..:: Kellog ::..


Tuesday, April 29, 2003

Sketch and Etched again

I've been drawn again (Re: March 4th and March 14th 2003 entries). This time by my professor's li'll daughter Michelle. A few of us were at his office for our group presentation discussion last Friday. Li'll Michelle was there. I watched her and was reminded of how I used to visit my father at his school office all the time. And the other teachers and their students would be coming in and out, and they would all seem so big, and old. And I'll be doing the same thing, existing in my little world, drawing on any random sheet of paper, busying myself around the office: random make-believing, reading, playing...all the things that kids should be doing and should be allowed all the freedom and time in the world to do.

While we were holding our discussion, Michelle started to draw. She showed it to her father who asked her who it was and she pointed to me. I think it was by default. The other girls in the room had their hair tied up or had really straight hair.

She later gave me her portrait with my and her name on it. I'm not usually one who'd go "oh, you're so cute, such a li'll darling" to every kid I see. I mean I do think that kids have that inherent beautiful innocence. But I have no tolerence for all kids all the time. Like pets/animals, they aren't all cute. And I'm one of those who readily believes a lot of kids are annoying brats (fault of parents, not their own), and often have no patience for those who are. But this thing made my heard melt. She tapped into my narcissistic soul. AND she gave me prettier eyes.

The best thing about this story is that we got back our 2nd midterm today and this was on the back of my blue book (exam book):

At the bottom, Ken (my professor) scribbed "Unfailing excellence!". That made my day. No doubt.
kellykelly, 4/29/2003 04:08:00 am | link | 0 comments |
Two Sunrise Weekend

My weekend in a nutshell: Study, party, sunrise, study, party, sunrise, study, tv, sleep.

Got a ton of work out of the way before Keyatta's birthday party on Friday night. The party was swinging. Great music, great company.

Keyatta (back facing camera) got a sultry birthday song out of Natalie, who performed "Happy Birthday, Mrs President" for our diva:

Patrick, Chris, and Eric, our pretty boys. Scary thing is that they look hotter in real life. Damn. Pat and Eric are junior high school teachers...I don't remember -my- secondary school teachers looking like that in Singapore...

Natalie and Eric doing that whole "You're hot" "No, -you're- hot" "No, you're hot..." routine.

Pat showing Kim (R) and I (L) some good lovin'...

Chris showing Pat some good lovin'...

The after-party at Chris and Doug's apartment kept us swinging it till sunrise. When we drove away from the party, we caught this fabulous view:

I was a good girl on Saturday afternoon. We returned to Chris and Doug's. I brought my laptop and Lee Kuan Yew memoirs to get some of my paper done, while the rest enviably kicked back, chilled, napped and watched tv outside. Bah. Priorities. Hate 'em.

But Saturday night was a different story. By midnight, we were raving at 1015 where Deep Dish rocked us all night. By the time we left the club, and got some yummy post-party pizza in our tummies, the sun crept out at us for the 2nd time. I didn't bring my camera this time.

Sunday, party-Kelly turned into nerd-Kelly once again. This time, we headed over to Natalie's place in Oakland. While I slaved over my paper at this pretty lovely corner...

...the guys slaved over the BBQ and the kitchen...I like the colors in this house.

After the awesome dinner, we kicked back and watched an hour of the Simpsons and Princess Mononoke. I took a photo of this trippy glow from the heater and the tv from where I was sitting:

Glorious weekend...again. It sure does make friggin' Monday harder to return to. Thank god for Wednesday Qool parties...the upcoming weekend getaway to Santa Barbara. Damn, I am a lucky fucker, aren't I?
kellykelly, 4/29/2003 03:37:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Thursday, April 24, 2003

Roughneck citation

And I forgot to mention:

