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December 2005
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An Announcement
18th December 2005
It's official: I am in love with London. Walking along on a crisp, clear winter night, with a north wind whizzing through your ears, keeping company with somebody who is buzzing with expectation for the future in the same way as yourself, seeing the giant eye staring down at you, watching the gothic towers of Parliament glaring at you, peeping through the metal bars at the soft curves of the large dome winking at you. It's a sensory overload, but what do you care? X'mas is just around the corner, and the banks of the river are deserted as people surge further inland in search of more presents.
I lie, there is another announcement I wish to make: in a world completely controlled by the internet, I'm taking the opportunity of going away for X'mas to deprive myself of the internet for 3 weeks. In case any of you were wondering what on earth has happened to me, I'm still contactable via other non-internet ways! ;)
Pretty in Pink!
10th December 2005
I admit, maybe I am a real softie at heart! Look at our beautiful X'mas tree! =) Christmassi-ness makes me feel all warm and fluffy inside. Sigh. But I have about 2 hours left to get some presents, and I'm sitting here in my pyjamas not budging still! Argh!
I apologise for the excessive number of photographs, but I love taking pictures! =) After all, don't all kids fancy themselves a bit of a photographer at some stage in their life. Maybe I am just a late bloomer!
Where There Is a Will
9th December 2005
Looking at the various X'mas cards created for the Make Poverty History campaign just makes one realise how much these people care about something. And that got me thinking: it is for our feeling strongly about things that make us that extra bit more human. After all, we would have no conflicts, no war, no custodial sentences, no conservation, no traffic lights, no politicians if people just accepted everything that came their way in a tra-la-la It's-A-Small-Small-World fashion.
Doing readings on Human Rights gives rise to the word 'balance' so many times that I just about break out in hives every time I come across it, but for it making the world of sense. After all, extremism is the same thing no matter whether you dwell in the desert or ocean of left and right. And it does make all the questions a lot less annoying, and the answers a lot nearer when you realise the root of the problem. Sure, there isn't a solution, but understanding what causes the problem can be so invigorating and liberating.
Take recent events which have happened around me for example (of course this page is all about me; did you expect anything else?). Do I get myself involved in nasty situations because there is something wrong and unlikeable about me? Rochester's lovely little ditty aside, no! As humans, it is our very nature to be conflicted, to be in denial, and to throw ourselves into the deep end because we know that rejection is near-impossible in an endless quagmire of 'if's and 'maybe's. While frustrating to face and deal with in the situation, one cannot help but let the corners of the lips curl when you take a step back and look at the ridiculous situation from a satellite, and then you realise it has only been so because you let it be so.
One of the party conversation topics (I hang out with people too intellectual for their own good) last night involved a behaviourist-humanist debate about free will. This got me thinking (!): surely there can be a way of reconciling both of them? After all, the reason why a humanist lecturer is able to be conditioned by a smug behaviourist researcher in the front row of a lecture theatre is all down to the social nature of human beings. People are always craving rewards, like it or not. Some are more social than others, and there seems to be a choice made somewhere in time when you come into your own, so to speak. Does the free will not stem from our very social nature? You can force a difficult decision, like it or not, and maybe there is a dichotomy, where the subconscience takes over the more basic, survival elements of life. After all, that's what reflexes (to run a mile!) are for!
Of course life is complicated. Making it simple would take the fun out of it. If life were simple, speakers wouldn't look like Darth Vader's helmet, because we'll be questioning why they didn't look like those square boxes we're so accustomed to. There would be no place for astrology and clairvoyance, because we'll be so confident of our own black-and-white world being just that. And the scariest thing? George W. Bush could be right.
Aren't they pretty? (Yes I am a superficial consumer -- every brand's dream)
Liberate!
7th December 2005
Setting yourself free, knowing that you've come this way, knowing that you've gone forward and learnt. Now that's what everybody should do.
But anyhow, enough about life, and more about the better, more exciting things: travelling, for example! Aren't we lucky to be able to take a day trip to a random city and to be able to find a whole different world, a completely different history which would never have ceased to exist whether or not you deigned to visit them. If only I could learn everything about a place before stepping into its shoes, such that I can feel as if I understood it for just a day.
My ramblings have seriously taken an existential shift!
Enough of this hanging around and doing nothing. X'mas is in the air, there's a definite festive spirit that gets draped around everything you do and mince pies and mulled wine get whipped up. Ooooh so many parties and fun to look forward too! =)
Finally, couldn't resist at all: I'm who I am, and won't say sorry for being -- complicated.
