YESSSSS!!!! NDR is over!!!

I was a complete mess at the rally. My inexperience really, really shone through. It was an absolutely NIGHTMARE.

So my duty was to talk to MPs and get their immediate feedback on the PM's speech and the goodies announced.

My bit was to cover the stuff for babies. Lots and lots of stuff to wade through.

But I also had to do a doorstop (which is journo lingo for on-the-spot, off-the-cuff interview with VIP) with the PM. Cos he was commenting about the Table-tennis finals.

Thing is, I didn't spot him coming out of the auditorium at first. So in a haste to talk to MPs (mind you, there were 1,700 people floating about the UCC that night and it was difficult finding appropriate ones) I rushed off to speak to an MP.

When I came back, I realised that the doorstop with the PM had already come and gone.

*$&%&*$(%&*$!!!!!!!

So anywayz, it was a nightmare.

And I realise I barely recognise half the MPs. And most of them give sweeping statements and talk about things in general.

Long story short, had to go beg CNA for the audiofile of the PM's doorstop.

In the end, I only stumbled out of the office at 5.10am. Yes, I arrived in the office at 3.45pm on Sunday afternoon to get prepped for the speech. And left on Monday morning. The morning shift people did a double/triple take. And I belted out "Good Morning, Baltimore" from the movie Hairspray, as I was exiting the door.

Yes, I do such things. Yes, it happens quite commonly when I'm overworked. Yes, my office allows such shenanigans.

I always cackle when I think about how I used to say I didn't want to work in a bank because of the long hours.

Oh yes, that thought alone and the irony of my current situation keeps me entertained for many hours on end.

My Poor Liver

What started out as a gorgefest/steamboat dinner with Haolun and Jialing, degenerated into a binge drinking session with Robin, Chris and Haolun.

Yes Ms Aw, after you left, the drinks came fast and furious.

Let's see....

• Glass of white wine
• Glass of vodka lime juice
• Mug of Tiger beer (only drank it cos Mr Chui got dizzy after 2 mugs, otherwise, I HATE BEER)
• shot of B-52 (which the bartender shortchanged 1 layer of vodka cos she dunno how to make.. idiot)
• shot of flaming Barcadi

The flaming Barcadi was the MOST disgusting thing I've ever drunk in my life.

Stupid Robin. Upon hearing that I've never tried a flaming shot before, he egged me on. It's petrifying to SEE the freaking shot glass and its layer of flames.

But that's nothing compared with the TASTE of the drink.

It was fine until I hit the warm liquor. It was like a truck slammed into me.

My eyes watered, my throat was on fire, and I couldn't breathe for a few seconds. I could hear Chris and Haolun gasping away beside me.

And instantly, my sinus clogged up and I got a cold. Haiz, first and last time.

It was so bad, my very, very kind taxi driver stopped at a petrol kiosk to buy me tissue. And he gave me like 10 packets. He even stopped the metre when he dashed into the kiosk. Such a nice man.

When we were still relatively sober.

Bottoms up of the B-52 (yummy!)! (spot Chui's very red face. And that's from 2 beers. He's just entered a sales job that requires a lot of entertainment. Good luck fella)

All in all, fun night. We should do it again!

Next up, a clubbing session! Ok ok, let me go check my schedule first.

Work, Work, Work

Sigh, Ms Aw, you ask for update, but unfortunately, life has been rather blah.

All I seem to be doing is work, work, work. 12-hour shifts are becoming commonplace. Urrrgghhhh.....

Plus, I'm doing National Day reporting. This means I have to come up with 5 colour stories before NDP, do hourly live reports during the actual NDP show, and go back to the office after the whole thing is done and file another report. My stomach is churning at the thought of it.

AND I'm doing National Day rally. Not that I want to gripe... screw it, I DO want to gripe. We're sending 2 people for each event. But my partners change. Why am I the constant?

DOING NATIONAL DAY RALLY MEANS I START ON THE DAY ITSELF AND THEN I'M EXPECTED TO WORK UNTIL THE FOLLOWING DAY.

Like 4pm to 4am or something like that. sobz...

Anyway, my appraisal is up. Talking to my boss tomorrow. I was having a pretty bad time last week, and I kinda blurted out that I wanted to know if I would be confirmed. I was worried that my sliding performance was gonna affect my appraisal.

The boss hinted that my confirmation was likely. So well, we shall see.

I can't believe it's been 6 months. But after all this time, I still wonder if I'm suited for this job. When people talk about wanting to become a journalist, they usually describe it as a passion, as an ambition. To want to find out the truth, dig into uncomfortable areas, write prose that can change the world.

Do I feel the same way? After all, I've never really thought about being a journalist. It just kinda.... happened. Does it matter that I don't feel those same needs? Does it matter that I view my job as a job, and there's no overriding desire? Does it matter that sometimes I read what I write, despair at its insignificance, but it goes out as news anyway?

The question I've been asking myself is that, would I be happier anywhere else? I used to think that I was destined to do HR. But what made me so certain? Would I have been happier doing that?

I'm rambling now. So tired that I can't think straight.

On a positive note, I'm going for SingFest with Fadz! And Shah, my co-DJ back in SMU, remember? Can't wait! I know it's an odd combination of people, but the concert is going to be rocking!

Oh yeah, and I think my colleagues think I'm incredibly flighty and sex crazed and weird. Just because I put this picture on my 15-inch monitor.

I can't imagine why they would think that way. Might have something to do with how I like rubbing my hands all over my screen.

Oh well. Shouldn't my bosses be happy that I enjoy looking at my computer screen?

Occupation Hazard

Sigh, I've been clocking in more than 12 hours for the past three days. Like I told Fadz, even my eye bags have bags.

He replied, "LV or Prada?"

Gucci, of course, darling.

I have been labouring over the unfortunate drowning incident involving a student from my alma mater.

In case you've been living under a rock and have not read / watched / listened to the news, get the details here and the previous day's news. Not mentioning kid's name so that my blog wouldn't pop up when people do google searches.

Was stationed at the site for the past two days, trying to get interviews with the school president and the family.

What sucked the most is that I kinda feel emotional attachment to this story, seeing how it's my alma mater, my beloved school.

When it comes to such cases, journalists usually take a detached view so that we can get things done in the most objective manner.

Yesterday, when there was still hope that the boy could be found, I didn't feel so bad.

But when we received news that his body had been recovered today.... sigh....

Having to separate personal from professional was really tough. Having to grill Woody, seeing his huanted face, and pushing ahead with questions about safety and checks... Having to deal with the corp comms team like Ann, Sharon, Karen, Shirley... How does one stay emotionally detached?

I guess I simply buckled down and went into auto-response mode.

But when L's father started wailing AS we were interviewing Woody... that was really, really hard.

I did the story as best I could. When the school requested we not put L's photo on our website, we agreeably took it down out of respect for the family.

But when the other media repeated posted his picture.. I mean... I have to do what I have to do. I told Sharon the same thing.

I think the worst part was when L's sister gave a press conference and read out a statement. Having to deal face to face with such raw devastation really choked me up.

When I stepped forward to offer condolences to his sister, I started to tear up and had to look away.

How unprofessional is that.

