Precursor

It began in 2008 when i came across a jazz recording somewhere outside, and fell into such crashing love with the double bass (tbh i didn’t know what instrument it when i first identified its sound) (also i’d never listened to jazz voluntarily). I found out what it was (through shameless inquiry), this:

My first love and always one of my favorites, Mingus on double bass.

And then i dove right in and haven’t gone back up for air since.

I’ve never liked limiting myself to a preferred ‘genre’ of music, to me there’s only good music or bad music (and even then based on the individual). But jazz, but jazz. I’m obscenely partial to it. To me it’s the purest, most distilled form of music.

There’s a whole literature and science on it and also ridiculous variety given its history, but i mainly stick to bebop and cool jazz, occasionally nujazz (mostly japanese ones). Also i love the ones without emphasis on lyrics/with just nonsense lyrics. Better yet if it does without completely (yah i’m pretty much off scat singing).

I’ve always remained vaguely embarrassed about it, i’m not sure why. Not the same embarrassment i feel for secretly liking Alt-J (a brassy, see-if-i-care, omg i’m gross kind), but a shadier, more private one. It may have been because i never bothered to share it with anyone initially, because i knew none of my friends listened to it. And when someone did accidentally stumble across me listening to jazz one day over the phone, he asked “um… why are you listening to sex music?”

But sometimes it gets a little lonely it’s just such, such a lovely world that it seems to me a pity more of my friends aren’t into it. And not because they won’t like it but probably cause they never tried?

So i’m gonna do a series of recommendations (hence the title) of my favorites, cultivated over five years (with lackluster knowledge of the technicalities of which there are a lot, i should warn y’all). Half of you will be bored to death the other half will skip them. But maybe just oneee person will like at least one of the recs and i’d be rlyrly happy with that.

Ok but another day because i’m hungry and shleepy rn also i wanna read bye.

Captive

Went to the zoo with brilliant company. I had fun, as I always do at the zoo. But this time round it was  shaded vaguely by a strange sadness. At every exhibit, we would exclaim over the animals, mimic their sounds, and giggle over comments of the animal’s silliness. And then almost inadvertently we’d remark on how sad they looked, or how bored, or how lethargic.

This time, I was more aware of their captivity than I ever had. I know it’s an inevitable compromise: for us to appreciate and understand the animals, and raise awareness about their likely endangerment, we need to put them within observable proximity of the general public. Mandai Zoo brings out the message of conservation pretty well, and for that I admire them. And I can tell how much the people there really care for the animals, and they try their best to reconstruct their natural habitat. But. Still.

The most striking thing I’ve brought back from this excursion are these images: the lone polar bear blinking at the sun, its back to the gawking crowd. The crazed wolverine who ran around in endless circles. The lioness’ resentful and haughty, but weary gaze.

It may be true that many of these animals were born into captivity, and it may be me attributing too much to these lazy creatures of leisure. But there’s just something pathetic about the artificiality and inadequacy of the enclosures. I can’t help thinking that they know, somehow, that they’re being deprived of something grand and vast and beautiful.

Maybe it’s because sometimes I get bouts of wilderness yearning, when my inner jungle girl longs to be in the great plains of Africa leaping about with deers, but it makes me wonder how animals so innately wild can stand being closed off if even a severely domesticated creature such as I – with endless entertainment – desire the wilderness.

Yeah it’s just very silly and everything I know.

On competition

If there’s one thing that completely eludes me (and will be my eventual downfall), it is the notion of competition. Or rather, the primal drive to compete with others.

While I’m indifferent about everyone else ripping at each other’s throats, it makes me reaaally uncomfortable when people assume I’m participating in their imaginary race.

All the way up to university days this hadn’t been an issue. 1. I’m lucky because most of my friends are not huge fans of intergroup competition, and 2. Declarations of competition are made explicit and twas easy to make clear your non-interest.

Competition surged in Uni (surprise surprise) – not just in regards to grades but all kinds of achievements academic to physical to social – and even those who don’t actively seek it find themselves dragged into it, and since they’re in the race they might as well run it. I’m the one grabbing at the bleachers screaming bloody murder whenever someone attempts to get me to run it too. NO JUST NO.

It began innocuously enough. Passive aggressive social media war cries bemoaning the fact that everyone is so competitive and how they’re gonna quit being nice and screw everyone over to survive. Um. Get this people: it’s a CHOICE. The race is a social construct and any risk of being run over by others comes only when you deliberately participate. But yeah I was merely amused and silently judging as a spectator.

Alright I don’t see anything fundamentally wrong about competing. In fact it’s really part of nature and I’m probably the freak here, but to me it’s a personal choice. And personally I just don’t believe in measuring your self against another given the bazillion biological and environmental variables there are. What’s the point of a comparison if it can never be fair? Even personal contentment varies vastly, so at the end of the day what ARE you competing over?

