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Ramblings & ruminations Archives

July 18, 2005

I need a mind-reading machine

I always have impossibly witty and intelligent posts written in my head, but they never sound quite as witty and intelligent put down on paper. Something unfailingly gets lost in translation.

One possible solution is to just speak my thoughts out loud and capture them with some sort of recording device. This would backfire, though, because I'd first have to set up the recording device, and that would make me self-conscious, which in turn would render me unable to articulate my sentences exactly the way I'd formulated them in my head.

If anyone ever invents a mind-reading machine, be sure to let me know, okay? Thanks.

July 27, 2005

Pet peeve

You can rant all you want about discrimination and claim to be a great writer, but if you can't even spell correctly, that really doesn't help your cause any. Great writers do not allow homonyms to trip them up all the time, do not confuse countable and uncountable nouns, do not have such difficulties with subject-verb agreement, and do not jump from one tense to another in the same paragraph. Great writers also know that "even though", "a lot" and "all right" are two separate words.

I do not consider myself a great writer, but sloppy writing, bad punctuation and lousy grammar irritates me no end. It's different if English is not your first language — I applaud those who are brave enough to practise writing in English, despite the mistakes they might make along the way. However, when you are a person who not only speaks English as a first language but claims to be a "great writer", there's no excuse for careless writing.

August 24, 2005

Technology exists to raise my blood pressure

I just lost a post I was writing, because I accidentally clicked on a link on the "Write Post" page. Don't ask.

I always hate losing something I've written. I choose my words carefully, agonise over phrasing, check and re-check the grammar, and then — poof! — it's all gone. I lose heart when that happens, because I know I will never be able to write it exactly the same way it was. Maybe the next time I try, it'll be better; maybe it'll be worse. But one thing's for sure: it'll be different.

I'm not going to even attempt to re-write that post right now. I hate computers. Something like this would never happen with pen and paper.

September 8, 2005

Disappointing

A friend sent me a link to this site: Home to all the freaks, weirdos and misfits of the literary world, the site proclaims.

I clicked on 'General discussion' and was greeted by threads titled "Euphamisms", "Who do you write for?", and "Fuckers its like a fucking holiday..."

Writers who can't spell and haven't the first clue when it comes to grammar. Not a good sign.

September 9, 2005

In an ideal world

I think a bookshop would be the perfect place to meet a man. We would bump into each other in the 'Writing' section and instantly connect over a common love for the English language, a common fascination for words and all that words can do. We'd continue our conversation over tea, discovering everything we can about each other. And the rest, as you know, would be history.

I think I've watched You've Got Mail a tad too many times.

September 24, 2005

A bad smell

I wonder whether companies read their own PR spiels. This is from a company that sells a high-end brand of bottled mineral water - let's call the brand MW, for 'mineral water'. Watch them wax poetic about their new packaging:

The bottle now adopts a slender and ergonomical shape…

The Oxford English Dictionary defines 'ergonomic' as

  1. The study of people’s efficiency in their working environment
  2. Designed to be conducive to efficient use
How efficient can a bottle be?

With the new bottle, discerning consumers are better equipped to experience MW's distinctly natural taste and its healthy detox benefits without any hassle. It ensures that your body gets the unique MW healthy treatment whenever and wherever you need it.

Spiels like this bring the term 'bullshit' to a whole new level. I am reminded why I swore I would never go into PR — firstly, kissing ass stinks, and secondly, bullshit also stinks.

September 29, 2005

More lameness

Dear friend. I heard that some apartments have 972 square feet. I've only got two feet. What do I need so many feet for? By the way, how are u?

Only a male would send a text message as lame as that.

Yes, the same male who sent this one.

November 1, 2005

Talk, after all, is cheap

To be witty is to be sexy — or so a writer friend of mine asserts. Listening to her gush over a man whose choice of words gives her goosebumps and who makes her nerve ends tingle whenever she speaks with him, I realise that I am extremely guarded emotionally.

Yes, I appreciate witty repartee, greedily soak up unusual turns of phrase, and savour well-chosen words. But facility of language alone is not enough to bowl me over.

I would give up the exhilaration of trading quips and fielding sallies for cosy chats and warm conversations with a man who loves me. The former stimulates my intellect; the latter moves my heart.

November 2, 2005

This is why I love her

Advising me not to temper my quirkiness for fear of frightening a man off, but to simply be myself:
"You're weird and wonderful, and he needs to see that."

Something only a best friend could say!

November 3, 2005

Defining irene

"Weird, wonderful and wacky," said a friend when I recounted what my best friend had said. "The three W's."

"In no particular order," chipped in another.

On being unique

Found this, which I wrote in 2001:

It's funny how people always say that nobody's perfect, then act so perfectly shocked when they find out you aren't, either.

However, to be imperfect is one thing; to be unique, another. I can't decide whether uniqueness is a good or bad sign. After all, if you were so breathtakingly fantastic, surely you'd have prototype potential? If there's only one of you walking around, mightn't it signify the existence of some serious flaw that was never duplicated?

December 2, 2005

Moot point

He isn't a reader - doesn't like to read. I hadn't decided whether or not that was a bad sign. Now I don't have to.

December 22, 2005

Joining the ranks of clock-watchers everywhere

When you wait eagerly for lunch hour because the stroke of one o'clock signals freedom, it gives new meaning to the phrase, "There has to be more to life than this".

January 3, 2006

Wanted: Storytellin' man

On the bus back from Penang the other day, there was a couple with a small child sitting across the aisle from me. The young one was perhaps three or four years old; I'm terrible at estimating children's ages. He was the most well-behaved and adorable little boy, not at all one of those noisy, shouting-at-the-top-of-his-lungs, I-want-this-and-I-want-it-now types who seem to be taking over the earth. My first thought? This is one very secure little boy.