But the reality is that journalism is part coldhearted.

We deal with deaths almost on a daily basis, be it accident or murder or whatnot.

But when you spend 2 days surrounded by people you have a connection to, no matter how remote, and not some random stranger altogether... maybe I'm weak, but I found it tough to deal.

Am I right for this profession? I'm not too sure. Maybe I just need to be more emotionally detached.

I'm so, so drained now. I can't even begin to think about commencement next week.

Restlessness is setting in

2 years ago, as I was about to turn into an adult as defined by legal age, a restlessness took over.

A pull so strong that at times I felt despair, a pull that was telling me to go experience the world as I straddled the fine line between teenager and adult.

I badly needed to get away; from school, from the same-old routine of life, from my friends, and even my family. In short, I needed to feel like there was more to life than... this.

I was sick to the bone of the tired routine that had taken over me, of seeing and experiencing the same things day-in day-out.

And so I escaped to Vietnam with Fadz. My mum violently forbade me to go, partly because it represented my first trip alone with my boyfriend (for 18 days!), and it meant that I was no longer the little girl who followed her parents on overseas trips. In short, it meant that I was slowly but surely declaring my independence.

Back in 2006, I dunno how many of you realised it, but I was sick of life. The exams were just over, I received the best results of my entire unversity education, the volleyball tournament was over, my torturous OCBC internship was done. I needed a break. I was like this prowling tiger, ready to snap at anyone who crossed my path.

But Vietnam restored me. Bright, colourful delight where I gesticulated my wants, sat through train and bus rides that smelt like hell, got a pedicure at a place that soaked my feet in a plastic bowl, ate like the locals, travelled like the locals... so many memories.

So why am I mentioning this now? Because the restlessness is back.

Lately, I've been getting this feeling of despair again. The feeling that nothing changes, everyday is just another mindless day as a mindless drone.

That for the rest of my life, or at least some time into the future, this is all I have to look forward to.

I thought the challenge of having to write something new everyday would keep me excited. The challenge of having my work reviewed on a daily basis would keep me entertained. But the overall feeling I get is still everyday is the bloody same, nothing really changes.

The relationship with the Fadz? I'd say it's going pretty well, except once in a while old fears and insecurities surface, but that's not unexpected, yeah?

But the worse part is, I'm doing the same thing every day, he's doing the same thing every day, when we meet up, it's pretty much the same thing too.

It's a nice feeling of familiarity, and I do look forward to seeing him each time.... but........... the notion of "is that it? is there nothing else?" keeps popping up.

He's not a fan of trying things new, I'm not a fan of trying things new ALONE. I want to see things from his perspective. I want to watch his face as he does something he never thought he would do. I want to experience new things and talk to him about it, and in the process, discover something new about myself.

I thought an 8-day leave around my birthday in May, thinking that going to KL would be enough to stifle it. Thinking that shopping and eating would be sufficient. That it was all I craved for these days.

Well, lo and behold, it isn't enough. I want more. I want to see more, to feel more, to rediscover the spirit of adventure and doing things off the beaten track.

I want to go to Laos.

Spoke to the Fadz about it, and it appears he might be up for it. But I have to wait until the end of the year.

In the meantime, I'm getting grouchy and snappy again. Some days, I don't even feel like going out with my friends, and just want to stay at home and stew in my own thoughts.

Am I turning into a recluse? Or am I dreaming too much about this?

See if you can spot me! the one with the fairest legs... we drank copious amounts of bad Vietnamese red wine, got so drunk... we then clambered onto the 2nd storey of our rickety boat and jumped into the azure sea.... and then i promptly fell asleep on the ride back to shore. Fadz of course abstained, and managed to capture this.

Home and Rootedness

I was on the train yesterday with Fadz when I was hit by a wave a nostalgia for my time in Paris.

It's really strange, and I don't think it's because I miss being on holiday (erm, I'm not screaming to be back in KL), but rather, I miss the idea of witnessing history and pretending for a moment that I'm part of it.

It's a feeling that's tough to describe... You know how the Singapore government keeps talking about how we need to be more rooted in Singapore, be more connected to Singapore, yada yada?

Well, it just dawned on my that it's a bit difficult to feel a sense of home and rootedness to a place that just doesn't stay the same.

The government talks about home and family, but really, what makes a home? Is it just the people? Or does the environment play a part too?

They say that overseas Singaporeans need to come home because THIS is where home in, where your family is.... So if they equate home with family, wouldn't transplanting your family to whereever you are be equivalent to having a home? What exactly makes you feel for a country, to want to belong to a country, if people are the only link that's keeping you there?

It just feels Singapore is never standing still, that history is constantly being wiped out and pushed out of living memory by the insane need to constantly rebuild and push ahead.

But all the clean air and shiny buildings don't make a country. People need visuals to capture their imagination! Words and ideas just don't feel the same.

History comes in the form of buildings, architecture and monuments that have stood the test of time, artifacts that our ancestors have fought for... that to me, is the idea of rootedness.

The idea that no matter how far I go, how long I've been away, I can always go back and that slice of history will still be there. Something concrete that I can show my children and grandchildren.

It's like, the Chinese have the Tiananmen Square, the French have their historic buildings, the Romans have their ruins. What does Singapore have? A plague to signify that something important happened? A byline in history books that something important took place? Ideas don't inspire people. Concepts don't build nationalism and patriotism. Efficiency doesn't fire up the imagination.

That's why I miss Paris. It's like it's perfectly fine to stop, sit and stare at a building, contemplate about how that building has affected history and made a city the way it is today.

In Singapore, what you're most likely to get is people staring aimlessly at other people. But people come and go in today's world. People are transient. They survive but one generation. Great leaders inspire a group of people. But it's THINGS, BUILDINGS, that stand the test of time.

I just sometimes despair at how obtuse the officials can sometimes get. Sure, I'm all for capitalism and new shiny things. But when does it all stop? If things of my childhood are relegated to mere memories, that I have nothing to show my children but anecdotes, when my memory starts to fade, would my children know the Singapore I know? Would my children care about the Singapore they may choose to be part of or not?

Ok, just a rant. A slight sadness. I respect Singapore for it has taken good care of me, but that doesn't mean I'm passionate or love it or willing to die for it. Because it's a caricature of the character it is attempting to be. Trying to be more than just a soul-less, efficient city that is a holding place for transient beings.

Masquerading as a nation that holds an appeal for its people, rather than acknowledging that people are fleeing to places that capture their imagination, or acting as a gilded cage for those who can't move.

A Harrowing Life of Taxis

One of the greatest perks of my job is that I can take taxis to all my assignments. I've become so accustomed to the lifestyle that I'm unable to take public transport EVEN when it's not paid for.

Anywayz, it isn't all sunshine and roses while taking cabs, ok?

I have to put up with drivers who talk at the top of their voices, drivers who drive as if they are on the F1 race track (this I secretly like), drivers who play techno music at full volume, and of course, mutha-fucking drivers who go in circles and cheat my money.

Of all the cabs that I've taken (and that's plenty, mind you), I have to say that Silvercab drivers are the worst offenders.

They take you round and round in circles, purposely drive slowly, and go a much longer way than needed. Bloody bastards.