Played with the Gods
3rd December 2005
Means living by their rules. Nothing is within our control, nothing ever goes according to that melting, churning vat called imagination and hope and dreams.
Should finally realise that crawling back into the warmth at 6 in the morning with birdsong sounding is bad for the system.
I hate pretending.
But friends are beautiful inventions that stay with you, even if the faces, voices, colours change with the ebb and flow of the river. It's the people that shape an experience, that shape you, for better or worse, for strength or crumblingness. You choose them, they choose you, like attracts like, kills like, blurs the line, plays with your mind. A laugh, a frown, a squint -- everything has its cause, are you up to reading into it? Should you? Dare you?
I wish I had the courage to be read like an open book. That the words form on the pages that are ripped to shreds and fly away with the wind.
C'est Whangadoolicious!
27th November 2005
And the Rollypolly Bird lived happily ever after, feathers and all. The End.
When you stand in the presence of giants and true geniuses, do you feel oh-so-insignificant? No, good, there's still hope for you yet. But still, having visited the homage to Dahl's genius, you can almost understand what made the man tick. Or is it too simplistic to suggest that we might actually be able to see into his mind in the way we peer through a glass into an aquarium?
The destruction and disintegration of a man is always a tragedy, but even more so when the destructee is a talented and beautiful mind which cannot survive because it is at odds with the world in general. There are those among us who live life our way, but do we really believe that? Or is it simply a fragile façade waiting to be completely ripped into tiny little shreds that float away bit by bit by bit?
Shocking, but true, painful, but invigorating. We see ourselves in every failure, dying man, laughing child, enormous alligator, theatrical set. It is what makes us who we are. And we are never sorry for it.
Fame and Riches? Riches and Fame?
25th November 2005
Congratulations to Tom and his band for the wonderful news! Just expect me in the front row and VIP box of every gig you have from now on! =) =) =)
So the big freeze has begun, and my goodness isn't it freeeeeeezing? Of course, it's all a bit early to say, and being in London, well, we don't get weather that really kills. Still, after a succession of warm and wet winters, maybe it isn't so bad after all. Maybe not.
It is perhaps time to whip out the fires and roll up the sleeves for:
Enjoy!
Expect a Frosty Start to the Day...
20th November 2005
...warming up to about 2 degrees Celsius, before dipping below the freezing point once again when the sun sets at 3 in the afternoon.
Yet, the sight of the winter sun shining through layers of gold and auburn in a leafy park as a fine layer of frosty fog clings on stubbornly is enough to make anybody want to scream and run around with sheer bliss. Jogging along in freezing temperatures in a park built using colonial funds, watching squirrels fight with pigeons and swans for the latest morsels tossed at them, you just want to lie in the grass and giggle to yourself.
Is it wrong to only find this in a place you cannot call home? What does that mean?
Also, confidence makes the world of difference. Every and anything you say with a firm voice and a resolute nod of the head and a sceptical wrinkle of the brow is that much more believable. But of course it might be just improvement in reading people, and why shouldn't I? After all, it's my craft, and if I were to fail in that, god knows what else I could do (apart from be an evil money-grabbing city bitch, that is).
At the risk of sounding sickeningly optimistic, happiness is what you make of it. Contentment is for you to find, and general grinning is not far away.
I still say that the Kensington High Street is too full of children on a Sunday. But I concede that they're alright -- as long as they don't touch me.
What is This?
15th November 2005
This mad urge to pour my heart out, to scream when I want to, to vent my love, hate, anger, whenever, however?
This restless spirit within me, screaming to be heard, yelling a voiceless name.
This sudden want, this sudden need to throw myself into the wind, flailing, wailing, grinning.
This sudden energy that wants to be set free.
Une Nuit
9th November 2005
Leafy boulevards, open squares, Christmas lights along the Champs Elyseé, display puppets in the Galleries Lafayette, Monet's last works, the Mona Lisa, Café culture, the Operá.
Burning cars, angry mobs, degrading strip-searches, sirens wailing, chairs as barricades, shouting, crying, screaming, anger, hatred, fear.
Flaming Spaghetti Strands!
5th November 2005
It's nice to be able to live in a proper flat, of not having to trek across the court in wind and snow to get to the loo, of being able to cook more than pasta. Yet, being more ambitious with cooking is also dangerous, although I have to qualify that statement and say all I did was come home to a flat to a putrid burning smell and be told that spaghetti does indeed catch fire.
It's assessment week at the moment, and what a lovely end to the half term. First, I motivate myself enough to go running in the Kensington Gardens, then a lovely lunch in Covent Garden is followed by a trip to the National Gallery. To top it off, Joseph Fiennes in An Epitaph for George Dillon is absolutely amazing. Perhaps one of the best actors I have seen on stage, definitely on-par with Sir Ian McKellen himself.