The affection between parents and child was obvious. What captured my attention, though, was the way his father, especially, laughed with him, played with him, talked with him. And I thought, I want a man who will be that kind of father to our children. Strong, yet tender. Affectionate and openly loving.

Today I read something which gave me the same kind of feeling.

"Tell the Tree Story, Daddy!" the Brownie cried, who was still pink-cheeked and ebullient at the idea of having picked the tree that was now on our roof.

"Well, you know we used to go up on the hill to get our tree," I said.

"No, tell about the time you were poor and had to sell the trees for Christmas moneys," the Brownie insisted. "And how the truck broke down, and about the hat, and the brook, and how your weiner fell off—"

"Okay!" I agreed, just a couple of words too late.

Her Lovely Self gave me one of those oh-boy-here-we-go-again looks...

I want a man who will tell stories to our children. Family stories are a kind of heritage and should have a special place in each person's childhood memories. My father is a taciturn man, self-contained, stern. I got all my stories from fairytales, and, later, Enid Blyton books. Till today, the number of stories I have from my parents are pitifully few. Perhaps that's the reason I blog — to store up my stories, so that I'll be reminded of the stories I have to tell.

January 24, 2006

Giving as good as you get

Writer friend: "How do you respond when someone tells you they need a dictionary in order to read your work?"

Me: "You tell them you're sorry for them because their education has been so sorely neglected, but that it's never too late to stop being lazy about learning."

March 4, 2006

"It was a homonym" is no excuse

The BM subtitles on local television can really suck sometimes. But even when no translation is required, they still manage to get it wrong: on the American Idol results show tonight, Carrie Underwood's song was labelled "Jesus Take the Will".

Obviously, the people who write subtitles for Malaysian tv need to get out more and stop living in their own little world.

April 6, 2006

Outside the circle

There is something about the "artsy-fartsy" crowd that is terribly intimidating. I will never be one of them, I know, since I am not any of these things: I do not smoke, I do not dress outlandishly (not much, anyway), I dislike both wine and beer (give me Bailey's!), and I am not gay. My only redeeming features are my tendency to be outrageous at times, and my uninhibited laughter.

Given the chance to step up to the stage and read my poetry yesterday night, I doubt I would have done it even if I had prepared a piece. There is in me a strange mixture of diffidence and pride which I think may be present to a certain extent in all writers, whether poets or novelists or biographers. I want to show off my works and have the world know that I, I am the creator of these; yet at the same time, I am afraid to lay them before others for fear of exposing all my inadequacies and ignorance, which I am sure shine through my finished work. 'Tis a paradox.

Among that crowd, I am also afraid of being denounced as a poseur, a pathetic wannabe. Because I'm not one of them. And I'm not sure I could ever become one of them.

April 10, 2006

Taste of failure

Knowing that my words were prophetic is not any consolation.

Having my 6-month contract terminated after a mere 1.5 months is a shock.

Hearing the client say, "Most of the articles you have sent our way lacks the life and creativity that we saw in your sample works" is a blow.

I will go away and cry and come back again tomorrow, hopefully strong once again.

April 12, 2006

I amuse only myself

You Should Be a Joke Writer
joke writer
You're totally hilarious, and you can find the humor in any situation. Whether you're spouting off zingers, comebacks, or jokes about life... You usually can keep a crowd laughing, and you have plenty of material.

You have the makings of a great comedian — or comedic writer.

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

Doubly hilarious, then, that I can never remember any jokes and cannot recount any in front of an assembled company. Oh, but we're talking about writing jokes here, aren't we? I'm not so sure any comedian would want to take me on as a scriptwriter, either!

April 18, 2006

Writer's nerves

I just submitted something for inclusion in the British Council's New Writing anthology. Now I'm freaking out.

April 24, 2006

Everything takes time

I think I need to start marking chunks of time off to write, and write properly, ie. not on the computer. When I sit in front of the computer, a lot of other things start crowding in & taking over. I get distracted and it just is not conducive.

Ever since I started working, I've been writing non-stop, and tonnes of stuff, most of it for work and the remainder for my various blogs. My creativity has really suffered, or has been neglected... I haven't written any good poetry since at least 2000 (but I think it's more like 1998). I don't know whether you could say that work bled me dry. I think it's more like work demands focus and creativity requires we become unfocused — open to imagination and exploring possibilities and pursuing various trains of thought. I always sit down knowing exactly what I want to write about, and have forgotten how to just let the story carry me along as it develops.

July 18, 2006

The wound, it is so deep

The answer was no. Par for the course, I guess.

November 20, 2006

No 2 txt spk!

New Zealand is going to allow students to use 'text-speak' when answering exam questions, says a report. My first instinct is to be horrified; my second is to wonder how prepared the examiners are to tackle all the abbreviations -- including those the students might make up themselves -- and wade through the lousy grammar.

I used to be allergic to 'text-speak'. The only time I used it was, quite literally, when I would text others on my mobile phone. Blame it on the 160-character limit. One text message costs 20 cents, so it makes sense to send fewer messages, and in order to do that, one condenses the message as much as possible.

Then I started using the abbreviations during IM conversations, because it's faster and IM is all about quick response time. That was, quite literally, the beginning of the end. I no longer wince at 'text-speak' -- in fact, sometimes I find my fingers itching to type or write out the shtr wrds. So mch easier, don u tink?

But text-speak is not just about abbreviated words, it's about short-cuts: getting the message across with minimal fuss. When I text people, instead of saying, "I went to the market today and came home with some fish and vegetables," I say, "Wnt mkt 2day got fish+veg." Sometimes you have to know how the particular person's mind works in order to decipher what he or she is trying to say. I kid you not.

Text messages are short and ordinarily don't convey a whole host of ideas or information, which is why it's not such a problem attempting to figure out what the person is trying to say, mystifying abbreviations and all. (A friend once used 'emtl' to represent the word 'emotional'. I couldn't figure it out and had to text back to ask for an explanation!) But when it comes to a longer piece of writing, 'text-speak' simply isn't the best way of communicating because the reader ends up concentrating on deciphering the message instead of concentrating on the points you're trying to make.