Just the other day, I received a life lesson from my senior reporter, S.

I was going to Suntec after work and gave him a lift. When we hopped into a Silvercab, he asked which way he should take. We told him to take the fastest route.

Well, I dunno which driving school he went to but MAKING A BIG ROUND DOES NOT CONSTITUTE THE FASTEST ROUTE.

The asshole made a huuuuggeeee ass loop, and my heart leaped every time the metre jumped 20 cents.

That's when S casually asked the driver if he knew where the hell he was going, and if the route he was taking was truly the shortest and fastest way.

After a pregnant pause, the driver started muttering a whole bunch of rubbish like "you told me to choose which route..." blah blah blah.

S silenced him and quietly took him to task, all the while smiling and never raising his voice.

Amazing. I need to learn his finesse. Anyhoo, we arrived at Suntec, the driver told me to pay whatever I wanted. The fare was $13, and when I offered $11, he took $10 and used his fucking ELBOW to shrug away my $1.

Bastard! I give you money and you shoo me away like some insect!

Anywayz, I try to put S' actions into practice but I must say I lack the guts and finesse. Most of the time I end up slightly yelling at the taxi driver, or quietly shaking my head and making disapproving noises when I'm too chicken to voice disapproval.

Hmmm, style needs work.

All I'm saying is, watch out for those Silvercabs, and the Premier version as well.

Cheats. Or just bloody fools who dunno how to drive. So either way. Keep clear.

Newsroom Saga Update

So I've found out the identity of the person who located my blog and spread the news about my colleagues' romance.

Yes, I know who you are. I know who you told.

I know who eventually leaked the news to the ex-girlfriend.

I suppose I could be mad at you for a) bothering to google my blog from a mere nickname and b) for repeating what you read to other people in the newsroom.

But I'm just as culpable as you are, and we're as guilty as the parties who informed said girlfriend.

Am I angry? Perhaps. But since my colleagues have told me to drop it and forget about it, and that THEY'RE not angry at me, I have no right to stay angry right?

Whatever. Apparently there was some lying and deceit involved. FYI, my blog address is NOT on my facebook account. So please don't cite random nonsense to cover your tracks.

Guess the old sayings right. You can't trust anyone. Even in the nicest of workplaces there will always be politics and shady going ons.

Or rather, there will always be lines drawn in any situation. When the situation is right for 2 people, they become friends. But when they're facing off on opposite sides, these same friends can easily become foes?

Is that too harsh a statement?

Anyway, this thing has been blown WWAAAYYY outta proportion. So let's end it here.

As far as I'm concerned, water under the bridge.

Blogstalkers Bite Back

Well, well, well, it appears that somebody from my office got to know of my blog and has been stalking me. I have no idea who it is, but it appears this same person read my entry about the romance blossoming in my office and went to tell the ex-girlfriend.

I apologise if said ex-girlfriend is hurt; I had seriously no idea that YOU had no idea. Guess it reeks to learn about such developments through a blog. It was an off-the-cuff comment, and I made it because I felt that my relationship with Fadz was on the rocks last year because we weren't spending time together. So I brought up the proximity theory, and hence, the relationship in my office. Again, apologies.

I did toy with the idea of making my blog private but you know what? Screw it. I have nothing to hide. And since I've made the decision to go public, I guess I'd just have to deal with blogstalkers and the anonymous entities who float in and out.

But that doesn't mean I don't want to find out who that person in my office is. Don't worry, I don't bite. Much.

Post-Birthday Update

I'm typing this in the dark, seeing how my light is attracting creepy crawlies to it. Ewwww... And I know I spent too much time on my laptop when I can type this entire post in the dark. Touch-typing, anyone?

Anyway, it was definitely a freaking fantastic birthday week. Thanks to those who sent well wishes my way!

KL was pretty fun, I mean, how can eating and shopping ever be bad right? And the Fadz was a perfect boyfriend. He never complained as we trawled the many, many shops in the many, many malls around KL. He waited patiently as I tried on clothes, shoes, bags, etc. He carried all my shopping without complaining. He did not roll his eyes when I pranced excitedly into the totally pink Juicy Couture shop at Pavilion Shopping Mall. He did not gag when I bought an incredibly pink, terry cloth juicy couture bag. Yeah, he was pretty great. :)

And yes!!! Highlight definitely has to be my darling Juicy Couture bag. Love, love, love it. It's sooooo adorably pink I can't help but smile when I see it. Yes, yes, all you people can diss me and call me a bimbo, but how can you not smile when greeted with such a happy bag?

Cute right?

My other fave moments of the week:

Sitting at Acid Bar with my darling Kristin, Sylvia and Fadz on my birthday and having Fadz dedicate Bon Jovi's Always to me! Plus, the bar singer (who's from SMU) sang happy birthday and the other customers joined in!

Went to Dozo with the family on Sunday, and I must say the food and service is par excellence. Truly! I don't see how this is Japanese-styled fusion whatever, but the food is really, really yummy. Plus, the service is so good they asked for my name, gave me a dessert and decorated the plate with a chocolate "happy birthday joanne".

Good times. I feel loved. :)

Happy Birthday To Me!

Fadz brought me to this outdoor pizza joint at 6th avenue for some alfresco dining. As you can see from the truck, alfresco dining is codeword for roadside, non-air con. Haha, at the risk of sounding ungrateful.... Luckily, the food was good.

Unfortunately, that was the last photo I could take, as Mr Muhd Fadzli chose to start acting goofy and in the process, dropped my darling camera.

It won't start up anymore, and the lenses won't retract.

I would have killed him if he wasn't so apologetic.

But it doesn't mean I can't grumble a bit.

Let The Par-Tay Begin!

Yeeessssss!!!!! 1.5 hours before 8 days of blissful leave begins! I can't wait! I'm still in the office, but my work is done and I'm basically twiddling my thumbs until I can leave.

Hey, it's my birthday week, I'm allowed to indulged a little right?

Since my leave officially begins tomorrow, the Fadz and I will be heading up north to KL for a little R & R. Well, I think I'm definitely more excited cos it's gonna be a shopping trip. Fadz is a little disgusted at the thought of having to carry my shopping bags, but I plan to stuff him continuously with good food so that he has nothing to complain about.

Coming back on Thursday, then Fadz is celebrating my birthday early on Friday cos he has in-camp training (humpf), starting Saturday.

Syl and Kristin will hopefully be meeting me on Saturday so that I won't have to spend my birthday alone (boohoohoo...)

The family is treating me to dinner on Sunday... and I'd still have Monday and Tuesday off! So anyone who wants to celebrate my birthday.... *hint hint*

Haha, I'm so shameless.

Haiz, I'm really bored in the office, ok? Came back from an assignment that required me to sit in sports cars and be chauffeured around Singapore. It is a very hot day, ok? Doesn't sound as simple as I make it out to be....

But it was cool. I even took pictures with a white Lamborghini!!! So nice can... 4 shiny lambos lined up in the glinting morning sun. Random people who were not part of the event started taking photos shamelessly.

Oh well.

Pity the owners were fat and/or old and/or ugly. God is fair.

When allergies attack....

Oh man, I didn't know I had an aspirin allergy, and that it can be so BAD.

