Female Chauvinism

Sometimes, you must truly pity the male specy.

Despite conventional notion that females are often the ones under scutiny, judgement and constraints, our male counterparts actually have it quite bad too. Ok, the phenomenon I'm about to describe only exists in 1st world countries like Singapore. If you are living in some oppressed nation where people are still in the 3rd century, then of course you have no idea what I'm talking about.

You see the thing is, men have it so bad when it comes to fashion choices. Sure, you may make up fancy new words like "metrosexual" to make male vanity sound better, but the tiniest misstep will result in you being mistaken for a gay. Or faggot. Or effeminate. Take your pick. Either that, or you are called a poseur and dismissed for your utter lack of originality.

Nowadays, men are trying to be more experimental when it comes to fashion.

You see some guys taking baby steps and accepting their more feminine side: embracing the colours pink and purple, carrying large tote bags and spending so much time in the toilet primping that they can rival females. But don't you see, it may be fashionable, but that sure ain't gonna stop the gay label. Think David Beckham. Or Jerry Yen. Some of the most gorgeous and eligible men in the world, who unfortunately, have a taste for experimenting with their feminine side. Now think of the ultimate sex symbols. Sean Connery. George Clooney. About as manly as you can get. Not a single y-chromosome out of place. Wanna be noticed? Dress like a man and stop flinching your girlfriend's/mother's underwear.

And this applies to normal human beings too. Some poor, oblivious male may think that wearing pink is cool. Nope, you're so wrong. Women are constantly checking out guys and if one of them happens to be wearing pink, it is highly probable that the female's first thought is, "Is he gay?" Yup, it's as simple as that. Judgemental and critical? You bet. Welcome to our world. And if you're one of those people who wear pink and carry a tote bag, you might as well be the poster boy for homosexuality. Can't take the scrutiny? Don't ask for it.

Women on the other hand, are so much more liberated. We can wear a myriad of colours and look utter ravishing; wear pants and exude sexuality; cut our hair short and be labelled as chic. But if a guy tries to liberate himself from typical male fashion constraints, and he may just find himself buried under a barrage of scorn and ridicule.

Female chauvinism. It attacks in the most insidious ways. The next time you step out of the house wearing something that screams "GAY!", hair that smells of too much gel, and a bag that looks like it belongs to your girlfriend, perhaps you might want to reconsider your options. There really is nothing wrong with earth colours and a nice, simple haircut. Drop the bag, though. It just ain't cool.

Racism... Lives?

Either I've been living too long in la-la land, or people with deep racial issues are just a small minority. If you have been following the news, you would know that 3 chinese boys were arrested for posting racist comments on their blogs. Not just closed down the blog, but actually got charged in court for it.

Ok, the truth is, a little racism lives in all of us. Who hasn't passed a racist comment before, or heard and told racist jokes? If your hand is not up with mine, you're obviously lying. Sometimes, it can be more subtle. I know of people who would not sit next to an Indian, hold their breath when an Indian walks pass, and other countless little things that may not seem much, but when added together, can actually speak volumes of a person's preference (or avoidance) of a certain race(s).

But what was written in the blogs was so much worse. One guy spoke about his hatred for Malays and Muslims and he wanted to kill them all and blow up a mosque. When I read that report, I was truly horrified. Does racism really run that deep in Singapore? Singapore, where there are multi-racial celebrations, where you have classmates of different races since primary school (unless you belong to one of those atas Chinese schools), where Singapore makes it a perogative to have a racial mix when it comes to HDB housing. Under so many influences, can people still develop such intense dislike?

I remember back on September 11, 2002, the 1st anniversary after the 9/11 attacks. One friend of mine jokingly said that she didn't want to see Fadz cos she was afraid that "his religion" might be planning another attack on that day. I was amazed at the thoughtlessness of that comment. Perhaps because I'm dating a Muslim, whenever such comments are made, I'm insulted too. Insulted that people can be so myopic and assume that just because a few desperate people - who have nothing else to live for in the world, shunned by society and represent the rock-bottom, dead-end laggards of their country - have taken the cowardly method of claiming religion as their reason for personal suicide, that they represent all Muslims in the world. I even went on an Islam absorbing rampage after 9/11, because I wanted to understand the religion. How to date a Muslim if you think all Muslims are terrorists? And it never ceases to amaze me that people often forget that Islam is actually a religion of embracing life, and that a few fanatics have so completely twisted this message that what they represent is a completely different religion.

