The Politics of Food, Weight and Women

Post CNY binging guilt, I found myself at the gym tonight and the whole place was PACKED to the brim - with lots more women than men. It got me thinking about how many of them were there because they were thinking of that last 10 pieces of bak kwa or pineapple tart that they were wishing desperately would leave their systems.

I swear the big difference between men and women is that men never feel the need to apologise or justify for what they eat. But women seem hardwired to feel some kind of compulsion to explain themselves when it comes to issues of food, weight and their appetite. Women with large appetites get the once-over from other women, "Wow. You can really eat a lot eh." (which can come with a loaded hint that a proper woman should not eat like a piggish man) Women with small appetites also get the once-over,"Eh, why you eat so little. You on a diet?" (of which, then comes an embarrassed revelation "Yes I am on a diet" akin to a confession of moral weakness)

Take the simple statement: "I don't want to eat carbs."
This is sometimes followed up with either a sheepish "I know I sound stupid and neurotic" look or a smug "yeah, cos carbs are BAD for you" or even a challenging "wanna make something out of it?" or perhaps a long explanation of why such an earth-shattering decision was made.

What's even more interesting is how women respond to such statements by other women.

Take the typical "I put on so much weight/I am fat" which will be instantly followed by either an encouraging chorus of "No, no, you are not fat." or a mini contest of ego-battery "No, please, look at MY THIGHS. I am fatter than you. No way you are fat cos what does that make me?" - It's like this strange tactic of affirmation by self-demolition.

Seriously, I wonder why men's heads don't explode from trying to navigate the female brain's complex wiring around the most seemingly mundane (to the men) issues.

The reason why questions like "Honey, do I look fat in this?" or statements like "I put on so much weight" sound so loaded is because it is loaded with a whole minefield of neuroses. The mundane statements touch on far more profound questions beneath the surface: about self-respect, fear of being mocked etc. It doesn't even seem to matter if you are skinny or fat, or put on a whole bunch of weight or lost a bunch of weight - every girl has had to deal with the politics of how to give or take in conversations revolving around food, weight and looks.

Of course, I am just as neurotic about all this as the next woman - thankfully a little less neurotic than I was in my nutjob teen years.

SB offered me a cream puff today, "Do you want a cream puff?"

Thinking of my post CNY guilt, I answered sheepishly,"Ya. But I don't think I can."

SB laughed," Don't be silly lah. Have a cream puff."

When I gave him another helpless shrug and said, "Cannot." He rolled his eyes, "Women. You are all crazy."

Yep, that we are. :)

Ah for the freedom of being a man, eating like a pig and then patting his belly proudly with his buddies. Seriously, there seems to be alot more jollies in a pack of men sharing the woeful beginnings of a pot belly. It's like a mutual "Buddy-boys, it's all down hill from here. Let's go get a prata."

It seems like in a guy's world, things are just more black and white and objective.
Pot belly = Pot belly

whereas in the girl's world, all things have strings attached.
Pot Belly = I have no self-control/I am not attractive/I am useless/I am not sexy/I am a loser/I am not as good as my friends.

Funny thing is - I suspect that when we are talking about issues of career, work and money-making, the roles might be reversed. as in girls will not take earning less than peers, or getting sacked as harshly as their male equivalents.

Hmmm....food for thought. :)

We Have a Wiener!

We Have a Wiener!
Originally uploaded by thejacksons.

this is so hilarious.....what is it about plastic googly eyes that appeal to us? i mean stick a pair on practically anything and it will reduce even a grown man to giggles - okay , at least a smirk of repressed giggles.

Comedian and cook, Amy Sedaris organised this craft contest - i think that is SO brilliant. we should all have a googly plastic eye craft party. so cute.

Visit the rest of the competitors entries at
http://www.flickr.com/groups/sedariscraftchallenge/pool/

i will keeeeeees you

happy valentine's day. :)
(courtesy of cuteoverload.com - my secret comfort food)

what did you do when you were young?

2 weekends ago, some of us were making the last minutes of sunday stretch by swapping childhood memories. It was amazing how light-hearted and happy we got just by recalling past silliness. Nostalgia has a magic of its own. Somehow reminiscing about the past is such a human way of forming connections: it's always interesting to get the know what someone was like before you had ever met them.

We discovered surprising little links between the hijinks we got up in school to what we were ended up doing as careers. The irrepressible Redbeanfish was devising codes for her little Famous Five gang to communicate in; enterprising CL was once hauled up by her primary school teacher for being an illegal sticker seller: she had rubbed her mother's perfume on ordinary stickers to latch onto the then-popular "scratch-and-sniff" sticker craze' ; I was always creating stuff to share with my classmates: I cut bad albums with badly written lyrics superimposed on popular songs. I created magazines full of hand-drawn pictures of my childhood mates as celebrities exiting out of limos, hand in hand with hot guys. I had a flourishing little business where I made paper dolls for friends and regularly updated the dolls' wardrobes with new fashion lines of paper clothes.

We also discovered surprising propensity for mischief that lay behind mild mannered faces: A used to make flying leaps off her family balcony in defiance of her screaming mother; SpyMaster used to hide snails in unsuspecting provision shop owners' deep freezers, in between launching water bombs on innocent passerbys.