Had a headache last night, and just as I was about to pop a couple of Panadol, Geraldine (that being my eldest sis) ambled over and offered some Alker-Seltzer, claiming that it works a hundred times better than Panadol.

Her description of the drug? That it was dissolvable Panadol.

So like the good, trusting person that I am, I took 2 tablets and went to sleep.

Half an hour later, I developed a cold and for some reason, I couldn't stop tearing. More troubling was that my eyes started to itch and felt painful.

I thought maybe some eyelash fell into my eye and started rubbing vigorously.

When that didn't work, I got up to get some tissue. That's when I turned on the lights and stared into the mirror.

Lo and behold.... my eyes had started to SWELL TO THE SIZE OF GOLF BALLS.

In fact, my EYEBALL became puffy and yellowish, like a film of mucus had formed over it.

I didn't take a photo of myself, but thought I should gross you people out.

Yup, that's how sick I looked.

So I went screaming into Geraldine's room (cos my parents are in Malaysia), and she literally fell out of her bed.

We rushed to the 24-hour clinic, the same one that previously diagnosed my CONSTIPATION as GASTRIC.

But hey, I suppose beggars can't be choosy.

Then again, maybe they should.

The stupid doctor seemed so unsure of himself, at times taken to mumbling to himself. When I asked him if I should be worried, he started throwing medical terms at me as if I was some medical student.

Bloody hell, no wonder on night shift. He was so unconcerned even though I could barely see.... and even suggested that I be given oral medicine. That's when I started insisting that I wanted something more IMMEDIATE and asked for a jab.

And then he looked a bit puzzled and said, "Hmm... a jab? You sure? You'd get drowsy".

-_-'''

Eh uncle, it's 2am in the morning. I think drowsiness is the least of my concerns.

So he grudgingly gave me the jab. I think he was so hesitent cos he was so bad at it. It hurt like fuck lah. Bloody nana. Bloody Shenton 24-hour clinic. Useless buggers.

So after all that drama, and after a day's of rest, the swelling has mostly gone down.

Haiz, at least Fadz was around to accompany me.

Random Update

Haha, seriously, nothing is going on in my life to update about.

It's work, work, work. The occasional meet ups with friends, planning to meet up with people that never comes to fruition, some shopping, a lot of sleeping... haha, you get the dull picture.

Had a pretty good Sunday. Slept in, went for a facial at Pan Pacific, then high tea at Oriental Hotel, all courtesy of my sister. Heh, being the youngest rocks!

Will most likely be going up to KL for a short holiday to celebrate my birthday. Yup, going with the Fadz.

Woohooo! Shopping and eating, here I come!

And on a totally random note, I really, really think that the proximity theory is spot on. Witnessed the blossoming of an office romance. This reporter was attached to an ex-reporter, but she left to do her Masters overseas.

Guess the distance was too much to put up with. Long story short, another of my colleagues came into the picture. The two of them started hanging out, one thing led to another.

Before I knew it, the guy broke up with his girlfriend and asked my colleague to be his ready steady.

To be fair, the ex sounded like a bit of a bee-yotch, but it must really suck to be dumped while overseas. To not even be in Singapore to hear it firsthand, or to do anything to salvage the situation.

Not even a chance to say goodbye in person.

So ladies and laddies, all that crap about distance making the heart grow fonder? Bunch of baloney.

We humans are sluts for contact. No amount of Skype, MSN, phone conversations can make up for the presence of a warm, breathing person by your side. Nothing can make up for meals, outings, face-to-face conversations.

Oh yeah, on another random note, it's good to know that all my closest SMU friends have found jobs! Congrats Shawnie, hope you have a great time! And welcome to the mindless zone of drone-dom!

And for those people who say that I'm hard to pin down due to moving off days, simply ask one week in advance and you will find an answer. Simple, right?

Women in power

Women in power are funny creatures. Of course, this observation is based on my own very few personal experiences.

But I must say, they have all been rather bad.

It just feels like these women got to the top but being complete bitches. It's like they've forgotten how to be human and tend to snipe and snap drive the people around them up the walls.

Take the AWARE president. I was trying to interview her, I was trying to get her to sound rational, but all she did was snipe and snipe and snipe and get on her high horse.

All I did was try to present to her what the majority of women in Singapore feel; that too often, family is not worth sacrificing for a career. What's more, the sad ugly truth is that not many Singaporean men are willing to a) be less successful then their wives or b) take care of the family in the same way a mother would.

Many men have the opportunity to climb the corporate ladder because they know that their wives are taking care of the family. But are men willing to take on that role? I don't think so. So how can a woman comfortably leave the family and work?

That woman kept snapping that it is possible, it is possible, it is possible. Seriously? How? Tell me. What policies are you thinking of? How do you want to change society's mindset? But nooooo.... she just came off as a bra-burning, man-hating type of woman. I pity her husband.

And then I recently interviewed this super high-flying woman who's also the chairman of a charity organisation.

She came off as this snippy, unforgiving person who must correct your every word. And she does it in a roll-your-eyes, stare intimidating at you manner.

"Challenges, not obstacles".

"Burn-out is too strong a word. Grow weary and leave the organisation."

Hellooooo??? Aren't you just playing word games with me. Call a spade a spade lah.

Seriously, I never have this problem when I interview men. I'm not playing into the archetypical role of a "small woman" but women in power are such a turnoff.

They get to the top by being bitches. At least the men know how to conceal it better. Don't invite the press to cover some event unless you're willing to play nice.

No wonder female bosses have such a bad rep. It appears that the reputation is real.

My posts lately are all about work ah???

So boring, I know, but what to do, that really is what my life is about now.

Some days, I return home so tired all I can do is wash off my makeup (no way am I gonna compromise on my skin!!) and fall into bed.

And on my off days, I'm stuck between trying to put in some time with friends/boyfriend and just zoning out at home.

Ah, the tough choices.

Blogging at work now cos I'm so bored. I'm waiting for phone calls that may never come, so basically, I'm twiddling my thumbs.

Sigh, I wish I was outside doing something fun instead of staring at a poster of Rocky Balboa, trying to look as if I'm doing work.

Now THAT is tough.

Success!!!

Wahahahahhahaha!

I can't believe it!!

I've passed the voice test! Third time's the charm! I think I nearly passed out when my VP said that she was prepared to let me go on air.

Wooooohooooo!!!!! Finally... and I made the two month's mark! Although I still think that I sound horrible.. but hey, I'd take it anyway.

Be hearing my voice on air soon, yeah? :)

Miss Universe Moment

Haha, this just tickles my bone whenever I think about it.

I had to do a phone interview with this Vietnamese guy, but as he isn't fluent in English, he got a translator to speak to me.

Now mind you, this was completely via phone.

So what happened was I would speak to the translator in English, she would translate the question to Vietnamese and ask the Vietnam dude, he would take the handphone and speak to me in Vietnamese, and then the translator would help to translate his answer to English.

It totally felt like a beauty pageant Q&A segment. I had to stop myself from asking him, "So if you were crowned Ms Universe, what would be the first thing you would do?" or "What does this world need most?"

Teeheehee.

