And the funny thing is, I’m the female, and I’m the one getting asked this first, every single time. I thought that was supposed to be rude? But I’m not yet at an age to be sensitive, so I answer that I’m twenty one, without missing a beat, then I ask How old are you?

And then, this is the part I hate, they say:

How old do you think I am?

I do not like this question because, a) I am lazy. I told you my age, just tell me yours? If I had it my way, I wouldn’t even bother with it, I’m only asking back because that’s how conversations work. If you ask me how old I am, I can’t respond by saying “Did you know that some men go around conning tourists into believing they have scrap metal rights over the Eiffel Tower, so that the tourists actually think they can buy it?”. Age tells me absolutely nothing. So don’t make it into some guessing game, which is pointless because

b) I am bad at guessing ages. To me, there are three age groups. Babies, that do not belong in a bar, then People. Then there’s Old people.

Not to imply that Old people aren’t People. They were People once, too. Then they became the Old people. I digress. If you ask me the age question I am not going to rack my brain checking your face wrinkles and how deeply set your eyes are and how much hair you have and how you dress and analyse how you talk. I am not going to bother telling you the truth of what I really think your age is, that is your (secret) punishment.

If you look anything under forty, then I am always going to say twenty-five. Always. And usually, this brings about a satisfied nod, with a comment like “Twenty eight, actually.” or “Twenty four, actually.” Which means, you’re NOT EVEN THAT OLD IN THE FIRST PLACE. Why are you checking to see how old you look? If you are twenty eight, then chances are, you also LOOK like you’re twenty eight.

If you’re so self conscious about age then why not go give yourself an ego boost, visit the elderly folks’ home, go around asking all the great granddaddies and great grandmommies how old you look, see how much younger you are. Wow i am being bitter about something very weird.

Me: Make Love.

Deskmate: Can?

Me: Can.

Deskmate: While cooking, make love.

Me: He make love with his mama.

Deskmate: Can, can. I like house have many bedroom.

Me: You can make love at kitchen, at bathroom, at terrace. No need have bedroom.

Deskmate: I want buy house have five bedroom and one bathroom.

Me: Much make love in your new house.

Deskmate: Can, can. One man want lie top woman.

Me: He want live inside woman.

Deskmate: Make love very bothersome.

Me: She can eat thing of man. He can eat thing of woman.

Deskmate: Can, can.

*

Chinese is more fun now that I can talk freely. Intensive courses are the best way to begin learning a language, in my opinion. And with foreign friends that are not entirely fluent in english, we end up using chinese to communicate and it’s helping our fluency immensely.

One of my friends in the class is half norwegian, and I’m slowly learning some norwegian phrases as I go along. And several of my classmates are japanese, so I’m picking up a little bit of that as well.

Of course the first things I demanded from them was

Me: You can teach me words in your language with bad meaning? Can?

Them: CAN.

I have such nice friends.

I am never going to one of his parties again. I paid $20 SGD for entrance to a small, isolated, overcrowded club house. The first problem was that, being so overcrowded, it was too overwhelming- there was no room to dance, and I tried talking with various people, but after a while I got too exhausted in the crowd to the extent that I didn’t really feel like making an effort.

If only I’d had a drink everything would be so much more enjoyable, I’d thought, but of course that one drink was impossible to obtain. I think the main reason for this was because the bar was not managed well at all. They had a horrible payment system, and people who got their drinks could not leave the bar because they were still waiting for their change (or they were demanding to get the right change- I saw several people angry because they did not get back the right change, to which the bartender replied, yes, it’s the right change- look at the receipt, it has the GST on it. These people tried to look at the really really light font of the receipt, failed, had not even been told there would be an additional GST cost on the drinks, and in the end they just had to take what they got because the bartender in charge of taking drink orders ignored them.

He was too busy chucking coins at the wall.

“No coins!” he yelled at one of the hardworking bartenders, taking coins clasped to one of the bills and throwing them against the wall, where they clanked against the lines of vodka bottles, getting lost behind and underneath counters. “No coins! AhahahaHAH!”

Mr.We’re-too-busy-to-deal-with-coins really should have been spending more time tending to customers and doing his job, instead of horsing around, performing tricks no one wants to watch. I’m not exaggerating- I waited for a whole HOUR until I got to the bar. And after waiting 15 more minutes for him to take my order, I realised at this point people were not getting back their proper change. I didn’t have small bills, so I didn’t want to RISK GETTING SHORTCHANGED BY THE BARTENDER WHICH IS WHY I DIDN’T ORDER ANY DRINKS. When does this happen? I have never had this happen before, at any other organised events or at clubs.