There were also anecdotes of how childhood shaped your ethical outlook: I will always remember how I cheated on my chinese exam in Primary Six. My chinese teacher had seen through my pathetic attempts to cover up and chose not to reprimand me during the exam. Instead, after all papers were handed up and all people had left, she took me aside to tell me she saw everything I did and told me never to cheat again. It was pure grace. I never expected it from a chinese teacher I had always associated with fiercely knitted brow, tightly pursed lips and a red pen of fury. I never cheated on a test ever again.

You gladly leave some things behind in childhood: your secret and ill-thought crush on Jordan Knight from NKOTB, your deep desire to go for a Richard Marx concert, your notion that Richard Clayderman was the classiest music on earth, your ill-fitting pinafores.

But some things you should just never let go: your irrepressible search for cheap fun, your belief that a good day is always just around the corner, the simple presumption that you were creative and the notion that all you needed was to make the most of today. Tomorrow would worry for itself.

As to all my friends: I raise a glass of ribena (or if you prefer, lukewarm banana-flavoured UHT milk in square little cartons sitting in the sun) to all our todays and tomorrows. Grow like a Champion, Grow.

How glad I am for such lovely company along the way. :)

A form adequate to its content

I was following a trail of google crumbs when I found Jeffrey Overstreet's blog and his thoughts on Eugene Peterson's Eat This Book:

"Honest stories respect our freedom; they don't manipulate us, don't force us, don't distract us from life.
Not all stories, of course, are honest. There are sentimentalizing stories that seduce us into escaping from life; there are propagandistic stories that attempt to enlist us in a cause or bully us into a stereotyped response; there are trivializing stories that represent life as merely cute or diverting..."

The Peterson quote continues "...The Christian life requires a form adequate to its content, a form that is at home in the Christian revelation and that respects each person's dignity and freedom with plenty of room for all our quirks and particularities."

Overstreet muses quite aptly about the Peterson quote, "There's a whole discussion waiting to happen, just from that quote. "A form adequate to its content." He's talking about the Christian life, but let me tell you... if more Christian artists came to understand that the form of their work is as important as the content, we would have a new rennaissance of artmaking.

I don't know how many times I've received emails in which someone has protested my critique of a mediocre "Christian movie" or "Christian music" saying, "But Jeff, your focus is in the wrong place. It doesn't matter how good the art is so long as the message is good."

Wrong. If we package the message in mediocrity, we show it disrespect, and worse, we make it unappealing to those we would desire as an audience.

The form and structure of the Bible is awe-inspiring. The forms and structure of God's creation... from the ocean to the human body to a hummingbird... are awe-inspiring, excellent, beautiful, and meaningful. In the same way, great art lasts and speaks to us because of its excellence. And there is no art more lasting and powerful than great art inspired by, and reflecting back, God's Word. In fact, the meaning of great art and the excellence of great art are inseparable. They are very much the same thing."

On that note, Tim Jackson from relevant magazine weighs in with another quotable quote. He is comparing a Christian production called Facing the Giants and Stranger Than Fiction, "Facing the Giants doesn’t tell a story so much as it builds a case. Giants is an infomercial for a brand of Christianity. From the moment it starts to its never-in-doubt conclusion, it does what all advertising does: sells. The pitch is clear: Buy Jesus now and as a bonus He’ll fix everything broken in your life.
Art often begins with a question that propels us on a journey to discover the answer. Advertising begins with an answer—whether certain or dubious—and creates questions to lead us to that answer. Stranger Than Fiction is art, even if it’s fluffy pop art. No matter how well made or how sincere the intent, Facing the Giants is essentially a commercial.

I love it when people put words to my thoughts. Saves me hours of pondering and keyboard pounding. Plus usually they do such a spiffy job of summing it up. :)

I will kill to see a well-made film that is sensitive, truthful and balanced about Christ/Christians that does not see the need to hit people with a mighty sledgehammer.

The best theatre productions, films, artwork or books that I have seen about Christians/Christ have very strangely been done by non-Christians. The Christian produced ones just seem so...overloaded/overdone/overwrought....with agenda.

Well sure there is The Passion of the Christ - which I admit I did cry but that was more because of my vested sentiment as a christian and just the sheer brutality of the torture scenes. I did not think Passion was great for pretty much the same reasons why I cannot say Babel was great: well-shot, well-acted but ham-fisted and a little too political for my liking. The audience is pushed into a conclusion by vivid cinematography and a plot driven by the director's intentions more than the story's intentions : The audience is left with no room to discuss or ponder or choose to think any less than what the director has already pre-judged worthy of thought.

Resolution Revolution aka 2007 Resolutions - Sort of

Most people I know have given up on making New Year resolutions because they just seem so futile and ego-deflating after a while. Another year, another bunch of failures. How can anyone look forward to the new year when come January 2nd, you have already blown your precious list of resolutions by a mile?

I mean just check out this site called 43 things which keeps an updated list of top new year resolutions for 2007. Pretty keen but some rather intimidating stuff!

I was checking out my list of resolutions from a year agoand was pleasantly surprised to find out I had more or less managed to do all of them. I called the list "2006 Resolutions...Sort of" because some of them did not sound like resolutions at all to me at that point of time. It was sort of a half joking, half serious kind of list. I think the main reason why this list was one of my more successful lists was precisely because it was more of a fun than a serious list.