On a more sombre note, I failed my voice test again. And got reprimanded. And had my commitment questioned. And she did it without raising her voice at all. Adding to the pressure, an intern just got HER voice cleared.

I never realized how bad my pronunciation, enunciation, pacing and tone was. In short, I never realized that I couldn't speak properly.

Oy vey.

Worst day of my (working) life (so far)

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

YESTERDAY WAS SUCH A SUPREMELY SHITTY DAY THAT I NEED TO VENT ALL MY PENT UP ANGER.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck, motherfucking fuckers with fucking, arrogant, fucking attitude.

Ok, that feels better. I don't usually curse to this magnitude, but sometimes, it's so gratifying to sum up my feelings by screaming....

FUCK. Short and concise.

Yesterday was seriously shitty.

Nearly got drowned in the torrential downpour in the afternoon. I was stupid enough to wear a skirt and high heels, thinking that the weather would hold out for me. Urgh.

My pitiful umbrella was no match for the rain that kept beating down upon me, causing my legs, feet, skirt to be drenched.

I was to attend an event at 7pm, so that meant I had nothing much to do from 2 to 6pm. So being the hardworking person I am (yeah, right), I tried to practice recording my voice.

After numerous, numerous tries, my voice still sounded highly awkward. And my editor commented that I sounded unnatural. Sigh.

Then I pressed the wrong button, causing my headset to screech so loudly that I saw stars. And I think I've become deaf. And brain damaged.

So I left for my event with a massive headache and a ringing in my ear, only to meet more rain (urgh).

Here's the extra shitty part.

I was attending this event at SMU held by this FEMALE group, to discuss about whether Singapore was ready for a female premier.

Sounds interesting, right?

And it really was, to listen to all the different opinions and views about females in the political arena.

I had to do a feature on this issue so I lingered after the event (and this was around 10pm) to speak to the group's President and another panelist.

Wah lao, that stupid bitch was a giant asshole! She is so stuck up her ass on certain feminine issues that my probing caused her to see red. Excuse me for not being a man-bashing, iron-willed bitch! Sorry for representing most people in acknowledging that Singapore is a patriarchial society and accepting women in a dominating role would be difficult! Sorry for not having spent my whole life fighting for female issues that my ignorance caused you to glare at me as if I were a narrow-minded simpleton.

Ka na sai. Invite me to cover your pitiful event still act all holier than though. Bitch.

The other panelist wasn't any better. She's this professor at a local university and evidently, another man-hating old woman.

I know she was tired, but so am I, yeah? I still needed to get soundbite and whatnot, right?

So seeing how it was 10.15pm and I still needed to rush back to file a report THAT very same night, I tried to steer the interview using specific questions.

I asked what I had to asked, and thanked her.

Then she turned around and asked me, "So how long have you been in this job?"

I said, "This is my 5th week".

And she was like, "Oh. So not a hardhitting, hardnosed journalist yet, huh?"

WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO INSINUATE? THAT I'M NOT A GOOD JOURNO ISSIT? THAT I DON'T ASK ENOUGH PROBING QUESTIONS ISSIT? MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE ASKED IF YOU WERE MARRIED BECAUSE I HIGHLY DOUBT ANY MAN CAN STAND A BITCH LIKE YOU.

Urgh, you want to represent women's rights, fine. But you also represent what's worst about women in power: overly emotional and bitchy. And you wonder why even women dislike working for women.

So back to the office I went, arriving only at 11pm. Jialat. I wanted to finish before 12 midnight, so that involved some mad writing and cutting of soundbites from the incoherent rubbish the 2 stupid women gave me. I frankly didn't care at that point. I was close to killing people.

I finished, packed up and headed for the cab. Lo and behold, I get another incoherent, loud-mouthed crazy cabbie.

He talked and talked, yelled and yelled, screamed incoherently at the injustices in the world... and I sincerely tried to make out what he was trying to say, but I couldn't. There was something wrong with his speech. So it translated to 15 minutes of random yelling.

Bloody hell. Just get me home lah. As if I care about your opinion. Bleagh.

Fast forward to this morning. I reached the office at 3pm for my night shift, thinking that I was still on for a 6.45pm event. Turns out, my editor switched events the previous night and only told me through an email. Seeing how I was a) out of office b) so harrassed last night that I failed to check my email, I didn't know that I was supposed to go for another event. At 12.30pm.

I started panicking like hell, because I so don't want to piss off my editor. In the end, he tried to mask over a look of irritation (sigh, I guess I deserved it), and told me to do a phone interview instead.

Luckily the guy was friendly enough to acquiesce and talked a lot.

Sigh, sigh, sigh. This week ain't looking so hot. I even lashed out at Fadz this morning cos I was feeling damn pissed off by the rain.

Another harrowing day in the life of a clueless journalist

Someone please tell me why I'm in this line.

I don't read the papers often enough, I don't update myself with current affairs, my voice is Ching Chong (Jialing: I'm guessing she meant that I had a Chinese-twang or something like that) and I evidently have no idea what the protocol is when it comes to greeting ministers.

Someone please shoot me....

I'm joking lah. I love my job! Which other job provides jolts to the heart and unexpected adrenaline rushes at all times of the day?

Tell you, covering the Mas Selamat case was kick ass. Even if all I did was walk up and down and stare at army men.

Oh oh, and the A levels.. HILARIOUS. The levels of secrecy when I tried asking for percentages and breakdown of the grades, schools tooting their own horns, pimply army boys who are so proud of themselves it's adorable watching their pleasure, one top school which barred reporters into their school hall (we think it's cos they screwed up the new syllabus)... fun fun fun.

But alas, I made a boo-boo today. I was covering a simple (or so I thought) event. I thought I'd go in, look around, take a couple of shots and call it a day.

But lo and behold, there's a Minister present and the press swarm him, asking his opinion about this issue that was raised in Parliament.

The protocol when that happens is to report what he said. Cos cannot lose out to the other press companies what.

Ahem. Do I look like I follow the Budget debates? Do I look like I would know what the hell the other journos are talking about?

Of course not.

So.... as the other journos were from the Chinese language papers, and I was the only English journo and I needed an English soundbite critically... I started sweating like mad.

What to do? Hang my head and ask the Chinese journo for clarification on the issue she wanted to ask. Luckily she was nice enough to help, even though we're from rival companies.

And then when it came to interviewing the Minister, instead of greeting him "Minister ---", I said "Mister ---".

All the other journos called him Minister. Apparently, that's how you show respect.

Can I get any greener?

Sigh, sigh, sigh....

Poking Fun (Inappropriately) at a Terror Situation

Haha, this just turned up in my mailbox today.

If I wasn't so disgruntled over having patrolled Dunearn Road on Wednesday morning trying to put a story together, it might have wrung a few more chuckles from me. My bruised and battered feet are still screaming for justice (which I put right yesterday with a very soothing pedicure. Hoo ha!)

Anyway, this might be useful if you encounter some very suspicious activity near you...

Courtesy of TalkingCock.com

Trust this website to make light of a serious situation. Go check out the SCGS version. Hilarious lah!

Ok, I officially conclude that I'm stressing out over work.

Proof? My period hasn't come.