Ambitions are fun when they concern completing a marathon some day and also making regular theatrical and museum trips.
Oh, and Paris is calling on Lundi! Ah, life is good.
I Dreamt a Dream
3rd November 2005
I dreamt a dream, where I was young again. I dreamt a dream, where we got to say goodbye. I dreamt a dream, where I flung my arms around you. I dreamt a dream, where tears poured down our cheeks. I dreamt a dream, where Mama held your hand as you faded away. I dreamt a dream, where you told me not to grieve. I dreamt a dream, where you live on in my memory forever.
In Today's News...
28th October 2005
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NATHAN!
In the meantime, the dreaded avian-flu strain seems to have taken hold in the French capital of Paris.
Culture Vulture Multure
24th October 2005
After 6 weeks in the capital, still can't get over how amazing it is to be here: museums, movies, theatre, there's never a lack of anything to do.
Perhaps even more exciting is how anybody could be round the corner. Take standing near the stage door (sad, I know!) of Guys and Dolls. Lo and behold, who should come walking right up but Kirsten Dunst! Pity that her co-star from Elizabethtown or Ewan wasn't anywhere in sight, grr. Mustn't make standing in the London cold for hours waiting for some guy who never turns up a habit!
Anybody from Heat wants to buy this off me?
So much to see, so little time!
What Ought To Be
21st October 2005
Does one lower oneself to get what you want? Or do you not want it enough to get it? Do you live life to enjoy, or enjoy to live life? Do you choose exile in order to get closer to home?
Happiness is not a crime, although not drinking hot chocolate on a freezing winter evening may well be one. People who stick chewing gums on the underside of lecture theatre tables ought to be given a custodian sentence.
Not appreciating a view like this from your window should also be a crime.
What a Boor
16th October 2005
Alas for the return of the upstairs Neighbours From Hell. Especially after we were starting to hope that the two of them had OD'ed and died. Unfortunately, my dear readers, they are back, and back with a vengeance (and properly doped up) too. What insanity to start clomping around the place and blasted music with a ridiculous beat the minute you step into the house with your millions of suitcases?
No more restful, peaceful nights; adieu to the silence of living in a beautiful, quiet street.
Any solicitor who would like to offer me some pro bono should apply in writing, and now, before I finally flip out! =(
Acid Tongue
14th October 2005
As if the world weren't too full of sharp-wits and dry humour already. Something about being geared up for City life, watching the climbers weave their way onto pitted walls, sucking every bit of moisture, digging a little deeper for more, something about it just draws up a healthy dose of cynicism and contempt. Does that explain the snooty grey suits on the Jubilee line with their yellowed newspapers?
Maybe it's the sheer anonymity of the large city, of the tubes that criss-cross at different levels, going over, under, meeting, flowing. Maybe it's the way rats are trained to avoid looking each other in the eye, to be distrustful of strangers, to look alarmed when somebody walks up to you and speaks, addressing you.
Does being a cynic open up worlds previously unknown? Watching and smirking at happiness, knowing it all ends in tears -- a national pastime?
They say people only respect those who fight, those who survive, those who play the game. Then we get complains about our lack of smiles, our churning brains that are desperately trying to figure out the best answer to that question.
Thereby I present you with this face.
Parley Voo Faun-say?
12th October 2005
By the way, before I start, perhaps I should qualify that title and say I do know that I've spelt that wrongly (it's something called a piss-take), so please don't patronise me by correcting it. Some people have no sense of humour, and no sense of a changing world, but that's not my problem.
Anyway, I could choose to rant on today about the complete and utter stupidness of banks in this country (no, no, we don't want you to open an account of us, how dare you make an offer?), but that would be boring, and nobody likes to read a boring webpage, do they?
So what am I left with? Perhaps I could tell you about how I aspire to be one of those amazing linguists who speak a million languages, but my current count is rather abysmal. It's somewhere around 3 (taking into account the dodgy levels of most of them), I would say, but how do you compare that with continental Europeans who speak about 7 each? What is it about having English as your first language that makes you so lazy? That it's a hang-up from glorious Britannia? Surely there has to be something more fundamental to it. But then again, I'm not anthropologist/linguist/psychologist, so there.
Speaking of academia, what on earth possessed me to decide that spending another 2 years of my life being a student is a good idea? Especially when it involves 7 tutorials a week (9 till 6 on Mondays, what's that about?)! Of course I am sitting here in front of the computer adding to my growing backlog. Something tells me I might be up late tonight.