The birthday dinner was held at Doug's (who shared the same birthday as me) place in Nob Hill. Parking as usual was impossible. So we pulled up into the apartment's driveway and left a message for the landlord which Patrick assured me was common practice for them. When we left, there was a friggin' SFPD parking ticket on my window shield. There was a slight commotion of "what the fuck? They can't give us a ticket! Yes they can, we're parked in a friggin' driveway! No but I've done this many times before..." until Patrick read the ticket carefully and laughed out loud. The ticket on my -red- Nissan read:

License plate number: 3WEF833
Make: Nissan
Model: Sentra
Color: Yellow
Body: Hard
Year: '69
Violation: For being a roughneck

Punks! The ticket looked completely authentic too! Both front and back was printed on the original silky plastic-y paper. Wonder where they got it.
kellykelly, 4/24/2003 10:59:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
Best Birthday

My 22nd birthday is turning out to be one of the best birthdays I've had in recent years.

I had my 1st birthday blow-candles cake with my darling brother on Sunday.
I have the coolest gift from the coolest friend that I went on a li'll adventure to pick up yesterday.
I had my 2nd birthday blow-candles cake with a bunch of great people last night.
I will be whisked away on a belated weekend getaway next weekend to Santa Barbara.

Me happy. Very.
kellykelly, 4/24/2003 02:22:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

Tuesday, April 22, 2003

Last minutes...

I have a few minutes left to being a 21 year-old. There was something fun about saying "I'm 21". (You either get the wink-wink-raised-eyebrows or the cradle-snatcher-baulking.) There's that whole element of girl coming into womanhood, maturing yet not quite, sprinkle of girl-gone-wild propensities, the social passport to occassionally succumb to those propensities, the excuse to be frivolous, youth, youth, youth, merriment, energy, sparkle, life, joy, newness, novelties.

And then there's 22 after that. You step into your twenties for sure, no hmms-wells-buts about that. I'm at the age where all the new celebrities are younger than me. I'm supposed to be worried about wrinkles, cellulite, and whatever skin conditions people get when they get older. Given that I have -zero- beauty regime discipline, I am supposed to be worried. I use the same bar of Dial soap (oh that miracle cleaner! None of that icky moisturizer filmy after-feel where I have to rinse and rinse and never seem to be able to get rid of that film) for my face and body. I slap on the same moisturizer (Jergen's) all over and that's all I'm prepared to do. I've tried...I've tried to do that cleanse, tone, moisturize, eye-cream, hand cream, body cream, hair conditioner, leave-in conditioner, blow drying, hair straightening, hair curling, volumizers, hair serums, manicure routines. But I decided to stop trying because I just can't be bothered. It always falls back into just that one bar of Dial soap one bottle of shampoo (no conditioner) and one bottle of moisturizer for me. It seems to work now. "But of course" older-than-21-year-olds scoff bitterly. "You are 21. You get away with anything." So do I have to slip into high-maintenance gear now and gather together necessary pre-emptive creams and lotions?

Screw what I'm supposed to do or feel, all that bullshit. I actually do look forward to turning 22: having less of 'Emma' slip ups (Re: Saturday), having more experiences, being more experienced. And getting closer to the age-group 35-40 where I'm supposed to hit my sexual peak. Bring it on!
kellykelly, 4/22/2003 02:21:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
Queen of Cake

Sunday night, I met my dear brother at the Palo Alto Straits Cafe (where my bro works part-time) for dinner. It was cute seeing how popular my brother is with his co-workers. I'm not surprised. He's the most likeable person ever. Like a cute teddy bear everyone loves. We had SO much food! Satay, roti prata, black pepper crab, salmon 'otah' and 2 servings of samosa (the 2nd one came free cos his Mexican buddies in the kitchen wanted to take a picture with me later. Nyuk nyuk.).

Best part was at the end of the meal, my brother brought out 2 mini-chocolate cakes with CANDLES on 'em! I've not had a blow-candles-birthday-cake since I left for Berkeley 2 years ago, before which my mummy never failed to get me a cake, put candles on them and made sure I got sung a birthday song (even if it was only her and me in the kitchen at midnight) and had that whole blowing out candles thing. It was so cool! I was grinning like a kid.