That's why I believe that context is everything. You do expect to see abbreviations in IM conversations and text messages, due to the nature of the medium. You don't expect to find them in essays and examination answer sheets and books -- or on blog posts (which are more or less essays too, in a way. Unless they're simply full of pictures and contain minimal text).

December 18, 2006

The perfect gift

Been soooooo busy. Am preparing to pursue a masters degree in linguistics; classes begin on Boxing Day. Work has also been consuming me to the point that I have hardly any time (or energy!) left over for writing.

Oh, I bought myself a Christmas present:


(Click for larger image)

Saw it in MPH and just couldn't resist! The new year begins with the word 'ahoight'. I am in love.

January 5, 2007

Are they gone forever?

My creative juices have dribbled out of the corners of my mouth, dripped down my chin and soaked into my shirt. I tried wringing them out, but my shirt is made of a particularly absorbent material and the juices had already bonded to it and refused to budge. Can't risk using detergent as I'd never be able to locate the juices in the midst of all those soap suds and I'd likely end up pouring the whole lot down the drain.

What shall I do now?

January 8, 2007

Never too old for 'em

Whenever I get hold of a newspaper, the first thing I turn to isn't the news, sports, TV guide, or business section... it's the comics. I always read the comics first.

This admission is made with a sheepish grin. But really, if I buy the paper for anything, it's for either the comics or the job advertisements.

When I was younger I used to read Brenda Starr religiously -- I thought she was soooooo gorgeous. (Notice that I was shallow. But yes, I wished I could draw like the comic strip's artist.) The storyline was also MUCH better than it is now, what with Brenda's tangled love life and the mysterious Basil popping up every once in a while. Today's Brenda Starr is boring. *yawn*

I sometimes laughingly credit Brenda for instilling in me the desire to be a journalist, but I doubt that's true. For one thing, her world wasn't very real. (Her creator, Dale Messick, is said to have commented, "Authenticity is something I always try to avoid.") For another, I paid more attention to the relationship stuff than I did to the reporting stuff!

I read all the comic strips in the paper, going first to the ones I like the least and working up to the ones I enjoy the most. Occasionally I find gems like these: (click for larger versions)


One Big Happy, 02 January 2007

B.C., 07 January 2007

Shoe, 06 January 2007


If you like puns and playing around with words, Graffiti and Frank & Ernest are the two comic strips to keep an eye on.

January 12, 2007

Talking to one's self

Tonight, I am feeling melancholic for various reasons. Tomorrow, the feeling will have passed.

One shouldn't blog when melancholic, but well... with only three regular readers, I figured it wouldn't be all that embarrassing.

As a teenager, I used to write melancholic letters to friends at 2am in the morning and then re-read the letters the next morning with a sense of horror. The light of day made the words leap out of the page in all their melodramatic, overly emotional, depressive glory.

Unsurprisingly, most of the time those letters ended up unsent.

I still have some of them. They're very diary-like and are the only records I have of what was going on in my heart and mind at that stage of life. I never was one to keep journals or diaries because I figured, what was the point? Nobody would read them! Why write to yourself?

Even now, I don't keep a diary. I write occasional letters to my future husband, infrequent letters to God, and I journal when I read the Bible (I write down my thoughts about the Bible passage and then write down a prayer which is born out of those thoughts). But I don't keep a diary. My personal blog is the closest thing that I have to one.

When I read this post of Alexandra's, I sorely regretted not having kept a diary. On the other hand, I never did talk to myself like that, so maybe my diary entries wouldn't have been half as interesting!

Sometime back I bought The Assassin's Cloak: An Anthology of the World's Greatest Diarists. Here's Jean Cocteau -- French novelist, poet, dramatist, artist and filmmaker -- on August 16, 1953:

If you are reading this diary after my death, you are probably wondering why the paragraphs inexplicably jump from one subject to the next. It is because I am gossiping to myself here; between any two paragraphs I may receive a visit which changes my ideas and orients them in an unexpected direction. Moreover, I advise those who edit these diaries to cut what I jot down for reference and the repetitions which occur, because I don't remember if I've already described the things I've described.

Now that's what I call planning ahead!

January 13, 2007

Playing with words

Just came back from my cousins' place where we played Boggle and Take Two. I love word games. In my previous office, there was a period of time when all of us colleagues sitting in the same row started playing Yahoo's Text Twist. It's pretty addictive, although after awhile the letter combinations tend to get repeated. After that I moved on to Bookworm.

Take Two is played using Scrabble tiles. You turn all the tiles upside-down and leave them in the middle of a table, then every player takes four to start with. The first one to make a word with the four calls out, "Take two!" and then everybody takes two more tiles and tries to make one or more words that will use up all their six tiles. The first one to use up all his tiles calls out, "Take two!" again and the cycle continues.

The words made have to be connected to each other, as on a Scrabble board or in a crossword puzzle. At any time, you may unscramble all your letters and start from scratch -- it may slow you down a bit, but if you get a 'Z' or 'Q' in the middle of the game, that might be your only hope of using up all the letters. I found it fun.

I'm not that great at Boggle, and likewise not so hot at Text Twist because I can't seem to catch the connections very easily when it comes to unscrambling letters to form words. My cousin turned out to be an ace at Boggle and beat us all flat. Later, it was revealed that she's had lots of practice from playing it online! Not fair!

Talking about online games, I once played Scrabble online with Florence until 4am in the morning.

The website we used added extra spice to the game by getting you to to choose a time limit for each round. The timer runs for individual players, meaning that if you decide on 15 minutes, each player is given 15 minutes in total. When it's my turn to play, my clock starts ticking; once I've made my move, my clock freezes and the other player's clock resumes ticking from where it stopped before. If your time runs out first, you're deemed to have lost even though your score was higher.