Have also been thinking about the way 'Human Rights' has become such a buzz-word and cure-all that it's almost a joke now. Didn't get that judge to award you enough damages for your neighbour shining a light into your front law every night? 'But that's a breach of my human rights under article 829 of the European Human Rights Convention!' To those people I say: get a life, go out more; if that fails, get some blackout for your windows.
Have also realised that increasing doses of cynicism have been pervading everything I touch and think and do. Never thought it would come down to this. So how would I self-define (if I do at all!)? Possibly a realist-atheist-agnostic-materialist. Perfect for being tomorrow's solicitor, doncha think?
Out From the Provinces
9th October 2005
It's such a bizarre feeling to go back to College to find that nothing and everything has changed. Freshers' Week is winding down, and the old posse of cool cats remains the same, but half a building has been completely gutted. On the one hand, it feels as if you've never left, on the other, you think you're a tourist just coming back and peering in through the big wooden doors which have started being locked at 8 in the evening.
Also, the interesting dichotomy of writing well and living well seems to be really true. You can't create anything you really feel about and can be proud of unless you're looking in the black hole, and then you suddenly get vertigo and think you want to fall in.
A Short-Cut, Anybody?
30th September 2005
If anybody else is mad enough to want to do the equivalent of an Undergraduate Law Course in a year, maybe this might be a useful warning:
And yes, I was mad enough to decide that it'll be a good idea to bring all the books back home at one go. Needless to say, the climb up to the 3rd floor was not fun.
Why is it so cold? Winter shouldn't be here for another month at least! But then again, you couldn't tell, with the number of X'mas paraphernalia coming out.
And why does a shopping trip in Selfridges always make you feel the sudden desire to want to be rich?
Many Happenings
28th September 2005
It's all happening at once. First I get my life sorted out for the next 4 years after having spent the last 2 worrying about what I am going to do after Uni, and then the flat-hunting ends in beautiful success, and it's all too much to take in at once.
Living in one of the most vibrant cities in the world is a completely different experience. Everywhere you go, there is a buzz that shouts to you that this is a place that really matters, and it is beautiful. Apart from that, the shopping is great, the food is delicious, if a little (!) expensive. All at once you feel as if you're the centre of the Universe, that everybody is either here, or descending upon you to visit. I'm not complaining, and I much prefer this to the 'provinces', but one wonders how long it'd take for me to get so sick of the place and decide to move -- again.
Of course, one would think that with the rate London moves, one could expect broadband in the flat soon enough, but nooooo, I've gotta wait for a million years to even find the blooming number to dial!
On the other hand, I seem to have developed a nasty allergy that is making its horrible presence felt on my face. As Howl would say: I am no longer beaaaaoootifoool!
No More Drink
15th September 2005
Ouch what a painful night. Why do people choose to poison themselves in order to summon up enough courage to deal with life? Why do they choose to do things to themselves to try numb the pain?
Already I fear I am too late, that I have missed the window.
Cendres aux Cendres
11th September 2005
Fire has such a way of consuming everything: paper, wood, leaves, trees, dreams, the heart, the soul, the pain.
Life has its fair share of regret, but death is enveloped by it, tenderly, brutally, irrevocably. Too many apologies and what-ifs, too late.
Be at peace, Okasan.
Blisterin' Butterflies
9th September 2005
Wish that there could be a way to get rid of the funny nervous spasms that rock through your body in anticipation of a big event. Doesn't help that I have no flat and no job as yet, and no matter how hard people try to commiserate or express their outrage, it doesn't help matters one bit. Misery might love company, but company spits misery in the face and chucks it out without a second thought.
Why do people throw themselves into the paths of an oncoming stream of traffic, knowing that they will indeed get crushed under the wheel and in all likelihood die? Why do we try our best to ignore something, lying to the whole world but ourselves? Why do we get lonely in spite of our claims that we chug on fine without any need for friends or companionship? Why do we bother flinging ourselves at things we know will only break us further without a glance back over the shoulder?
Why do we try all sorts of means to conceal everything from others, to lie, to cheat, and to swindle?
Pity then that I waste so much time on stuff like that, where I could be doing more 'productive' work. Pity that all my efforts will -- in all likelihood -- come to nought.
But then again, living forever gets boring.
If only we could tear up our thoughts and let them fly away with the wind, never to bother us again.
Oh god, I sound like a teenager, even though I've left it far behind.
A Fling in Beijing
6th September 2005
The good side of being propositioned by a pimp: at least you were mistaken for an employer, not an employee! So much for dad's recommendation of where to eat in Beijing. Conclusion: dad has a weird sense of humour.
