The Confessions of the Crazy Lady

Confessions has moved...

2010-01-31T17:50:00.002+07:00

You can find the currently less pretty home for this blog here. I decided to move as I prefer the features and customization on Wordpress, as well as be able to password protect past posts that are way too embarrassing now!

The Twilight Saga: New Moon

2009-11-27T02:39:00.010+07:00

The Twilight Saga: New Moon (2009, Summit Entertainment, 130 minutes)
Directed by Chris Weitz Produced by Mark Morgan, Wyck Godfrey
Written by Stephenie Meyer (novel), Melissa Rosenberg (screenplay)
Starring Kristen Stewart, Robert Pattinson, Taylor Lautner

In the year or so between Twilight and just-released sequel New Moon, the vampire romance craze has hit the stratosphere, afflicting women all over the world of all ages with OCD (Obsessive Cullen Disorder). Even normally sensible mothers who would have once rolled their eyes at their daughters’ Sweet Valley High collection and topless Backstreet Boys posters now devour Stephenie Meyer’s books feverishly and gaze at their husbands as if they’re wondering if they’d look good with sparkly skin and fangs.

For those of you who live in caves, the Twilight series focuses on the relationship between 100-year-old “vegetarian” vampire Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson) and teenager Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart) in Forks, a rainy little American town. In the first instalment, Bella slowly sussed out the moody dreamboat’s dark secret – he's vampire that only drinks animal blood and loves going to high school over and over again – and then had to escape from the sort of vampire that does enjoy chomping down on virginal maidens' sweet necks.

In New Moon, the two are still going strong; constantly competing with each other about who loves whom more. However, following a bloody incident, Edward decides it would be best if they broke up, for like, forever, and leaves town. Poor Bella sinks into a mega-depression, but things start looking up when she discovers she can hallucinate Edward when she puts herself at risk, which leads to her getting closer to childhood friend Jacob Black (Taylor Lautner), who just might be concealing a toothy mystery of his own...

This time around, Chris Weitz has taken the directorial reins from Catherine Hardwicke (Thirteen), despite his poor book-to-film transforming credentials – he mutilated the adaptation of The Golden Compass, the first of Philip Pullman’s excellent fantasy trilogy (my favourite), killing the potential film franchise in one fell swoop (for that, I will never forgive him). It’s evident that he’s tried very hard to please the fans, sticking like superglue to the book’s plot and providing plenty of eye candy for those on both Team Edward and Team Jacob.

But while the increased budget has led to prettier, shinier actors and effects, New Moon lacks the dreamy, atmospheric quality of the original – Weitz’s glossy end result is a film anyone could have made. All the rich potential for angst and sensuality has been stampeded over with heavy instrumental music (the appropriate emo soundtrack of the first film has not been emulated here) and gratuitous torso shots, with both elements often combined for the film’s most dramatic moments – like when Edward is about to commit suicide with a sunshine striptease. (Not that I'm complaining too much, more on that later.)

The film’s hollowness isn’t helped by the mechanical acting of the three leads. While the amazingly buff Lautner and beautifully dishevelled Pattinson are undeniably delicious, the former lacks depth and the latter seems rather bored with it all. Stewart, still woefully miscast, looks like she’d rather be somewhere else, probably in an edgier indie film. A warmer, spunkier and more accessible actress would have been better – when Bella is “depressed” it’s barely distinguishable from her usual laconic, heavy-lidded demeanour.

Stewart also fails to generate chemistry with either of her leading men, which will undoubtedly satisfy besotted fans. It’s hard to understand why Bella is so in demand with the two hotties. Then again, Forks’ teen girl population seems limited to shrill gossipmongers like Bella’s classmate Jessica (Anna Kendrick), and aloof vampire babes like Alice (Ashley Greene) and Rosalie (Nikki) who are related to Edward and thus automatically repulsive to the vampire-bigot Jacob by virtue of being bloodsuckers. Oh, I get it now. Ladies, let’s all move to Forks!

The supporting characters – the Cullen vampire family, bloodlusty nomadic vampires, pack of werewolves, evil Italian vampire council – all inject a lot more enthusiasm and life into their roles, but unfortunately, you don’t get to see much of them.

That’s how the film generally feels – despite the 130-minute running time, it feels like there’s not much of anything, especially not potentially tantalizing plot strands: Bella’s adrenaline junkie mission; the vampire Victoria’s quest for vengeance (against Bella, as Edward killed her mate in the first film); the growing friendship/romance between Bella and Jacob; the potentially stunning Italian citadel setting; Jacob’s brotherly camaraderie with his tribal peers, etc.

This likely stems from Weitz and screenwriter Melissa Rosenberg trying to pack as much of the book’s details as possible, as well as the copious amounts of photos and discussions on all the film’s aspects before its release.

Yet despite these shortcomings, New Moon definitely achieves guilty pleasure status, mainly due to the aforementioned gratuitous torso shots - it’s a sumptuous cinematic celebration of the male form, a refreshing antidote to the usual objectification of female bodies.

Gorgeous teenaged torsos every which way you could imagine – dripping with rain and sweat, sparkling in sunlight, covered in chocolate (ok, maybe not that last one) – have the lion’s share of screen time, surpassing dialogue. In contrast, all females remain modestly clad – Bella barely even wears a dress apart from a brief, hilarious dream/premonition sequence where she and Edward are running about in the woods all sparkly.

What’s more, when the owners of the torsos do speak, it’s to say the things every woman wants to hear. These fine male specimens are all one-woman kind of guys, desiring nothing more than meaningful stares and occasional kisses (Edward: “Bella, you give me everything just by breathing”).

Even when Bella gets cruelly dumped, it’s only because Edward loves her so much. Yes girls, if your man acts like a massive jerk, it means he IS just that into you – forget the lessons learned from that Jennifer Aniston flick.

All jibes aside, much has been made of the Twilight series’ disturbing elements: Bella’s sadomasochistic and co-dependent romances with both Jacob and Edward, sexually frustrated Puritan values, paedophilic overtones, etc. All these are present in the film and are all the more disturbing with the addition of video and audio, but it’s a faithful interpretation of the source material, so that has to be a plus for Twihards.

Another positive is the light humor threaded throughout the film - intentional moments like Jacob admitting he's too young to buy his own cinema tickets (Bella's doing it for him) and the self-involved Jessica prattling on about how her life is hard too, as well as seemingly unintentional (or else, highly tongue in cheek) comedy that arises from more ludicrous moments - i.e. Edward trying to kill himself by taking his shirt off; Bella and Edward skipping about the forest in that dream sequence; Bella finding nonsensical reasons to brush her fingers against Jacob's torso.

The Twilight Saga is more than mere books and films; it’s a pop culture phenomenon. Most would agree that the books have little literary merit, but they are certainly addictive, with a romantic fantasy that deeply taps into the female psyche. It would be difficult for any movie to transcend this obscene amount of hype and overexposure, however good or bad it actually was.

So although New Moon is far from perfect, Twilight fans are bound to love it, and those yet to be indoctrinated might enjoy the film for its gloss, thrills, light laughs, yummy manboy treats and the fact they’ll know what they’re talking about when they tease their OCD friends.

Eclipse, the third chapter due next summer, is in the hands of the indie filmmaker David Slade (Hard Candy, 30 Days of Night), who may just be able to inject a little more oomph into the whole production. So, Mr. Slade, if you’re listening, I’d like to put in a request for more atmosphere, more sizzle and a better soundtrack – but don’t forget the torsos either.

Three out of five stars. (Two stars for the movie plus an extra one for the torsos).

***

PS: Enjoy the eye candy below...

The Wolf (Six) Pack

The Cullens (the males are sadly dressed but you can tell there is some nice torso action under there!)

Jacob Black in the rain

NaNoWriMo N-sanity

2009-11-14T00:09:00.005+07:00

I am certifiably insane. Despite the fact I have an already heavy schedule of copy-editing, feature-writing and recently added gymming to all this... I decided to participate in NaNoWriMo - National November Writing Month - a worldwide competition in which professional and amateur writers attempt to complete 50,000 words of a fiction novel between Nov. 1-30. Starting from scratch, writing-wise, although character sketches/outlines were allowed. I started last Sunday, 8 days late to the party, and with only a vague idea in mind.

There are no judges and no prizes... just the magical motivation of a deadline. Which is pretty much the only way I ever get anything written...

Although today I'm having a really uninspiring day... and writing utter, depressing drivel... and my chances of completing this are actually quite slim... I think I like this activity, I think it will be a good exercise.

Because I know what I want to do most in life is be a novelist... I've known it since I was four... but I have kept putting it off.

The last time I really created fiction was after I finished my BA, and when I had a boring secretarial job, which forced me to find some way to fill my time in front of the computer that didn't involve Facebook.

And since then I've found a million reasons to put it off... Masters, job, sadness, whatever... and so far, this exercise has taught me that if you want to be a fiction writer... you have to... WRITE FICTION. Even if its bad, just do it. So I'll get back to that now...

Click below to see the Wordle of my 7,825 words so far...

Singapore Writers' Festival 2009

2009-11-08T10:22:00.016+07:00

Last weekend, Nanzo and I attended the final weekend of the 13th biennial Singapore Writers' Festival, where I got to ineptly interview a few wonderful writers and Nanzo got to pimp out her faux pro-photography skills.

The event was so well organized, it was scary, particularly after Jakarta's insanity, of which I am becoming increasingly tolerant... We got excellent treatment from the public relations team, with front row seats at all the events we attended and even scabbed a couple of meals.

Let me share a few of the highlights, via Nanzo's photos...

This is John Ajvide Lindqvist, a Swedish novelist who wrote Let the Right One In, which is about a boy who falls in love with his vampire next-door neighbour (and absolutely nothing like Twilight).

He used to be a stand-up comedian and a magician, which was quite apparent in his charisma and confidence.

I really enjoyed talking to him, even though I was so unbelievably tired(too much writing and attempts to keep up with gymming) and kept forgetting what I wanted to say (not looking forward to listening to the recording!!)... I may have also given him the inspiration for his next novel... watch this space...

The next person I got to interview was Chart Korbjitti, one of Thailand's most respected and well-known authors... it was especially cool because I got to study two of his novels (No Way Out and The Judgment) during my BA, and I feel like actually getting to interview him is great continuity between my academic studies and current journalistic aspirations.

He had an interpreter so our conversation wasn't quite as organic as with the others, but he seemed like a lovely person, very laidback yet forthright.

I got a bit annoyed during his "Meet with the author" sesh tho because several of the attendants kept asking him what he thought of expat writing and about him trying to challenge expat writers' portrayal of Thailand as this tawdry place of sex and drugs... he answered he didn't think much about it, but they just kept at it, like dogs with a bone.

I also got to meet Mohammed Hanif, Pakistani BBC journalist and writer of the Man Booker-prize longlisted A Case of Exploding Mangoes.