God, we look so genetically linked! The waiter who snapped the picture told us to say "TWINS!".

I think I clapped my hands like a li'll girl as they sang me a birthday song. I felt like a kid again. I'll probably talk about my feelings toward turning 22 on the 22nd (I'm no longer twenty-one, it's downhill from now. Although Douglas assures me my best is yet to come. I hope.) later. For now, for that night, I was joyful as hell.

My brother is COOL! =)

Not only that, I received the cutest card from my parents in Singapore:

My parents are COOL! =)

My mom said the drawing reminded her of how I used to draw as a li'll girl. The card had cute sparkly glitter things on them too.

I've hardly ever been a girly type of girl. My parents never treated me like one: they didn't tolerate any smidgen of vanity (no long hair, no frills, no pretty stuff) from me as a kid; never spoiled me; was always harsh. (Thank god for their sensibility). But I feel treated like a li'll girly princess now. And it's cute. I shall relish in it for a while. After all, I do have the "best blessings of existence".
kellykelly, 4/22/2003 07:25:00 am | link | 0 comments |
Easter Sunday

My first time celebrating Easter Sunday! Patrick's sister Natalie performed at her dad's church in San Jose, hence a bunch of us went down to spend Easter Sunday together.

The church service was entertaining. My disbelieving-ass is not a church-goer at all but I didn't mind this one: one of those non-denominational church that was not preachy nor proselytizing at all. They even had songs from e.g. 'Jesus Christ Superstar'. Traditional Christians would have baulked. I liked it.

Here's Natalie (far left) singing her heart out:

Here's her amused but very proud brother watching her on:

Here's a group shot after the service: (L-R) Chris, Pat (still glowing red from his snowboarding sunburn), Doug and the 2 Natalies in front.

Here're the Considines ("The concentration of Considines! Watch out!")

Here's me and Amin showing what Scott McKenzie meant. We were given free carnations. Amin kept his flower on the whole day till after lunch. He's hilarious:

Here's everyone post-church, sin-less and sober!

kellykelly, 4/22/2003 06:55:00 am | link | 0 comments |
Saturday Afternoon

Thus getting introspective stuff out of the way, my weekend was remarkable as usual. After arriving back to Berkeley from Tahoe on Friday night, I attended Chris' surprise birthday party a gorgeous warm Saturday afternoon. Once again, I'm glad I brought my Kelph with me because these pictures captured the warm lovely atmosphere of that party perfectly. I must say that this Canon digital elph s330 is marvelous with bright, day-time colors...and lots of bright, day-time colors there were!

So it was Chris' surprise birthday party that his girlfriend Natalie organized. It was a success. There was the whole yelling "surprise!" and everything. And no, he did not expect this and yes, he was surprised.

Inside later, Chris is thanking someone for a gift. That's his girlfriend Natalie, the hostess with the mostess. She taught in Southeast Asia for a few years and spent 2 months in Singapore. Cool chick!

It was a great party. The weather was awesome and the company was just so lovely. I like this shot that someone took of me from afar. I like the whole candid context of it, with all these people around and me in the background yet centered in the picture. I don't know what I was squinting at, but I somehow look content as I felt.

It was certainly an eclectic crowd. You can't miss the dude in the big orange hat and snake. There was a dj booth. People talking, chilling...

I asked to take a picture of her t-shirt that's advertising a sushi restaurant and the line in front says "Your fish smells like pussy". She posed as such:

And of course, pics of cute kids never turn out badly

Here's the birthday cake:

Here's some of that birthday cake on Natalie's face:

I like these aerial views I took. One candid that turned out looking like an S-shape creation.

And here's the whole happy crowd!

