, dictionary.com and wikipedia on standby:

you: so what other interests do you have, besides cats?

her: i like classical music

you: oh me too! who’s your fav composer?

her: probably bach

Type “bach” in google and wikipedia.

you: ooooh bach is totally brilliant!!!

her: yes he is!!!

you: hey i gtg… tummy ache.. talk to you later?

Of course, you now have to do research on classical music (especially Bach), in addition to your cat research.

14. Send her your picture if she asks for it. This is a very good sign, because she might just be considering meeting you, if you’re not too hideous. If she doesn’t ask for your picture, don’t force it on her; gently hint to her that you want to show her your picture (”have you ever wondered about how I look?”). You should be fully-clothed in the picture.

15. Ask for her number, assuming that she’s still chatting with you after you sent her the picture.

16. SMS her every now and then. Keep chatting if she responds. If not, an SMS every few days is enough, so that you’ll be seen as a friend, and not as an annoyance.

17. Call her. If she’s happy to chat on the phone, you’re almost there.

18. Ask for a date. By now, she should be ready for the date. In the unlikely event that she refuses to meet you, move on to your next target. Pray that your next target likes cats and Bach, so you’ll have less homework to do.

If you’re female and the blogger is male…

1. Pop him and email. In the email, ask him for a date, and include your picture. The success of your request will depend entirely on the picture. It is not necessary to undress for the picture.

* * * * *

This post is done with tongue planted firmly in cheek, although I have a feeling that the steps might just work, and I won’t be surprised if it accurately reflects reality for some. You may even find this disturbing. If you do, know that it’s intentional.

My second attempt at cartooning. Recycled part of the picture.

Tell me if this works for you.

This happened some time after the incident described in part 1. By then, I had heard that Zac didn’t love all animals - he was terrified of lizards (he once ran out of the bathroom naked and screaming because there was one on the wall)…

“Zac, do you have some paper? I wanna draw something for you!”

He didn’t have any paper, but he was certainly going to find some!

He somehow managed to convince someone to spare him a piece of paper, which he promptly handed to me.

Zac was so excited that when I placed the paper on my lap ready to draw, his head was already blocking my view.

“I tell you what - you stand over there. No peeping. Let me finish the drawing, then I’ll show it to you.” That’ll teach him a bit of discipline.

The poor kid was so excited that he could not contain his grin, and was actually writhing as he tried to stand still (he was really walking towards me without realising it).

“Eh, you’re coming too close. Stand further away, or I won’t let you see!”

He had no choice, so he moved away again.

Seeing him barely able to contain his delight made me feel a little guilty.

“Ok it’s finished!”

Bang. He shot over to inspect the masterpiece.

And his grin disappeared as soon as he saw my drawing of a lizard.

“Do you like it?”

Pause.

“Shall I draw you riding on the lizard?”

Evil. Pure evil.

Sometimes, I can’t help but admire the outlook of kids, who know something about positive thinking.

“Can you draw a horse?”

Since I’m really a good person deep down, I turned over the leaf and started on the horse.

The head. The neck. The body.

“Shall I draw you riding on the horse?”

“Yes!”

He’s so going to forgive me for that lizard drawing.

The head of the rider. The body. The legs. The horse legs. Added the rest of the details - eyes, ears, reins, and so on.

“Do you notice something about this horse? This is a very special horse.”

He didn’t seem to notice.

“How many legs does this horse have?”

“One, two, three, four, five. HEY!!!”

“Yup. This horse has five legs. It’s a very special horse!”

“Horse have four legs!”

“I know. But this is a special horse. It has five legs.”

I started drawing a row of 4 small circles under each leg.

“And you know what? This five-legged horse is on rollerblades!”

“NO!!”

“It’s a very special horse!”

“No! It’s a crazy horse!”

I must have offended his sensitivities and sensibilities quite seriously. When I handed him the paper, he promptly crushed it and threw it on the floor before storming off.

I must have crossed a line.

* * * * *

That incident happened a few months ago, and I was reminded of it recently when I saw Zac again.

“Hey Zac, do you remember the horse I drew for you?”

“Yes! It had five legs, and it had rollerblades!”

He was smiling when he replied. Ah, I’ve been forgiven.