I was quite worried because I didn't manage to finish his novel (after a Saturday of 12 hours of interviews, seminars, discussion etc I felt all booked-out!) and I know nothing about Pakistani politics (whereas with Lindqist and Korbjitti I could rely a little on my horror/vampires/SEA trivia)... but our chat was fun anyway, he was very frank and seemed genuinely interested in both me and Nanzo as people... then again he is a journalist too!

I didn't get to interview NEIL GAIMAN (pictured here with girlfriend Amanda Palmer) individually, instead got to attend a mini press session, which to be honest, I was quite alright with, as its so hard to know what to ask someone that's been asked so many things... he really is a literary rock star, and pretty much dominated the event.

I am really glad I got to see him in person... and I don't think everything I've read by him (which is a mere smidgen of his ma-hu-sive body of work) is that brilliant, but there a few of his stories I've really taken to heart, especially those in the Smoke & Mirrors collection.

In person, he is a constant storyteller, full of anecdotes and a warm view on life... I think I'm going to be quoting him for weeks to come because he just said so much that was interesting! (And I listened to him for about 3 hrs in total!)

This is just a small amount of the people lining up for his final signing last Sunday... there were at least 900, but I suspect could have even been more than 1000.

He was very kind and patient to submit himself to that signing... from experience I know not all authors would (yes YOU Salman Rushdie)... and more than that, remain cheerful and attentive to each individual fan throughout, ensuring each got their Moment.

Which is, after all, what signings are all about - the brief one-on-one between artist and fan. That's what you really treasure, why you're willing to line up for so long - the signed memento is just a receipt.

I needed some photos to illustrate the SWF write up so we accosted a costumed Gaiman fan in the queue, she was meant to be Dream/Sandgirl from the Sandman comics (which I haven't read). The Gaiman fans were dressed cooler (or simply weirder) the day before, which was fittingly also Halloween.

The beautiful Arts House at night - really, the ideal venue. It used to be Singapore's parliament house, which added a sense of history to the whole event.

All in all, a very full-on, but inspiring weekend - and for me, a tantalizing sample of what it would be like to be a full time freelance journalist, getting to fly into places for a few days and to interrogate loads of fascinating people. Getting to talk to writers also made me more determined to focus more on fiction. This is definitely the kind of work I want to do.

The No Woman

2009-10-16T22:31:00.006+07:00

Sigh. I've missed this blog! Since I last wrote, life has gotten really busy, solely to do with writing. My film review was accepted and published, now I'm writing one pretty much every week. The magazine editor noticed my productivity and has been giving me cool assignments (i.e. best brunch spots) that have been encouraging me to explore more of Jakarta!

I've been juggling so many articles for both the daily paper and the magazine that I needed to make one of my beloved spreadsheets to keep on top of it! Oh, and I turned 24 more than a month ago, which served to remind me how I must get a move on with everything I want to do... so must keep busy busy.

It's both bad and good, because I often feel super stressed out, but more and more, sitting and writing and completing an article is my ultimate idea of bliss, particularly in a cafe with light buzz and big pot of tea. I am working everyday on the work-life balance to try and minimise burnout. I might be allowing myself to slip into my OCD tendencies again... but I think this is what I need to do. The best thing in my life right now is that I feel I know what I want to do, and I am working towards it.

My current goal is to become a completely freelance journalist (imagine the freedom!), and every day is like training in that direction. I think you definitely need to have to some savings (enough for about four months of living at least) before you jump into that deep end... getting paid for articles is like pulling teeth, so if you have to count on it too much, you'll probably go crazy. You also need to build your reputation so editors will want to take your stuff and throw assignments your way.

I got so excited about the interest and assignments I was getting, that I felt I had to say yes to everything, for fear of missing out on better assignments later on. But I've learned that I should really start saying no... got so many half-baked assignments I'm not that passionate about... so the goal for this month is to clear this backlog, and from now on pick my assignments more judiciously. It's no good publishing a lot of articles I'm not that proud of... the quality won't be as good as with articles that come from the heart.

The not-so-great things remain the same, but I don't have as much time to dwell on them. Jakarta still drives me crazy. Copy-editing is getting ever more tedious, especially with the added annoyance of office politics finally drawing me in. I generally feel like I'm getting to be quite a dull and bitter person, but maybe this has to be the trade-off for now... I'm truly realising simply can't have it all.

Like a year ago, I had some of the things I miss now: lots of fun times with friends, my own place, a life in a city with comprehensible public transport, parks and shoes in my size, plenty of wine and cheese, romantic (ish) prospects ... but I was also unemployed, and getting increasingly stressed by living with Sketchy. I had just returned from two weeks in Jakarta. Looking in my moleskine diary, I actually see that exactly a year ago to the day, was when Amber Eyes tried it on with me (a seriously weird moment considering our history), before jumping into Sketchy's bed in a huff. Ha! It's kinda terrible, but I also enjoyed that sort of drama... silly things like that seemed to be appropriate young twenty-something behaviour... now, everything seems awfully serious and grown-up.

And not just when it comes to me either. The "global economic downturn" (an overused phrase in The Jakarta Post) seems to have led to a widespread depression, particularly among those of my generation (or maybe it just seems that way from my perspective, as mine are the ones attempting to find jobs in this tense economic climate). So many challenges are being thrown at my friends. I'm struggling to think of purely good news that anyone's been able to share... there's always a flipside... if one thing goes well, like career, it follows or is followed by heartbreak.

So in the absence of many real-life delights, I'm having to rely on books and TV for some delicious escapism. Glee, a new musical-dramedy from Nip/Tuck creator Ryan Murphy is rather hitting the spot...

Up - An Uplifting Adventure

2009-08-21T01:00:00.009+07:00

Hoping to convince the Sunday editor to let me do a weekly movie column, harking back to my halcyon days in Dar... so I did a sample review of Up, another instant Pixar classic...

Up (PG, Walt Disney Pictures)
Directed by Pete Docter and Bob Peterson
Featuring the voices of Ed Asner, Jordan Nagai, Christopher Plummer

Pixar have done it again. Their latest offering, Up, the tale of a lonely old man who decides to pursue his childhood dreams and fly his home to South America, is a visually and emotionally satisfying treat for all ages that will leave you with a smile on your face long afterwards.

Up opens with a black-and-white “documentary” about infamous adventurer Charlez Muntz who travels all over the world in his airship The Spirit of Adventure. Just like us, a little boy, Carl Frederickson, watches rapt in the cinema audience, refusing to lose faith when Muntz is accused of faking the discovery of a mythical bird and stripped of all his honours. He wanders the streets of his neighbourhood, searching for his own adventure, and finds it in the form of toothy chatterbox Ellie who also idolizes Muntz. After bombarding the quiet boy with her plans and dreams, she announces, “You don’t talk much! I like you!” She makes him promise that one day he’ll somehow fly them to Paradise Falls in South America, following in the footsteps of their shared hero.

The ensuing wordless montage of Carl and Ellie’s life together succinctly conveys how their loving marriage is marred by two profound disappointments; never being able to have children nor the adventure of their dreams. By the time we catch up to the present day, where a now alone and bitter Carl (voice by Ed Asner) is stubbornly trying to protect his home from contractors, we know him well. Despite his typical grumpy old man demeanour, we empathise with his deeply buried regrets and broken heart.

Luckily there’s not much time to dwell on sadness, because Up quickly kicks into high gear, as Carl defiantly propels his home into the air with the aid of a veritable rainbow of balloons, and with Boy-Scoutesque “Wilderness Explorer” Russell (Jordan Nagai) as an accidental hitchhiker. The unlikely adventurers are soon facing various trials and tribulations, from lightning storms to talking dogs, in Carl’s quest to move his home to the top of Paradise Falls, and Russell’s mission to earn his final Wilderness Explorer badge by assisting Carl.

Pixar breaks new visual ground with every film – i.e. the lush underwater environment in Finding Nemo – this time it’s the weather and aging effects. Unlike in other special effects-laden films that seem to be simply showing off (yes Star Wars 1-3 and Matrix Reloaded/Revolutions, I mean you), these aesthetic touches enhance the story. When Carl and Russell get caught in a vicious storm, the thunder and lightning serve to crank up the suspense, instilling vertigo in every viewer. The crinkles on Carl’s face and the creaking of his joints amplify his expressions and add comedy, especially when he engages in a walking-stick attack against a similarly arthritic nemesis.

Even more impressive than the visuals, is way Up deftly tackles a difficult topic: losing a loved one. Up is not afraid to make you cry, but rather than lapsing into emotional manipulation, it strikes the right balance, threading its dramatic heart with plenty of action and humor. This successfully comes together particularly due to the spot-on characterisation of Carl and Russell and their developing relationship.

It’s refreshing for an animated film to focus on an elderly character, and crotchety Carl is the perfect blend of comic and tragic. Despite his sky-high fantasy, he is down-to-earth, and viewers young and old will be able to relate to him. Russell starts off as the usual, annoying “Are-we-there-yet?” little-brother type, but soon evolves into the hero of the piece, unwittingly leading Carl into the very quest his inner child wanted, by virtue of his good heart and Wilderness Explorer values.

The villainous Charles Muntz (Christopher Plummer) is the only other main human character, with the rest of the cast nicely rounded out with a bunch of quirky, expressive creatures, including Kevin, a colourful Dodo-like “Snipe” who forms a reciprocated attachment to Russell and Dug (Bob Peterson), a dopey, would-be-kidnapper canine who talks with the aid of a hi-tech collar and decides to devote himself to an unwilling Carl.

Plus, despite the fact that there are a number of cinematic luminaries offering their vocal talents these do not at all distract from the characterisation. Far too many animated films these days rely on stunt vocal casting (see Angelina Jolie cameo-voicing a fish in A Shark’s Tale and a tiger in Kung Fu Panda) that seems to serve little purpose other than to boost ticket sales.

The only problem with Up is that most of the emotional punch is packed into the introduction and that after a novel first half, it unfolded rather predictably. However, even when it becomes clear where it’s going… you’ll still enjoy the ride. And make sure you’re not late to a showing, as it is preceded by a truly delightful short, Partly Cloudy, which well complements the main feature. Up is among Pixar’s very best, ranking up there with Wall-E, Finding Nemo and Toy Story.

**** 4 out of 5 stars

City of Ghosts... and beyond...

2009-08-19T22:50:00.017+07:00

Pygmy's latest posting inspire me to get a bit more visual. I really also wanted to do a Love-based piccy-thing... but certain tech things aren't facilitating this right now. Next time!

Here are some of my favourite pictures from my recent trip to Cambodia.

Late afternoon, Serendipity Beach, Sihanoukville. I love how this looks like it was done in oils... a happy mistake!

The view from the upstairs restaurant at Beach Road Hotel, where Anne and I stayed.