All things considered, that trip to China was one of the most bizarre experiences ever. After 10 days of being in the great cities of Shanghai and Beijing, you start to feel a little uncomfortable with the orderly traffic at home, and people who actually bother to heed traffic lights. Half of you wants to start blasting your horn at those annoying pedestrians who dare to cross the road in front of your car, nevermind that the lights are in their favour.
Look the lights in the eye and tell me that this is a third-world country.
On the other hand, it's absolutely amazing to be able to see people who are up to their eyebrows in thousand-dollar notes living side-by-side with poor farmers and the like who are struggling to get by on $1 a day. It's very telling too that half the country seems to have its foot in the 1950s, while the other half has surged ahead with reckless speed, leaving the rest of the world far, far behind.
Could I see myself living or working there one day? Sure, if you get rid of the blanket of disgusting smog and dirt that clogs every breath you take, killing you with its slow but sure steps. Say what you may about autocratic governments, but it seems to be getting the job done if they put their heart to it.
Now that I've finished the niceties, I believe it's time to get down to business. 2 weeks more to the big move to London, and I need to get so many things sorted out before -- nyagh!
Oh, and wireless keyboards and mouses are beautiful inventions, as is the U2 iPod.
Freedom beckons
24th August 2005
Only 1 more day of work till I'm free -- yay!
And then it's off to a well-deserved break before I finally settle down for a bit (or not) and start the process leading up to flat-hunting. It's all rather grown-up, I must say, but hey, I could do with a couple teaspoons of that once in a while!
Oh, and don't you hate that hyper-sensitivity that descends upon you once in a while when you start thinking and believing that everybody knows something that you don't? Well, I do, and I'm not liking it one bit. For a start, it's not very fun to be kept in the dark where certain things are concerned, and I'm sure lots of you would raise your hands and shout a resounding 'yea' when I say that second-guessing and hypothesising is just about the most evil, painful process in the world. Especially when there are a million things pressing and calling for your attention at any one time.
Moral of the story: is there one? It's annoying but fun to be back in the swing of things after a long, long hiatus, and hey, anything goes, right? I just wish I would stop feeling so unsettled and unsure of what the hell is going on in my life, and that a magic answer to everything in the world would drop into my lap -- a fortuitous event, no less!
And no, I hate riddles; really.
Titbits for Thought
19th August 2005
For Elaine:
Now do you know who Johnny is? ;)
Dealing with rejection or coping with too many things at once in general should be included in that all-inclusive human manual on how Life works.
A special section should also concentrate on how to squeeze in extra sleep when you are going out on Friday night and have a photoshoot scheduled for 8 in the morning the next day.
Do you think I whine a lot?
Oh bother.
Multiple Crisps on the Shoulder
15th August 2005
Oxford -- could have gone there, chose to go to [insert random university here] instead --- check
Hey Cambridge girl, what's your answer to that? --- check
Why are you speaking like that? Locals should speak with the local accent! [broadly paraphrased] --- check
My mum appears in every issue of the Tatler! --- check
Maybe my next firm will be a porn film with Tim [Burton]. --- cue media frenzy complete with jaw-dropping headlines
Ouch my ankle really hurts! --- reality
How Pleasant
13th August 2005
It is ridiculously difficult to write and listen to music at the same time, even mindless lyrics do tend to get in your head and mess around with it at times.
But that aside, tonight is Family Gathering XXIII. Ah, what fun it is to sit around, eyeing dribbling babies and screaming kids suspiciously. What an event to look forward to, when you sit and painfully attempt to smile at people you would never have spoken to otherwise. How fun it is, sinking your incisors into the soft meat of the honey-baked chicken your mother has struggled all weekend to prepare.
On the other hand, I sense a great yearning to be somebody that I not necessarily am. Why do I have to write things that are not me? Why do I have to fall head-over-heels to imitate/emulate (psychologists among you, be quiet) another writer?
Also, stay tuned to find out more about the possible launch of Inner Circle and Through the Window in book-form. Details will most surely follow, when I start getting sued for copyright infringement.
Finally, let it be put down in writing that commercial success does not always equate to a certain element of trash. That is my aim, and god-forbid I ever descent to the level of Mills and Boons.
Perhaps you should call me 'Muppet'.
5th August 2005
Lesson of the day: do not leave everything to the last minute. Filing applications at 2 in the morning is a sure-fire way to make stupid mistakes like writing in the wrong company name.
Oh, and it gets even better. You find that you actually have to face up to the music, by getting an invitation to the interview stage. Quick, I need answers to stupidity on many postcards!
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