* most names changed

1100-1159
hey jay, how’s everything? how many chairs do we have here? are we gonna have more chairs? how about upstairs? aren’t there gonna be more chairs upstairs? what are those tables for? can we have chairs all the way here? we’re gonna need both the rooms upstairs. the sound upstairs ok? how many people can we fit in altogether? how long are they gonna take to setup the wifi? the stage is a little narrow don’t you think? tell the panelists not to lean back? is this the only cable? we can put 2 rows of chairs here, with the stools behind. yes of course we’ll need space to walk. great you’ve widened the stage. can you shift the whole platform back all the way, so the cable can reach the last seat and the front row audience don’t have to strain their necks to much? yes i’m mr ong. oh the food is here already? jay, can we move the tables outside for the refreshments? are there enough chairs to fill up this area? ok we’ll have the refreshments inside. excuse me, can you open that door so that they can push in a trolley? can we have someone open the rooms upstairs please? where are the power points? where are the microphones? oh you’re mr low, nice to meet you. can we go through the food checklist? so the pizza is the vegetarian dish? the food is very cramped don’t you think? jay, can we use this portion of the bar counter to put the refreshment drinks? mr low, go ahead and put the drinks here. hey jean you’re early! you can put your stuff there and wait for the rest to come. who said we have to move the drinks away? let me speak to him. sam, jay told me we could use the bar counter - we really need the space as we don’t have enough space on the table - it’s just the drinks don’t worry your bar will be safe.

1200-1259
hey shan you’re on time! when are the ink and paper coming? you need someone to help you carry the printers? where do you propose we should put them? let’s see how big it is. jay, can we use the console counter for the printers? we’ll just use the power from there? shan we can put the printers there. hey guys, you can settle down here - andrea will be a little late. you guys can look around the place if you want. hey kim you’re here - the t-shirst all sorted out? andrea you’re finally here - take care of the volunteers please! thanks mr low this arrangement looks so much better! do i have to sign something first? ok here’s 900 bucks gimme a sec i’ll get some change. who’s got 20 bucks to lend me? andrea you can give them a tour of the place. jay, can we use the counters outside? we need to sell t-shirts and all. kim are we ready to set up the t-shirt counter. excuse me you can close this door now. what the rooms upstairs are still locked? sam, i’ll need you to open the rooms soon. no 2 o’clock is too late - we need to use the rooms soon. no we’re letting people in at 1:30, not 2. yes i understand - we also have expensive equipment like laptops we need to put there and i’ll have people guarding the room. anything goes wrong come and look for me. thanks a lot sam i appreciate that. oh yes thank you darren i’ll need lunch. anyone here needs lunch? andrea the rooms are open - can let the volunteers put their stuff in. hey everyone don’t touch anything here that looks remotely expensive - i had a hard time convincing the guy to unlock the door. we need someone to guard this place. andrea does everyone know their roles? great shan the printers are ok? sam how about the drink tickets? no pete agreed that your side would be printing the tickets. 2 drink coupons for 500 people. we’ll only let them claim the drink coupons after the event. oh great lunch is here - i’m starving! andrea can you stick some signs on the rooms upstairs?

1300-1359
kim we can set up the t-shirt counter already - go ahead and use the counters outisde. we can’t use the counter for the t-shirts? but jay said it was ok. sam can we use the counter outside to sell our t-shirts? ok can we have the tables now then? cos we need to setup the t-shirt booth now. the floor here is slippery? i’ll get someone to take care of it. hi you’re from? so early? excuse me there’s a slippery spot of the floor there can you take care of that? hey we can’t use the counter to sell the t-shirts - they’ll be bringing some tables here. hey kim don’t let anyone in. ok the ink and paper are here? sam, how’s everything here? these are all the chairs you have? where are you guys from? i’m sorry you’ll have to wait out here it’s still a big mess inside. hey jems you’re finally here! no i didn’t check the wifi cos i didn’t bring my laptop. check with the guy over there for the wifi. sam, how are the drink tickets? hey brown you’re finally here! how was the morning session? hey guys help to keep some order outside - get them to queue up or something. ok lock this entrance and move to the main one. sorry man can’t let you in yet. andrea, everything ok? sure sam, your guys can sell drinks at the bar. jems, how’s the wifi? you need to show the volunteers the settings for the wifi. hey there’s a queue outside already - shall we let them in? kim, everything ok out here? we’ll let them in around 1:45. they’ve bought the t-shirts already? free flow in the evening? sounds good to me. are we ready to let everyone in? ok let everyone in.

1400-1459
jay can you increase the volume? people can’t hear at the back.
excuse me can you speak up??