I swear that's the most accurate assessment of my stress and fat level. Exams, presentation week, unreasonable amount of homework, breakup.... all had 1 common point.

My period didn't turn up as expected.

And no, stupid cows, I'm not pregnant. Confirm, guarantee plus chop. I would know these things.

And yes, my body is so out of whack that should I even dare to put on 300grams, my period doesn't come.

I don't think it's fat this time, so yes, I'm attributing February's absence to stress.

I still haven't cleared my voice. I finally screwed up the courage to record my voice and let the Senior VP listen to it.

Verdict? I'm too CHING CHONG. That's right, her exact words. Fuck ching chong. You can't imagine how crushed I was.

Add to that, my editor had asked me to try my hand at a Q&A segment. I didn't even interview the right person. He proceeded to figuratively pet my head and tell me that luckily, he had a backup plan. He had given me a 50% chance of failure.

Then he said, "you are representing SMU well", before cackling and laughing his head off.

HOW NOT TO BE STRESSED, YOU TELL ME!!!!

But the worst thing is, I've been practicing recording a news story in the presence of the other reporters. Figured I had to get over the self-conscious issue. You know what happened? A couple of them stopped to listen to my speech and pointed out my mistakes one by one.

RRROAAARRR!!! I know I should be grateful that they are helping me, but that doesn't stop me from feeling like a complete fucktard, right???? I can't help sounding Singaporean... I AM Singaporean!!!! And not everyone wants to have an American accent ookaaayyy!!!!!

Senior Reporter: "It's Uh-lym-pics, dear."

Me thinking mutinously: "Aren't we following the British standard? It's Oh-lym-pics llaaaahhhh".

And it's ker-mu-nity, not com-munity. Fine, that one I admit is my mistake.

Not to forget, it uh-ttri-bute when used as a verb, and a-ttri-bute when used as a noun.

Oh god, I didn't realise my English was so bad.

Maybe I should just throw in the towel now.

God (sister's side), Buddha (mother's side), Allah (Fadz's side), deliver a sign and tell me what to do!!

See, this is what happens when you're an atheist.

Down the Rabbit Hole

I feel like I've fallen into the proverbial rabbit hole from Alice in Wonderland. Work is getting so confusing and the path forward has never looked more uncertain!

I've started writing the longest pieces of news that radio uses and aside from minor tweaking, my work is being vetted by my editor with few complains. He even walked up to me and told me that he sees improvement in my work and my latest piece required few edits. When I grinned like a Cheshire cat, he told me I should be grinning.

My editor is funny in that way.

However, seeing how I've yet to clear my voice, I had to wheedle and kowtow to my senior reporter to get him to record my news story. After procrastinating and answering emails and doing his own work, which in the process made me miss the 7pm news bulletin, he grudgingly started to record my story.

That's when all hell broke loose.

Apparently, my sentences were too convoluted and long and difficult to read naturally. He had to keep re-recording and when he was finally done, he gave me a look of death that conveyed all his loathing for my work.

Sigh, I suppose grammatically my work is fine. Fine for print that is. But when listeners are relying only on their sense of hearing, such long sentences are ineffective. It's difficult for the reader to read, and difficult for the listener to listen to.

I suppose my editor was reading from a print point of view and it looked okay to him. But having not recorded news for so many years, he perhaps overlooked the fact that what looked good on screen didn't always translate well verbally.

Time to stop using 4-syllable words and stick to simple stuff. And short sentences. That's apparently the most heinous of my crimes.

Like they say, write to inform, not to impress.

This Can't Be Lingerie

A guy came up with this sorry excuse for a piece of underwear.




No wonder it looks almost pornographic.

Please do not give me some rubbish that it feels like "nothing" and that it is guaranteed to hold up.

Yeah, it feels like nothing because it is nothing.

If you inserted the back part into your arsehole, it could probably act as a titillating sex toy.

So if any of you people want to give this a try, go check it out at

https://www.cstringdirect.com/product.php

It's affectionately named CString. What does the "c" stand for - cunt?

Work Work Work

It's amazing how exhuasted I feel from working. My energy level starts to drain around 3pm and by knock off time at 7, I'm practically dragging my ass to the bus stop.

This is bad. I so have to adjust my body or I'd totally stop having a social life altogether.

My eating habits are screwed up.

And I can't tell whether I'm getting any better at my job. Sometimes, my mind goes into a complete blank and I lose my train of thought. I could be talking to an interviewee and not have a single question to ask. I can look blankly into someone's face and the person has to cautiously ask if I got the point.

I wrote a story today and my editor told me he couldn't have done it better. And then I wrote another story which had a wrong angle.

Worse still, I left out the "where" question.

I'm an idiot. An inconsistent, blabbering idiot.

When I interview someone from the government (MP, PS, Minister), my tongue trips up.

Oh yeah, I still haven't screwed up my courage to record my voice and get it passed so that I can do live radio. It's so intimidating to have to record my not-so-pleasant sounding voice in front of my colleagues who have been doing it for years.

I sound funny on tape.

And I don't enunciate properly.

And I'm turning into a whiny spaz. Someone please shoot me.

A New Beginning

The 1st 3 days of work have passed in a blur. Everything is so new, so different and so challenging. Doing journalism without a background in journalism is really making me break out in hives. Suddenly, I feel like I can't write properly and I can't speak properly. The only 2 skills that I am at least moderately confident of. But in just 3 days, such notions have been shot down completely.

Time to eat humble pie and be the incredible sponge. I can make it I can make it I can make it.

That said, I am having loads of fun. My adrenal glands are firing nonstop from the moment I sit down to the moment I leave the office. Writing news, tailing senior reporters to ceremonies, doing investigative work... it's definitely not a desk job.

And I never realized how much work goes into producing that 1 minute of news for radio. The constant rewording of 10 sentences to ensure there's no rubbish, condensing pages of a press release, finding the right angle and lead to a story...

But enough about work. It's time to bid a fond farewell to my slacker days with a tribute to my graduation trip. I know, I know, these photos have been a long time coming. But it's such a PAIN to sort through 3000+ photos and videos. So yeah, cut me some slack. And erm... I've only sorted out the Paris photos. Slowly, ok? Somebody asked me why the hell we needed to take so many photos, when we were already there to soak in the atmosphere.

Simple. Memories tend to fade and blend into one another. But with photos taken at every key moment of our holiday, I'd be transported back to that exact moment when I was standing taking that photo. Some people remember through sheer memory; I experience life through my photos.

It was fun travelling with my 2 dear girls, Kristin and Sylvia. What an adventure. I'd let the photos do the talking.

Yup, can you imagine? All those sweets for our plane rides. It's always an eye-opener being with these 2. Haha.

Emirates airport was a complete shitters. The crowd was disgusting, people were literally strewn all over the place, sleeping on newspapers, there was no crowd control at the gates with hundreds of people rushing the moment the announcement for boarding was made... It was a disaster. International airport my ass. Absolute rubbish.

First sight of Paris!

The view from our hostel room's tiny balcony. I loved this street. Very homey, it has tiny patisseries every couple of steps.

Immediately after we got to the hostel, we suited up and went to the Louvre. Small tip to save money - if you're under 26 and go to the Louvre on Friday after 6pm, you get in free!

