Divided

I love to read, and I read almost anything.

When I do read, however, I somehow abhor complicated romances, unforgotten loves and the likes. The rest of the plot could be twisted as hell, pure and simple, or heroic and uplifting, and I would devour them, accept them just the same. But not when it comes to affairs of the heart.

In Dragonlance, I detested Tanis Half-Elven. I could not understand his obsession with the cold-blooded Kitiara when Laurana's love for him was all-encompassing, forgiving and compassionate. In other books, other television shows, I grew impatient with snivelling men and women who, despite being loved whole-heartedly and sweetly, could not release their feelings for one whom they loved long ago, and who perhaps left them heartbroken and tear-soaked.

How can they bear to hurt those who love them so, I thought.

But, do I really not understand the sweetness of a first love, forged long ago in the impetuousness of youth?

Is everyone slave to the lingering memory of a particuarly loved one, with whom a relationship came to naught?

Do I not comprehend or do I not want to understand because perhaps I am able to understand all too well?

A Fool, or Not?

I did something foolish two days ago.

I went to an interview at this in-house PR boutique agency for a chain of leading wine retailers, distributors and producer. Everyone wore pretty. flowy skirts and jeans that are a rare sight in my current firm except on Fridays, and the working environment seemed rather relaxed and informal. As for the interview, I blubbered my way through, as usual, with the Marketing Director, an admittedly cute and hunky guy who obviously works out quite a lot.

He challenged my expectation of 2000 bucks monthly, demanded to know which bar chok mee I especially liked and what under-done noodles are termed (Al-Dente, as I learnt incidentally), and raised eyebrows at my announcement that I could not stomach alcohol without suffering the Mother of all Headaches. Everything went fine up till then, and I was getting into the groove of things exchanging barbs with the hunk despite some discomfort regarding the topid of salary. And THEN, he proceeded to name the terms of employment under which the candidate would be hired.

Such as zero entitlement to paid annual leave for the first year of employment, and a 5.5 day work-week, both of which filled me with horror. To be brutally truthful, I had hoped with all my heart that I would not have to work a 5.5 day week. Or at least, not every week. Okay, I'm spoilt. Furthermore, no paid annual leave for the first year of service was a new one to me. I'd never heard of such a condition before and thought it exploitative. In any case, we concluded the interview after some more irrelevant questions and I went on my way back to EY to do OT, thinking to myself that I would have jumped at this job if not for all the unfavourable terms.

When I had left the agency and was a mere hundred metres away from it, my phone rang and I answered. It was the Marketing Director, asking me to return to the office for a while. I said okay and went back up, thinking they needed to ask me more questions. To my shock, after ensconcing me in the room, they offered me the job, with my expected salary. I was so taken by surprise that all I managed to blabber was "Oh, that was fast". To which he replied "Yeah, I'm a fast worker. I do everything very quickly, including making decisions.". And then he had the cheek to add "I don't believe fresh graduates should receive 2000 bucks starting pay, but I'll give you that."

At that point, I got increasingly flustered, especially since I had been entertaining doubts in my mind regarding the terms, and there I was, expected to make a choice right there. I asked to take the appointment letter back to read before returning it, but he said very firmly that I could not do so. Another black mark against the company. But STUPID me just sat there like a fool, read the contract and signed, all the while feeling like I had been duped or co-erced to sign under duress. (I can just imagine Sam and Nelson's lawyerly horror on my signing legal documents just like that.) After that, the hunk blabbered something about getting me a ThinkPad and brought me around the office to introduce me to my supposed new colleagues. Dazed and feeling extremely out of my depth, I went through the motions, mumbled my name and other social niceties with my insides contracting with cold dread.

That whole evening passed with me in a daze, worrying about being sued if I decided to cancel the appointment, yet wondering if I should just take up the job to gain experience even if I was being exploited. Some part of me feared too, that I would be being irresponsible to my family if I did not accept. Damned if you do, Damned if you don't. I felt anger at the choices presented before me, and envy, at the fact that my friends did not have to grapple with such difficulties.