>>1. Get a new Powerbook once and for all. Yay!
Bought me a G5 computer! love it love it love it. Glad I waited so long before getting a new Mac. The Intel chip was worth the wait. ah, sweet hybrid bliss.

>>2. Be a humbler listener and curb instinct to be a holyschmoly smartypants!
Yeah I made a more concerted effort at that, especially with one particular friend. haha. you know who you are. :D

>>3. Actually use my PDA to organise the chaos I call my mind. Got plans? Execute, execute! and use that PDA to help!
YUP. My little PDA is pretty indispensable to me these days. And I used to call myself a non-PDA type of person!

>>4. Spend more time with my family. House not equal as hotel you know.
Yeah I improved in that in 2006. The remodelling kitchen project in December was quite reflective of that. Plus I started coming home at more regular hours nearing the end of year. :)

>>5. Get back in gym rat mode. Last year of gym membership- diedie must chao kuan use to the fullest!
OK this one was in major deprovement in 2006 given the shiploads of work and horrijible MMPORG I got introduced to. But towards late December I was slowly moving back to my 3 times a week habit again. SLOWLY.

>>6. Clean up 1/4 of the chaos I call my room (1/4 is realistic estimation I think)
1/4 was indeed cleaned up. 3/4 is still a hurricane. I think it was severe mark of improvement that I kicked of 1 Jan 2007 by cleaning up my overflowing pile of art materials and bags. The corner looks so INCREDIBLY clean and neat now that I just stare at it and block out the rest of my mess. The clean corner is SO therapeutic to look at. :)

>>7. Adopt a hamster to channel all my lack-of-a-rabbit-affections to.
I have a hamster - HAMHAM - and TWO(!) bunnie wunnie hunnies - Flopsy and Mopsy!

>>8. Share and admit to my weaknesses more often to curb instinct to play holyschmoly smartypants!
Oh yeah baby, I did this too! and learnt some super interesting things about my psychological makeup. Which deserves a whole other blog entry by itself. haha.

>>9. Stop drinking teh si like its the last drink on earth. Must...try....other....drinks.
eh failure. I think its addiction. Although this year, I did add Yuan Yang to my list but not counting it cos it is nothing more than teh si WITH coffee.

>>10. Go on One Good Date. Mwa ha ha. Insert archi insider joke.
well actually, I did kind of go on one pretty nice non-date. Date pretext was not a romantic one at all but it had all the nice ingredients of one: dinner with a cute well-dressed guy; fancy restaurant which I did not have to go dutch for; intelligent, enjoyable conversation sprinkled with good manners and compliments. So even if it was NOT A DATE, I am gonna construe it as one any way so I can rack up another resolution done. heh.

>>11. Love God. Love Neighbour. Feed Sheep.
as usual, a tough one to accomplish. getting there. more on this later.

So I have a theory about New Year's Resolutions.There should always be two lists:

-The perennial one that rarely changes, being full of big-picture, hard-to-achieve goals (like my 2006 #11 Love God, Love Neighbour, Feed Sheep").

- and the fun one that is redolent with easier-to-achieve, light-hearted goals (like my 2006 #7 Adopt a hamster")

The former list is neccessary because it reminds you year after year about what your life's goals are essentially about. It determines whether you are still heading towards the right direction. Although nobody can say with a straight face that they succeeded in living their neighbour perfectly by the end of the year, it does not mean "Love your Neighbour" should not deserve a hallowed place in anyone's list of things to accomplish. As that annoyingly twee little quote goes - "Aim for the stars and maybe you'll reach the sky."

But the latter list is just as vital because it reflects the little steps it takes to accomplish the former. For instance, my trivial resolution to buy a Powerbook was silly on the surface. But it did reflect a deeper change that I was hoping to make in myself by year end. You see, I have terrible hangups about money and spending. I used to be fairly neurotic about penny-pinching but over the years I have been learning to spend more on creature comforts and discerning what are areas worth spending money on.

The point is - we should keep the serious former list in our heads for life but every new year we should just draft the fun one and get people to draft theirs just for kicks.

The fun list of resolutions works in its fluffy little way: It is light-hearted, sincere and easy for one to look forward to accomplishing.And some how along the way you accidentally accomplish other resolutions you did not pen down but were still major milestones.

SO, this year, I am drafting yet another fun list of "2007 Resolutions - Sort of"

1. Get in touch with my inner art student again and paint one picture on a big canvas.

2. Do a Martha Stewart and refurnish the yard for my mother so it becomes a cosy ironing/laundry/storage corner.

3. Visit Italy again - Cinque Terre - and revist travelling Europe with that kick-ass hamster girl I have not made enough effort to hang out with more often over the past few years! :P

4. Enjoy my 30th birthday by throwing a semi-big shebang and finding a way to honour everyone that made me who I am 3 decades on.

5. Buy sensible flat shoes for my insensible flat feet. Stop buying pretty but nasty-to-feet shoes. (Cringe)

6. Break bread more often with acquaintances I find hard to get along with. :)

7. Go on mission trip #2: India? Ethiopia? Philipines?

8. Learn to bowl properly. Don't know what a decent average is for a raving amateur like moi, but I will settle for having a consistent rate of 5 closed frames, 5 open frames.