1500-1559
we can have the break soon the refreshments are behind.
brown, it’s time for the break.
ben you ready to take the legal panel? jems can you check where’s minliang? minliang got stuck in a jam?
ben, minliang is here - you need to go up. ben, we need to go now. excuse me, he needs to go now.
brown, ben wants you upstairs. brown, ben wants you upstairs NOW. sorry can you talk to him later? he needs to go.

1600-1659
what happened to the slides? did you email to everyone? get jems to load it on his computer or something.

1700-1759
jems, bellydancers are still on their way. take your time.
great they’re here? pass the cd to the backstage guys.
bellydancers are changing.
no i don’t know what happened to the slides.
excuse me who’s your ic? hi are you all set and ready?
jems can you tell the audience to help move back the chairs?
ok can you load the slide onto your laptop?

1800-1859
sam, what time is the free flow? are you going to stamp the people going out? brown can you announce this?
what, no one doing the stamps yet? i’ll go check. sam, people are leaving - we need to stamp the people.

My first feeble attempt at cartooning.

Why is it that when you’re most busy, and you know you need to finish that task by yesterday, you still have this urge to do something else, and you actually go ahead and do it?

Like blogging.

I sometimes wonder if I’m a little autistic, even though I think I can read people pretty well.

Thanks to Baron-Cohen’s Autism Spectrum Quotient test, I am somewhat reassured.

Your AQ Score:
16

How to Interpret Your AQ Score
0-10 low
11-22 average (most women score about 15, and most men score about 17)
23-31 above average
32-50 very high (most people with Asperger Syndrome or high functioning austism score about 35)
50 Maximum

Hmmmm. Maybe I’m more woman than I realised.
I should redo the test someday - might get different results.

The next time I start a new blog, I promise to take more than 2 minutes to think of a name for the blog.

I promise to choose a name that does not sound gay (as some have pointed out).
Or female (as some have assumed).

And even though I may not be running it on blogspot, I promise to check the blogspot addess to make sure it’s not already taken. At the very least, not taken by a blog that doesn’t conform to my tastes.

I hate tinkertailor.

“I hope no gays try to pick me up, as I’m really badly dressed today.”

Those were my last words to a friend before I left for Borders.

Borders used to be my favourite hangout, until it became overrun with gays.

I have no issue with gays, if they leave me alone. But too many times when I’m at Borders, a tightpants would give me that look, or muscleguy-in-tank-top would be standing hair-standlingly close…

*shudders*

But that nauseous feeling would eventually wane and be taken over by my longing to breathe Borders air again…

So off I went.

But I hadn’t had lunch, so I dropped by Burger King to grab a Whopper.

As I waited at the counter for my burger, two guys walked in the entrance, triggering off my gaydar.

They queued behind me.

For some reason, my rear end felt especially vulnerable.

“So where shall we sit?” asked one, speaking in the typical gay manner.

“Just find some strategic spot.”

I went to the inside corner to enjoy my meal that took too long to be served, before realising how strategic their spot was - I had a great view of their table.

And it didn’t take long for me to notice that one of them kept glancing in my direction. And the other - he kept turning to look every few minutes.

I can’t say I enjoyed the Whopper.

P.S. Thankfully it was incident-free at Borders.

Zac, a 5 year old boy, who loves animals.

Zac, staring straight into my eyes: Kor kor, what is your favourite animal?

Me: Hmmmmm….. I don’t know! What is your favourite animal?

Zac: I like lion, and I like horse!

Me: Ahh… lion and horse! I know what animal I like!

Zac, coming even closer with wide-open eyes: What?

Me: I like beef!

Zac, scratching his little head: Beef?

Me: Yes - beef!

Zac looks confounded. The animal encyclopedia that he memorised did not have any animal called “beef”.

Zac: How do you draw beef?

Me, caught mildly off-guard: Ermmm….. have you seen a hamburger?

Zac nods.

Me: You know the the hamburger has two pieces of bread? The brown piece of meat in between the two pieces of bread is beef!

Zac furrows his brow.

Me: I like chicken too. Do you like to eat chicken?

Zac nods a little slowly.

Me: But… but how do you know you like lion and horse? Have you eaten them before?

Zac, looking disturbed: No!

Me: Then how do you know you like horse and lion?

Zac looks perplexed.

Me: You know what? Lions like to eat horses!

Zac, very disturbed: No!!!

Me: They let lions eat horse meat in the zoo!

Zac, about to cry: Noo!!!

Me: Okay, okay….

Keep me away from your kids.