"Magic Geckos" along Street 240, my favourite place to sup and shop in Phnom Penh.

An elephant having its daily meal at La Croisette, view from Doll's balcony, Phnom Penh.

Lady Penh atop Wat Phnom, Phnom Penh. Doc was paying her tribute.

Mau, Doc's usual tuk-tuk driver, Phnom Penh. Funnily enough, he was also carting me and Anne around, before Doc got to PP... it really is a small world there.

The Bodhi in Kampot. I fell asleep here for a couple of hours when I was drunkenly dragged here much later that day...

Return to the Big Durian

2009-08-11T22:02:00.005+07:00

I've actually been back for a week now, but am still allowing the decaying shroud of my holiday in Cambodia to envelop me. It's part of the reason why I procrastinated on completing what I imagined to be an easy travel piece on Phnom Penh, I didn't want to put it down into words, signalling it was over. The other reason was Buffy, and the way its taken over all my free time lately! Behold the new Whedonite.

It's not so bad being back actually. The trip to Cambodia was exactly what I needed -- relaxing, inspiring, heartwarming -- but I missed my family more than ever while away(I always want them with me in Cambodia), plus was spending money I don't really have, so returning to the family bosom was comforting. And I am more certain that I ever I will return to live next year, shortly after my contract is up. Hopefully I can find a job.

I've decided to stop trying to love Jakarta, I never will. It's just unsuited to me. I felt so content in Phnom Penh -- no doubt partly because its familiar and nostalgic, but also because its so much easier. No traffic, lots of lovely shopping and dining, a view of a river... open spaces. I may as well be living underground in Jakarta, so rarely am I willing to face outside, with thick air, thick traffic and lack of pavement. When someone in PP asked me what Jakarta was like, I tiredly answered Thick, and they nodded. The no-pavement thing is so annoying, but I guess rarely anyone walks from place to place here, so they don't need them. I won't go on like this because the theme is essentially that Jakarta sucks, Phnom Penh rules.

I wonder if I can truly like any new place, if there isn't a part of me embedded in it, so to speak. The only two cities I know I feel at home in are London and Phnom Penh -- and I am half-English (and went to uni in London) and grew up in the latter. Everywhere else I've been, in a living sense, rather than just a holiday way, has felt a bit off, perhaps that was simply unfamiliarity. I think back on my time in Dar es Salaam fondly, remembering it as a beautiful haven, at the same time, if I dig deeper, I also recall the profound loneliness and boredom. Jerusalem spooked me, despite the beauty of the Old Town, the tension could be felt everywhere, and at night I heard ancient howling (probably just the wind blowing around the Mount of Olives) that unnerved me (I worried if I properly listened to it, I could actually understand what the howls were 'saying'). I have this romantic idea of trying out a new city every year of my twenties. Cities that I imagine I might like to live in include San Francisco, New York, Edinburgh and New Orleans. For the sake of my area studies, I'd like to try some more Southeast Asian cities.

Other than all that, I guess almost everything I wanted this summer. Best friends visiting (Tofu and Anne), Cambodia, seeing Doc again, a proper holiday, all tangled up together.

I am back now. Time will pass. Better make the most of it. But for a bit longer, I will gaze at my too few holiday pics -- here is a shot of the tranquil Mekong in Kampot, just before the sun begins to set.

Holiday in Cambodia

2009-07-19T12:58:00.002+07:00

Right now I am at the cheapo terminal in Kuala Lumpur, killing time before my flight to Phnom Penh. Due to bad weather conditions, it has been delayed by almost two hours.. so I have almost three hours to kill still, along with Anne, my laptop and book (which Anne has currently stolen!). I guess I could get some headway on the article I need to finish by the end of tomorrow. So very tired tho. Haven't been sleeping well lately, and just feeling generally run down. Hoping to catch a couple more hours on the next flight so I can be relatively fresh... we're meant to be meeting Doc's "husband", Doll, tonight -- it's his birthday. Anne met him a couple of months ago, when she was first in Phnom Penh, but its my first time.

The excitement over returning to my childhood home for the first time in four years hasn't really sunk in yet. I guess its trying to fight the exhaustion and disorientation. I have a lot to look forward to over the next two weeks... my favourite bits of Phnom Penh, the relative cheapness compared to moneysuck Jakarta, the relatively fresher air, the relative lack of traffic,the best part of a week on a beach, seeing Doc, focusing on my writing, taking a break from long days of copy-editing and commuting, seeing Devil and Pooh's mum and dad at their apparently beautiful new home in Kampot... just taking a break. I don't have high expectations this time. I just look forward to it generally and hope I come back feeling refreshed, with enough renewed spirit to slog out another four months at work, before my parents' three-week 25th anniversary cruise in December, and then another 3.5 months to see out my current contract.

Anyway, I actually don't mean to be so down on my job anymore... it's just been a long year so far, one thing to the next, and little chance to properly relax yet. I actually feel really grateful that I'm employed in a relevant field, particularly as a lot of my friends are struggling to find any kind of job at all. It's not a nice job world out there. I do know that I won't renew tho, Jakarta really isn't the place for me.

And unfortunately... the battery on my computer is near-dead and we can't seem to fit it into Anne's "universal" adaptor... so I better finish here.

Superyummy

2009-07-12T04:00:00.013+07:00

Miss Anne Throp'ist has gone some way to assuaging my black mood, via the wonders of J2... not some Japanese boy band (altho they'd make mad money doing such a thing), but Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki of Supernatural, which is about two demon-hunting brothers. I haven't even watched a whole episode yet and I feel I am already a convert.

Seriously, who wouldn't want to watch these guys for 44 minutes at a time, no matter what they were doing? (first Jared, then Jensen)

Sigh, I think what I like best about television is that I get to gorge on eye candy. That's why no British soaps, and only programs with pretty people. No reality programs tho, thanks. Pretty people PLUS intriguing storylines.

So now I have to watch all the episodes ever. Right now, we're waiting to watch the rest of the pilot, but being prevented by various obstacles, like bad internet, slow downloads and bizarrely acting TV websites.

More waiting! But I can live with it. In the meantime, I'm going to rewatch the 70 seconds that changed my life and converted me to the cult of J2:

Wait, Loss

2009-07-11T17:27:00.005+07:00

I'm feeling rather crabby at the moment, likely for hormonal reasons. But I also feel the world is seriously trying to test me and push me over the edge temper-wise, in lots of little, irritating ways.

For one, I am having to be incredibly patient at the moment, more than I think I can have the capacity to be, for lots of different things.

I am waiting to hear about my MA results, and have been for about 7 months now. In relation to that, I had to wait more than a month to hear back from my favourite professor and six weeks later, am still waiting to hear back from the History Dean. I am waiting to hear back from supposedly good friends who keep promising they'll respond, but weeks have already turned into months, and may even turn into years at this rate. I am waiting for my mother and little sister to be back in Indonesia because I really miss them (they're spending the summer in the States). I am waiting for the roster at work so I can figure out how long I can blag staying in Cambodia (yes I'm going in just over a week!!). I am waiting for my new HSBC bank card, which was supposed to be ready on Wednesday -- I need it because the machine INSIDE the branch swallowed the original one. I also had to wait a week to get my most recent salary, and now I am still waiting to be paid for an article I wrote over a month ago, along with one from last week. I am waiting to receive a copy of Jerusalem, Patrick Neate's latest book, that I need to review for the Post. The postal service here takes a ridiculously long time.

Plus, today when I checked my bank balance, I saw that some money had come out, related to an ATM transaction that hadn't actually dispensed the cash. So I have been debited, but I never got the money. I had to call Natwest and they said as I am in Indonesia I should contact the ATM machine people here, and that all they could do was send me a form, that I will need to send back, and that will probably take about 6 weeks if I'm lucky, so yet more waiting!

I'm all about instant gratification... and this is just adding up to be far too much waiting. It concerns almost everything that's important to me right now: my education, people I care about, improving my finances.

The people thing is particularly galling. These days, we are so hooked up. You can email, Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, text, Skype or call someone. Even write a letter if you're feeling oldfashioned. Yet, in my view, it actually seems to be making people even worse at keeping in touch. Obviously face-to face is preferable, but not always possible. I've moved around a lot in my life, and constantly have to bid adieu to dear friends, but its made tolerable by the thought that at least we can still keep in touch. However, it seems out of sight out of mind for some. I can relate, I'm not completely on top of my own correspondence -- mainly Facebook, which I have lately abanded for the newer, shinier, less-efforty, more interesting Twitter... and I've been through several stressful periods where I just couldn't write to people, especially because I didn't want to depress them... but I feel that everyone's who's within my closest circle of friends, I'm on top off correspondence-wise, at least on my side of things. I feel really hurt by allegedly good friends who keep promising they'll message you when they have time, saying they're really busy... and even months later, they still haven't, altho you can see that they're on social networks a lot, doing quizzes, writing status updates about how much time they have... it's not like they're not on the internet or completely without time, and it just shows that you obviously aren't that important to them, that they're lying to you, and maybe to themselves. And if keeping in touch is the only way to maintain your friendship, doesn't that imply that you aren't really friends anymore?

The more time that passes with these people, the less I care. So I guess, in the end, the waiting becomes it's own cure... you wait so long, until you're not waiting anymore.

On a slightly more positive note, my productive unexpected-day-off reaped some rewards. The Features editor sent me to two seminars on Thursday and Friday, concerning graphic design. The first speaker was an animator and the second was a (very attractive) "motion designer" (think Michel Gondry). I was enraptured by both talks... now I have to write them up this weekend!

PS: After this ranty rant I decided I needed to address my own hypocrisy. So now I am on top of everything -- correspondence wise. And it took less than an hour to write to several people! Work-wise... not so much! Better get on it.

Curriculum Vitae

2009-07-09T03:29:00.014+07:00

I can't sleep. I blame the way I've overwhelmed my stomach the past couple of weeks, either eating very rich food like oyster and foie gras or junky food like KFC and Dominoes or MSG-laden treats like Indomie (instant noodles, helped SBY get re-elected!). Must detox. Must eat more fibre.

I've been a bit (read: exceedingly) whingey about my job of late, mainly because of the vampire hours (was 6pm-1am the past month, now its 4pm-11pm if my boss hasn't ridiculously understaffed us) and because I wasn't doing as much writing (either articles or creative or even blogging) as I would like to have been. I realised the latter was entirely my fault and nothing to do with the job I currently have -- if anything, my present job facilitates writing more than any other I've had post-uni, especially as I can get things published in the newspaper pretty easily (they're desperate for content). The former still stucks. But after reading articles about the scores of unemployed people all around the world... I am damned lucky to have a job at all, and in a field that is relevant to my ambitions. I'm certainly better off than these young Americans, although they are not as bad off as the article makes them out to be. Plus, I'm here for other reasons too, which have to outweigh these negatives in the end... family and paying off debts.