Maybe use others as a motivation or a point of reference – someone you keep up with to make sure you’re on the right track. But to define your self according to another? Um. I do my best because I want to do it, for myself, for the gains I might have in the future. Not so I’m better off than someone else. Quit making that your ultimate goal, people.

But I digress.

So, University. This is where we learn that appearing overtly competitive is a no-no (but you are anyway), and so came forth an annoying set of what I call the “I try to triumph you in what I think is an implicit but otherwise royally transparent way” method of interaction. I’ve been the subject to this a few times since school started and GOD it annoys me.

In a completely friendly conversation, we’d hit a topic touching on a source of competition. Popularity or grades or how damn hot you are or how sad your life story is wtv I don’t even understand humans and their concerns anymore. And they’d somehow dream up this huge chessboard of strategic mindgames, casting me as someone who had provoked some sort of comparison, and try to up me in what they believe is a subtle way of boasting.

Maybe to whoever it is, I’d be thinking the following:

Oh god you’re so smart and sociable halp I’m drowning in self-pity and inadequacy you’re so awesome and imagining me saying this gets you off you’re probably gonna jack off in utter smugness in your room right after this and it’s totally not sad or creepy because you’re so popular and smart despite your difficult past okbye.

What I’m actually thinking:

Ugh not again quit being so obvious please.

How do I tell you I don’t give a fuck in a polite manner?

Um your need to be validated is pathetic and I pity you.

Omg you’re so obvious you are an amateur at mindgames I’m laughing at you but you’re so annoying I’m laughing in pain.

The part that really gets to me about the whole charade is that I can’t tell them in their face to quit it and it really doesn’t affect me if they’re better than I am or whatever it is they’re trying to prove, because they’re trying so pathetically hard to make it implicit and I don’t want to shatter their little hearts.

Most of the time I just scale down whatever I do or have just so they can see me as unworthy of competition and move on already. This is also why avoid asking about grades unless it’s to a close friend out of genuine concern or as a polite reply to someone asking for mine.

Anyone who’s reading this who’d remotely projected me as someone who actually cares about comparison: I DON’T. IF YOU WOULD LIKE SOME SELF-GRATIFICATION JUST BOAST OUTRIGHT and I’ll congratulate you duly instead of undermining you because I truly don’t give a shit about competing with you.

Just stop doing that implicit mindgame crap because it’s laughably weak.

I love you, holidays.

Not a day has gone by since the end of my exams when I’ve thought ‘Omg I’m bored’. Not once.

It’s been friends and books and baking and shopping and good conversations and wonderful food for the past weeks, and for that I am so grateful. Also it makes me dread Year 2 although we still have a 2 months before we’re anywhere near there so, phew.

One of the few things I itched to do during the torture that was pre-finals was to club. Probably from being cooped up for days on end in campus surrounded by stressed, somber students – and from being too pooped to have proper fun on the weekends. Within a week of my last paper I badgered enough people to Zouk with me (obvs didn’t waste time hur).

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Initially a rather last minute trio of just Beni and Christine, but we were happily adopted (yay!) by Suren, Beni’s classmate Steph, and their Eusoff mates. Was a pretty brilliant night and I’ve  fulfilled my need to squeeze with sweaty youths gyrating to heavy beats for at least until Arts Camp.

Also highhhh on my priority list was to visit SN, and we did!!!

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Had the loveliest, loveliest time with this bunch, curious-ing around the new compound and baking a fruit tart we were all retardedly proud of.

Since then it’s been meet up-s with all the people I’ve not spent time decently with for awhile: the OG, Cleo and Nat, Amanda with her Kenya stories (!!) and tribal songs, Debbie (and FINALLY seeing her interact with JY since they became an item *****3***** FANGURL!! because we crashed Justin’s flat-viewing).

There are still lots and lots of people I’m dying to meet up with, old SN friends and A16 girls and all the overseas kids (SOOON!!!) and I’m so ridiculously excited I can burst right now.

Between meet up-s I spend time at home with my grandmother and sister, and these days I treasure so much. I practically wake up thinking: Ooh I’m not going out today!! So much I can do! 

A typical day at home would have me wake up to a book and finish it by noon (not that i’ve read a whole lot yet) (i plan to). Currently just started on Paulo Coelho’s Veronika decides to die (not bad so far). Just finished Agatha Christie’s Crooked House which was surprisingly unpredictable (i loved that i was wrong. loved it.) which goes to show how much better novels are at narrative manipulation because I can almost always guess crime TV plots. (probably also because you get to read gestural language on TV).