I’m sure that this certain employee is not employed by the organiser of the party, so the organiser isn’t really responsible for my being wary of getting scammed at the bar- he’s only responsible for just organising a shitty party.

I got the feeling that it had only been for profit- just sell more tickets than the venue can hold people, and let them work it out on their own. But nothing worked out, for me, the party was NOT a success- when the admin sent out a message saying “thanks to your participation, the event was a huge success” I think he meant it was a huge moneymaking success for HIM.

One problem is that because many of the exchange students in singapore only stick around for a few months, they won’t feel the need to publicly speak out against this party- they’ll think ‘eh what a crap party, but these things happen.’ Then they’ll move on with their lives like a normal person. But then after they leave, an entirely new batch of foreigners will arrive in Singapore with no knowledge of this, and they’ll pay good money for a bad event when someone could have suggested to them, maybe you want to do something else instead?

I’m only writing about what I’ve experienced and what I’ve thought of it, but I’ve heard about some of the other events held by the same person and it definitely seems more profit oriented, but still so many exchange students participate because they don’t have access to that information.

It’s a shame because I’ve attended other events, both on a smaller scale and largerscale, and I have thoroughly enjoyed myself. But not as many people are aware of this event simply because someone else who views these events as purely entrepreneurial is out there, intent on regarding other events/parties like some competition, as though they’re having their market encroached.

I mean, it’s only a party, and it’s only one night. And now that I’ve had my little rant about it, I’m at peace. But how to get this information around to the people who, like me, aren’t keen on having their time wasted?

Language is not a philosophy class, you’ll get nowhere if you ask why certain things are said a certain way. But this particular teacher seems very keen on emphasizing that “that is the english speaker’s way of saying. But in chinese, we do not say this. This is a common mistake that enlgish speakers make. Do not say this in chinese. It is not the chinese way.”

The chinese way, the chinese way, so many things that are the chinese way- and no wonder they are only the ways of the chinese, considering how very insipid they are. If this wasn’t something handed down in your own culture, you wouldn’t want to bother adapting it into your own.

For instance, take the mo’xie (pronounced moe-shi-eh). The mo’xie is a test where the professor gives you a sentence, a paragraph or a passage. And you memorise that passage. The entire thing, word for word. And then when it’s time for the test, the laoshi says “write.” And you write down what you’ve memorised.

Although I understand that there is a certain logic behind this, my reaction remains the same, as WHAT. I want to learn how to communicate using the tools I’m taught, not memorise a dialog about how Lina wants a traditional chinese dress that’s two inches shorter and in the colour red.

It’s fitting for this particular language- because chinese has no alphabet, the language pretty much consists of memorising, memorising, and more memorising. And it’s not like chemistry, or european languages where you learn verb conjugations and pretty much all the verbs follow the same pattern. Maybe you learn the few exceptions, maybe you can get wind of it by intuition.

But with chinese? You just memorise each time, and hopefully, a day will come when it will be easier to memorise new characters. And that’s maybe the best it will get before you realise, oh my God I cannot deal with this crazy language anymore. They call coca cola ke-kou-ke-le, their characters for bungee jumping means ‘stupid pig jump’ (in taiwanese, not mainland china), and it doesn’t matter if you know phonetically how a word is supposed to be pronounced- you need to know the four (actually five, counting toneless) tones otherwise people will NOT understand you.

Sometimes in class, we will have a new grammar concept explained to us. But even though I speak an asian language that is somewhat, although to a minute extent, similar, sometimes the grammar will make absolutely no sense to me.

“You use this formula to explain very specific things. Like who, where, how, or places, reasons, purposes. Or transportation.”

….After hearing this, I had no idea what they meant. But asked to give an example sentence, I gave one.

“Ummmm…. no, you don’t say it like that,” the laoshi said. When asked why she said “Because that is a statement; it is not describing anything specific. Understand?”

No, I don’t understand. The downfall of having a class conducted by chinese teachers in chinese is that their english skills are not guaranteed. I still don’t fully understand how to properly use the formula. I mean, I can recognise it, but when I try to use it myself I’m always wondering ‘Is this the chinese way of saying it?’