I've actually had quite a lot of different jobs since I first entered the workforce way back in 2001, when I was 16. My first paying job was a sales assistant at Laura Ashley's. I quit after 3 months, couldn't stand finger-spacing the hangers anymore, or having to get up early every damned Saturday (oh how hard my life was back then!). Also, I felt I was getting disturbingly addicted to twinsets and florals -- I would spend my shift mulling what I would spend my meagre paycheck on. Awhile later, I landed a job as a sales assistant at a haberdashery. Made a bad impression my very first day as Amber Eyes had invited me to a party the night before and I had gotten incredibly drunken and sick and made out with his twin sister (luckily for her the making out was between the drunkenness and vomiting). I had to go straight from the party host's floor to work, slightly caked in my own sick. They didn't fire me, but I kinda sorta just left without coming back at all, because it felt like they didn't have anything for me to do beside look at yarn. I semi-stole the uniform too, as I thought it was the coolest thing -- a huge, dark green cardigan with large gold buttons. We were really into our granny chic back then. I eventually returned it, as I had left my favourite pair of black jeans in the locker there. I cowardly got my beloved Barbie to go in and conduct the exchange, as I couldn't face the benevolent, motherly types who worked there.

The next job I got that I actually somewhat committed to, was as a waitress at a pub near my house called The Hungry Horse. We had to wear bright greenshirts with a slobbering horse, wielding cutlery emblazoned upon it. The pub was also notable for its huge plates, also decorated with the greedy horse. Every shift, at least one genius would either ask if they could have one of the plates or a shirt. I told them sweetly, you can have a shirt as long as you work here. I think working as a waitress went a long way to improving my confidence, as well as giving me lots of chances to people-watch. It's a cliche, but you really can tell a lot about a person from the way they treat a person serving them.

I worked there for about 6 months and then walked out/got fired. It was when I was in the midst of crazy-eating, so working in a pub, surrounded by greasy food was probably not the best idea. I got really irritated with the new manager type I had to work under and just left. When I came back, I found they had imagined I'd quit and didn't want me anymore. Didn't really care...

My next job was in a bakery, the summer after I finished college. Again, a really bad job choice considering I was still a crazy eater. Had I known that working as a baker required starting work at absolutely ridiculous hours (more so than now even), ie 4am, I would never have bothered. But the manager was super nice, this young woman with a throaty voice and liked how colourfully I dressed for the interview. The perks included grotesque amounts of leftover pastries and pasties at the end of the day, free pastries and pasties for lunch and being able to sneak free food and drinks to friends who popped in. Basically a carbs-free-for-all. I think the best day ever was when the freezer broke down and I was going to a friend's barbeque afterwards. My boss left me take about 200 servings of cakes with me -- including entire cheesecakes, carrot cakes and boxes upon boxes of brownies and flapjacks. I think everyone on that party was sick on glucose rather than booze for a change.

Following the summer of sugar, I moved to Tanzania, and interned for a month on the daily newspaper there, which turned into a long-term thing. I started off as Cholera Girl, writing about how many people had died that day of Dar's endemic disease, until my contact at the Ministry became highly lascivious and tried to imply I could only get the "really good stories"(about cholera?!) if I spent the weekend with him out of town. I immediately asked to be moved to the Features desk, where I assisted the Features Editor with proofreading and copyediting. It was during this time I built my journalistic confidence, with features on local artists and environmentalists, as well as a weekly movie review column. It was a fairly cushy lifestyle -- as I was only being paid for the content I submitted, it didn't matter what time I came in every day, and it was fine when I wanted to go travelling for a month. And the little I earned for the content (about $50-100 a month) was more than enough for me while I was there, particularly as I lived with my dad and didn't have to contribute to anything (how I miss those days!).

I got my next job the summer before uni, shortly after returning from Tanzania, as an admin assistant in a learning centre. I paired it with working at events at the evenings and weekends, as I wanted to have a cushion of savings once I started uni (I really did try to start out right). During my first year at uni, I continued to do the events when I could -- either if they were in London or if I returned home for any length of time. I think I tried a few other events companies and bars but they were a lot more stressful than the one I had first signed with, really treating staff like cattle. What I'd really wanted was a bar job when I first arrived in the city, hoping to get great tips. I quite quickly was offered one at this cocktail bar -- the manager just told me to come back on a certain day for a trial shift. Unfortunately I was so new to London that I had absolutely no idea how to find the bar again... so I just never went back. Shamefully, it was actually in Leicester Square, one of the most obvious places in Central London! Ah well.

The summer after my second year (2005), I interned on The Phnom Penh Post. I hadn't been back to Cambodia since my family had left hurriedly in 1997, due to the imminent coup. I had been aiming to intern on the Post ever since I had become more comfortable at the Tanzanian Guardian. The experience temporarily put me off journalism tho, mainly because of the vibes I got from the managing editor and the other interns, who were mostly Berkeley journalism graduate students. I was significantly younger than everyone else (19 to their mid-20s-30s), and I think most felt that I was only there because I had a rich family (so not true!) and connections (I was staying with my one of my best friends, whose mum is a prominent politican and human rights activist). I guess it didn't help I also dressed very girlishly, in vintage dresses and Fly sandals, while the others wore khakis and string vests. However, I still ended the summer loving Cambodia, although I think was irrationally disappointed that going back wasn't the same as going back in time at all, and in fact served to emphasize that the past would always be just that... memories.

After Cambodia, it was back to uni and waitressing, this time at a swish restaurant near the London docks, frequented by the likes of Delia Smith and Graham Norton. The former of which's dining partner I thwacked in the teeth with a plate, but that's another story. I actually really enjoyed that job -- the food was amazing, the clientele was interesting (I liked to banter with them), the tips were decent and it was a brisk 5 minute walk from my house. In my cigarette breaks I could cross the road and sit on a bench, staring at the rainbow-lit Thames. Even when I gave up smoking for awhile, I still pretended I did, so I could get in some Thames-ing. The only shitty thing was the management, as usual in the catering industry -- the manager I had for the most of the time was a terrible womanizer who once cornered me in the changing room, demanding that I not think he was sleazy. (I had made the mistake of agreeing with my workmate that I found him to be so, and she had obviously told him without saying she thought it too!) I can't remember how I left things there... I think I actually got fired, because I'd come to work following a cycling accident in Hampstead Heath, covered in blood, and it was the final straw. I didn't really care much about anything at that time, the second year of uni was full of so many ups and downs (mainly to do with wars between my housemates), its kind of amazing I managed to keep the same job throughout all that. I just did some work for the trust events company I had signed to before I started uni to keep the funds coming in, instead of just flowing out, particularly as Sketchy was making me to go to India that summer -- despite all my money problems and exhausted state of mind.

When I returned from my bank-breaking, Sketchy-enforced Indian summer, I really needed to focus on getting my life in order, particularly in terms of academia, so I moved back home and survived on my loan. After the first term, having achieved getting back on track at uni, I felt like I had way too much time on my hands, plus definitely wanted a bit more money. It was really hard getting a job in my hometown, as they seemed to have an aversion to uni students. So I began downplaying my student status, saying I was one, but mainly a research one, so only had to go once a week (which was almost true, more like 1.5 times a week). I landed a job as a Publications Officer, for the education sector of the county council. I really enjoyed that job, mainly because I got paid for doing very little, and that was actually what I was meant to do. I learned that working for the county council (in Hampshire at least) means not being too efficient. If you do the job at your natural working pace (ie reasonably quickly), you'll only freak your manager out and create more work for them. So I just dipped in and out of my actual assignment and spent most of my working day on Facebook, which I was newly addicted to, as well as regaling my workmates with Crazy Lady and Guitar Boy tales.

They would have kept me forever, as my manager said I was their Office Jester and kept them all amused (no comment on the work I did), but I didn't end up going back, as I needed to take time off to go to Indonesia to visit my dad (the first time I went) and then focus on my exams.

After the exams were over -- and with it, my BA -- I fully intended to bum around, revelling in all the options now open to me. Unfortunately, I over-efficiently found myself a job within about a week of my last exam. And it was a seriously pointless job too! Again for the county council. I was ostensibly a Secretary. My job was to sit there and wait for people to ask me to do things. However, most people had no idea what my job was, so didn't ask me to do anything. When they started figuring it out, sometimes people would ask me to photocopy or fax something. I actually got some decent headway on one of my novel ideas, so boooored was I at work. I know it sounds ridiculous, that I would actually get tired of turning up to work and being paid quite well to do nothing, and even get paid to write my novel... but I did. It eroded my sense of self-worth to make the commute there and back to a meaningless job every day, so after about a month of this nonsense, I told the woman who most often asked me to fax things for her that I'd be leaving. (The person who had hired me in the first place had apparently ran off to Switzerland to run a chalet and make lovely cupcakes.) She seemed very concerned the office would fall apart without me, but I reassured her that the agency would let me know if they really did me again.

Plus, I had been unexpectedly accepted for an internship at Amnesty International, in the Southeast Asia department, and was also trying to decide for sure if I would do the Masters I had already accepted, and therefore planned to move to London shortly... I wanted to get in a few weeks of lazing/sorting time at home before then, especially to assist my family before they all made the big move to Indonesia.

And all that takes me to the various employments I've had since I started this blog: Copywriter for a romantic gifts website, Publishing Assistant for a finance publisher, Research Assistant for Doc (really imbibing a lot of red wine and eating chip and dip for a month), Personal Assistant to the Archbishop of Canterbury's Secretary of International Development and now finally, Copy Editor at The Jakarta Post.

The array of jobs over the past 8 years have been just as educational and character-building, if not sometimes more so, than my actual education -- particularly when I was at college (I barely attended, spending most of my time smoking or daydreaming). It brought me into contact with a wide range of people -- at any place I spent a decent amount of time at, I befriend great people I still (admittedly tenuously in places) keep in touch with today. They've also reinforced what I really do what to do -- which is to write write write and earn my money through my writing, whether journalistic or creative. I most want to be a novelist. Right now I'm mainly working on journalism. I'd also like to write for TV and film. But the variety of experiences I've had also have made me want to continue trying new jobs -- like maybe a camp counselor in the States, a volunteer for VSO, an overseas English teacher. Luckily, my main ambition to write pairs well with that desire for new experiences... its always worth having more stuff to draw on in your writing, whatever format it is.

I tend to excise all the catering/sales assistant stuff from my CV, following the recommendations of various agencies, but I still wonder if my CV impresses or perturbs potential employers. I've got a lot of varied experience, but I'm sure I seem rather fickle. Which I am. Hence the recent whingeing -- I've really not had to focus on any one thing alone for more than a few months (even with my degrees, they had many varied components and I did them alongside some of the aforementioned occupations), and I am pretty much locked into my contract until next March (unless I feel like paying them $2000, no thanks).