And it leads me to think that behind all the thoughtless comments made in joking, how many people actually mean what they say? How many people are really living in terror and nurturing this innate hatred for Muslims? Not just Muslims, but Indians as well?

And isn't this such a vicious cycle? When people around you can't stand you, hate you, despise you, isn't it any wonder that these people in turn will retaliate in the worse possible way? What, you think they will just meekly accept their fate and let you step all over them? Remember, when a frightened animal is cornered, it bites back with the intention of killing. Kill, or be killed.

Still Waiting

10 more days before I can see my beloved. Dear old Sylvia and Kristin have been bearing the brunt of my loneliness. My moods can swing from a moment of ectasy, to snappiness, to plain old staring into the space.

I wonder who will be more glad when Fadz is finally back. Them or me?

Blabber On

Had my marketing case presentation today. For some reason, I suppose because of the long hiatus since my last public presentation, I was feeling exceedingly anxious. The classic case of butterflies in my stomach, swelling of tongue and quickening of heartbeat. Yes, even though I have done many presentations and usually seem to have a calm facade, I'm actually this quaking ball of nerves on the inside.

Anyway, today's presentation was rather rushed and I only got to view the final slides like during class. So much for some prep work...

When it was my turn to present, my head went blank. I knew I was standing in front of my professor, I knew I was supposed to sound intellectual and like I knew what I was saying, but all I could remember thinking about was "Shit, what the fuck am I saying?" It was a completely surreal, out-of-the-body experience. It was like seeing myself from a 3rd-person's perspective and shaking my head in mock despair.

And then the strangest recollection popped into my head: there was one episode of America's Next Top Model where the models were coached to do interviews. The coach then told them that when an interviewer does not know what to ask, just keep talking and eventually it will come to you. I realize that's usually my style too - blabber enough, and with a strong smile, you might just convince your classmates and prof that you're making sense.

Keeping blabbering, that's my new motive in life.

I Will Survive, I Will Survive!

Wheeeee.... Just came back from a 4-hour training session. It was only supposed to be 2 hours, but the coach just kept going at it, and what are we to do? Play on, what else. And the last hour was again extended so that we could play matches against the guy's team. One hour of getting whacked left, right and centre. How fun hor?

Sianz, although I am sort-of improving, a lot more confidence in my game then say, one miserable year ago, I still have a long way to go. The other people are improving at a much faster rate, so i need to step up my game too. *determined look*

I seriously need to do more sprinting. Every week, it's the same complaint from my coach - "Oy Joanne, move faster can or not?" "Eh Joanne, it's not good enough to just swish your arms in the right direction, move your legs as well!"

No idea what I'm talking about? Ok, crash course in volleyball. The normal receiving position is one that involved squatting with your legs apart.


Not just forward spread, but sideways as well. Think big, honking spread-eagle position.

Now, being the conservative and shy me, I'm not in the habit of spreading my legs apart (somehow, that came out wrong). My old coach couldn't break me, let's see the tenacity of this coach. So I tend to squat with my legs close together, butt in the air. As you can imagine, it is not very effective. So the coach will scold and scold and scold. Haiz.

When we played against the guy's team, due to a shortage of girls, my coach joined our team. When I missed a couple of balls due to my obstinance in the spreading-of-legs issue, he threw me a disgusted look after a while. Whoopee. Thanks for making me feel good.

Anyway, my practically dead legs of course caused a lot of problems for the person next to me. Sometimes, the ball is mine, and so since I'm not moving, my team mate has to fly over to cover the area. LOL, can understand her need to cough blood.