Stupendous Saturday. When Eric, Patrick and I left for the Canvas Gallery at 11pm, the party was still swinging.
kellykelly, 4/22/2003 05:14:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Monday, April 21, 2003


Still have TONS to write about this weekend. But before I make a list of events, I'd like to do myself a favor by writing about thoughts that hit me hard on Saturday night.

(Disclaimer: I am aware that I'm Austenizing my life right now. That whole thing about supplying my "memories with those quotations which are so serviceable and so soothing in the vicissitudes of (my) eventful" life. (Jane Austen 'Northanger Abbey') is too temptingly applicable to be unapplied. Recent events and thoughts and feelings just invoke Jane Austen lines that suit my life right now.)

I love Austen's 'Emma' like hell for the narcissistic fact that I identify myself with deeply with Emma. The novel begins with the line
"Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her."
No doubt, I'm no supermodel (who is?), but no one's called me ugly (well, not since I got contacts and took out my braces anyway). I'm no Tolstoy, but I'm not a dumb-ass. My family's definitely not rich, but I've been so well provided for. Oh, and I'm nearly (a day away) twenty-two. But like Emma, I'm enviably blessed as hell and I know so and appreciate so every single day.
Problem with having these fortunes is, like Emma, I need a good swift kick in the ass once in a while to take me down a peg or two, or to strip me of any self-deception. I'm a deep believer that the want to constantly search for self-awareness a great gift because self-deception is evil, and a pervasive evil too. Says Jane Austen in 'Emma': "Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken" I'm constantly checking myself to get ride of any bullshit that I'm doing to myself, but there's only so much self-introspection can expose sometimes. And thankfully, I've great great people in my life, parents, brother, uncle, a couple of friends, that love me enough to take me down every once in a while and I'm so grateful for them.

The circumstances of Saturday night will remain private. But I've known for a very long time that my 'Emma' revelation was impending. It was a great time while self-denial held on; but having read 'Emma' I knew that it was sooner or later that an event, someone, or someones would come along, whack some sense into me and shook some discipline in me. And it did. And it was a moment (and I hate to use this analogy) not unlike when people break down on Oprah/Dr Phil after having Oprah/Dr Phil reveal to them what they already had an inkling of. I bawled like a fuckin' baby on Saturday night. But it was my humbling moment. And I appreciated the hell out of it. And I believed even more that night that I possess "the best blessings of existence" just by opportunities to have just the most wonderful people impacting my life.

Before I warble into mawkish prose as I'm capable of, I whipped out 'Emma' and re-read the last chapters of the novel. I don't know why I do that. Maybe it's a comfort to have your personal experiences spelt out for you in such universally applicable and gorgeous words. Obviously, Emma's circumstance differ (I did not try to matchmake a Harriet to a dude that was wrong for her); but her feelings are eeriely specifically applicable. This is what struck me:

"Emma's eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating, in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient for making her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like her's, once opening to suspicion, made rapid progress.
...Her own conduct, as well as her own heart, was before her in the same few minutes. She saw it all with a clearness which had never blessed her before. How improperly had she been acting...How inconsiderate, how indelicate, how irrational had been her conduct!...It struck her with a dreadful force and she was ready to give it every bad name in the world...How to understand it all! How to understand the deceptions she had been thus practising on herself, and living under! The blunders, the blindness of her own head and heart!...
...(said Emma) 'I have very little to say for my own conduct...An old story, probably--a common case--and no more than has happened to hundreds of my sex before; and yet it may not be the more exusable in one who sets up as I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation..."

So I'd rather not have used so many dramatic exclamation points, and less lah-di-dah words like "dreadful" to describe how I felt. But you get the point.

And because I'm the fortunate, blessed bitch that I am, still the young idealistic chick like Emma, I still identify with the following, that still implies the propensity for "superior airs" that therefore calls for more of these humbling moments:

"...the only source whence any thing like consolation or composure could be drawn, was in the resolution of her own better conduct, and the hope that, however inferior in spirit and gaiety might be the following and every future winter of her life to the past, it would yet find her more rational more acquainted with herself and leave her less to regret when it were gone."