9. Work out 3 times a week, 1 hour each. Build up muscle tone and flexibility again.

10. Read 50 books (graphic nnovels do not count) - actually I have always wanted to know exactly how much I read. Maybe it would be fun this year to actually do a tally. :)

11. Attempt writing some fiction in new notebook with inspiring pictures friend bought me.

12. Publish magazine successfully.

13. Keep better records of how much am spending.


Wish me luck and to kick it off...i shall launch this new signature line in me blog. ha
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Now reading book #1 of 50 books for 2007:
The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana by Umberto Eco
Verdict so far: cool concept. My first Eco. :)

Thoughts on Cambodia

Before I ventured into Cambodia, it was hard for me to conceive of it being anything beyond the images left behind by the Killing Fields.

To me, Cambodia was a country forever shadowed by the Pol Pot years of famine, torture, cruelty and unbelievable political stupidity. It was difficult to see the face of the country beyond its history and its problems.

Seeing a country and its people face to face speaks volumes beyond what you read on paper. While people want sympathy in their brokenness, nobody wants to be remembered solely for their mistakes, their tragedies, their dark times. Similarly for countries. Cambodians want to move on. They do not want to just be remembered as the tragic playground for Pol Pot's egotism.

Everywhere I went in Cambodia, it was getting progressively harder to see the fingerprints of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. The poverty was still there. The many landmine victims were still there. Toul Sleng was still there. The pyramids of Cambodian skulls were still there.

But the real Cambodia seemed to call out to me to be heard. She did not want to be stereotyped as just another case study of political horror. She whispered, "Look at me. Look. At. Me. Know who I am. Not who you want me to be."

In Toul Sleng - the infamous school turned interrogation and torture centre of the Khmer Rouge, I walk past panel after panel of mugshots of the thousands who passed through the gates and never emerged again. In a room full of discarded rusting leg irons, I suddenly find a crumbling plaster bust of Pol Pot. It is moulding away, defaced and ignored by most of the tourists. I stand over it and stare at it. The feeling of helpless anger over all that Pol Pot did is overwhelming. I find that I am crying as I take photos of it. I curse it. Bastard - I think - you bastard.

In Phnom Penh, a new painfully white NOKIA shop mushroomed in the midst of a dirty street, screamed crassily, "Capitalism is here!" Fresh new billboards advertising luxury goods and dainty cafes in ubiquitous dark wood and cream leather agreed. The many street stall vendors offering fresh steamed corn, Vietnamese noodles, voluptuous milkfruit agreed.

A lovely Cambodian woman tells me in impeccable English that she works as a maid in Malaysia. She dishes out her delicately flavoured coconut fish stew for all people - me, the awkward Singaporean tourist, the sweet-faced Chinese student, the sullen decorated military officer, the construction workers. A Khmer Literature teacher sits next to me and tells me about how difficult it is to teach teenagers these days. I look at him in wonder: 20 years ago, this man would never have been able to declare aloud his affection for Literature. The Khmer Rouge would have bludgeoned him to death for that.

In the rural area of Kratie, giggling Cambodian village children ran freely in the mud - their clothes and bags are obviously donations from the First World. I count at least three shiny F4 schoolbags on my trip. Jerry Yen's beaming white mug is disconcerting in this place. Do these children know that thousands of Chinese girls swoon and scream before the feet of those four pretty boys? They do not. And they don't care. They run barefoot and bare-bodied, next to the swollen pigs and sulking cows. Their feet are fleet, their dirty teeth break out into easy grins, their eyes have not learnt the light of cynicism or boredom. Older children naturally lead the younger, admonishing them to say thank you for the little gifts we give out. These village children know riches of childhood that I suspect their wealthier counterparts have forgotten in their sterile, clean, perfumed cocoons.

A Cambodian orphan boy with the gentle eyes motions to me to make him a balloon sculpture cross. I motion to him to wait as I make balloon dogs for his friends. He waits in patience and quietly watches me twist the balloons clumsily as I pore over the instructions. The boy gracefully picks up a stray balloon and tries to mould his own cross. He fails and tries again. Fails and tries again. And succeeds, displaying his cross to me with a sweet smile. With deft, agile little movements, he shows me how to sculpt it. Then in silent partnership, he joins me and starts making balloon crosses and balloon crowns for all his little friends.

I take him aside to give him a little toy and tell the translator to praise him - that he of all the children will get this special prize because he knows how to be generous and give instead of take all the time. The boy smiles quietly and shyly wanders downstairs. The next time I see him, the little angel has given away his crown, his cross AND the little toy to the other gleeful children. I look at him in wonder, marvel at his charity and think of how Christ loved the poor old woman who gave away her copper coins.

All along he has not said a single word, but he has given me volumes to think about.

Cambodia is not Pol Pot. It is not Toul Sleng. It is not S21 or the Khmer Rouge or the Killing Fields.
It is not poverty. It is not famine.

It is all that but it is much much more.

Something of the real Cambodia is in the smile of that young boy - serene, quiet, trusting, at peace.
Something in his smile says Blessed. It is for such as him that Christ preached the Sermon on the Mount.

I think of Psalm 37:

"For evil men will be cut off, but those who hope in the LORD will inherit the land.
A little while, and the wicked will be no more; though you look for them, they will not be found.
But the meek will inherit the land and enjoy great peace.
The wicked plot against the righteous and gnash their teeth at them;
but the Lord laughs at the wicked, for he knows their day is coming."