Or perhaps they did, just that I never knew.

Ramblings...

I haven't been blogging the past few days, because I was busy catching up with dragons, kender, gods and mages. No more obscene jokes about dragons, PLEASE!

Speaking of mages, I really do love the Legends trilogy in Dragonlance. It details the lives of the twins, Raistlin and Caramon, after the War of the Lance, and was such a heartbreaking read that I teared many times. Of course, being a slightly psychotic and emotional fool, I read and re-read on average five times those parts that made me tear. By the time I finally put down the last book, I was bawling like a baby for two reasons. One, I was touched immensely. Two, there was to be no more Raistlin, darling darling Raistlin right Ash? Or so it seemed.

So you can imagine my delight when I picked up Dragons of a Summer Flame and rediscovered to my delight that Raistlin appears in this book as well! Yayee! Still snappy, intriguing and totally mysterious, despite exhibiting disconcerting signs of an ability to love and care. Disconcerting because I loved his enigmatic personality of old, that intensity of ambition and power. Ah well, noone comes close to Raistlin in the area of well-loved evil villains, EVER! And I'm sure countless others will agree with me on that. Tanis? Nah. Tasslehoff? Hmmm, maybe, just maybe. The kender is wholly adorable and loveable.

In other news, I have no idea why I bothered to stay late last night. This morning, I got to office late and twiddled my thumbs until now with nothing pressing to do. What is so urgent that it can't be done tomorrow, right? Ah well, working with a bunch of paranoid and perfectionist workaholics does have a warping effect on you.

Intermediate-advanced Salsa is a whole lot of fun! And now that I've gotten myself a pair of bling-bling, megawatt-shine dancing shoes, I can turn a lot faster now, and wear swirly skirts! While I was still tramping about in my sneakers, I felt like Princess Fiona trying to salsa on a postage stamp.

Looking forward to Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Dancing, more dancing and the gang!

Life is great, the only blight being the lack of a job. Ah well, I shall just plod on and try harder!

A stray...

Today, I did something rather out of character.

Never one to go overly gushy over animals, I actually knelt down today and scratched a stray cat on its neck, chin and body. The cat, let's call it Bai, was as beautiful as stray cats got; a smooth, snowy white pelt of fur that would have marked it as pedigree if not for two patches of gray near its behind. Nevertheless, it cut a most elegant, though lonely figure on the topmost step of the staircase landing. A long-nurtured abhorrence of loneliness and a certain something within me that had always remotely protested our indifference towards strays gave way, and I found myself on bended knees caressing Bai.

After some time, I got up and proceeded to walk back home, only to find Bai rubbing itself against my shin. It got up when I did, padded on soft paws as I climbed the stairs, and followed me to my unit. My heart almost broke when I unlocked my door and let myself into my house, leaving Bai mewing and whining outside. Before I shut my door, I stared at the cat for a while, and clear black eyes rimmed with a brilliant yellow stared back intensely, unblinkingly. Then suddenly, the cat stretched and yawned, and for a heart-stopping moment, that endearing pointed little face transformed into the face of a tiny tiger cub ready to strike.

Then it mewed again.

This time, I shut my door. But I can't keep the cat out of my mind.

I want to...

fly on the broad, scaly back of a metallic dragon of Krynn.
A scholarly or mage-ish Gold that breathes fire and chlorine gas would be great. Silver's a good second choice, since they can shape-shift into humans. I would just love to sit down in a crowded tavern, drinking dwarf spirits brewed by gully dwarves, with a silver in human form, then enjoy the screams and chaos that will ensue when the Silver shape-shifts back into its dragon form.

If I can't have a metallic dragon of my own, I would want a chromatic dragon. Preferably either White or Black. The Whites can breathe frost, how cool is that, and the Blacks are fiercely independent, like how I want to be. Somehow, I feel the other chromatic dragons like the Blues, Reds and Greens will look like wrongly-colored Barneys.