At the end of it all, I have a new appreciation for my own life. And the people around me. These wonderful wonderful people without whom I'd be so much less. See, I'm getting teary eyed and falling into eye-rolling cliches already. Throw in this Everything But the Girl mix of Mary Margeret O'Hara's 'To Cry About' and you got yourself ultimate sentimental cheese. But it's my blog. And I feel sentimental if I want to.
kellykelly, 4/21/2003 09:04:00 pm | link | 1 comments |
For My Mummy

Have TONS to write about this weekend. But first priority:


As is very obvious, I've the coolest mummy in the world. Refer to April 14 and 15 posts for evidence.

At this time, around 540am here and 940pm in Singapore, it's my Mummy's Birthday.

kellykelly, 4/21/2003 08:41:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

Sunday, April 20, 2003


Gotta love these unplanned spontaneous decisions that just work out perfectly.

7pm Thursday, I decided to take up Patrick's invite and join him and his friends at Tahoe 2hr 44min away. It was the longest single trip I've taken on my baby Sentra and the reliable li'll dah-ling failed me not, even when I hit my peak 100mph (just for a while. It was in a very open empty road. ;p) The sunset views on the way there were spectacular. I realized Sarah McLachlan Remixed was the perfect solo road trip cd for me. It had tight techno grooves to keep me upbeat and singalong lyrics for me to yellalong with (only when alone in car).

When I got there at 930pm, I had a hot and delish dinner, crackling fireplace fire and great company to welcome me. It snowed overnight and this view greeted me in the morning.

As well as 6-feet-3 Eric sitting at the doorway, like a cute li'll kid holding his mug of hot chocolate while getting his snowboarding stuff together. (He is quite a hot chocolate himself.)

While the others went snowboarding, I did what I had intended to do--the shitload of studying I intended to catch up on. Something about taking yourself 178 miles away to a cosy lodge with a beautiful view without any distractive internet access that makes one very very productive. (Ok I slipped up with an almost 2 hour phone conversation wtih Douglas. But one needs study breaks.) I finished my much-procrastinated journal entries for Adam Smith's 'Wealth of Nations' (God! That dude's one long-winded motherfucker) and started on Lee Kuan Yew's Memoirs that I've always intended to read, and now have an IAS 45 essay as an incentive to get cracking on it.

Reading LKY's memoirs felt extremely personal for me because this man created the society I grew up in. You have these big debates in the history/social sciences discipline about factors that matter. Proximate economic discipline, deeper cultural/social factors, the 'big-man' view that individuals matter. While all factors obviously matter, I do believe that the path of history is marked with frequent crossroads at which point a single decision/individual/event can shift the entire route we take. LKY epitomizes the big-man view of history for me. I can't help but feel gripped and chilled by the possibility, probability that I would not have been a blessed Singaporean girl on a scholarship in UC--Berkeley now on a spontaneous day-trip to a ski lodge in Tahoe reading this book for her IAS 45 paper.

And he obviously believes in this big-man view too. On his experiences during the Japanese Occupation: "they gave me vivid insights into the behaviour of human beings and human societies, their motivations and impulses. My appreciation for governments, my understanding of power as the vehicle for revolutionary change, would not have been gained without this experience." Although he later says that "a country needed more than a few dignified and able men at the top to get it moving. The people as a whole must have self-respect and the will to strive to make a nation of themselves", he goes on to say that "the task of the leaders must be to provide or create for them a strong framework within which they can learn, work hard, be productive and be rewarded accordingly." My interpretation (and observation of subsequent Singapore) is that to him, the country precisely needed just those "few dignified and able men at the top", nothing more, to imbue that self-respect and will. Big-man makes history.