Due to jet lag, the girls weren't really interested in the superb art that surrounded us from all corners. Not just the art, but the splendid architecture as well. Hence, we practically ran to the Mona Lisa and pretty much left to find dinner after that before crashing back at the hostel.

Breakfast was always a delight. Baguette and coffee. Simple but delicious. The girls complained about the lack of variety after a while, but ironically, Sylvia missed eating baguette the moment we returned to Singapore.

Yes, I ended up doing all the map reading and nagivation. Sigh sigh sigh. At one point, the 2 of them just stood there while I struggled to get my bearings, and after telling them twice which metro station we were getting off at, Kristin had to ask me again. I nearly strangled her.

We didn't always get things correct...

Navigation is just so much easier when you have a guide. We joined a free walking tour and it came with a tour guide who made Paris come to life with quirky anecdotes about various buildings in the city. His irrelevant humour definitely helped to liven up a very wet and rainy day.

Sample:

"Here's a tit." (points to a girl nearby)
"She's a tour guide-in-training."

St Michel Fountain...

Luxembourg Palace...

Kristin showed her "chee ko pek" side by sidling up to a guard and shamelessly asking for a photo together as she found him "cute"...

But of course I'm still cuter and camera friendlier (haha!)...

The beautiful River Seine

Our tour guide Pieter who earns a living completely from tips

What's the significance of this statue? Nothing, except that the temperature dropped so violently suddenly that my camera's flash bulb EXPLODED. And by this I mean producing a orange glow akin to fire and going "pop!". Bloody hell. Somemore claim to be all weather camera.

At this well, people believe that if you successfully flip a coin onto the raised platform, you would be blessed with a great sex life. But if you missed, you would be cursed with 7 years of bad life. One guy missed and we all went "Ohhhhh..." I didn't even try. I don't mess with the forces.

Yes, the coffee comes in tiny packages. But it was shelter and warmth that took us out of the near zero temperature of the outdoors.

We finally make it to the Eiffel Tower! Unfortunately, the experience was marred by an incident with a Middle Eastern beggar. She wasn't dressed in rags or anything, and I mistook her for a fellow tourist. So when she asked if I could speak English, I stupidly said yes. The beggar then thrust a piece of paper at me, saying that her father was terminally ill and they were poor yada yada yada.. That's when things became clear to me and I started to say no. You know what reaction the beggar had? She snatched back the piece of paper (which happened to be laminated, thank you) and used it to whack my head! What the fuck... she walked off and when I recovered from the shock, I screamed "bitch!" in her direction. At that time, I wasn't thinking and just wanted to vent anger. It was only when Li Wern mentioned that she could have been carrying a knife did I feel some fear. Haha. :)

At the top of the Eiffel Tower. The winter breeze was killing us and blowing us in every direction. The fence is to prevent people from jumping off, which apparently happens all the time.

The amazing view from the top...

The final day was spent visiting places we missed during the first few days there. It was mostly a whole day of photo taking as we didn't do anything more than go to the place of interest and look around.

Hamming it up outside Hotel de Ville, which has endured through the centuries despite revolutions and wars.

Notre Dame.. Yoo Hoo! Quasimodo! You home?

Moulin Rouge! Wooohooooo, let my inner diva out!

Sacre Coeur. Another scary experience occurred here. I seem to attract all the rift raff. Sheesh. To get to this basilica, you have to climb like 200 steps. At the bottom of the stairs, there was this group of Black dudes who suddenly accousted us. One approached me and when he tried to slow me down, I kept saying "不要, 不要!" Guess what he did? He put his freaking arm around me, hugged me close to him and called me his "girlfriend". That's when I REALLY ran for the stairs and didn't stop climbing till I put sufficient distance between us.

So that was our Paris adventure. Haha.. dunno when I'd have the energy to do the other 2 cities... Ciao!

Save The Film Maker

Oh my god, my friend is hilarious.

This is based on a real life story. He broke the school's camera and hence, made this short film to raise funds.

Save the cheerleader, save the world .

Save the film maker, save his career.

Go watch it.

I did it. I accepted the Mediacorp job.

Starting work on 11th Feb.

Hey, what's the point of being young, if not to take chances and walk off the beaten track?

Disclaimer: Before you read any further, I apologise for the whiny tone of this post. Even I want to punch myself. My tummy is making me ill and gaggish, hence outward showing of annoying self that I usually keep muffled. Hah. Ok, proceed with caution.

This crazy little thing called life. It's so bloody unpredictable and confusing that I wish I could just crawl under my blanket and shut it out.

So many decisions, so much to think about.

In the strangest twist of events, Mediacorp called back and offered me a job as a broadcast journalist. I nearly fell out of bed (yes, I was still in bed and I tend to be there until 11am so if you want to contact me and have the audacity to call before 11, beware my wrath). This is of course a huge, huge surprise seeing how I totally flubbed the test and pissed off my interviewer with my seeming lack of coherence and direction in life.

Once again, life throws me a curve ball.

After mulling over it for a bit, I talked to Fadz, to Li Wern, to my parents... I decided not take it up. Let's face it, I'm totally not a business person. In fact, I couldn't give a hoot about it. And the hours are bad, the working conditions are stressful... the way I see it, if I wanted to work like a dog, I would go into banking (not saying that I'd definitely get in lah, just hypothetically). And if I wanted to wake up at unholy hours, I might as well have accepted the SIA offer with its 6 months bonus. 4 hours of daily travelling time be damned (yes yes, SIA offered. I turned it down because of above said reason. I don't regret it).

So would I want to sell my soul to be a lowly paid newshound? More importantly, BUSINESS newshound? Nope.

Then another company called me up for an interview.. and I had an online test to complete for a graduate programme thingy for another company... all the options coming together to thoroughly confuse me.

The way I see it, HR is my chosen career path, at least for the foreseeable future. In order for something to throw me off course, it has to be pretty spectacular. Like a super high paying coffee lady. Or an actress. Singer. Food critic. Heiress. Entertainment journalist even. But business? Nah.

So I called back this morning, and tried my best to graciously decline the position because this HR person was really really nice. I told her that I wasn't keen on business. And then she asked me,

"Would you be interested in another desk then?"

I was trapped. Part of me wants to grab this chance and experience something different, at least for a short while, before throwing myself into a "real" career. You know, the thing you're stuck with the rest of your life? That's how I see HR. Stable. Straight and narrow. But journalism... that's a whole other ball game. It's something unexpected. Something that could be cool and thrilling. Like broadcasting the next big story. Updates on Pakistan. Announcing the next US president. Telling tales of the homeless.

And at the same time, something that I could really potentially suck at.

Let's not forget shitty hours. It's shift work and if you're stuck with the 3pm to 12am shift, tough. I didn't even ask about transport being covered. I'm so terribly unprepared and unsure and unknowledgeable about these things. Urgh. I should prepare a list and keep it by my table so that even when I'm half asleep and trying to think about my career, I would know what to ask.

How how how how how? She didn't outright offer me this new position as she had to check back with the big boss. I'd know on Monday.

3 things on my plate. All different.... Journalism, HR, Management trainee... SEEE!!!! I told you I had no clue about what I wanted to do!!! I'm so freaking random!!! THIS is what I get for being a flaky, indecisive, multi-personality Gemini!