Perhaps, as my dragon steed spreads its massive wings and bears me away on its strong, unfailing back, I can pretend that I am almost near enough to the cousin moons of Solinari, Nuitari and Lunitari.
Close enough to reach out my puny fingers and dabble in the soft, swirling mists of their mighty magical realm, worshipped by many, including the most fascinating Raistlin Majere. He of the hourglass-shaped golden eyes, the golden skin, the single-mindedly self-serving ambition borne perhaps of his consuming devotion to his craft, the complex and multi-layered personality.

The mention of this mage brings to mind the gully dwarves, to whom Raislin seemed to have shown the most tenderness and compassion in his entire life. They are truly the embodiment of stupidity and cowardice, and sadly, most of them live out their lives in wretched service to others.

I long to visit the elven woods of Silvanesti and Qualinesti, bear witness to the beauty of trees coaxed to grow tall, majestic and unfailingly lovely by the loving words and tender care of their elven masters. What a joy to the soul it must be to lay down on the softest moss of the river bank and listen to waves lapping gently over one another, breathing in the sharp, intoxicating scent of roses and lilacs. The sight of an elven maid with the
heart-stopping beauty of the Golden General, Lauralanthalasa, ought to cap off the pleasures of the elven experience.

There are so many wonders in the world of Krynn, the world of Dragonlance, such as the kenders, minotaurs and the Gods, just to name a few, that I can't put words to them.

Such is the genius of the authors and magical thrall of Dragonlance, that leaves me eagerly anticipating each and every new book in the main series, and takes my soul a willing captive. Amber & Ashes, the first in a new trilogy by Weis, marks my next agonising wait for the paperback version. I really have no words to describe how thrilled, and almost grateful that Weis has decided to give life to the main Dragonlance story after War of Souls.

Suffice to say that I must really thank Skunk for challenging me way back to give up Eddings for Weis and Hickman.

The regional whipping boy...

For such a tiny country that relies almost exclusively and solely on its human resources and has precious little by way of political clout or might, Singapore seems to have an amazing ability to incur the wrath of its neighbours on a fairly regular basis.

It used to be remarks like 'small red dot', 'an irritating pimple that refuses to burst' (wow how graphic, every girl who has gone through an acne-ridden teenage phase can certainly imagine the huge pain in the arse people imagine Singapore to be) and 'fair weather friends who are by our side only when times are good'.

Now, we have been likened to being 'as small as a little piece of dried mucus (pi sai)' and accused of 'licking China's testicles (lampa)'. By no less august a personage than THE Foreign Minister of Tai-blardy-Wan somemore, well done! Out with the photoshopped, euphemized diplomatic bullshit; In with the blemished, un-airbrushed heartfelt sentiments!

Like what a dear friend says, what else can you expect from a country whose Parliament can't even conduct a Parliamentary session without breaking out into brawls worthy of boorish drunks plied to their gills with stout and gin in an Irish pub? Not to mention my own personal conviction that Hokkien is one dialect that sounds somewhat vulgar and unpleasing to the ear, so what more its obscenities and vulgarities right.

Factor in those Taiwan-produced grossly melodramatic series, like Ah Seng or Fiery Thunderbolt, stretching past 2000 episodes or so, which incidentally fill many a Pi-Sai and Lam-Pa Singapore housewive's afternoons and essentially contain loads of weeping and incest, and one must really forgive the supposedly most intelligent of Taiwan citizens for being prone to episodes of mental imbalance and outbursts of rudeness.

I just can't wait for the next great insult. What will it be this time?
Fucked-up bitch?
Or, *gasp*, Hokkien for the female genitalia?
How exciting! I suppose now's one of the best time to peruse TalkingCock for gems that the gifted people over there have possibly come up with.

Off I go!

*Note: i'm not one to be too delicate in print in times of agitation, despite my supposedly gentler gender, so do forgive me if this posting offends your sensibilities.
Not that I particularly care though.
There, you have it, the unblemished truth!