Somewhere I romanticise. I dream, I hope - Cambodian children are laughing because the Lord has taught them to laugh in defiance at the wicked.

Evil men might have held Cambodia ransom for four bloody years. But they shall never inherit the land.

I Heart Daniel Craig

Watched Casino Royale last night.

How incredibly SEXY is Daniel Craig as the new Bond?

Daniel Craig + white short sleeve shirt + wry smile = RWWWWWWWOOOOARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

Happiness Looks Like This

I can't begin to tell you how goofily happy I get when I look at this picture. Love. At. First. Aw.

Love Actually?

Last night, we were wondering about what was the last romantic movie we enjoyed. There was some bantering about Love Actually, Pride and Prejudice, When Harry Met Sally.

Curiously, I never realized how few of those romance movies I actually love. I liked some of them not because I found them particularly romantic. In fact, my favourite scenes were those with that hard-edge of realism. Maybe it’s my inner cynic – heh.

My favourite story in Love Actually was the morose one about near-adultery - where Alan Rickman reduces Kristen Scott-Thompson to wrenching sobs over a Joni Mitchell CD. I loved Before Sunrise and Before Sunset not because I thought the relationship in there was cool – but because I liked Julie Delpy’s awkward burst of anger as she confronts Ethan Hawke about how he had left her behind when he got married. I liked 2046 for the way it painted the ugliness of secret longings and selfish love – it was fitting to see the Tony Leung character alone and morose at the end of the whole show.

Okay the exceptions - I liked High Fidelity because it was …charming. Or rather John Cusack is charming, haha. I also liked Roman Holiday because it was just sweet, old-fashioned and cute. Who can say no to Audrey on a Vespa and Gregory Peck in a suit? Gregory Peck. 1950s Man in 1950s suit, Sigh.

The one fairly recent serious romantic movie I like is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I thought the ending was quite genuinely romantic. It was a screen relationship that I actually thought was worth rooting for. The whole movie cleverly used the metaphor of a memory-erasing technology to show how a beautiful, realistic love story has to be built upon remembering the good and the bad about each other. It was quite sweet to see the two leads tentatively agree to fall in love with each other again after reliving all the best and worst memories of their relationship.

I guess I am generally picky about films- especially when I have to shell out $8 for them. J Films that have managed to grab me successfully over the past few years all had to be pure fun (X-men, Batman Begins), clever or at least brutally realistic (Hotel Rwanda. The Constant Gardener).

On a tangent – I realize all my favourite “clever” films used a fantastical device to make a strangely grounded, frank observation about the things that we do to each other and to ourselves: American Beauty, Unbreakable, Eternal Sunshine, Memento, 2046, The Matrix (only the first) and now The Prestige. It is quite funny how appropriate analogies and metaphors are in talking about the human condition!

Currently reading: Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi
Thinking of reading: John Le Carre’s The Constant Gardener, Persepolis 2

the prestige: vengeance and the death of self

I watched The Prestige last week for director Chris Nolan and writer Jon Nolan. The Nolan brothers’ Memento is one of my fave movies of all time. Christopher and Jon Nolan must be an interesting pair of brothers: their work shows a Gothic fixation with Man’s inherent unreliability and propensity for the darkest kind of self-deception, obsession and egoistic self-deception.

Although I kind of saw the twist in the Prestige coming, I still was taken aback by the clever playing out of the Nolan brothers’ favourite Gothic theme. It’s one of the most genuinely disturbing endings I have seen in a while. I don’t think you can watch The Prestige for its ‘twist’ alone because the twist is fairly obvious after a while and can be unsatisfying if you don’t appreciate the odd mix of old-fashioned story-telling and sudden introduction of science-fiction that traditionally requires suspension of reality.

Memento was a tribute to the fickleness of memory: how it colours the way we perceive our grievances, moulds our selves and defines the lives we end up living. Memento succeeded at two levels: it was an old-fashioned Gothic story about the dark horror of Man’s capability for self-deception and murderous; it was also an intelligent noir detective thriller. Likewise, The Prestige is both a Gothic study of Man’s dark heart as well as a sci-fi/thriller/drama.

Once you get past the sci-fi device, The Prestige is a film that really gets you thinking about the horror of vengeance and how far we are willing to kill our Selves to get there. Although the ending would have us believe Angiers (Jackman) to be worse, I don’t think Fallon/Borden (Bale) is supposed to be any better.

Angiers kills himself literally and figuratively in his desperate search to be the best magician, to earn the adoring of the crowd. He sacrifices his human identity, his love for his wife and the possibility of love with a new woman. Worse, he knows what he is doing: he chooses blind stage hands backstage so that they cannot see the horror of his sin. Borden/Fallon kill themselves figuratively – they never experience true love for they sacrificed honesty in their relationships with family, friend and lover. They too have blended two lives so well that they lose their identity and no longer know who they actually are anymore.

The recurring questions in the show centre around “Are you willing to dirty your hands?”, “Do you know what sacrifice means?”. After all the clever pyrotechnics of this film have faded away, these questions I think remain far more outstanding. At the bottom of all their self-justification and pain, both Angiers and Borden/Fallon are essentially the same - impulsive, self-destructive, self-mutilating and willing to cheat on their nearest and dearest to get exactly what they want. Even the ‘happy’ ending where Borden/Fallon gets his daughter back is tainted. His daughter – like his wife/mistress - never had him and apparently never will truly have him as long as the wall of deception never drops.

