I woke up smiling this morning as the last few moments of the final episode of my train of disconnected dreams stayed vivid in my short-term memory. I saw myself standing up from a group of people still in the midst of a random conversation, ranting this: “That’s it, I’m out of here, I can’t continue pretending to be even remotely interested in your brainless banter anymore.”
At least this is more satisfying than the recurring dream of missing the plane.
My darlings – my readers and my keyboard keys.
Very long since I’ve updated anything here at all. 4 year old Panasonic Toughbook aint that tough, it’s getting fried and I can’t stay online for more than 5mins before the Blue Screen appears and freezes the whole system. Thank goodness my very kind baby sis left her macbook behind for me to fiddle around Facebook and catch up on things like this.
Anyways. I finally feel a bit more grounded cuz I managed to sell my piano (Pang the piano-tuner is still at it since an hour ago. I think it’s time to offer him a drink) and I found a place to move into. Will be renting a small room fitted with a queen sized bed and a huge built-in wardrobe this Sunday.
And I’ve actually applied for permanent residence in Singapore. Shocker. I have to wait for the results for up to 3 months; no news means bad news, good news will come in an envelope at my pigeon hole at work. Wish me luck. I think I need to explain a little bit on why I have made a 180 deg change of mind on this decision. I finally got over the emotional things that hinder me from reason. The things that made me feel like flying out of this country overwhelmed my rationality in realising to fly out I need a pair of wings. And this country makes Swiss-like quality wings. Sorry if I confuse you with my metaphors that only myself and I think a few others will understand. Having an affiliation with SG is good marketing. As much as my old self would hate to admit it. The thing is, I’ve decided to stop being bitter and just go with the flow and live in a happy bubble. People like happy chippers better I think. Although I know with some I can sink back to my morose self and resume my verbal onslaught at The Ugly Singaporeans (although I think there is an increasing number of less ugly ones sprouting here and there). Also, I can always look forward to vacations. 
So anyways. Enough about that. I have a shining report on the new 24-hour Coffee Club outside Borders at Wheelock place opposite ION Orchard. I was doing lunch with little Alicia and it started to pour. And that irritating Cadbury eyebrow commercial kept repeating opposite at Shaw Centre’s great outdoor screen. BUT. Service was good and the food was good. And the coffee was good quality. Pity the mushroom soup didn’t match up cuz it was lukewarm and sour. But the cute waitress with the cute yellow-and-orange specs made up for it. And I like the decor and the patio concept. Great place to grab a midnight grub after a late-night movie eh. And I think they serve beer. I think. Woohoo.
So anyway. Looking forward to Home Club flea this Saturday. Check out the stall with lots of shoes.
Today is one of the rare occasions that happen because of the following things that come together: that I am broke therefore the mind is willing but the wallet is weak for the Depp temptation (Public Enemy opened a few days ago), it’s bloody hot outside, my piano is still sitting in my living room beside the TV, there’s no one who wants to watch the TV and therefore I can sit at the piano playing for hours until my fingers are sore from the many emotional pieces I tend to attempt in my solitude, the TV is working therefore I can watch random variety TV programmes like Dynamic Korea, and last but not least my sister’s Macbook is working and the password to start it hasn’t changed since I last used it.
Yes, today is indeed a rare occasion. I managed to watch 21 Grams on DVD in the late morning as I ate my toast and drank instant coffee. It’s a mighty depressing movie. Like Crash and Babel and Requiem for a Dream, you can’t exactly recover from the way the movie affects you long after the DVD player is switched off. (Therefore the emotional pieces on piano I think.) (I miss my Flights on the Conchord DVD series suddenly. Throw me some comedy someone!)
Also on a rare quiet afternoon like this, sometimes Life likes to play a little prank on you by sending a totally random but intriguing message from a stranger who lingers in your distant memory. It sometimes delights me to know that people remember me in a certain way, but their agenda in informing me so throws me off balance as well.
It’s time to switch on the air con because the afternoon heat is getting to me. I think Global Warming is very real. Poh, stop thinking it’s a politically-driven conspiracy. Can’t you feel that the ground is heating up, that the sand now scorches your bare feet instead of hugging them with comforting warmth when you walk on the beach?
I lost my train of thought while reading back what I just typed to check for spelling errors. Damn.
The coming week is going to be exciting. I am getting typed in the Myers Briggs session. I love being analysed by people. So they will end up telling me how great I really am. Hahaha. The ego needs to be put down. If I’m a man, I’ll be such a cocky bastard. LMFAO.