Speaking of no questions, I saw the movie Brick (2005). And after seeing the movie I realised it can be enjoyed immensely if the viewer doesn’t ask the question ‘why’. Better yet, don’t ask the question ‘how’. Or even better, don’t ask any questions at all- it’s actually not a stupid thing to do. (Spoilers)

I was left wondering- did everyone else find this movie as surreal as I did? Because this movie wasn’t just high school kids acting dramatic about nothing- they actually had all this drama going on at a large scale, love, murder, violence, dealing- but they were only highschool kids.

I thought that it was all very improbable, but I also could not help thinking, what a fun way to have lived highschool.

The main reason I thought it was improbable was that nobody I knew in highschool thought or acted that way. I certainly hadn’t acted that way- I was a complete pissant in highschool. And middle school. And also maybe when I was a small child. But I suppose it was mostly meant to be improbable. It’s what made the movie so enrapturing.

I liked the small humourous touches, and the characters.

Although the main character did remind me of Harry Potter. Not just the glasses and the hair- but the way he moped around miserably, was prone to violence because of the people he cared about, and his rejection of authority figures. There are so many Harry Potter characters- I see them everywhere.

At Starbucks this morning:

Guy with Guitar: I’d like, a, hmm, what is that?

Guy with Guitar: Is that raspberry? Oh, there’s a, hmm. Cherry, is it? No, I think I’ll…

Guy with Guitar: Maybe I should get the tart. Or the muffin.

Guy with Guitar: Yeah. The muffin.

Guy with Guitar: Or, maybe, uh. No, I think the muffin’s good.

Guy with Guitar: I’ll have the muffin.

Worker: Which kind?

Guy with Guitar: Oh. Uh. The brown one. The one with the nuts. No, um. Wait. Yeah. I’ll have that nut muffin.

Coffee Addict Standing Behind Guitar Guy: OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU ASKING FOR MUFFINS HERE GO TO THE F#$&ING BAKERY DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND I NEED COFFEE I NEED COFFEE RIGHT F#$&ING NOW.

As you may have guessed, that coffee addict standing behind the guitar guy was actually me.

On a side note, I am very excited about nanowrimo (national novel writing month). I am so excited that I even named my yet unwritten 50,000word novel. It’s going to be called Rat Journal.

Which led me to think. It’s already been over a year since ex-president Roh Muhyeon’s suicide.

My summer sessions at Berkeley feels like it happened a few months ago but it’s already been three years.

My youngest brother is no longer in elementary school, which seems impossible because he is such a wee little prat.

And today is already Friday.

Not meaning to base my timeline on historical American events, but 9-11 happened nine years ago. Somehow, the fact that I was debating about issues like it in my freshman year made it feel like it was still a current event.

Then again, freshman year was like, four years ago.

I’m going to have to tell the kids “Yes, I was twelve when that thing happened. Now go play or dive into a well or something and leave me alone.”

The other week, I was suffering from sudden disorientation. I was examining the expiration date of some ham to put in my sandwich, which said it would be alright to eat until 2011 09.

‘Oh, then it’s safe to eat,’ I thought, and put the ham back in.

‘Wait a minute. It’s already October! I keep forgetting,’ I thought, and took the ham back out.

‘….No…. Right now it’s 2010. Stupid.’ Puts the ham back in.

‘God, what is wrong with me. It’s 2011, of course! That’s why they’re making 2012 references like that movie called 2012.’ I take the ham back out.

Then I stare at my sandwich. And I utterly, utterly have no idea what year I am living in.

“Oh my God?! WHat the hell year is it right now???” I yell, running out of the kitchen.

“What is wrong with you?” mother asks.

I don’t know, I thought everyone had this problem?

Me: (Eats cake) Nobody will eat my cake.

Me: (Eats cake) So for the past few days I’ve had to eat this damn cake all by myself.

Me: (Eats cake) It tastes fine. I don’t understand why no one else will eat it.

Me: (Eats cake) See if I ever bake anything again.

Me: (Eats cake) Mm. Sugary vanilla cake.

Me: (Eats cake) Mm. With a lemony tang.

Me: (Eats cake) … Lemony tang? It didn’t taste lemony yesterday. Why is i- EW MY GOD. OH. BLECHH. There is something growing on my cake.

Mother: Well, I did ask you if it was alright for you to eat it.

Me: I thought you were talking about my diet! Bleargh. Begone, black specks on cake. (Bins entire rest of cake.)

Mother: …What diet?

Language Observation 02. You’d think that with all the emphasis on title Asians put, and all the resistance to social stigma Westerners are supposed to have, then people should say “Willows Doctor” instead of “Doctor Willows,” and “YiSheng (Dr.) Zhang” instead of “Zhang YiSheng (Dr.)” Etc.