I also long for the jobs I never got, which now number into the hundreds, following my two months of gainful unemployment. There are a few that particularly haunt me. Of course, there's the big one at the Guardian, previously mentioned in last year's entries, as a trainee journalist. Publishing Assistant at the London Review of Books. A research assistant for a celebrity sex psychologist, writing up transcripts of erotic fantasies and researching international sexual practices. A sales assistant at Waterstones and at Thorntons. Funnily enough, while the first three were near-misses (warranting detailed feedback), I didn't get anywhere close with the latter two, altho I applied repeatedly, respectively going on about my love of books and my passion for chocolate. I even told Waterstones about the special shelf I had with "recommended reads" for family and friends, and wore brown to the Thorntons interview, so they could better visualize me behind the counter.

So anyway, I've decided I really need to focus on the good things about the job I have now, and adapt myself to even the parts I really don't like, like the hours. Come December it will be time to apply for new things, and I can likely add more titbits to my schizophrenic curriculum vitae.

Who will be the HIMYM mother?

2009-07-07T12:12:00.034+07:00

I have an unexpected day off today due to the presidential elections. I knew it was a national holiday tomorrow, but doubted we'd get it off, as its so newsworthy. We usually get the day before the national holiday off, as that day doesn't need a newspaper. But topsy-turvy land in Indonesia, as usual!

Anyway, I am going to use this day to finish the profile I did on Patrick Neate (my first author interview!) and hopefully get some headway on "my" sections of Doc's Southeast Asian women's dictonary. But first, I want to actually DO the thing Miss Anne Throp'ist and I talked about last night, instead of it just being another of my things that never ever gets done!

We were watching How I Met Your Mother from the very beginning, which is probably my current favourite TV show. It has everything -- a cute lead, plenty of irreverent comedy, mystery, mythology and NEIL PATRICK HARRIS. It's essentially about a late 20something (by now 30something) architect, Ted, who is on a quest to meet the One, prompted by the engagement of his two best friends, Marshall and Lily. The story is told retrospectively by an older, middle-aged Ted (voiced by Bob Saget), who is explaining to his two teens how exactly he met their mother, with all the details included. But its also about friendship, personal development and the power of storytelling. The casual viewer can dip in and enjoy, the hardcore obsessives (like me and Anne) can watch and rewatch and squee at the call-backs and interlinkages. Like the first episode has a scene where Ted meets Barney (NPH!) for the first time, and they revisit that scene throughout the next four seasons.

Obviously, the main mystery is who the mother will be, and we still haven't got the slightest idea. I'm a bit worried about how exactly they will execute it. Will we get to know the mother? Will it all be over once he meets her? I guess it probably has to be. Then again, they could change the rules once he does meet her, and become more straightforward, Friends-style. It might lose a lot of its charm though. But we'll see! I'm thinking we have to Meet the Mother by Season 6. Ted's getting on in age... and by 2030 he has two teens.

Anyway, Anne and I thought it would be fun to each make a list of what actress we thought would play the Mother, and later see if we managed to get anywhere close. The casting will certainly be very crucial, I feel that they'll use a familiar face from television. They might even use a movie actress, depending on the commitment, plus movie/tv has a lot of blurring these days, in terms of star quality. If HIMYM maintains its popularity, I'm sure many actresses would be thrilled to land of the coup of being the Mother.

Who would be a great match for Ted?

The list of possibilities isn't as endless as one might think. First there's the age thing -- someone from Friends would be cool, but they're already a decade too old. No one from any teen shows like Gossip Girl, obviously too young. No one remotely ethnic, as its been made clear his kids are purely white. And it likely won't be anyone who's already guest-starred on the show, unless they can find some incredibly creative way to justify that -- like Jayma Mays (Heroes, Ugly Betty) as the coat check girl in a S1 episode. And no one who looks too much like Robin -- ie Carly Pope (Popular) or Caroline Dhavernas (Wonderfalls) because visually that wouldn't work. I also think its really important the mother is funny. Ted himself isn't that funny -- he's definitely the straight man to his kooky friends, and I think he would be nicely balanced out by someone that at least approached the hilarity of Marshall, Lily and Barney. (I'm still not sure if I always think Robin is funny, but I like her more and more as time goes by.)

So here we go, in no particular order, except the first:

1. Alicia Silverstone
I'm currently most convinced about Alicia Silverstone, particularly as I heard that she was the orginal choice for the role of Stella (Sarah Chalke), Ted's most serious non-Robin love interest, but she dropped out, supposedly because she didn't want to be overshadowed by Britney Spears, who would be sharing the episodes with her. I think it was a good call in hindsight, not because of being overshadowed by Spears, but because Stella proved damned annoying. I was glad to see the back of her.

2. Felicia Day
I think it would be cool if the Buffy connection kicked in again (as with Alyson Hannigon and Alexis Denisof -- altho could be cuz those are married!), hence the inclusion of Felicia Day, Eliza Dushku and Sarah Michelle Gellar. Plus I think all these ladies work physically, complementing Ted and not looking too much like either Robin or Lily. Felicia Day's career seems to be gathering steam, with Dr. Horrible (starring NPH!) and guesting on House and Dollhouse।

3. Sarah Michelle Gellar
Anne doubts that Sarah Michelle Gellar could be funny -- she was also the straight man type in Buffy, but I think with the right sort of writing, she could work. She deserves some decent romantic comedy action (Simply Irresistible was simply a watered-down Like Water for Chocolate).

4. Eliza Dushku
I think the Mother would be a diversifying role for Eliza Dushku. I don't actually like her that much, but Anne does, so I'm vaguely influenced by that (shhh, don't tell her).

5. Alyssa Milano
I'm very fond of Alyssa Milano -- I think she's very pretty and she was far and away my favourite sister on Charmed, which, once upon a time, was my favourite show. I've seen her in quite a few things, and I am sure she would work as a funny, romantic lead.

6. Anna Friel
I never used to like Anna Friel, due to the Brookside connection (I despise all English soaps) and her overshadowing of Calista Flockhart in Midsummer Night's Dream (who I also used to like). Now I find Calista more annoying than Anna, who I really really liked in Pushing Daisies. (Also, they look about 2 decades apart in age now!) She was amusing and adorable, great qualities for the Mother.

7. Kristen Bell
Kristin Bell would be another cool bit of meta-casting, having played Jason Segal's (Marshall) titular ex-girlfriend in Forgetting Sarah Marshall. (Oh look it even has his HIYM's characters name in the title! Maybe the Mother will be called Sarah.) Plus she seems to be guest-starring on every show every at the moment, ie Heroes, Gossip Girl and Party Down. Ok, that was quite an exaggeration, but it seems to be a big deal when she lends her name to a show these days, so I imagine there would also be fanboy squeeing from several directions should she turn out to be the Mother.

8. Zooey Deschanel
I LOVE Zooey Deschanel! She's definitely more of a movie star these days, but she has a smattering of primetime sitcom/drama under her belt (Weeds, Frasier, Veronica's Closet) and her quirkiness and doll-like beauty would complement the HIMYM cast veeeeery nicely. She's due to star in (500) Days of Summer, alongside Joseph Gordon Levitt (who gets sexier every year, weirdly), as an elusive romantic heroine, and altho I haven't seen it yet, that's getting a LOT of kudos, which bodes well for Mother-suitability.

9. Becki Newton
Becki Newton, along with Michael Urie, as bitchy best friends Amanda and Marc, are the best things on Ugly Betty. Becki is increasingly hilarious, but also manages to provoke pathos. She was a little dull in August Rush, but that was probably the writing. I think the HIMYM writers could do great things with her.

10. Julie Gonzalo
Finally, Julie Gonzalo. Like Bell, she is a Veronica Mars alumnus, and like Day, I feel her career's gathering steam. It was seeing her once in now-cancelled Eli Stone that led me to consider her as a possible Mother. She was very endearing in that show, I liked her much better than I had in Christmas with the Kranks and Must Love Dogs.

Agh, I just thought of an 11th.... Keri Russell, former Felicity.

Am I allowed an 11th? Anne says no, including a no to Keri Russell in particular. She's guested on Scrubs (Sarah Chalke's show!) and is traversing into movie territory, albeit via a few clunkers like Bedtime Stories and the aforementioned August Rush. She tended towards the drippy in Felicity (which I was unavoidably addicted to at the time), but I liked her in Scrubs and think she definitely has romantic heroine chops. I don't want to swap her with anyone on my current list tho, either out of laziness or whatever, I'll let you decide.

Anne and I, in true HIMYM fashion, have a bet (not a slap one tho, Anne veto'ed that immediately)... there's definitely going to be crossover (she's tapping away right now), but whoever has the person the other person didn't have be the Mother (eh?), wins. The prize is a dinner. I suggested 50 pounds, but Anne claimed poverty, despite probably have two years to save up.

Here's her contenders.

(Btw, in the middle of this blog, I was suddenly forced to complete the Neate profile I'd been dawdling on, as the Features Editor needed it for tomo! So at least that's done. And so is this...)

The Skinny on My Fat

2009-07-04T14:14:00.009+07:00

I've just spent a wodge of my web-time reading about plus-size issues, in Indonesia and beyond, mainly due to coming across the blog of a new acquaintance, who sometimes writes about such things and posted links to other articles. I also came across a sad story I wrote when I was 18, about the eating disorder I was recovering from, in an attempt to win 1000 pounds and match the standards of the previous winners who ate rabbit foetii and lost their fingers climbing Everest and having miscarriages etc etc. The story was totally sincere though, despite its monetary motivation.

Like many girls/women, I've had all kind of self-esteem and body battles. The only time I was "thin" was when I was 5. That was because I was incredibly picky with my food, and only liked eating noodles and peanut butter. I also had a special magic trick where I would throw most of my meal under the table and pretend I had eaten it, much to my parents' irritation. When I was 7, my parents left me in England with my grandmother (on my request, I wanted to stay at my then school), who set about changing my eating habits. I didn't like milk? She ordered chocolate milk. I didn't like vegetables? She baked them with cheese. She fostered my enduring love for roasts and other English delights. And every weekend, she and my great-aunt would take me to McDonald's and treat me to a Happy Meal. Sometimes I could even have two, they didn't mind. By the time she returned me to my parents in Cambodia, about half a year later (not sure really), I was a relative butterball. My ribs no longer poked through my skin, and I had a double chin when I shoved my usual one chin down. Not at all unhealthy tho, when I recall my parents' response to me at the time, I had the idea I was horribly tubby, but really I was pretty average.

But now, in my parents' eyes, and thus my eyes' too, I was chubby, on the path to becoming fat. It was frustrating because altho they would make a big deal about my weight, they didn't really give me an idea of how to do anything about it, except not eat as much. And that I couldn't do, because I was constantly ravenous. I now realise that was because I always had worms (sorry, TMI). So I think my parents were worried the vast amounts of food I was chugging would lead to extreme obesity when, due to the little parasite buggers, it only resulted in a bit of chub.