7 Up

Have been wondering, if the 7 UP documentary people made a story about my life, what would it sound like?

7 Up
was a: shy, colour-pencil toting, paper doll loving Primary One kid
dreamt of being: a kickass magic-using superspy
fell in love with: Bob the Pianist on Sesame Street
coveted: Barbie dolls from Toys R'Us Katong

14 Up
was a: awkward, nerdy Secondary Two girl with perfunctory ugly 80s specs and bad haircut
dreamt of being: Singapore's youngest comic book creator
fell in love with: Han Solo and Indiana Jones
coveted: more Xmen comics

21 Up
was a: wannabe fresh graduate from architecture swinging between idealism and angsty cynicism
dreamt of being: anything but an architect
fell in love with: the boy next door and the not-so boy next door
coveted: a cool job, an uber babe body and a dreamy boyfriend

28 UP
was a: gal with a pretty cool job
dreamt of being: a better person
fell in love with: God again and again
coveted: a kinder mouth and a more honest heart ( a classy funky wardrobe and a swinging singleton appartment of my own. lol. )

I wonder what's gonna happen in
35 UP, 42 UP and 49 UP? :)

Isn't it scary to imagine how your life would look like on film? I hope mine makes for a good indie movie at least - haha. I want it to have a cool-indiesque score like High Fidelity. Plus injections of classical music for the more tear-jerking moments.haha.

perhaps 70 UP will be
was a : mischievious, classy old woman with cute rabbits
dreamt of being: nothing but her own strange self
fell in love with: God again and again (and the old man next door)
coveted: a good, peaceful death (and a fabulous jacket)

I Heart Men In Suits

...which is why I find the The Sartorialist i SUCH a sexy little blog!
It's a very cool blog by a guy in New York who takes street pictures of well-dressed, funky people that he spots in cities. I love his blog because it's not bitchy (like Go Fug Yourself. heh) and quite genuine in its love for people dressing beautifully.

I love his eye for colour, texture, lines and shapes! PLUS I love it that his choices are sometimes a little unconventional
AND he has tons of examples of well-dressed guys! I swear I never knew menswear had so many delicious looking options - there are several old, bald, portly guys in his image collection who look pretty dapper.

Every guy - I SWEAR - looks gorgeous in a well-cut suit. Mmmmm. Suits.
And every guy NEEDS an amazing looking white shirt - a short sleeve white linen/cotton that associates ya with summer sunlight aas well as a long sleeve, snazzy collared one that says crisp, professional and 'bring me home to your mama'

I think I secretly want to shop for guys.

singapore has a similar street fashion blog but its unfortunately just focused on teenagers - The Clothes Project

I am not a true blue fashionista, seeing as to how I am:
1) too stingy to buy the uber quality stuff
2) too inconsistent to dress up all the time
3) too hands-on muck-about to have manicures/pedicures/high maintenance hairdos

but I do LOVE staring at pretty pictures of people who really know how to work a look and style an outfit that says who they are. Thanks to the weather and the general bo-chap culture of Singapore, not many people care to dress up. But oh I get such a KICK (!) when I spot well-dressed people.

Okay - shall go back to reality of classroom now.

Still fantasising about my $167 Mango 1950s jacket and $119 Zara silk dress that I spotted with redbeanfish. :_(
I want. I want. I want. I need to get a more exciting life to justify those buys. haha.

Documentaries I wanna watch!

1) Deliver Us From Evil
a pedophile ex-priest talks about the cover-up of sexual abuse in the Catholoc Church


2)Fast Food Nation
an insight into the modern fast food industry

3)So Goes the Nation
a look at how America's electoral process can be manipulated. Case Study: Kerry vs Bush elections


4)49 Up
The seventh film in a series of landmark documentaries that began 42 years ago when UK-based Granada’s WORLD IN ACTION team, inspired by the Jesuit maxim “Give me the child until he is seven and I will give you the man,” interviewed a diverse group of seven-year-old children from all over England, asking them about their lives and their dreams for the future.

5)Jesus Camp
A look at the increasingly militant Evangelical Christian movement in America.

Two Nudes in Repose

I have caved in and gave my bunnies official names.
Light brown one is called Flopsy aka Flopflop, Flops, flooooooopy, flopita, boy-boy, pui-pui
Dark brown one is called Mopsy aka Mopmop, mopey, girl-girl, kiki

Flops lurves to lollop around and flop around the room like the diva-leader that he is.
Mops is developing quite a personality: she seems like a quiet follower at first, happy to cuddle up to Flops and follow him around as he takes the lead in recce-ing any new space.

But when left to her own devices, Mops is a far more insidious invader of space - no corner is left pellet-less. And she has found new hidey holes i never thought existed in my room.

Privately, I think Mops is the more intelligent though morose of the two.
Flops is the happy go lucky, brash little stud.

heh heh.

Dont you just love how Mops lies down like a human being? So cute.

Birthday Bunny Bonanzaaaaa!