Language Observations 03. Asian languages are somewhat similar to each other, more than they are to Western languages. Except, In English, you can say Thanks, and Thank you. In Chinese, you can also say thanks (Xie xie), and Thank you (Xie xie ni). In Korean, you can say thanks in two different ways (ko-map-seum-nida, or kam-sa-ham-nida), but you cannot say Thank you.

Recommended Novels That Include/Are About Jews (Or Jewish People, if that term makes you feel more comfortable): Absurdistan (Russian Jew), The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (Comic-drawing Jews), and Portnoy’s Complaint (Jew sex).

Is It Backwards and Sexist, or Honorable and Traditional? I was watching 결혼해주세요, which is translated not into ‘Please Marry Me” but “All About Marriage” here on Singapore telly. It’s teaching me about all the little rules that people follow in Korean marriages that I never bothered to pay attention to before, because I wasn’t planning on living my life under the thumb of my in-laws, cleaning their house and making their food and doing their laundry.

Of course, that is not what all daughter-in-laws do. This is just what is expected of them, if they live with their parents. Even if they also have a job. This sounds really bad when I’m writing it out like this, but frankly it wasn’t even the sexist part I was going to talk about.

There was this one scene. A young hotshot professor of family studies(?)has his own hit talkshow about marriage. But his wife felt frustrated being a housewife, so she decided to become “independent” and she moved out after a fight. (Which was actually kind of stupid, but moving on.) And amidst all these family issues, the professor’s father walks into his room, finds it a mess, and the first thing he says is “Where is Jeongim; tell her to get back here and stop all this ‘independence’ nonsense right away!”

…Which to me, translates into- Tell her to come back so she can do her job and clean this messy room. Why can’t the professor clean his own room? I’m sure this rings true in many homes, a lot of people can’t deal with daily errands or chores and depend on their spouse, but everyone needs to know how to take care of themselves.

This is the most basic of survival skills! How are they going to live if there is a war, or aliens attack, or if there is an earthquake and everything falls apart? Don’t they feel like they should know what to do, where everything is, and how they’re going to take care of their shit?

For all their talk about marriage and keeping family, Korea has a pretty high divorce rate. And even though people know it’s common, it’s always shush shush, separation is always a huge scandal, people are looked down for it. Some people look at conditions and their marriages work out, and for some people it doesn’t, but so many people still insist on keeping those standards even after all this trial and error.

I think there’s a lot of value to upkeeping cultural standards and traditions.  Roots are important. But there are so many fundamental things I don’t understand or agree to about it. It makes me wonder if this means it’s just not compatible (since when is culture a compatible thing?) or if my culture isn’t truly mine.

I still don’t know what a “UN concert” is supposed to be. It was like a talent show, with an international theme, but I’m not sure how the United Nations organisation factors into it.

At this point, you may have already guessed that I have attended this UN concert. Believe me, I was very reluctant to go.

Especially because neither of my brothers were participating in it.

Me: So… Let me know whether I’m understanding you correctly… You want to go see the UN concert.

Mother: Yes.

Me: To watch over two hundred kids perform half arsed skits and aerobics dances?

Mother: Yes.

Me: …You do realise that these kids belong to other people. Which means, the show will not be interesting to us. At all.

Mother: It’ll be fun! I want to see what sort of things go on at my sons’ school. I know you don’t want to go, but we should go anyways!

So we went.

And it was as bad as I expected it to be. The most amusing points were when the gymnastics performance began, with a group of skinny, bendy girls in black, EVERYONE suddenly got up and crowded the aisles to record the show. Then they kind of snuck back when it became apparent that the only gymnastics were backflips and cartwheels, done over and over again. And again. And again.

Then there was that African Haka dance, where twenty prepubescent boys came out shirtless with body paint, and recited this chant-dance in Afrikaan.

All of the boys were white, except for one kid that looked pakistani.

The peak was when I found this oddball of a boy with floppy hair  in the ‘hip hop’ performance. It was only hip hop in name, even the music wasn’t hip hop, let alone the dance choreography. The boy was dancing in a corner of the stage, a little off beat. He kind of looked like he was just dancing by himself in his room, not on a stage with a bunch of other kids together in front of their parents. The things I would do to him.

Just because I think Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes is hot, doesn’t mean I’m a total creep, okay?

Afterwards:

Mother: Did you enjoy the show?

Me: It was alright, I guess.

Mother: Really? I regret coming. What a waste of time.

How typical.