A couple of years ago, I wrote a shining report card for Azabu Sabo, the Japanese restaurant that initially was known for its Hokkaido gelato, then had its first restaurant outlet at Marina Square. Today, I returned only to be totally flabbergasted and totally let down. Here’s a bullet-pointed list of what went wrong:
By the time I left the restaurant, I already told myself to remind my HR department to call me if any applicant to my hotel had “Azabu Sabo” in their resumes, if they did, I will personally do a face-recognition test and if it turns out to be anyone who I saw today, they can only pray that I don’t make sure they are forever banned from the hotel industry, if they even dare try. The manager, especially, can forget about even applying for the most junior position. No service culture in him at all. If the owner of Azabu Sabo called me for consultation, I say change the manager and all the service staff, and rehire people who at least have some EQ.
Honestly, I could make this a lot more humiliating for them, I’m already being civil by not putting up names. Restaurants with nice decor and decent food but totally disappointing service should already have folded long ago in Singapore where consumers are supposed to be generally more demanding, but by some stroke of dumb luck Azabu Sabo managed to escape that. I can only think of 1 logical explanation for this – the owner is unwilling to close down the restaurant, so he resorts to cutting staff and cutting pay, and the manager is stuck with the restaurant with a contract (something like a bond) for a nominal pay, so his agony is filtered down to the rest of the staff and me – the customer!!!
I will stay away from that place from now on…… :S
As I was downing the chow at 8:30pm near my place today and reflecting on the day’s events, a vision suddenly came through my mind… I saw myself being analyzed by a shrink in 2 seconds flat. She asked me to fill a simple yet discerning questionnaire that put me into one of the classifications of mental conditions.
As I considered the possibility of that very situation being a real one, if it does happen, I’d be so torn between feeling relieved that my mental illness is easily diagnosable and therefore treatable and how insulting it is that my entire mental psyche takes only seconds to define, catergorize and typify.
I hope I never have to face a shrink.
Ahhh… The wonders of a good weekend spent on a movie marathon (albeit just movies of average entertainment value – X-men Wolverine, Young Victoria, 13 Monkeys, Cadillac Records) and a bit of quality time with the family in a quality bitching / gossip sharing session together (members of my nuclear and extended family especially myself are known for bantering with much gusto, so passionate that we get into a heated discussion because we either agree too much on something or because we disagree so much we end up in a very loud debate and my grandmother will frown at the dining table and start to tsk at us). . plus a relatively pleasant Monday that encompassed of finally finishing Mr Sharp’s book and getting off work on time and scoring a really nice jinjo sake from Isetan’s sake promotion.. Ahhh.. I feel rested and happy.
Plus, the coming Saturday I’m going to Flea.Fly.Flo.Fun Massive beside the Singapore Flyer, will be sharing a stall with me bud Ivy and Poh will be back from Washington D.C. in time to man the stall with me as well… But the main highlight of the coming week is my lil sister’s graduation runway show at Fairmont Singapore!! Will be posting her collection’s video and pictures! I love a great party and a fashion runway show is just that, and more.. The runway show last year was very exciting and very awe-inspiring, by the end of it I was wishing I chose the fashion industry as my career instead.. Haha.. I’m worried it’ll have a stronger impact on me this year because the show will be of higher calibre.. Love energetic industries. 
Aaanyway. I also discovered Twitter for the first time in my life today. Not too sure wat’s the hype about (it’s on TIME magazine’s cover! will borrow one of my bosses’ copies to peruse) altho I’ve signed up for it. Just seems like instant advertising or a good way for people who thrive of being in-the-know to get updates by the minute. Anyways. Will find out.
Looking forward also to the next Boxercise lesson on friday. That’s about the only exercise I get.. -_-”‘ I need to get my ass moving!
May be a blessing in disguise but Pa called this afternoon to ask me to postpone the reservation for abalone brunch at Jiang Nan Chun this Sunday.. Bleah.. Was kinda looking forward to it really. But then it’s gd for me, then I won’t feel bloated on Monday for the runway show. Hehehe.
… Right now, I’m craving for a foot rub. >.<
I haven’t been updating this space, because it’s been a long time since I felt inspired to write about anything. This lack of literary inspiration is driving me nuts, because I think the mundanity of life plus the general frustration I feel about certain details of my life have occupied the bulk of my consciousness.
Finally sometime last week, I decided to try and maintain a month of frivolous and superficial living so that, maybe if I start to live in a happy bubble, some kind of positivity may emerge and prompt me to start writing again. The effort didn’t last very long, because being frivolus and superficial actually involves a lot of money and freedom (and a tinge of denial), neither of which I have a lot of. Therefore reality set in and I’m back to square one.