This resulted in nail-biting moments because on one hand, I wanted to make the best words to get the highest score; on the other hand, I couldn't spend too long thinking coz then my time would run out and it wouldn't matter that I had scored so high! The adrenaline rush was amazing and I didn't want to stop playing, but eventually we both admitted that we needed to sleep sometime...

When I told a friend about it the next day, I said, "I only went to sleep at 4am this morning coz I was playing Scrabble online. How dorky is that?"

"Very," he replied.

April 7, 2007

Stolen words

Bought a book on plagiarism today: Stolen Words, by Thomas Mallon. The subtitle reads, "Forays into the Origins and Ravages of Plagiarism".

As a writer, I'm very attached to what I write. I've heard it say that having your work copied is a form of flattery and perhaps a high compliment, but the fact that someone liked your work enough to copy it isn't enough to offset the offence of having that person take credit for something you came up with. A piece you crafted, choosing words with painstaking care, ensuring that your ideas, your sentiments, your feelings would be conveyed so clearly to the reader that it would almost be as if the reader were dwelling inside your head.

That's why when somebody takes credit for something you write, it feels very, very personal. It feels like an imposter walked into your house, donned your clothes, sat in your favourite chair, ate your food, made love to your spouse. When he claims to be you, he strips you of your thoughts, your opinions, your emotions, your identity, saying, "All this was me," and you become superfluous, invisible, a nonentity.

I know plagiarism is especially rife on the Internet, although I doubt I've ever had any of my writing plagiarised because I seldom write particularly profound or moving pieces that might tempt others to claim authorship. I could be wrong, of course, but I'd rather not know; ignorance is bliss, as they say.

April 11, 2007

I ain't the only dork around here!

So there I was, ambling downstairs in the morning clad in my usual choice of sleepwear -- a flowing batik kaftan -- my hair still mussed from sleep (nice way of saying it was uncombed) and eyes squinting through heavy eyelids.

And there on the living room sofa sat a guy.

A guy who was thumbing through one of the books on the coffee table... one of my books on the coffee table.

I was about to slip past and step into the kitchen on my way to the shower (which I rely upon to wake me up every morning), when he stood and apologised, indicating that he had to use the gents'. I magnanimously waved him ahead and seated myself on the sofa to wait.

He returned to the living room and had proceeded to leave with his friend -- my housemate -- when he paused to turn back and say, "Hey, that book's pretty good."

Death by Spelling: A Compendium of Tests, Super Tests, and Killer Bees? I blinked.

"Yes, it's cool, isn't it? I got it at Payless Books," I replied with grave aplomb. Of course he couldn't know how honoured he should be that I was actually making coherent conversation with him at that hour of the morning.

Later I thought, My goodness, I met a guy who thought a book on spelling is cool?!? And I had to look like I had just crawled out of bed? I mean, admittedly I had just crawled out of bed, but could I have looked any less prepossessing?!

Damn, I'm such a girl.

April 21, 2007

Who'da thunk?

A friend pointed me to the Holland Occupational Inventory, one of those tests that help you "discover the work environments suited to your interests, abilities and personality".

Always curious, I tried it, and my top three scores fell into the following categories:

    Artistic: 12
    Social: 11
    Investigative: 9
Then I obediently traipsed over to the career briefs section to see what kind of careers purportedly suit me best.

I found only one career for the ASI combination. And guess what it is?

    News Analysts, Reporters, and Correspondents
My eyes nearly popped out of my head!

Sounds like I got it right the first time after all... Maybe I should just go back to journalism and forget about teaching English!

May 13, 2007

I know, I need to write more substantial entries.

Another one of those "What career is most suitable for you?" tests.
 

    You should strongly consider majoring (or minoring) in Communication, English, Film, Journalism, Literature, or Writing.

    You scored as English/Journalism/Comm.

    It is possible that the best major for you could be your 2nd, 3rd, or even 5th listed category, so be sure to consider ALL majors in your other high scoring categories (below). You may score high in a category you didnt think you would--it is possible that a great major for you is something you once dismissed as not for you. The right major for you will be something 1) you love and enjoy and 2) are really great at. Consider adding a minor or double major to make yourself stand out and to combine your interests.

    English/Journalism/Comm

    94%

    Religion/Theology

    88%

    Visual & Performing Arts

    81%

    Psychology/Sociology

    81%

    Education/Counseling

    75%

    French/Spanish/Other Language

    50%

    Nursing/AthleticTraining/Health

    50%

    History/Anthropology/LiberalArts

    44%

    Biology/Chemistry/Geology

    38%

    PoliticalScience/Philosophy

    31%

    Accounting/Finance/Marketing

    19%

    HR/Business Management

    19%

    Physics/Engineering/Computer

    13%

    Mathematics/Statistics

    0%
    WHAT MAJOR IS RIGHT FOR YOU?
    created with QuizFarm.com
    Hat tip: Pei Ling.

 
I don't know about the "Visual & performing arts" thing, but as far as I can tell, knowing myself, the rest are all pretty accurate. I'm hoping to do a Masters in Christian Studies after I finish my Masters in Linguistics, so that covers the first two items, and since I want to teach English, that covers the fifth item. There ya go.

I was actually pretty good at math when I was in school, but it's like my mom used to say: practice makes perfect. Now I just use the calculator in my mobile phone to do calculations, and am well on my way to forgetting my multiplication tables! I also took accounting as an extra subject during high school (I was a science student -- chemistry, physics and biology) and did well in it, and even worked as a part-time accounts assistant during college for a few months. Those few months were, however, more than enough to convince me that I was not cut out to stare at numbers every day. The tedium bored me to tears (not to mention, my accounts would never balance!).