I have Filipino relatives, who are incredibly blunt and constantly teasing, about anything they can possibly mention, and around this period, they dubbed me "Porkita". They considered me the female version of my very tubby cousin, "Pok-pok".

My parents' continued to be their self-esteem boosting selves, telling a 9 year old me, that if I didn't lose the weight now, "it would be much harder later on". Basically they told me when I hit puberty all the baby fat I had now would become a permanent part of my genetic make-up or whatever. Pressure! All this finally got to me, and from then on, I was totally neurotic about my body, altho not doing anything "productive" about it. I felt self-conscious when we had formal events, because I didn't think anything would look nice on me. Swimming, once one of my most frequent and favoured activities, became a nightmare, particularly the path from the changing room to the shallow end. I surreptitiously compared the circumference of my thighs to those of my friends. I sucked in my stomach and tried to count the calories I was consuming.

I remember I had a few freak-outs at sleepovers, because I desperately didn't understand why I was fat, and wanted to be like Betty and Veronica and Barbie. My patient friends (all about 1-2 years older than me, as I'd skipped a grade, and thus hitting puberty and getting enviable figures) would comfort me, and remind me that no one could possibly attain those cartoony body shapes. Despite their reassurances and sage words, I continued to cling onto the ridiculous idea that when I became a teenager (i.e. 13), my childish chub would magically tranform into an hourglass figure. Talk about setting yourself up for a disappointment!

I returned to England when I was 12. My dad tried to cheer me up, telling me that most of my peers in England would probably be fatter than me, as they were bigger there than in Asia. So I would fit right in. I actually looked forward to that, but I can't remember if he was right anymore, from my 12-year-old perspective. I think I did feel average. I was so used to my neurosis by then that it became pretty much tolerable. Plus we had hideous uniforms that did no one's body any favours, so I think I resigned myself to being dumpy and unattractive for the foreseeable future.

The summer after my first year at school, I finally decided to take action. I began taking a lot of walks and watching what I ate. The weight came off incredibly quickly. My parents were full of admiration, and bought me a bicycle. My mum treated me to new clothes. I was not thin, but I was finally "normal", especially according to my parents.

Normal was what I strived for from then, until my late teens. When I was 15, at college, I was quite happy with my body. I felt I was about half a stone overweight, but that it was a fair trade off for being able to eat what I liked. I could be the right weight, but not eat everything I liked, which seemed too much of a sacrifice.

Then I went on the Pill (for hormonal issues rather than birth control), and I began to become fat again. I hardly even noticed it myself. My dad had to point it out to me one family holiday, and said I should probably consider coming off the Pill, as it was obviously having a detrimental affect. So I did, but the weight stubbornly refused to come off. Until my mother decided to put me on a carbs-free diet, and then, after a few months I was normal again.

All this bouncing about in size reinforced to me the power of figure control and beauty. When I was slimmer, everyone treated me much more nicely. My parents were prouder of me, my girlfriends complimented my clothes, I had more male attention. When I piled on the pounds, I was a failure. I was by now very obsessed with what I ate. I stuck to the carbs-free diet religiously. After about six months, I noticed I was no longer losing any weight, and might even be putting a bit on. So I decided to take it further, trawling the internet for nutrition information. I decided I should go on the raw food diet, which I did, for 2 months. And lost drastic amounts of weight. I was still not thin (I don't think I'll ever be, unless I starve myself for longer than that), but I was smaller than anyone had ever seen me. Some of my friends were worried, saying I resembled a doll, but most were very flattering, saying I looked amazing. Even the worried comments about me being "doll-like" were pleasing, harking back to my childish adulation of Barbie. Who wouldn't want to look like a doll?

However, this messing about with my body exacerbated my hormonal issues, and I *had* to go on the Pill again. It was that or deal with six week periods, with only two weeks in between each one. I was determined not to let it affect my weight, but it immediately sharpened my appetite painfully. Like when I had worms, I was constantly ravenous. I cringed, because every time I succumbed to my uncontrollable hunger, I felt I could actually see myself getting bigger. The only thing I could think of doing what throwing everything up I was eating. That way, I could give in to the urge to binge, but not suffer any of the effects. Or so I thought. As most people are (or ought to be) aware, bulimia is a particularly damaging activity and it isn't actually an effective way to maintain your weight (funnily enough).

I'll end the bulimia story here, because I already dealt with it in detail in that story I mentioned. Basically, I eventually got through it, and that period represents the time in my life when I reached the peak of my neurosis regarding weight and body (or so I hope!). The extremes I experienced during that time, taught me that I never want to be that in control ever again, because really I was completely out of control. It taught me I'd rather be chubby that totally dictated by a desire to be thin.

It's also a bit sad reflecting, because I feel that I'm not naturally a person that would be neurotic about these things, but I had it forced on me by my parents and relatives. Or maybe that's the case for every person ever! I actually confronted my dad once, when he was teasing my getting chubby littlest sister. I told him to stop and asked him why he said stuff like that so much. He said the reason he went on at us about our weight, was to protect us from the wider world's harsher comments, and that it had obviously worked for me, as I was no longer chubby (this was during the carbs-free period). I told him that it was only my parents and family who had ever made me feel bad about my weight. No one at school had ever teased me -- all the worries came from home. I think from the look on his face, that was a revelation, and he seemed ashamed.

Anyway, since the beginning of this year, I haven't been happy with my body (as I'd piled on the pounds yet again, particularly following being fired and then getting stressed by Sketchy), but in a measured way, and my attitude has actually been improving, likely as other factors in my life have been improving (like making more friends in Jakarta, feeling a bit more at home here etc). I was pretty apprehensive about how huge I would feel moving to Asia. And the articles I was reading -- that spurred this meandering rant in the first place -- were mentioning how hard it was. Maybe the life I'm leading is too sheltered, or perhaps my skin has become thicker than I thought, but I've neither felt too white or too fat here, so far. People often think I'm Indonesian (I'm half-Filipino) and no one has said anything about my size, and I haven't noticed anything more subtle than actual out-loud words. I spent a year in Tanzania where I felt both of those things, acutely, and it was while I was recovering from eating like a crazy, so I was likely more sensitive. Everyone shouted about the color of my skin (thinking me either white or Japanese), and people often remarked on how fat I was, altho I know they meant it as a compliment or simply descriptive -- i.e. "You are so fat and beautiful!" "Your friend who is fat like you came to the office today" etc etc. The only problem I have here is buying clothes, if I find anything in my size, it seems to make my body look rather obscene, usually in the chest and thigh area. Nothing is high-cut or long enough, which is odd because this country has the world's largest Muslim population.

Fat is a funny issue. It certainly crosses over into health issues, but I also feel for a lot of people, fat is a state of mind, inextricably linked to other emotional matters. People often waste a lot of time worrying about their body and beauty, in proportion to how much they should -- not that anyone should, per se... but how many times in your own life, have you felt really down on yourself, and then when looking at pictures of the time, realized you didn't need to feel that way at all? That the only problem with the way you looked is that sad expression on your face? (Miss Anne Throp'ist has remarked that the reverse is also true, ie you find a picture of yourself with a ridiculous grin, in perverse proportion to the hideousness of your hairstyle).

For myself personally, I've accepted I'm over the ideal size, and I'd like to change that, but until I'm doing something genuinely productive about it (gym, watching what I eat), I won't get too frustrated. I've also found that going to the gym doesn't make you thinner, but it makes me feel more energetic and I get a lot of useful thought-processing done while I'm doing something monotonous on the treadmill. It encourages me to eat healthier too. The key is really sadly, eating less calories (but not necessarily less overall), more than exercising more.

Anyway... I could probably talk about this forever, but luckily for you, I need to get my fat ass to a gig.

Separate Worlds

2009-06-02T19:01:00.004+07:00

This post originally contained the first features I had published in the national newspaper I work for. I decided to remove it because I'd like to keep this blog as something more private. Not that it hugely matters as a) I am very bad at updating this blog and b) Everyone who likely reads it knows me and C) If anyone is reading this doesn't know me, it doesn't really matter that they know certain things about me... but still, I think its better this way. This blog will be save for sporadic rants, mutterings and musings and I will find someplace else to start showcasing the journalism portfolio I am building.

(update July 4, 2009)

The Idiot

2009-05-25T22:52:00.004+07:00

Sigh. This is a rubbish half week so far, I'm glad it's over tomorrow! I hate it when I have to work over the weekend... particularly as I feel like I haven't had proper time off in forever. The five days mini-holiday I was due to embark on in the last post never happened... ending up covering two colleagues, as I owed one a day and the other was ill. Wanted to earn some extra holiday for when I really need it! Then I had four days off in a row and spent 85% of that joyous free time SLEEPING. Seriously! And not in a good way. It started off with a day of puking and then I could barely sit up for no discernable reason for all that time. And then of course, the morning I was due to return to work (last Thursday), I felt perfectly fine. I feel cheated, and behind on my self-projects.

So I have not been a good work bunny the past "working week", which I better address pronto, before anyone strongly notices. I have been dishevelled and finding it hard to muster care about all the finicky grammar things I should. We had an editorial meeting today and I very blatantly stared into space, looking utterly depressed.

However, I have succeeded in writing my first features article! I will share it once its published, which should be Wednesday, in case anyone points out any glaring errors pre-production. I'm quite proud of it, and now I've done it, future ones should be a bit easier to attempt. I haven't published anything since 2005, which gave me a severe case of jitters. Felt like I was about to lose my publishing virginity again. Unfortunately, unlike the real sort of virginity, drinking (which I did try out) did not assist in moving things along. But it got done, and in the nick of time, so hopefully that's fine.

Unfortunately, I have also faffed up in another way. You see, I offered an article to both the daily paper and the monthly magazine, which have different editors. It was on the same person, but I thought there was so much content, I could write two articles on different aspects. And it seemed the monthly magazine wouldn't publish it til two months from now, while the daily paper could publish it sooner, and one of the aspects was a really important, "hot topic" that I worried be less relevant if it was left too late. Blah. So I offered to to the magazine editor, who accepted, and then to the features editor, telling her I had offered it to the magazine editor, did she think it would be possible for me to do two or too much overlap? And she said it would be fine, and that she would talk to the magazine editor about it. At this point, I should have spoken to him too, but both intimidate me to be honest, the magazine editor particularly (as I had to chase him across the office to get him to talk to me in the first place), so I thought I would just take her at her word and leave her to sort whatever out with him.

So, I was supposed to give both articles in on Friday, but couldn't as the person I interviewed did not complete the email interview til that afternoon. The features editor said Monday would be fine. And then of course, typical me, today I was still madly writing both at the same time, but I didn't know how I could properly differentiate them unless I knew when the magazine one would be published. So I finally contacted the magazine editor, asking just that, and acknowledging I should have spoken to him directly, but imagined he and the features editor had probably discussed it anyway. He got back to me, and the features editor had obviously never spoken to him, and he said he was surprised I had essentially offered the exact same article to the features desk after I had him, without telling him, and that it would be a stretch to do two articles on the same person, as the two publications were linked.