Our team's formation is as follows:

See, in my position, I have to rush forward to cover the big hole; I have to cover balls coming in a straight line cos the front player has to get ready for attacks, and of course I have to cover to the right.

But sometimes, I get confused whether the ball should be mine or my team mate's.

If you are a smart opponent, you would know that between us is the weakest link. So people keep attacking and attacking and attacking the same spot. With my dead legs and confused state of mind, I missed damn a lot of balls. Deep, deep sigh.

My greatest asset on the court is my loud and happy attitude. Even when losing, I find something to laugh about. *shrugs* Some people find it comforting, and the opponents get so flustered that they make mistakes. I remember back in Sec 3 when we faced the top team in the division... We felt it was a lost cause. They insulted us by putting their substitute team in. So I played a mind game. I laughed, mocked, refused to die (sub team mah, balls not very difficult to receive). I outshouted them, blocked their players' view (it's legal) and laughed and laughed and laughed. They lost that set. Their coach turned livid and immediately put on the first team. We lost eventually, but I'd never forget that feeling of superiority. Even if it's for stupid reasons.

So confidence is very important on the court. Not so much your skills, but how much you believe in yourself. If you think the ball would go over, it would. So when lambasted and criticised by my coach, I wilted like a wallflower. My balls went from bad to worse. Oy Vy.

What I've come to realise is that I cannot think on the court. Thinking and brooding and feeling hurt is bad. So throw the brains away for a sec. Don't get emotional. Accept the directions like a robot. That way, I keep up my cheerful disposition, my confidence isn't shaken, and I can play decently.

Bye bye brain, hello subconscious movements. Let the rhythm take over. Thinking bad. Moving good. *grunt*

On the Edge

My nerves are shot, tolerance is low, and basically a lot of things have been irritating the hell out of me lately. I used possess the lovely skill of being able to ignore a lot of things. Even when people are bitching all around me, I try my best to just smile and not say anything too rude; I really do believe in karma.

Well, it seems that my latest outlook on life is screw karma: let's bitch about the world and screw the consequences.

I get very irritated by people wearing too short skirts. No just mini skirts, but freaking see-my-ass-world! micro minis. Fat people, thin people, bo dai zi people... all of them piss me off equally.

I hate it when fat people wear short airy skirts: hello, your thunder thighs are jiggling in my face and really, I so don't need to see your fat ass popping out of of the skirt.

And thin people piss me off too. It's like, fine, I know you're skinny, do you need to wear a skirt that looks more like a tube top??? Do I need to see another hip bone jutting out of your too-small skirt? Do you think people enjoy looking at 2 skeletal legs poking out from a frilly piece of scrap material? The answer is NO, bimbo, keep the sticks to yourself and bemoan your sad state everytime you stare into the mirror of anorexia and bulimia.

Just yesterday, this perfectly normal girl was walking in front of us, wearing this super short, brown frilly skirt. The bitching session began almost immediately. What were the choice comments? "Her legs are not slender, wear so short for what?" "She walks like a man" (personal favourite) "Hey, the front of her skirt is longer than the back, someone should tell her to pull it down" "Is that her ass showing?"

Well, if I'm going to hell, at least I have company.

What else has been pissing me off lately? Indians who talk like they are on their last breathe. Who feel the need to make a comment after EVERY SINGLE THING the professor says. Indians who trip over themselves trying to vie for speaking time in class. In Finance class the other day, this Indian couldn't stop talking and talking and talking and it totally grated on my nerves. So what did I do? I looked him straight in the face and rolled my eyes. I don't know if he got the message, considering the patented thick-skinned behaviour of most of their kind.

Girls who giggle like hyenas piss me off. Boring professors piss me off. People who can't stop talking to me when all I want to do is brood and think, piss me off.

Gads, I'm in a foul mood this morning. It's so not fun going home at 12 every week after an exhuasting training session, only to wake up at 6.20 the next morning to go for the shittiest, most boring class on this planet. I'm so sleepy I can hardly think. And so, all the negative thoughts are brimming to the surface. (Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble...)