The Malaysian school system used to require students to choose either the arts or the sciences when they are 15. I wanted to delve into the arts because I wanted to do literature, and also because I was fairly sure that I was better arts material than I was science material. But I was told not to take arts because all the best students are in the sciences, and if you go to the arts stream you'll be stuck with the slower students, the students who either have difficulty learning or are not very interested to learn, and I'd be bored out of my skull, and frustrated. So They predicted, the almighty They whom we too often allow to rule our lives. As a result, I went into the sciences.

I did okay but till today do not understand physics at all. You must understand, there are a lot of things I am interested in, but reading about them and having to remember them for exams are two different matters altogether. Plus, reading them in Malay (the national language) somehow made them sound very much less fascinating than they would have been had I read them in English, which is my first language.

It wasn't till 2003 that the Education Ministry decided that maths and science subjects should be taught in English rather than Malay. Too late for me, alas.

June 11, 2007

We same-same England veli the powderful

I used to think I'd marry some white guy, someone from America or the UK. Reason being, I'm not very "Chinese" in my outlook or practices, plus I speak English as a first language. Where I came from, everyone else had a Chinese dialect as their first language. I thought I'd have no chance to enjoy fluent communication with a guy as long as he happened to be Malaysian.

But then I grew up and went out into the Big Bad World. What a revelation! In the city, it's pretty common to find others who similarly speak English as a first language.

And these days I realise that, more than simply speaking the Queen's English, we speak a unique variety of Malaysian English that incorporates words from Hokkien, Mandarin, Cantonese and Malay. Of course we can also do standard English whenever we want; that's reserved for business situations and more formal occasions. But by and large, it's part of our culture to speak what we call "Manglish" (Malaysian English).

So my friends and I were bringing an American friend around recently and as we chatted with each other, we had to keep on pausing to interpret certain phrases for him. "Wah, you wear so nice ah? I so selekeh only!" Hmmm. How to explain selekeh?

After that incident, I think I might marry a Malaysian guy after all. It's so nice to be able to chat and know that he's going to understand exactly what you're saying and where you're coming from. It'll be great having that shared culture between the two of us. To be able to use all those borrowed words from the languages spoken here and not need to stop and think whether he'll get what you're talking about.

Also, there's a much higher probability that he'll actually love DURIAN!!! *slurp*

June 26, 2007

Nope, didn't leave a hole

There's a certain nostalgia that goes together with reading the papers, especially when it comes to a particular annual event that I covered three years in a row. I can picture the scene, the frantic rushing all over the place to get things done, the interviews with all parties concerned... the unimaginative answers I would get year after year.

Some things are wonderfully predictable.

It's this very predictability that gives one the impression of being stuck in a rut, yet engenders a sense of homecoming. The familiar can be comforting, no matter how boring and routine it seems to be.

People ask me whether I miss journalism; my answer is yes and no. I don't in actual fact miss the job itself. It's what comes with the job that I miss most, especially the semi-flexible hours and the relative autonomy.

It was my first "real" job, journalism was, and when I left, my biggest worry was that I wouldn't be able to adjust to a 9-to-5 job which required me to sit at a desk the whole day. In hindsight, there were other things which journalism didn't prepare me for: bosses who want to know exactly what you are doing all the time and watch you like a hawk, and bosses who micromanage and keep on interrupting your work to make sure you're doing it the way they want you to do it.

My boss at the paper used to throw me a topic or a specific person to be interviewed (usually a celebrity of some sort), and expected me to do my research, prepare my questions, arrange the interview, and deliver the article on time. Apart from the deadline, which was of course given to me, it was always up to me to pace my work and manage my own time. I'd never had bosses breathing down my neck for status updates unless the article was late.

That's what I mean by "relative autonomy".

I suppose it's funny that I don't miss journalism -- that I don't miss the writing. Well, I always found writing for the paper very different from writing in general. The style's different, your reason for writing is different, the effect you're trying to achieve is different. Sometimes it was a bit stifling. At other times, it was challenging and stimulating. Most of the time fun, since I got to meet a lot of different people and hear their stories.

The most difficult part, I think, was finding people willing to tell me their stories, especially when it came to sensitive issues. I'd be doing an article on, say, unwed teenage mothers, and hunting high and low for people willing to come forward with their stories. It was tough. Many people don't trust the press. Others just don't want the publicity -- even when we tell them we're prepared to keep our sources anonymous. I hated that part the most, because without the stories, I wouldn't have a compelling article. In fact, I'd have no article. This was the part that always made me sweat. I definitely don't miss that!

June 28, 2007

Slashing through preliminaries

When you speak on the phone, do you still say "Hello"?

Now that almost everyone has a mobile phone with caller ID, I find that many tend to do away with the pleasantries. I've answered a call countless times only to have the person on the other end of the line immediately launch into the reason they're calling me. No warning.

The caller expects you to know who he is because he assumes you have saved his number in your address book, which will cause his name to appear on the screen when he calls; and he also expects you to be the one answering the phone because it is, after all, your personal mobile number. So you pick up the phone, and have barely gotten the "Hello" out when he starts in about whatever it is he needs from you.

On the other hand, the good thing about knowing who is calling is that instead of the uncertain, questioning "Hello", I can offer a more personal greeting. Either I say, "Hello, John," for example, or I can say "Hi babe" to a close girl friend or "Hey dude" to a good guy friend (which I do).

Technology is changing the way we communicate and the way we use language. Perhaps it's also made us a bit more impatient, as things now move so quickly and connections are near-instant. What would be considered a breach of phone etiquette and bad manners now seems to be widely tolerated, if not accepted. It will be interesting to see if one day, we completely stop saying "Hello".

July 7, 2007

Don't know where to hide my face

I really suck at word games. I love playing them, but I suck at them.

Tonight my housemate Emmy kicked my ass at Boggle. I'm not overly competitive, but Boggle always makes me feel stupid because -- How could I miss seeing that word?!! I was so dissatisfied that we ended up going several rounds, but Emmy still kicked my ass in nearly every round.