He didn't seem expressly annoyed... but I imagine he thinks I'm an immature idiot. I probably didn't help matters by apologising and saying I was a bit nervous around the office still. So. I don't know how I am going to get into his good books. Guess it will take even longer than it would have to begin with.

However, I have decided I absolutely hate deadlines, not having quite recovered from the trauma of the uni experince just yet... so I am going to avoid them at all costs for foreseeable future. I am not quite a journalist, essentially just a salaried subeditor and a freelance features writer. So from now on, I will write articles at my own pace, and only offer them to either the features section, Sunday paper or monthly magazine once they are done, or near enough so! So I will never again seem like a blithering idiot and promise articles that don't exist yet. I love writing, but not when it feels forced.

In other non-careery news... not much else to report. I still veer between loneliness, happiness, boredom and bliss, on a pretty much daily basis. I am getting to know my workmates better, but most of all, more than any romance, I am longing for great girlfriends... twirling... cocktails... and proper gossip.

Gimme!

The Wackness

2008-08-31T18:38:00.002+07:00

In case anyone was wondering, I'm not dead, just had extremely limited net access of late and not too much time as well. Since I last updated, I've properly moved into my new flat -- which I love, and this evening or tomorrow evening Sketchy will be coming down! :) The dissertation is coming along ok... I mean to have it mostly done by the end of next weekend.

Friends have been coming and going all summer, but lately it seems that more are coming back, as university beckons. I saw my friend Pooh last night, who's recently returned from a year abroad in Thailand (she was there with Cranberry). It was great to see her and we ended up chatting ourselves to sleep, after going to the cinema and sharing a bottle of wine at hers.

We watched The Wackness which I was quite excited about after reading some glowing reviews. For those of you who haven't yet heard about it, it's basically a 'period piece' set in the summer of 1994 in New York, focusing on Luke Shapiro (Josh Peck), an 18 year old pot dealer, his friendship with his client and therapist Dr Squires (Ben Kingsley) and romance with Squire's stepdaughter Stephanie (Olivia Thirlby).

I don't really have too much to say about it... I did enjoy it but not as much as I expected to (as with Juno). The acting was good all-around, particularly Ben Kingsley who was compelling. I found Peck vaguely repulsive (he had his mouth hanging open way too much), but that might have been the point. The film generally felt natural and didn't succumb to predictability. Some of the 'period touches' and dated language felt a tad forced -- certain shots lingered too long on things like Gameboys and mix-tapes and occasionally the young actors seemed to be unconvinced when they proclaimed things were 'dope' or 'phat' (kinda like, omg, what am I saying??). However there were also some little things that suddenly made everything seem so magical, like Luke dancing on the street after kissing Stephanie, and each pavement slab he touched lighting up like a dancefloor. You may also want to experience the total bizarreness of seeing Mary Kate Olsen being fingered by Sir Ben Kingsley... or not.

So I'd recommend it, but I think you can also wait for the DVD!

Wall-E

2008-07-24T14:49:00.005+07:00

Wall-E has been getting some truly outstanding press, and being touted as the best film this year... possibly the best film ever. And I usually love me a bit of Pixar, ever since being totally captivated by Toy Story. Toy Story 2 was even better (I especially liked the Barbie sequence). I wanted to snuggle that odd blue furry thing in Monsters Inc. I cried when they found Nemo, much to my little cousin's disgust. (However, I was totally uninterested in Cars -- erm, a movie about talking motors? No thanks, Herbie was bad enough). So I was rather excited about finally seeing the new Pixar film, even more so because I was going to watch it with the often elusive, occasionally flaky Amphibia, who seemed to be just as eager as I was.

While I can't agree that this is the best film ever made, I did find Wall-E utterly charming. The beginning of the film was incredibly absorbing -- Wall-E's lonely, dusty, trash-filled world was wonderfully rendered, I think they must be the best graphics I've ever seen in an animated feature. The eponymous robot was immediately appealing -- his camera lens 'face' was infinitely more expressive than the mugs on some live action stars these days. He rather reminded me of ET, but less creepy (I've always found the glowing finger thing quite disturbing). The developing relationship between grubby Wall-E and iPod-esque Eve (a 700 years younger model) was innocently romantic -- I think I could watch those two interact with each other endlessly.

However, once the human characters entered the narrative, the film lost some of its oomph. I can understand why the shiny, rubbery Axiom spaceship environment was so different to the Earth's desolate landscape, but after being treated to that spectacularly imperfect visual feast, the former just felt garish and like something I'd seen before (like in The Incredibles, particularly). The humans were 2-dimensional, especially compared to the sensitively realised robot protagonists, and even the robot supporting characters. Perhaps they were meant to make the audience feel uncomfortably self-reflective, but they were too bland to effect this.

In addition, the central moral of Wall-E, that our consumerism is turning us into lumpen isolates and that we must take care of our environment, is commendable but also obvious and simplistic. I really don't think we need a film to tell us this, or that it will change anything. Then again, I am a wizened, 22year old cynic and Wall-E may well make a more profound impression on younger minds.

Obviously Wall-E could never live up to the hype, although the extremely reverent audience seemed to have bought it -- I've never watched a film with such spellbound mass of people. There was no commentary, only delighted giggles whenever something amusing happened (which was frequent) and noticeably held breaths when something worrying happened. Wall-E seemed to transform the crowd of mainly adult Orange Wednesdayers into rapt kiddlywinks. I found their behavior almost as fascinating as the film itself.

I would definitely recommend Wall-E -- it has timeless appeal and truly captivating leads. I just feel they ought to have focus more on the lovely romance between Wall-E and Eve than making obvious moral statements. For your money you'll also get to enjoy the traditional Pixar short before the film, Presto, which was adorable, and the gorgeously hand-drawn images over the end credits, ranging from cave man scratchings to Impressionist artistry.

Mamma Mia!

2008-07-15T04:48:00.004+07:00

This is my little sister's final week in England before she returns to Indonesia, and I'd planned fun for every evening, so that we could both make the most of the rest of her time here. Sadly, when I got home, she wasn't there. I charged up my constantly dying phone and found that she'd actually be staying down south until Wednesday morning, as its one of her best friend's birthday celebrations tomorrow. So I found myself alone and at a loss. Also pretty much broke, as I've been having bankcard issues and although I've finally got a new card, I'm still waiting another "5-7 working days" for the fricking pin. What fun can be had without a pin number or cash? I went on a wander around my little part of London, and it seems that you can feast at Pret a Manger and go to the cinema. So I did. I decided to watch Mamma Mia -- I've been oddly excited about this since I saw the trailer months ago, despite my until now ambivalence towards all things Abba.

And it was... (mind the pun)... Abba-solutely Fabulous! :) It's been awhile since I had so much fun at the cinema. The theatre was oddly packed for a Monday night and the audience was already in giggles even before the film started.

I'm not sure that this was exactly a film... it was more a series of rather surreal musical numbers strung together by lots of hysterical running around by the female characters. But all the better for it. Mamma Mia knew it was camp fun and totally embraced this. There was Meryl Streep pretending to be a boat figurehead with yards of fabric billowing about, warbling Money Money Money like her life depended on it. Pierce Brosnan honking SOS very oddly and endearingly at various points, much to the audience's utter mirth. Colin Firth in a dog collar and eyeliner, strumming a painted guitar. Julie Walters chasing Stellan Skarsgard like a woman possessed. Christine Baranski bringing dozens of young men to their knees. I don't know how they got all these respected thespians to do these bizarre things (money money money?), but I'm glad they did.

I want to watch it again. I'm forcing Sketchy to come. And I want to go dancing afterwards!

The Nicest Rejection Letter Ever...

2008-07-15T04:46:00.004+07:00

My rejection feedback from the Guardian:

Firstly may I take this opportunity to thank you for the time taken in your application for the Guardian Training Scheme. We had an incredibly high volume and exceptional calibre of applicants this year. It was an incredibly competitive process and I should like to reiterate that your application form was very strong, hence why you made it to the group of sixteen (out of five hundred) invited for assessment.

In respect to your interview, the panel felt that you were clearly motivated and enthusiastic about working for The Guardian. However they felt that your experience was not as relevant as some of the other applicants and that perhaps you would benefit from continuing to secure work experience placements on national newspapers.

Regarding your participation in the group exercise we did feel that you contributed some well articulated points, however we did feel that you could have pursued ideas until picked up by the group.

I hope this feedback proves useful and that this does not discourage you from applying for future roles with us. Although you were not successful in being progressed further for this scheme we do feel that you have the potential makings of a reporter and we wish you every success in the future.

Kind regards

Anne

Limbo Bimbo...

2008-07-14T04:59:00.005+07:00

Well. A lot has happened since I last deigned to update my blog, and currently I am too tired to write about it in depth. I didn't have to heart to write previously, as I was still in limbo regarding the Guardian job. I didn't get it, which I knew, but it didn't stop me being dreadfully disappointed to have this finally confirmed Monday just past. Le sigh. I'll post up the feedback shortly.

However, almost two weeks ago now, I got offered a job as a Publishing Assistant for a small company that produces business and finance publications. I accepted it even though I was still waiting to hear from the Guardian, and madly entertained a flicker of hope that I might just get it after all. I started last Monday (the same day I got my Guardian rejection, which may mean something), having completed a final week at the gift company. It's all going very well. I was sad about the Guardian, but I feel like a weight has been lifted, in terms of the future. I know where I'll be for the next year, unless something crazy happens.

Now I just need to find a new place to live!

Already, despite my still looming dissertation (basically untouched so far), I've already been finding London a new place in itself. It's so much better as a nonstudent, aside from the lack of discount I'll have to endure post-September. This weekend was very quiet for me, but wonderful. The London Litfest is on at the moment, and I went to Alan Moore and Melinda Gebbie's discussion of their erotic graphic novel Lost Girls. I recommend you look it up, and possibly purchase it from Amazon. It was fascinating listening to two people talking about creating something they both loved (this particular project took them 16 years!). They were both utterly charming and amusing. I got to talk to them afterwards, whilst pathetically getting them to sign my ticket, instead of splashing out on a new book. And I've just spent the rest of the weekend cleaning and writing articles for Treat, they're paying me a pittance to continue generating a basic level of content (how glam!?).

Anyway, it's time for bed. This newly permanently employed working girl needs all the rest she can get!

Weekend at Granny's

2008-06-09T17:28:00.003+07:00

My minibreak from London, in Winchester and Southampton is coming to a close. It's been quite pleasant. I met up with A (one of my best friends, who I've known since college) in Winchester straight away, after my epic coach journey (four hours!!) from Victoria. Then most of our old girls -- D, K, F and E -- also joined us. We were only short of T, I and A, who are respectively in London (I see T all the time), East Anglia and Edinburgh at present, out of our old college gang. We were referred to as The Mothers as we seemed to be standing around all the time, having mother's meetings.