Have you ever experienced that? Sometimes happy thoughts require too much effort; you need to focus and let the good vibe come over you. You have to reach out and and try to grab those few strands of joy, and it can be oh so tiring. But with negativity, it's like a virus that just spreads and spreads. Fighting it is a futile exercise. But if you embrace this virus, you can seek comfort in its dark recessess, shutting off from the world and basically letting your soul go to hell. Sweet, sweet oblivion.

Goodbye, My Love

Fadz has left for Brunei and will only be back on 7th October. The minute he walked passed security, waved his last goodbye and disappeared from my sight, I felt a keen sense of loss.

And the interminable wait begins.

I hate this feeling of neediness, that I can't stand being apart from him even for a short while... but I just can't help it. Since his phone doesn't have auto-roam, I wouldn't know whether he was lying injured in some jungle, or got his limbs eaten by some crocodile... The lack of konwledge is driving me crazy, and it hasn't even been 24 hours. I just feel that as long as I know where he is, when I can still sense him, he will be safe. Now that he's across the sea, I've lost that sense of security and I'm becoming balmy.

I'm not a complete sap by any standards, but I am clingy, that much I can admit. Haha, so what happens to the starfish when the rock is ripped from it? The starfish is left to flounder until her rock returns. Or else, the starfish will have to find a substitute rock. Eh, any rock-wannabes out that???

Bleah, I'm supposed to be studying for a test tomorrow, but totally have no mood. When you have to traipse to the airport at midnight, and reach home at 2am, it doesn't exactly set up the perfect day to be cooped up in some room, cramming in finance information into my brain.

Help, loneliness is setting in. Must. Keep. It. Away. Eh, someone jio me out leh!!!!!

I'm Not Your Bloody Auntie!!!!

Kids are all stupid, that's what they are. Obviously they can't see past their runny noses and beady eyes to discover truth. Bloody sods.

I used to think that my neighbour's bouncy toddler was kinda cute. You know, he talks a lot, looks very cute and is super hyper. Cute, by most standards.

But not anymore. One day, when I was coming out of the house to go to school, that stupid kid rushed to the the door and yelled excitedly, "Auntie!" in my direction. I was so traumatised. I think it was a double blow because his mum started laughing hysterically. I was upset and yelled back at him, "I'm not auntie, I'm JIE JIE!!!" He then proceeded to give me the stupid, ignorant look that all dumb kids have. I hope that I've thoroughly confused him. Hummppfff.

Then the other day on the train while I was reading, this family entered the train. The toddler stood in front of me and started acting cute. Fair enough. I humoured him with the requisite funny faces and broad grins. But when his mother asked him what he was doing, he pointed at me and said "Auntie". His mother then pointed at me and told him not to disturb AUNTIE while she was reading. Wah lao eh, I was so damn pissed lah! Who's your auntie! I'm young and gorgeous ok! I never ask you to bow at me and call me goddess, you should be thankful already! Bllleeaaaahhhh!!!!

To all you people reading this, when you finally have stupid little kids running around, annoying people with their constant talking, you better train them NOT to call me Auntie. Even if I'm 40. I'm the eternal JIE JIE and you better believe that I'm capable of bodily harm.

Is hurting small kids in lieu of self-defense from slander a crime? Yes, it is slander, ok! What if a movie producer walked pass and wanted to cast me as his next leading lady, but because some stupid kid called me "Auntie", he assumed I was too old and walked off?

My Ego Takes a Bruising

While I'm not the most self-absorbed, overtly confident beast that I know, I don't think I really lack in the self-esteem department. At least when I look in the mirror every morning, I don't recoil in horror and throw something at the mirror. In fact, I've been known to approve of the image staring back at me and leave the house feeling good.

Look, this post has a point, and it isn't to laud all my great points. I'm getting to the gist of this post, just be patient, ok?

See the thing is, I know I'm not pretty in the conventional manner that Singaporeans seem to associate beauty with: skinny, skinny, skinny, good features, perfect teeth, preferably tanned. But I definitely think I'm hot (the whole SHU NU thing got lame fast). Sexy even. And if I'm really feeling it, charismatic to some extent. I may not have men falling over, but I'm not exactly repelling them either, yeah?