Signs that the week is off to a pretty cute start.....
i walk into office and get what i always wanted for YEARS.

my own BUNNY RABBITS!!!!!! :)

they are dwarf lops - courtesy of my long-suffering partners in crime who have decided that it is ok for the office to have furry things lollop around.

they have no names yet. Although Pui Pui is becoming a hot favourite for the light brown cutie.

Any ideas? :)

yay. bunnies forever.

Signs that people are truly bored :)

1) there actually is a website dedicated to people who are zhng-ing their favourite snacks.....into MEGA BIG versions. ha


PIMP THAT SNACK!

2) here's another gem with a nasty name that says it all:
GO FUG YOURSELF

dedicated to running down the ugly dresses that Paris Hilton and all other celebs inflict on us poor mortals.

i confess: i read them! guilty pleasure! bolded, underlined, italicised guilty pleasure. lol.

sigh. i am so easy.

Through the Barricades

I have been doing a lot of mulling over what makes human relationships deep and meaningful. It's crazy how many walls - conscious and unconscious - that we erect around our precious selves. When I look deep within my own self, with the revealing light of God's truth looming before me, I see an internal labyrinth of twists and turns. I am guilty of much of what I am gonna talk about for sure.

The psychologist Larry Crabb talks about how deeply hurtful the sin of self-protection is - and yet not many of us are unaware of the fact that it is a sin. We claim we have the right to "protect ourselves" or say with total sensibility "we cannot expect to be best friends with everybody". It sounds absolutely logical and looks absolutely logical to keep people at arm's length. It sounds almost too convenient.

Sometimes I think being nice and polite can be insufferable and frustrating. Being nice and polite, we sometimes refrain from saying what is always on our minds. It does not mean that we should be aggressive, rude or in-your-face. Nice and polite has a place and time.

BUT sometimes our being 'nice and polite' and 'sensitive' can be convenient excuses to stay indifferent to another person. We don't want to create trouble. And God FORBID, we get involved!

We don't want to go into the uncharted scary territory of offence and in doing so, we create opportunities for ourselves to become hypocrites.

Some of us are scared of OFFENDING another person. So we keep our mouth shut and keep our grouses within in the name of 'niceness'. Yet, we get disdainful and arrogant about how 'touchy' and 'closed up' the person is. Or worse, we gossip with others about why he/she is so touchy.

The question here to answer honestly is : Why don't we attempt to push past the person's barricades and find out how they are and what they think?

Some of us are scared of BEING OFFENDED by another person. So we keep our mouth shut around the type of people who aggravate us the most in the name of 'niceness'. Yet, deep within, we fester with resentment about being forced into a closeted, constrained kind of life by such 'nasty, insensitive' people - we grumble ironically about a closet we actually created for ourselves.

The question here to answer honestly is: Why don't we let down our barriers and let others see our thoughts - ugly as they are?

It is funny how often we deliberately choose not to engage deeply with people. And be driven to despair with the lack of deep engagement. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy, a tragic comedy of sorts. The one thing we demand of people, we are not willing to give of ourselves to make it happen.

So many of us hunger so deeply for real, genuine heart-to-heart, deep-calls-out-to-deep relationships. We read up books and hear sermons telling us how to do so but nothing penetrates - especially when the books and sermons sound like meaningfullly offered but flat instructions.

It's like handing our recipies to starving people - they don't want to know the instructions of how to make a meal, they want the meal itself. There is something very wrong and very sad when all people have heard the preaching about Love THY Neighbour and yet not all people can testify that they have felt that Love.

Jesus tells us to Feed our sheep. Not tell them how to feed themselves. Or hope that other people will feed them.

Why are we so scared of crossing the barricades we erect around ourselves?
Why do we erect so many barricades around us?
Why do so many of our words and conversations rotate around and around the desire for genuine relationships and genuine love and yet we never dare to do anything about it?
Why do so many of us pin an obsessive hope for a soulmate to come along as if the perfect husband or wife will solve our deep hunger for real relationships?

Why are we so scared to lose the life that we have? The peaceful, feel good life of non-confrontation?
Why do we cling on so tightly to our privacy?
Our life without fights, difficult conversations and awful truths?

Could it be that deep relationships only happen if we let go of 'polite niceness', speak words of truth IN LOVE - embrace the possibility of fights, difficult conversations and awful truths which may actually open doors for deeper relating?

Luke 9:24 records for us Christ's intoxicating words:
"For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it."

Christ demanded that we give up all earthly things in our life. I don't think he meant just the surface tangible stuff. I think he meant the difficult parts as well - ego, esteem, privacy, vulnerability.

It does not mean we should bare our souls like modern Pharisees, proclaiming loudly in the streets "Look how brave and vulnerable I am!!!! Oh so godly!!!! and honest!!" That's repulsive and reeks of showmanship.

I mean we should have a disarmament. We should lay down our defenses and surrender our need to protect our lives. And say the honest thing, even if that lays everything vulnerable before another.

The writer Frederick Buechner felt this keenly as he struggled through his father's suicide. He wrote a book that quotes King Lear in its title, "Speak What We Feel (Not What We Ought To Say): Reflections on Literature and Faith."

Like all Shakespearen tragedies, King Lear involves miscommunication of epic proportions. Lear has his daughters compete for their inheritance by judging who can proclaim their love for him in the grandest possible fashion. Cordelia finds that she is unable to show her love with mere words. While her elder sisters posture and preen about their love to their happy father, Cordelia says in a famous quiet aside that goes on to start the tragedy going:

"What shall Cordelia speak?
Love, and be silent."