My bed is starting to look like the best option again.

I'm down with food poisoning. Urgh. Yes, the vomiting-diarrhea-my stomach is hurting from all that heaving-kind.

Any anorexic/bulimic should be proud of me. And to whom do I owe this "fun" experience to? Sakae Sushi. That deathtrap of raw fish. Your one-way ticket to losing weight. No laxatives, no spoon down the throat. Just delicious raw fish that was probably wrapped in salmonella.

Haven't eaten a single thing in more than 36 hours. Such an accomplishment. And the amazing thing is, I'm not even hungry. Nada. Nothing more than water is getting past my throat. Even thinking about food makes me want to hurl. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was pregnant. And yes, I DO know better.

The only good thing is that I get to watch Sex and the City without getting badgered by my parents to get a job. When my super laidback dad can casually ask me "Had a good sleep?"... I know a not-so-subtle hint when it's thrown at me.

Sigh, yes yes, I know it's time to get a job. And to let you know the level of my interest... when people call me up for interviews, my darling friends (that being Sylvia and Kristin) would immediately chime in "Please sound more interested and not as if they owe you something!" Yup, I'm the consummate job hunter. So absolutely devoid of interest. So lacking in excitement. That's me.

But all party's have to end eventually. My bank account is dwindling so quickly that I've yet to scrap my jaw off the floor. It's so tragic that when I went to the beach with Syl and Kris and Kris suggested a morning cocktail at Cafe del Mar, I counted my pennies and decided that I couldn't afford it. How tragic is that.

The Fadz said that I could stay at home and shake leg if that was my wish, once he got a good paying job. I don't know if he said it out of guilt or in a rush of passion/madness/body snatched moment. Whatever. I'm taking it. I love staying at home. I think I've turned mooching into an art form. Yup, this is the life for me. All you career-minded women be damned. You can kiss my degree-ass.

Must be the meds talking.

P.S: Nigella says that chilli-sugar syrup over vanilla ice cream is da bomb. Anyone up for that?

P.P.S: Ok, I'm definitely watching too much tv.

I have no idea what to do with my life.

Have been going for interviews, have been searching for jobs, but I feel like my soul is not in it. I seem to be finding fault with every opportunity that comes my way. Why? Well, I haven't found a passion for any particular job. I can't firmly say what I want to do, I can't give a clear answer on a particular direction that I want to follow. And above all, I can't seem to find a meaning to work.

Why do we work? Most practically, to earn money to spend. Some lucky people may cite job satisfaction and derive a purpose for living from their work, but from what I see around me, people work so that they have the means to spend. Is that MEANINGFUL? Is this why we were put on this earth? To be slaves to commercialism and the economy?

Don't get me wrong. I love my fillet mignons and Gucci wallets and I understand that SOMEBODY must pay for them. But is that all there is to work? Should i get any random job that pays me decently and that I can do sufficiently well, but not consider job enjoyment as a factor?

Is there even such a thing as job enjoyment?

I didn't get the HP job (guess not knowing what the company does plays a big part, huh?). I went for the Mediacorp 2nd interview and it was really an interview to gauge my commitment level. Evidently, I am not prepared for the shitty hours. You see, the thing about journalism is that you really need the passion. It's shit pay, shit hours, shit work. So if you don't love living for the next big story, or chasing deadlines, then it's something you should pretty much avoid.

I don't think I'd get it and I don't think it's any big loss. I just feel sorry for having wasted everyone's time.

So back to the big question: what do I want? I need deliverance, a sign, a purpose, advice.... something to work on rather than this gaping hole of nothingness and weariness. I need to feel optimistic about life and not view the next 20 years as drudgery and watch myself spiral into a cycle of cynicism and jadedness.

What the hell should I do?

Another day in the life of a spazzy job hunter

Honestly, when I dig deep down inside of me, I know I'm a charlatan. And I can say it because I have no idea half the time what I'm doing or saying during job interviews. Being a free-spirited Gemini who does not believe in censorship or filtering, I fear I do not properly process the many flitting thoughts that enter my head and I have a tendency to say the first thing that pops into my head.

Either you love it or hate it.

Went for an interview with HP on Wednesday. Yes, the computer/personal electronics/business solutions company. And they asked me one of the most standard questions in the world, which evidently, I blatantly chose not to prepare for.

Interviewer: "So tell me what you know about HP."

*Awkward pause*

*Clears throat*

Me: "Not a lot, honestly. I know HP does computers, personal handheld devices, printers, and provides business solutions." *Interviewer nods encouragingly"

Me: "Oh yeah. And I own a HP desktop. Does that help?"

Sometimes, I can't believe the things that I have the gall to say. But hey, he laughed, and I've been invited back for a 2nd interview. Stranger things have happened.

On a more WTF level, Mediacorp called me, asking if I was interested in being a broadcast journalist. When the guy called, I did a double take and asked again which company he was calling from. When he said Mediacorp, I starting giggling because it's so damn random. Apparently, my school sent the resume compilation book to Mediacorp, thinking there might be seriously corporate jobs. And hey presto! Journalist??? On the radio??? MEEE?

Anywayz, the guy asked if I was interested and in a moment of madness, I actually replied "Why not?"

I wasn't trying to be a cocky bastard; I was just at a loss for words.

So I went for the audition today. The position was specifically for a business news radio journalist and what I know of business you can fit into a singular sticky note. There were 4 candidates, and coincidentally, all from SMU. It was pretty fun; you sit at a pseudo news desk, put on some headphones and speak into a mike as 5 people in a room separated by a see-through glass panel access how "radio-friendly" your voice is. Out of 4, 2 made the cut and I was one of them. I didn't think I'd make it. Yes, I was a DJ in SMU, but I was the WORST.

After reading a short piece of business news, we were asked to read a list of "tough" words. "Balestier" "lavender" "psychiatric". All very random. Passed that too. Next up: a 2.5 hour current affairs essay/short-answer questions test. I felt so screwed. I knew they were gonna test my current affairs knowledge, but in my typical fashion, I did minimal preparation.

And I must say, I believe I'm gonna fail the test spectacularly. They test ACTUAL financial/business knowledge. And what I know is equivalent to a fuckwit.

mini essay questions....

"It was a mistake to build the Integrated Resorts. Do you agree?"

"The property market is going to boom for another year. Do you agree?"

"Singapore entrepreneurs expect the government to offer a hand to them. Do you agree?"

I definitely didn't give brilliant answers, but I think I might scrape through.

And then I was hit with the shockers.

What do you understand from the following terms:

"Warrants" "CDOs" "ETFs" "Reits" "Bonus Issue"

I was stunned. I know, I know, as a finance student, these things should roll off my tongue like butter. But I was a horrid finance student, I have no interest in financial instruments, and I sure as heck didn't listen in class. Oh well.

Next up:

Match these stock exchanges to their respective countries - DAX, KOSPI, CAC....

I was fucked.

So there you have it: I'm either not applying for the right jobs or I'm a fuckwit.

Erm, I'm having fun slacking. Does that count for anything? Anyone with a job that would allow me to be happy? ANYONE????