Me sad.
Yesterday, on the recommendation from a fellow colleague, I took a chance at Wild Rocket at Mount Emily
It’s a little hard to find, if you don’t drive walking takes a bit of navigation. Dinner was fully booked for the night and the hostess was fast to point out that we should order fast as big groups were coming after us and our orders might be delayed if they ordered first. Ok, fair enough.
The restaurant was small and cosy, and was already pretty packed when we arrived at around 7:20pm. The décor was nothing too dramatic, which reflects on the cuisine served here – comforting. Conveniently, there were options of set menus including a 6-course tasting menu, which my friend LC and I chose.
We also ordered a half bottle of Italian Gaja wine to go with the food. LC found it a bit too tannic for her liking, but after too much sweetened liquors and dessert wines, I decided it’s time for her to try something more adventurous.
The amuse bouche and appetizers consisted of local food inspired dishes like a mushroom kuih pie tee (light crispy fried batter containing delightfully flavourful diced and sautéed shitake mushroom), duck ravioli consommé (a little too fishy / pungent for my liking, unfortunately) and a delightfully shellfish concentrate spaghetti that was flavoured with bonito flakes, paprika and other spices; a dish that lawyer turned chef William Low personally informed us would kill anyone allergic to seafood, but this was my favourite so far as I am a prawn lover, and this came with some chewy prawns as well.
After a palate cleanser of lemon & lime granite, the main features of the night came long with excellent pacing.
Main courses – seared seabass (can’t remember wat’s the sauce but it went very well with the fish) and grilled ribeye steaks (lightly seasoned with salt and pepper), both in tasting portions and devastatingly yummy. LC and I both agreed that we would go back to order them in full portions any day.
To end the meal, Chef William presented a chendol-inspired pandan panna cotta with gula melaka, which took our breaths away. Silky smooth, sweet and fragrant. We thought the portion was just right as well.
All in all, I liked all the dishes except the consommé, and it was well worth the bill in the end. Service was pretty attentive as well.
If anyone wants to try fine cuisine but not burn a hole in your pocket, this is it.
Everyday I wake up, and my mind is blank, and it scares me..
I think I’m so consumed with scheming on how to escape from here, I end up remaining impatient and perpetually pissed off. And I end up planning vacation after vacation, or go back home to JB to escape in movie after movie.
I was so happy to realise that the Sg Internation Film Fest is coming up next month, it’s time to plan my escapist plans. Muahahaa.
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Shopaholic movie is twisted!
I caught Confessions of the Shopaholic movie over the weekend stay in KL, and on behalf of all fans of Sophie Kinsella’s best selling book series, I hafta say I’m feeling a little bit outraged at the way they jam-packed, twisted and vomitted the plot onto the big screen and sucking the essence of the book by way of changing major parts of the original plot.
First of all, it was supposed to happen in London, not bloody NYC. And Luke Brandon was never Becky’s colleague. They MET at the bloody auction, right??? And… Alette magazine never existed in the book.
And don’t be mistaken, I like Isla Fisher, but I need to ask the stylists at the set: why does she throw on such thrashy clothes, especially if she wanted a job in fashion?! If you compare the clothes in The Devil Wears Prada (which left me feeling positively jealous of their wardrobe) versus Shopaholic, the latter looks like the tacky overnight millionaire who doesn’t have taste in looking polished and put together but just wants to display her wealth on the labels she wears.
I was hoping the plot to stay original, because it’s the rationalization and thought process that goes through Becky’s mind that’s the funny part, not the Gucci boots grabbing episode dumb blonde, clumsy, trying-too-hard-comedy. And by trying to squeeze too many things into 1 movie plot makes the pace a tad too quick for comfort, leaving me feeling like they have a checklist of plot stops so they just wanta do a touch-and-go.
It will be MUCH wiser to just stay loyal to the storyline to avoid facing disappointed fans sighing the commonly heard “the book was so much better” whine especially since this print-to-screen effort follows a hugely popular, NY Times best selling book series, like other adaptations. (Think Narnia, LOTR, Fight Club, Harry Potter, etc)
Sucking up to the book fans means higher possibility of getting good response overall since popular publications have a fan club following. If they like it, they’ll rave about it and get non-fans interested. And maybe there will be movie sequels. I mean, if the first one is a winner, why stop when you already have material available?
I just think it’s only fair that Sophie Kinsella deserves the same level of recognition for her work as J.K. Rowling, who basically struck it big with her 1st book series, while Sophie was already writing various titles under her pseudo name Madeleine Wickham before Shopaholic.
So yup, another disappointment at the big screen.