Though traditionally seen as the epitome of goodness in the play, Cordelia is not as innocent as we think. Her general silence - dare we say 'wimpiness - about how she feels about such mistreatment and injustice really does contribute somewhat to how much her wicked sisters get away with.

At the end of the play, among the dead bodies of both the heroes and villains, the Duke of Albany says with great regret:

"The weight of this sad time we must obey,
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say."

In short : the truth of our dark times must be told, whether or not it is what others want to hear.

Buechner himself ends off his poignant book with this encouragement:
"Fear not. Be alive. Be merciful. Be human.
And most unlikely of all:
Even when you can't believe,
even if you don't believe at all,
even if you shy away at the sound of his name,
be Christ."

Christ was able to talk to everyone with BOTH truth and love.

He never feared vulnerability or testing other people's pretence at invulnerability.

Surely, we who know and love Christ, and claim to be his disciples - should try to do the same?

How much of our own life do we still want to keep for ourselves? And for what purpose honestly?
How much are we willing to pour out at the feet of others irregardless of whether they trample upon them or not?

I want to see real change in relationships.
But first, it starts off with taking a real good look at how to change ME.

I am serious about this: If you know me personally, and if you have things you want to make me aware of - like how I frustrate you, or how I am insensitive to you - please let me know. :)

I am truly willing to disarm and learn. And die die humble myself. So call me out if I get defensive.

And if it gets ugly, it gets ugly. Love and Truth will deal with it.

God will make sure I am ready to hear about my inner ugliness. :)

"He takes us as we are but does not leave us as we are"

I just wanted to blog. primarily to remember that line in the conversation.

++++

Under the light fall of stray raindrops, with the bright glare of a spotlight from a corner window
over bowls of over-sweet Rochor bean curd, we talked about what it means to follow Christ.

B was worried that he would never be sincere enough to become a Christian. Earnestly worried and deeply troubled by how hard God was pursuing him, he wondered, "How can I ever be genuine enough to pray to God? I have no face to meet him."

I groped for words adequate to express how I felt about it and said,"It's true and that's the sincerest thing we can tell God - I am sorry. I have no face to meet you. I am an awful piece of crap. and I need you."

R piped up with her sweet voice,"God takes us as we are."

I followed with,"God takes us as we are....but He does not leave us as we are. That is His grace to us."

B sat thoughtfully and mused,"I don't know how to pray though."

Glad that Jesus himself taught us how to pray then in Matthew 6, we shared the Lord's Prayer with B.

It's a beautiful prayer that says everything that matters to a tired heart, weary with longing for perfection.

"Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us today our daily bread.
Forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one."

No matter how lousy I feel about myself, I can rest knowing that He gives me daily strength and deliverance.

God, thank you for taking me as I am. Thank you more for not leaving me as I am.

I need to remember tonight's words more often. :)

Confessions of a Brother of the Prodigal Son

When I was 22 and living out on my own, I was obsessed with the idea of going out to make One Big Mistake.

It was a really perverse thought - I rationally, logically decided that life would not be complete without making that One Big Mistake that would teach you big things. It did not help that there were some friends around me then who had that same concept - that to learn from life, you gotta go out and make mistakes. True to some extent - but it can be a really insidious way of justifying many wrong things that you want to do with your life.

By some grace, I did NOT get to make my One Big Mistake. My life on paper looks pretty vanilla in some aspects.

But from time to time, I do get bitter thoughts about how much more "fun" other people had - making mistakes before turning over a new life. I sometimes -perversely - wonder why I could not have been one of those "lucky" few. Objectively, I know its a stupid thought. Emotionally, its a thought that still makes me wonder.

Sometimes when I read the story of the Prodigal Son, I see myself empathising with the angsty elder brother. God (the Father in the story) is quick to show a tremendous outpouring of grace upon people who have done a great deal of wrong. And sometimes I look at the Prodigal Sons around me - richly blessed after a life of Big Mistakes - and wonder, "So what was the whole point in me being good and all for, God?! I mean, why don't I get rewarded for staying good?!"

And that's the whole reason why C.S. Lewis said Pride is arguably the biggest sin.

What's even uglier than Pride in one's sinfulness is Pride in one's 'goodness' - "Look at me! I am Good! Yeah Baby! Check out how GOOOOOD I AM! I am gooder than you'll ever be, punk."

In Luke 15, the angsty goody goody brother of the Prodigal Son yells," 'Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!'"

But the father (God) replies "My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' "

I admit - I am jealous of the Prodigal Sons around me. I wish I had a taste of life on the Bad side even if I rationally know that's the last thing I want to wish on myself. I wish I could get double the gifts from God for "being in God's good books" I want to get "paid" for being good.

But God doesn't work that way. God's Kingdom is not a meritocracy. Just because you extra good, you don't get extra goodies. God is fair. Every one who comes to Him gets richly paid - whether they came early or came late into His Kingdom. And I must NEVER begrudge anyone that!

Celebrate and be glad for how richly God chooses to bless even the most Prodigal of Prodigals.
And just find delight in living for God's sake rather than my own sake.

That's the lesson I am still learning.

sigh - I've got a Martha Martyr complex! Gag - I am a pissy goody-goody.

Boo.