And did you know that you can now play Scrabble on Facebook? My goodness, Facebook is getting to be the most addictive site EVER. I'll blame Sivin coz he asked all of the church members to join, as a way for us to keep in touch more effectively :P

Where was I? Oh yeah, I'm playing Scrabble on Facebook and am currently getting my ass kicked by Pei Ling, Lainie, and Tuffy. Arrrggghhh!

I knew it would probably be a mistake to play with Lainie, who writes on her blog about making bingoes (using up all her seven tiles in a single move). I have never gotten a Scrabble bingo in my ENTIRE LIFE. I'm losing to her quite spectacularly -- so spectacularly that now I'm so embarrassed, I'll probably turn into a tomato on the spot the next time I see her.

And Tuffy! What can I say about a guy who claims that Scrabble is "not his game" and then gains a lead of more than 20 points?! This is not fair! I want to complain! He claims he always starts out by winning but ends up losing. I'll believe it when I see it.

I don't play Scrabble competitively, which is to say I don't go around memorising obscure two-letter words that might come in handy, or words beginning with 'z' which might eventually help me out of a tight spot. I just use words I already know, and do the best I can with those. That's not good enough against a player like Lainie!

July 13, 2007

Not always fun

The problem with playing super defensive Scrabble is that you end up with nowhere to put words. Which, compounded by a lousy rack of letters, made for the most tedious game I've ever played. My partner and I couldn't wait for it to be over! We stopped caring who would win or how high our scores were; we just wanted it to end. Resigned, we painfully plodded toward the finishing line.

 

most tedious game of Scrabble ever

 
(Of course, it didn't help that the Scrabulous application on Facebook decided to go bonkers on us and returned last few letters on our racks THREE TIMES before it condescended to recognise the fact that we had blinking finished all our letters already!)

I've overdosed and burnt out on Scrabble in the space of a week. Dermot was right -- all of a sudden so many friends invited me to play -- I found myself playing 11 games simultaneously! Taking a break over the weekend... no more squinting at letters and trying to imagine them in strange combinations. Phew.

July 15, 2007

English, oh how I need you

I've been thinking about the fact that in Malaysia, the upper middle class or the more highly educated tend to have a better grasp of the English language. When I first came to this conclusion, I felt like a snob: arrogant, conceited, thinking myself better than those of the less privileged socio-economic groups.

But it is a fact. In Word Play, Peter Farb draws the reader's attention to Pygmalion, the play on which the well-known musical My Fair Lady was based. The story goes that Professor Higgins, being somewhat of a snob himself, says of Eliza, a Cockney flower girl, "You see this creature with her kerbstone English: the English that will keep her in the gutter to the end of her days." He proposes to pass her off successfully as a member of their class merely by teaching her how to speak standard English.

Of course she would need to dress differently, learn etiquette and all that other stuff, but speech was key. Because if she were to speak like a Cockney, she'd immediately be identified as one the minute she opened her mouth, and then she would look like nothing more than an imposter dressed up in fancy clothing.

And so linguistic barriers shore up the social barriers between the classes. This is interesting because over here, university graduates are said to have very poor mastery of standard English -- despite the fact that they are highly educated, have access to information, and have received opportunities others have not. Traditionally, education has been seen as the means of helping us to climb further up on the socio-economic ladder, become "somebody", and gain the ticket to a better life. "If you don't study hard, you'll end up sweeping the streets or becoming a garbage collector!" our parents used to say. Yet formal education seems to be failing us now.

In January this year, it was reported that one-third of those who graduated from local universities last year are not proficient in English. In December last year, Bloomberg reported that an estimated 45,000 college graduates are unemployed, mainly because of poor English (English is the lingua franca in the business and corporate sector). Yet instead of promoting the use of "proper" language, the popular media seem to be perpetuating the colloquial dialect, a state of affairs that has led to Zewt's rant. (Where I posted such long comments I decided I might as well write about this on my own blog!)

The thing is, I'm fortunate to come from a family that speaks English at home. The necessity of speaking English daily definitely honed my proficiency in the language. But if you think about it, the language we speak at home is a more colloquial variety, the casual form used in conversation between family and friends.

So, despite having the opportunity to practice speaking English all the time, I'd say that I most likely picked up standard English through reading and formal instruction provided in school. (Most of us do speak two forms of English, a colloquial form and the standard form, switching between them depending on the appropriateness of the situation.)

Why do others have such difficulty picking up standard English? I wouldn't blame the media. Apart from the failure of the education system, I'd attribute this to 1) not reading enough, and 2) not using the language.

To become proficient in a language, one has to use it often, or one will forget. Also, hearing or reading good English will sort of "condition" a person to recognise the right sort of grammar and sentence structures, to the point that he can subconsciously "sense" whether a sentence is right or wrong. Very few of us are aware of all the grammatical rules, but if we are proficient in the language, we can tell when something is not quite right.

The problem as I see it: birds of a feather tend to flock together. So the Mandarin-speaking friends tend to gather and speak Mandarin to each other, and likewise Malay friends tend to gather and speak Malay to each other. They only use English if they have to, for example if they are speaking to someone outside their circle. Thus they have very little practice in speaking English and are also not in a position to absorb and learn by listening to others speak.

I on the other hand tend to speak English with my friends, and therefore don't get the chance to practice Mandarin and Malay -- so my command of both those languages has gone down the drain. Essentially, I face the same problem, but mine is not as obvious because I rarely end up in situations which call for a good grasp of Mandarin or Malay... whereas English is used everywhere, every day, in the business world, so much so that if you cannot converse well in it, you end up handicapped.

July 19, 2007

All that banning is NOT helping.