Look, I have a loving boyfriend who thinks I'm hot enough. He may not say it, but when he approves of how I look, he does things like give me the not-so-subtly once over, and proceed to take my picture. Hey, if that's not a clue, I dunno what is.

And even though I seem to give off the "attached" vibe, some brave men have been known on occasion to approach me. Of course, my luck runs a little more dry here because I seem to really attract African-Americans. I think it's the J-Lo inspired ass I have.

The point is, I'm comfortable with the way I look. Sure, I may bitch sometimes that I feel fat and all that crap and insecurity women go through, but at the end of the day, I'm not so upset and desperate to change the way I look. I look good, and I'm happy. Or like Eng Teck puts it, I'm neither thin nor fat. Shouldn't that be enough?

Unfortunately, life is not always so blissful. This whole train of thought derived from my training session today. I was practicing my spiking and seriously, I would lluurrrvveee to leap into the air and look all graceful and lithe while doing it, but some facts must be mentioned. I'm not like the other skinny girls. Every time I leap into the air, I'm carrying extra weight. If you're skinny, imagine wearing weights on your upper body and then trying to repeatedly jump into the air. Yup, not that easy, yeah?

So at the end of the training session, while I was stretching out my aching bones and joints (a lot more stress is placed on them), my coach started to talk to me about my spiking. See, there's 2 types of spiking: standing on the ground and leaping into the air. I don't lack the strength or accuracy while on the ground, and my balls can be quite lethal and accurate. But obviously not very impressive, right?

So my coach was trying to convince me that I would be a much better spiker standing still. But that isn't fun. That isn't as threatening as looming above the opponent, ball in hand, and smashing it into the other person's face. So I asked how I could on the leap spiking. With a wide smile plastered on his face, he told me that since my legs are so short and stout, and since I lack the speed due to my weight, I would (a) need to lose weight (b) strengthen my thigh muscles and (c) move my ass a lot faster.

With just a few sentences, my self-esteem took a pummelling. Seems like this ol' bod will never be good enough as it is, huh? And the final stab in the heart was when he said my good point was that I had strength. And that came from me using my body strength to smack the ball, ie the heavier you are, the more likely you're gonna be stronger cos the motion would carry you further. Hahaha, thanks man.

I know my coach is being rational, but I'm not! I'm this emotional basket-case and weight is always such a sensitive issue! My heart refuses to listen to logic (not now anyway) as it is bleeding inside. Why, why, why, am I never good enough? Haiz.

How to lose weight, you tell me? I love food too much, hate exercise (apart from volleyball) and too poor to go to a slimming centre. Since my goal is to own a restaurant called Beef's Up! (it serves everything beef! pasta! pizza! shepard's pie! rendang!) and a totally kitchy Soda Jerk Shop (milkshakes so thick you have to use a spoon to eat it; ice cream that has 0 calories - think Diet Coke - and pop music blaring overhead), I think it's gonna be a little hard to shed that weight.

Lol, like I'm just thinking of excuses, hor? Ah screw this self-examination, I'm going to sleep. And hopefully when I wake up, I'll feel like my gorgeous, confident, sexy ass self again. Fingers crossed.

Haha, and it would help if some of you people reading this leave me reassuring messages. Snide remarks not appreciated. Some kindness please!

3 Dizzy Birds

Today can only be described as.... weird. What happens when you put 3 crazy birds together and lock them up in the library/GSR for many, many hours? Crazy shit, that's what.

The whole day started interestingly enough. Geraldine offered me a taxi ride to her office (in Tanjong Pagar), bringing me that much nearer to school (City Hall) in comfort. I was supposed to meet Sylvia at 9am for some Ya Kun breakfast. Anyway, long story short, the traffic was heinous and I arrived at Tanjong Pagar at 9.05am.