Also I’ve been baking, started out because I crave certain pastries and decided to create than buy to tailor it to my sometimes rather fussy taste. It’s now fueled by my dad, though, my most enthusiastic fan who asks me every day i happen to be home “are you baking?” and was thoroughly disappointed when i did one day but refused to give him any because it was for friends. have had enough of cakes and brownies and now thinking of maybe cream puffs which my dad kinda ordered…. maybe.

when i’m not feeling like a total bum i sometimes travel out alone in search of new books or clothes and have so far been pretty successful! trying not to spend too much though so i’ve diverted my attention to cheap leisure like lounging by the pool. YES i’ve been rather indulgent with sunbathing. Every time the weather is remotely promising i shuffle down and take afternoon naps by the pool. This is one of the less rewarding enterprises though cause Singapore’s capricious weather sucks and starts to cloud up every time i’m ready to be a bronzed goddess.

wow this is one rambly and boring post but ok wtv soon i’ll find something more specific to post about probably on a novel or on how INCREDIBLY PAINFUL DR JIAJIA VIDEOS MAKE ME OK BYE.

Current top to-read:

Pee on Water
The Deptford Trilogy
Pastoralia
It’s kind of a funny story
The Secret History
I Love Dick
Player Ready One

 

NO NO NO

Waking up to news of the Boston bombings today, and my first thought was: wtf not again!? And then it struck me how desensitized we’ve become to all these crazy happenings. I mean yes, we do feel upset, indignant, worried. But it becomes just.. news. That we re-tweet and read conspiracy theories about and hashtag. That realization horrified me.

I thought about how living breathing people are deprived of everything they had just because someone wholly unrelated decides to be insane. How their loved ones have it harder because they are deprived of someone who is their life, but they still have to live  it. I thought of how easily that could be me. And all this – it happens everywhere, all the time. Someone out there is being undeservedly murdered for a cruel person’s pleasure.

What really gets to me is how helpless most of us are. What can my sympathy do, tbh? So what if I hashtag pray for ___. The efforts are appreciated. But it just isn’t bloody enough, yknw? I refuse to believe that passive prayers are all I can do. I don’t want to feel some pity and then go on with studying and worrying about grades. GRADES. There are people dying and all we can worry about is the BELL CURVE? Sometimes I hate students and how seriously they take themselves. This may include myself.

For the first time in my life I feel like there’s a bigger purpose I can serve, cheesy as it sounds.

When I was younger I consciously decided not to work in industries that make a difference to someone’s life/death. Like medicine or law. I don’t feel comfortable accounting for another’s life or being responsible for their well-being. Also because a lot of times I disagree with judicial law and honestly think it’s structurally unable to not be a pile of crock (sry law students). And because I am squeamish about bodily parts. So i’ve always thought i’d probably work in media, frivolous entertainment making people happy without potentially killing them.

But now? It’s like no. I actually really, really want to work somewhere that makes a difference. Law enforcement where you can prevent a crime, not just persecute a criminal after someone has lost something. Right now I have no idea where a Psych degree can get me in the field of enforcement but like ok i’m gonna get there somehow and it’s not just a whim of fancy thing like after i watched 5 seasons of Criminal Minds. Even if it’s one person i could’ve possibly saved i think i’d die happy.

Reviewed: Wild Rice’s The Importance of Being Earnest

This is the fourth production of TIOBE i’ve been to. The first being the one played out in my head (many, many times in the course of JC where we did it for Lit), the second on YouTube that was positively charming but seems to have been taken down – otherwise it’s the 1986 version can’t seem to remember. The third one staged by Raffles Players.

There really isn’t a basis for comparison though, all are played out so differently. I’d say the distinguishing feature of Wild Rice’s is the focus on physical comedy and farce. Wilde’s script is by itself a comedy of errors and the dialogue is enough to ensure hilarity even staged with complete seriousness (yes a big fan), but Wild Rice’s choice to go all the way funny didn’t detract from the clever lines (attributing this to great actors).

***SPOILERS FROM THIS POINT ON***

To get the grouses out of the way first, my main and pretty severe issue with the production is that THE LIGHTS. ARE. BLINDING. I swear by the end of the play my eyes were SMARTING. When the lights first came on i thought wow is this is the end of life as always depicted. And they STAYED. ON. A cursory glance at the audience confirmed my suspicion because this was the only performance in Drama Centre i’ve been able to see everyone’s faces with clarity. After awhile your eyes adjust to it, and also you are distracted by the play itself, so it get better. But towards the end the strain does come back and haunt you – distracting me from the play. A pity too.