Interesting that the Internal Security Ministry is now banning books on sex education. For example:

  • Rahsia Kenikmatan Rumahtangga (Secrets Of An Enjoyable Marriage)
  • Masalah Seksual Lelaki & Rawatan Alternatif (Male Sexual Problems and Alternative Medicine)
  • Pendidikan Seks Rumahtangga Kemuncak Rahsia Kebahagiaan (Sex Education, The Greatest Secret To Happiness)
  • Teknik Bercumbu dan Berjimak (Kissing and Love-making Techniques)
  • Rahsia Di Kamar & Kunci Wanita (Bedroom Secrets & The Key To Women)
[To all the Malaysians reading this: Yes, my Malay sucks and my translations are terrible. I know.]

Meanwhile, a young newly-married couple who are friends of mine have been facing difficulties in the bedroom. "I don't know where it is," the wife confided.

"Which 'it'? There are so many 'its'," I replied.

"Our it lah."

"What?! What do you mean, you don't know where it is!"

I mean, you'd think a lady would recognise the part of her body through which blood drips every month. Gosh.

See why sex education is important?!?!

August 9, 2007

Dying out

I could listen forever when my lecturers start talking about language and everyday life. Today my lecturer brought up the fact that bank ATMs don't have instructions in Tamil. I sat up and blinked. That's true! How come I hadn't noticed it before?

She said the way a language is used and the way it's evolving tells you much about that particular community. The fact that a basic service like an ATM doesn't provide instructions in Tamil is shocking because as schoolchildren we were always taught that there are three main races in Malaysia: Malay, Chinese and Indians. Do we not expect Indians to use ATMs, or do we assume that they'll be able to make do by reading Malay or English? Is the Tamil language "dying out" or getting "sidelined"?

At the same time, I've observed that among the urban Chinese or the Chinese professionals, there's been a renewed interest in sending children to Mandarin-medium schools so that they will have a good grasp of Mandarin, even though they happen to speak English at home. As far as I can tell, this is motivated more by the fact that Mandarin is a valuable resource in business (especially now that China is opening its doors) than by a desire to hang on to the Chinese culture and identity.

Moreover, many of the younger generation urban Chinese are losing grasp of their mother tongue. In my case, my parents are from different dialect groups, and since they're both English-educated, their common language is English. So we spoke English at home, and I never learnt to speak my mother tongue. (Incidentally, why is it called "mother tongue" when the children are considered to be born into their father's 'clan' and, therefore, dialect group?)

The same goes among my cousins... all of us save five speak English as our first language. Those five cousins are the only ones among our generation who still speak the dialect. My poor ancestors must be turning over in their graves.

Of course, it doesn't help that we come from a smaller dialect group (Kutien, a variant of the Foochow / Hockchiew dialect). The most common dialects spoken by Malaysian Chinese happen to be Cantonese and Hokkien. I once asked my dad whether he regretted not teaching us Kutien, and he said no because it wasn't useful and there was no point learning it.

A bit sad, eh?

August 10, 2007

Messin' with your mind

So I got a little slip in the mail today from MPH Bookstores. They inform me that I voluntarily handed over RM532.90 in cash to them over the period of January 1, 2007 to June 30, 2007.

And what did they give me in return for all that effort and generosity? A measly RM26 rebate voucher!

I don't feel very rewarded.

Actually, Times The Bookshop's loyalty system is better, because they give you a 10% discount -- or was that 5%? -- right off the bat when you make payment. It works out to the same amount (if you do your calculations, you'll realise that MPH's rebate voucher accounts for 5% of my total spending over a 6-month period) but you feel as if you're getting more. That's psychology for you, folks.

August 12, 2007

'Twas a "Gaaah!" day

I walked into Popular Bookstore today and lo and behold, this book sat there staring me in the face. I picked it up, flipped to a random page and began reading. Uh-oh... not a smart thing to do.

Of course I ended up wanting the book. Gaaah!

I peered at the back cover to see how much poorer it would make me. RM38.

Wait a minute, I have an RM26 voucher from MPH. I might as well buy the book there, right?

A call to MPH revealed that they have a copy of this book in their Mid Valley Megamall branch. I hotfooted it over there.

...only to discover that theirs is the hardcover edition, which is going for RM55. Gaaah!

"Just buy a trashy romance novel lah," advised the Icy Queen Goddess.

"But it's a voucher! I don't want to waste it on a trashy romance novel!" I wailed.

(Not that it makes much difference, since I regularly buy trashy romance novels anyway. But this is an example of convoluted thinking strongly influenced by psychological factors.)

Today was really not my day.

  1. I didn't manage to get the book -- the hardcover version wasn't worth it, even if I did have a discount voucher.
  2. I went to Laksa Shack for lunch only to discover that they have taken laksam Kelantan off the menu, which was the only thing I wanted to eat there.
  3. I went to Carrefour and they didn't have any Ambi Pur refills, which I need for my car air freshener.
  4. I went out for supper with the Icy Queen Goddess, and another friend stood us up after we had waited outside his apartment for 15 minutes.

Gaaah!

I know tomorrow's a Monday... but surely it has to be better than this!

August 14, 2007

Writing for the Web

Was very encouraged to come across this article on writing for the Web.* I may not be writing content for specific websites, but I write on (in?) blogs, and I certainly used to be pretty long-winded. Even though I mostly write shorter posts now, it's still a concern. No writer likes to be told that people aren't going to read his work!

When Web usability guru Dean Peters was in town two months ago, he reminded me that Internet users tend to scan webpages instead of reading them word for word. I immediately recalled my friends' complaints that my blogs have so much text. "All words only," they groaned. And then I remembered how my eyes sometimes glaze over when greeted by chunks of text on a webpage. Uh-oh.

But that was nothing compared to my chagrin when Dean pointed to Jakob Neilsen's article. What, they want me to write in bulleted lists? Highlighting keywords? With half the word count of "conventional writing"?

The problem with this idea is that Neilsen, Dean, and other Web usability experts are talking about the best way to get your points across. But as a writer, I don't necessarily want to make any points; sometimes I just want to tell a story. In fact, that's what I do on my personal blog -- I tell the story of my life. (Makes it sound so grand and interesting, doesn't it?)