Just then, the beautiful breeze decided to pick up and as I ran towards the escalator that would take me underground to the MRT station... I did a Marilyn Monroe. See, I was wearing this short, airy white skirt and it just happened, without me even breaking a stride. Oy, against popular notion that I'm an exhibitionist, I did not stand in the wind and flash people intentionally, OK? Oh well, hope I woke up a few people with a flash of my pink undies.

Anyway, later when Syl and I were walking to school, I mentioned that Fadz was going to Brunei later this month, and I was gonna get awfully lonely and hormonally charged. After a pause, I asked Syl,

"Eh, do you think Fadz would be more offended if I kiss a guy or girl in his absence?"

After a moment of horrified silence on Syl's part, and my quick reassuring that I was (a) no longer a lesbian (primary school, young and stupid mah) and (b) I wasn't gonna jump her, she burst into hysterical laughter so loud people in Timbuktu could hear her. I think she mumbled "Guy" eventually, but I really couldn't tell.

We studied peacefully enough in school (got finance quiz tomorrow) and took a break during lunch. I had to rush off for my facial (last one!) in Taka and Kris and Syl were going shopping. Kris forgot to take something and ran back to the school when we reached the traffic light. Since I was in a rush, I left first. Halfway across the road, my shoe gave way. Reaching the other side, I bent down to examine my stupid, rip-off, Noda, pointed, faux snake-skin, blue shoes and discovered that the hook holding the strap to my ankle had snapped. So there I was, sweating in the sweltering heat, shoe in hand, as Kris and Syl crossed the road. They immediately started pointing fingers and laughing their bloody heads off. Gripped with sudden Mentos inspiration, I jammed the straps together and miraculously, it stayed put. Seriously, all that was missing was the goddamn Mentos, cheesy music, and my cue to give a thumbs up, wide grin to the camera.

And the piece de resistance occurred when we settled back into a GSR to continue studying after lunch. We were so bloody bored of Finance and engaged in idle chit chat, you know, the kind of rubbish talk girls indulge in so often. Syl egged me on to pose the Kissing question to Kris, and she had this to say:

Kris: "When Heyuan's friend went to Taiwan for NS training, his girlfriend (the friend's) asked him to buy her a dildo so that she wouldn't.... miss him so much."

Syl": "What the heck does this have to do with Jo?"

Jo: "Wahahahahahahahahhahahaha!"

Yes, yes, we are possibly the dumbest and most bo liao people on the planet. But trust me, the brain starts doing funny things when all you read for hours on end is about corporate finance, how to make financial decisions, and how the hell to account for finance.

Sigh, more memories for the old age. Oh yeah, don't burst into song and dance to the radio when you are studying with other people. Hostile gazes ahead.

And now back to finance. Whoopdedoo...

Abstinance Is Key

Note to self: abstain from oysters. Stomach is not what it used to be.

I ate 1 oyster from Jack's Place the night before. I found myself bent over the toilet at 3.54am this morning, puking my guts out. Not the best way to start a week.

Oh yeah, Minute Maid's Lemonade is the greatest. I could drink it all day. Yums.

Pain... Take Away The Pain...

Went for volleyball training yesterday. Supposedly our first IVP training, and a grand total of 6 people turned up. Whoopdeedoo. We are so screwed. At least the coach turned up. But then again, when your coach is one of the player's boyfriend... you know something is wrong. Alright, shall not bash him. He's nice enough, always smiling.. and smiling even wider when we receive the ball wrongly and he punishes us by hitting the ball even harder. Most athletes are sadists.

My thighs are burning, but I think it's worth it. It's the only way I get any exercise man. Lalalala, my last attempt at preventing myself from turning into a ball of lard. *grinz*

Besides, it caused my period to come! Yes, that is indeed a thing to celebrate about. My dear old bloody period has been missing in action for 2 months. Now, my body is crazy. If I get stressed/angry/tired/fat, my period wouldn't come. Since I was stressed/angry the past 2 months, my period didn't come. That is a bad, bad thing. I'd get moody, too emotional and lash out at people more easily. Sigh, blessed thee. Begone, mood swings! Hello, party time!

I'm in a daze right now. Trying to stay awake in CAT class, and appearing to be listening. Right. You and I know better.