So Friday was quite nice, with lots of wine. I got to meet D and K's boyfriends, who were both lovely, and made sure our wine glasses were constantly topped up, which always scores lots of points in my books. I did overdo it tho, entering that horrible gray area where you totally embarass yourself but unfortunately don't drink so much that you haven't forgotten everything. Argh. As usual, I bumped into old faces from the past -- one boy I'd adored when at primary school and one I'd always had a secret crush on at college, because he looks quite a lot like Jack Davenoport, in my opinion. I kept asking them if they found me attractive, which they did, and then demanded to know why they hadn't done anything about it before. Um, because I was seven, in the case of one? Sigh. I also saw the media studies teacher from college, who supervised our very naughty Classics trip to Greece back in 2002 I believe. I never drank so much in my life until I went on that school trip -- we spent every night drinking to oblivion and everyday grumpily trying to sleep off the hangovers on the coach as we got carted to various sights such as the Parthenon and Acropolis. He was only 24 at the time! He seemed quite pleased to see us, I left K and E to reminisce with him, while I... well I'm not sure exactly. Wandered around the bar, blagging cigarettes, rollies and drinking rum and coke I guess.

I ended up staying at K's house, as I wanted to stay out longer than midnight (my last train back to my gran's). It was great catching up with her properly, I love that we're all still friends. I'll do my best to come back in a couple of weeks, with little sister in tow (she's arriving in London next Tuesday!).

I was meant to go and see my friend Tristan's band on Saturday night, but after clocking my rather unhealthy bank balance on my way back to my gran's, I decided I need to tie up the purse strings for as long as possible. I got a bit carried away with my spending, as I was so entranced by the drinks prices in Winch compared to London. £10 for a bottle of wine??? Amazing! £6.95 for a bottle of wine?? Even more amazing! £5 for two rum and cokes!! Wow. Poor cardy. It needed a rest. And so did I.

So I spent the rest of the weekend lounging around my gran's, being fed copious amounts of food, reading books and offered various tipples. She's really sweet. We used to have a terrible relationship, particularly when I lived with her for a year while at college. There was too much of a generation gap. She does tend to monologue at me rather endlessly, but I figure its a fair trade off for some much needed familial affection and delicious food.

Having a break gave me some time to think about stuff. The book I finished this weekend -- Stephen King's "On Writing", part memoir, part guide to creative writing -- was really inspiring. It makes me want to start/continue my writing projects right away. But I probably won't start until mid-September, to be honest. I like to totally immerse myself in writing projects, whether academic or personal, and it would be a bit pointless to get myself going and then stop in a couple of weeks when I have to start the dissertation.

I have also decided to start applying for other jobs, instead of putting all my eggs into the Guardian traineeship basket. I would like to be in a position to stay in London, if I choose to, so I better widen my options. If I get a fulltime job, not necessarily in journalism, I can still attempt to freelance as well as regularly work on my novels in the evenings or at the weekends.

When I come back to Winchester though, I am always struck at how stagnant some people I went to college with can be. Especially the boys. The ones I talk to are generally interesting and intelligent, yet they seem content to not go anywhere in life. To work in shops or in bars, despite having good university degrees. Maybe its just a phase. I always wonder why people bother settling though... if they were content I could understand it... but they don't seem happy, they seem bored. The girls are often more ambitious, more gendered. Is modern Britain making middle-class males feel placeless?

Something to ponder at length at another date. I've got to catch a bus soon!

Sex and The City

2008-06-06T20:30:00.003+07:00

I finally got around to watching this last night, along with Pygmy and Doc. Unfortunately I don't have the time now or in the next couple of days to give it a proper review (I'm dashing off to see my grandmother in less than an hour), but I did really enjoy it. Its what you want from a night at the movies sometimes, laughs and slight tugs at heartstrings. Pygmy kept welling up, which I found highly amusing. I thought that it had lost its edge a bit, which was odd because I thought the big screen would allow them to push even more boundaries (as with The Simpsons Movie) and there was a bit too much toilet humour (poor Charlotte!). Charlotte was obviously designated as the comic relief in the film, probably as they couldn't figure out what else to do with her character.

The whole thing though felt weirdly culty, I haven't experienced anything like that when watching a film, even when I went to the world premiere of Enchanted (Patrick Dempsey! Lush!). When we got there there were mile-long queues of exciteable women waiting to get in, and there were signs all over encouraging us to buy bottles of white wine to enjoy with the movie! We didn't though, but I was tempted. Pygmy had to pee twice as it was. There was also a very strict bouncer, letting us in ten at a time. Evidently they don't trust hoardes of women to act sensibly, especially when it comes to designer heels and cocktails.

Anyway I better make a move... I'm going to see lots of the old girls from college tonight which should be great fun!

From the Mouths of Babes

2008-06-04T19:42:00.004+07:00

I spent yesterday evening doing pretty much the best moolah-making activity ever, and naturally, one I also feel a bit guilty getting paid for. I babysat my favourite professor's daughter, Daisy. Basically, I went there straight from work, got given free food and copious glasses of white wine (yes yes, I had no choice though! My reputation as a young soak precedes me, particularly with my teachers), played Thai monopoly for a couple of hours (and got totally whupped by Daisy) and then fell asleep at about 10.30, in a bed my teacher had made up for me. And made tea and breakfast by an extremely hungover teach when I got up this morning. It's a hard life!

I wish I could refuse payment, but I could really use the extra dosh at the moment, particularly as my regular job made a mistake on my paycheck this month and has yet to rectify it. Bah humbug. When I have a proper job I will happily babysit Daisy for free.

I love spending time with children. I remember clearly what it was like being Daisy's age (seven), and I think I was pretty much the same as I am now, minus all the regrets, heartbreak and stretchmarks. I used to get irritated with adults who insisted on talking to me in a patronizing manner, as if I had the mental capacity of a worm. The best ones were the ones who actually had conversations with me or, better yet, whizzed me around on their shoulders. The main difference between adults and children is experience, not intelligence. Plus kids are usually refreshingly honest, a quality that seems to wane as people get older, more cynical and more eager to present themselves in a particular way. I talked to Daisy about love as we rolled the dice and snapped up prime Thai locations. I told her about Guitar Boy and she told me about this ten year old she likes at Stage Coach. She told me I should act a little less fussed even if I felt like jumping up and down. We agreed that you can't control who you get interested in, only how you act, and that can be pretty difficult sometimes.

I don't think I'm the greatest babysitter in the world though... before bed I made a huge faux pas of bringing my glass of wine with me, which caused Daisy to look at me oddly. I have a habit at home of sipping wine when reading in bed. I then realised how awful it would look if teach or her partner woke up before I did and saw me passed out next to Daisy, glass of wine on the floor. So with a heavy heart I tipped it down the sink. Also, in the morning, while we were watching the news, Jose Mourinho came on, and teach mentioned he was number 2 on Her List. Next to Johnny Depp, I asked? Yep. I asked her if she thought Alan Rickman was sexy (as I do) and she pondered it. Daisy suddenly piped out, what's sexy? And then followed a cringe-inducing conversation where teach had to try and explain what 'sexy' was, alluding to special hugs and the like. I felt terrible... my children are going to be so messed up!

Anyway, my short lunch break is almost over... I'm due back at Daisy's place this evening, for a dinner with my masters' class.

Who is the Crazy Lady?

2008-06-02T02:12:00.005+07:00

For future reference, the Crazy Lady is an aspect of my personality that I have the habit of referring to in the third person. As in, "it wasn't me, it was the crazy lady"/"Oh no! What did the Crazy Lady do?" Miss Anne Throp'ist has asked me to stop doing this, as she finds it disturbing.

There is something intoxicating about letting go completely and letting your unihibited side completely take over. I'm sure everyone has a Crazy Lady or a Crazy Lad.

My Crazy Lady often appears when I combine alcohol with uneasiness. Uneasiness because I am stressed out and/or in the presence of someone I find immensely attractive. Woe betide those who are around when both of these factors are in play. I usually don't know she's appeared and wreaked havoc until I suddenly wake up in a long-suffering pal's bed the next morning, having lost the entire previous evening after that third glass of wine, and am soon confronted with cringeworthy tales of her antics.

The Crazy Lady is extremely forward. In normal mode, I tend to be quite straightforward and confident anyway, the Crazy Lady possibly takes these qualities to the point of obnoxiousness. I've been informed that she's very emphatic and repetitive, with the memory of a goldfish. She has drowned many a hapless acquaintaince with profuse praise, alternated with the telling of the same initally funny and interesting anecdote over and over again. This extreme forwardness also obviously translates into shameless flirting. I can barely make eye contact with any of the barmen in my regular haunts anymore. That is, of course, until I've had a few glasses of the old vino...

The Crazy Lady loves dancing, but is probably more passionate and flamboyant rather than rhythmic. She especially adores twirling, resulting in extremely sore legs, battered ankles and bruised toes for me to endure for the next few days. She never seems to feel any pain, unfortunately I always do!

If I repress the Crazy Lady for too long... she is everything that she always is, but at at a rather frightening intensity. It's best to let her come out now and then, in short bursts, within fairly harmless environments. Such as a slightly cheesy club with rock music and rather timid indie boys, rather than say, the evil Spanish bar and its unavoidable lecherous men. I believe the Spanish bar has more sleazy men per square metre than anywhere else in London.

This year, due to work, academic and voluntary commitments, I've had to keep her fairly wrapped up, and I have been paying the price of this repression for the past few weeks. The combination of the relief of handing in my last pieces of coursework and the shock of finding out some fairly devastating family news caused her to run on the rampage rather relentlessly, night after night. It would be tedious to go into detail about this particular set of crimes, as they became a nightly rerun and her standards seemed to drop alarmingly. Bleurgh. Thank god there are hardly any pictures!

This weekend I've frankly had no energy for her to feed off of and have decided to shut her down infallibly for at least three weeks, by completely depriving her of alcohol. There's an added motivation to this, besides wishing to be more energetic and less bruised all over. I've got something very exciting to look forward to on 20th June -- an interview with the Guardian, for a one year traineeship. It's something I want more than anything else I've wanted in recent times. It may sound mystical but I believe that if I sacrifice something I really enjoy (ie alcohol) until the interview, it increases my chances of getting it. The fate gods will look kindly upon my foregoing of the Crazy Lady's lifeblood. I guess there's a practical side -- less Crazy Lady means more time to focus on things beneficial to nabbing the internship, such as reading all the broadsheets, reading more fiction and writing articles... we'll see.

So goodbye for now dear Crazy Lady! Hopefully won't see you again until after the 20th!