My second issue with it is the dynamics between Jack and Gwendolyn (Daniel York and Chua En Lai respectively). So the first thing you need to know about this staging is that it’s played by an all-male cast, and unabashedly so. I liked that they made the artistic decision of not cross-dressing or playing into the feminine role. Now for this semester my modules have uncannily and collectively decided to explore gender roles – its performativity and it being a social construct. That i was uncomfortable with the Jack/Gwen scene (something just didn’t sit well with me), made me keenly aware of how i myself wasn’t autonomous from socially constructed notions of gender (that I couldn’t accept a male playing a female without ACTING female).

But then AHA came Algernon and Cecily (Brendon Fernandez and Gavin Yap), and their interaction felt to me completely organic and even quite pleasing. I noted that Gavin Yap also played Cecily without regards of having to be ‘female’. The smart suits, the sometimes boyish actions that arise straight out of his natural being, the deep voice where he wanted. And then came the Cecily/Gwen scene which was a delight as well. It brought out all the nuances of the characters’ traits and motivations, wholly transcending gender (without attempts to resist it or conform to). So i happily concluded that it was just poor chemistry between Daniel York and Chua En Lai (AND NOT MY EXPECTATIONS OF GENDER NORMS YAY) – which was evident when i consciously took notice of proxemics and their onstage synergy (there was little) when the focus wasn’t on them. Both, by themselves and with others, were strong actors though. Maybe it’s just one of those things that just aren’t there and you just have to deal with. Although i felt that given the entire cast’s ability and flexibility, it would have easily been fixed with some changes in casting.

The set was alright, the crisp, sleek, block colors starkly contrasting – usually black and white. But what I really, really loved, just two seconds into the play: THE FLOOR PATTERN? Dat optical illusion black and white checkered space… just wow? I don’t even know why I like it so much but it gave the entire place a distorted, farcical, Alice-in-Wonderland kind of thing going that played so nicely with the production’s approach to Importance.

Another thing to be applauded – the strength of the cast as a whole. Although this is kind of a given, it’s always nice to not be disappointed at all. Mind-blowing comic timing, especially impressive when executed in a group. Each cast member idiosyncratic and obviously talented – each with admirable stage presence, but without clashing with others. The director was right in recognizing the cohesive competence of the cast in physical humor. This was the first production of Importance i’ve seen that depended on action as much as words for the humor. They managed to not only balance this action/dialogue but had both complement each other masterfully. Impressed.

The audience were good on my night too, appropriate and appreciative, tentative but not ungenerous with their responses. I myself felt a little of that hesitation – there were just so many clever lines that you really don’t know when and how to distribute your laughter. It was a calculated performance by the audience as much as by the cast, really. Some bits were culturally or historically specific and maybe only we (having analyzed the text half to death) got the reference – with smatterings of almost-laughters across the stage. Where it was obviously ironic the laughter was robust and genuine, though, so no complaints there. Besides, to be fair, it isn’t practical – when watching a Wilde - to laugh at every bit of irony or humor (THEY IS EVERYWHERE).

The audience were especially in love with Chasuble and Prism (Lim Kay Siu and Hossan Leong) and oh yes did they play in well. It was positively endearing. But then again Chasuble and Prism as characters are such utter silly stocks that it’s more difficult than easy to make them unlovable/unmockable. I do love their portrayal though – they were milder than another cast would have been and that added a very charming dimension to the two.

Special mention though, to Ivan Heng (although expected). IMPECCABLE timing, INSANE physicality. His physical control, seriously though, made the theatre geek in me drool in all shades of jealousy and admiration.

All in all, I’d say: WATCH. Both because it’s a Wilde, and because it’s a good production on Wilde, which is not easy for a local cast but they pulled it off and well. Also because it’s a local play and we should all support good local they deserve all of it.

LOOKING FORWARD TO

1.

Hanging at the beach oh god please i want (A TAN).

2.

BAKING. At home where there’s actually an oven and blender.

3.

XIN AND GEE COMING HOME :’-) Probably the best bit of summer.

4.

Meeting all the A16 peepur~

Hanging out with the mugs wherever (by wherever I mean, of course, anywhere within Xin’s house).

5.

Doing art again i miss penciling faces and i seem to only get into the mood with my huge comfy chair and desk at home.

6.

Bintan/Bali POSSIBLY except everyone’s too lazy to make actual plans we all suck.

7.

ARTS CAMP!!! Although it does signal the start of school again but ah well.

8.

Cathleen comes back again and CHRISTMAS AGAIN and this year (i think) with ALL THE MUGS! x fingers crossed x

9.

My braces coming off!!! Probably only gonna happen the start of ’14 but ahhhhhhh should i push for it to be earlier?

10.

MY HAIR BACK TO MERMAID LENGTH AGAIN I CANNOT WAIT.