So I liked what Amber Simmons has to say: if the writing is good, nobody will care that it is long.

Content, on the other hand, fills a real need: it establishes emotional connections between people. The writing has heart and spirit; it has something to say and the wherewithal to stand up and say it. Content is the stuff readers want to read, even if they have to print it to do so. (And readers will print a long piece; just because something is published online doesn’t mean it must be read online). Content is thoughtful, personable, and faithfully written. It hooks the reader and draws him in, encouraging him to click this link or that, to venture further into a website. It delivers what it promises and delights the attentive reader.

She adds that the site design must complement the content: pages must be designed in such a way that they encourage the reader to stay and read. For example, colour schemes that don't make your text hard to see against the background, font sizes that aren't too small, and typefaces that are easy on the eyes (I personally think Times New Roman is the worst font for reading on screen). This is just common sense. I don't even read books that are printed in too-small type; why would I read websites with the same?

 
* Hat tip to Karen.

August 15, 2007

I didn't know my own lover

Always a sucker for frivolous quizzes and personality tests, as well as an utterly hopeless romantic, how could I not take this test?

    Who is your ideal literary lover?

    Daniel Deronda, played by Hugh Dancy in the 2002 PBS tv series

    Your closest match is Daniel Deronda

    Who says that nice guys finish last? After all, you like your blokes to be caring and gentle – perhaps because you know those brooding, temperamental types are more trouble than they’re worth! So stuff the Darcys and Heathcliffs and settle down with sweet, sensitive Daniel Deronda, the eponymous hero of George Eliot’s last novel. Now here’s a man who’ll never forget your anniversary!

    Who is your ideal literary hero?

Would you believe I had no idea who this Daniel Deronda is? I had to run a Google search on him. That's like discovering you're married and you don't know the first thing about your husband. "Who? This fellow? Oh, we just happen to live in the same house!" How mortifying.

George Elliot I know, of course -- she's famous for Middlemarch and Silas Marner, among other works (not that I've ever read any. Really, I do have serious gaps in my literary education). But I had never heard of Daniel Deronda.

Apparently he and I have at least one thing in common: legal training. He was a law student. Heh.

Wikipedia says he "has a tendency to help others at a cost to himself" and British broadasting station PBS describes him as "sensitive, caring, and highly intelligent, but haunted by doubts about his own identity". (PBS produced an adaptation of the novel in a 2002 television series of the same name.) Oooooh.

Darn, now I want to read the book. After all, I can't allow my own literary lover to remain a stranger, can I? Luckily the book can be downloaded for free at Project Gutenberg! Yay!

August 25, 2007

Cake & Candles Day

Hagar the Horrible, 23 July 2007: Join us to sing happy birthday?

All together now... ;)

August 27, 2007

Inspired!

Was tickled pink by this birthday gift from Lynnee... a bookshelf! What could be more appropriate for someone like me? *grin*

I thought I'd get my bro to help me assemble it, but my sister-in-law was the one who did all the work whilst my bro lounged on the living room floor, nose buried in a book. *raises eyebrow*  Sis-in-law said she enjoys tinkering around and tackling such 'handyman' tasks. Apparently I still subconsciously subscribe to traditional gender roles and stereotypes! Oops.

And yes, the love of reading does run in the family. The difference being, my bro reads them but doesn't buy them; I, on the other hand, simply itch to own them!

August 30, 2007

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet?

I've been thinking of printing a personal business card (is that an oxymoron?) for a while now, then I came across Danny Foo's post, Should bloggers have business cards? and decided to go for it.

I thought my biggest problem would be finding a design I liked, because as a blogger I don't have a logo. If you don't have a logo on your business card, your card risks looking empty and plain... and since I don't have corporate colours also, I didn't even have a starting point for the design.

Little did I realise that the job description would pose an even bigger problem. I wanted wordsmith; Alexandra Wong, writer extraodinaire, said it sounds pompous and pretentious. Eek!

Writer sounded too bare, raw, unembellished; besides, there are so many types of writers. Yet creative writer doesn't sit well, conjuring images of copywriting -- which I assuredly suck at, because I can't sell without sounding like I'm selling. (Trust me, I've tried.) Professional writer is simply trying too hard, whilst freelance writer sounds cheap, according to another friend, who justified his opinion with the fact that many college students tend to freelance on the side. (Wha--??)

The two people who were in favour of wordsmith felt that those who mattered would know what it meant, and it would act as a conversation starter with the unaware. An ice-breaker, if you will. I like it because it's different, it stands out, and it has a certain ring to it...

Of course, there's always ink slinger, as suggested by Thesaurus.com. Now wouldn't that be the ultimate ice-breaker?

September 13, 2007

Well, hello there! Missed me?

A friend has just asked to interview me regarding this blog o' mine, so I figured I'd better resurrect it from its watery grave. Well, well, half a month has passed without me writing here! How did that happen?

A combination of things. Deciding you will only write on certain topics is definitely rather limiting, especially if you have other blogs on which you can dump all manner of random stuff. Life has been getting in the way -- work, uni assignments, church camp, illness. And I haven't bothered to make myself write.

Yes, we would love to think that writing must come naturally, but sometimes it is a discipline just like anything else, and I need to make myself write. If I'm unlucky, it'll come out sounding forced and fake, but if I'm lucky (or very good!), it'll come out sounding as if I meant to write all along.

I do have at least four drafts sitting in the queue, so it's not like I have nothing to write about. We'll see what happens, okay? As JS Peyton says, "Even if it’s for an audience of one, I’ll try to be faithful." (Hint: This is where all you readers come out of the woodwork and tell me I have more than an audience of one. Quick, before my ego gets crushed into the dust, never to recover!)

September 26, 2007

Mightier than the sword, indeed

I believe in the power of words. That's part of the reason why I'm a writer; if I didn't think my words would make any difference, why write in the