It is perhaps interesting that I actually read Adam Smith just before that. Because Adam Smith argues for the opposite view of history: people are on a "natural" (big Adam Smith theme) course. Let them be self-interested individuals, and I will prove to you that through the rational actions of men, our society with "naturally" move on this trajectory towards an optimal society. Governments hands-off, please. Yes, manage and maintain institutions that the free markets need; otherwise, your meddling of the "natural" trajectory will fuck things up. If you try to accelerate your country, it will backfire and you will backtrack on your natural course. Then I read LKY's memoirs and I picture him chilling in his white shirt and air-conditioned office showing Smith his third finger.

Now, what I feel apprehensive about is that given my blessed, comfortable life, I find myself not disagreeing with the view that educated elites can govern well, and it's perhaps the best way for a developing country in a world where the developed rule. Circumstances today are different from West Europe's feeling around, grappling with their changes, wondering what the hell these changes that are fucking up their society are, why they are happening, how to make sense of it, blah blah blah. We have the benefits of hindsight and tons and tons of theoretical understandings and insights into how things came to be. So we're still grappling about, because the ol' insights based on different circumstances are hardly accurate blueprints for our future, but ya gotta admit that they are at the very least good compasses that let you have an inkling of where you are. Point is: Should I be apprehensive that I do believe our government that LKY created, for all its flaws and cheesiness, has done a pretty darn good job given its circumstances from 1965? Have I...gasp...been brainwashed?

Mind-fucks...comes up when you go away to the country and hermit yourself up in a cabin and read. That's how some people go crazy.
kellykelly, 4/20/2003 12:37:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Friday, April 18, 2003


Coldplay's 'Clocks' is one of those warm lovely pop/rock ballads that ends up boring me with its trite likeability.

But it's such a great song to hear remixed. It has a very warm lovely tune that is readily lapped up by techno music. Mixing it up gets rid of the boredom that comes from having heard it too much.
I heard it remixed once at 1015 many weeks ago.
When we entered 111minna at 8pm last night, Alex Whalen was throwing out that lovely piano rift in at the end of his set.
So did Jerry Bonham in his extended set.
Listening to different mixes allows me to appreciate the adaptability of that tune.
And such a pretty tune it is.
You just want to make-out to that trickling piano rift.
kellykelly, 4/18/2003 05:25:00 am | link | 0 comments |
How to Please, How to Peeve

How To Please (Me):
Borrow a pair of ski-pants from me.
Have it washed, nicely folded, placed in a nice plastic-bag upon return.
In the bag, place a small, simple, lovely card I didn't expect, with a simple thank-you-I-appreciate-it message.
The simplest, tiniest gesture that made all the difference.

How to Peeve (Me):
Ask me for my lecture notes (Bastard #1: for one lecture's worth of econ notes. Bastard #2: for 6 weeks worth of painfully jotted down and nicely typed political science notes because the ink in his notebook was washed away by the rain. Poor dear I thought.)
Do not reply after I email you my notes, even when I never expected nor asked for anything in return except a fucking email reply with 2 words "Thank you" which is what a decent person does naturally and instinctively.
Do not come up to me in class to say hey, whassup, thanks for the notes, appreciate it when I meet you in class thereafter.

You know who was drilled with never taking other people's efforts for granted and the value of showing appreciation and who weren't.
kellykelly, 4/18/2003 05:07:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Thursday, April 17, 2003

Follow-up: The Hidden Meaning behind Roughneck
(Re: 13 April 2003 entry)

It's just the sweetest thing.

My roughneck caller emails me the following:

1. An uncouth person.
2. A rowdy.
3. A member of the crew of an oil rig other than the driller

3 entries found for uncouth.
2. Uncommon; rare; exquisite; elegant. [Obs.]

Harness . . . so uncouth and so rish. --Chaucer.

So who cares if that meaning is obsolete and no longer in use, and no non-freak would ever know that archaic meaning of the word before looking it up, and that, given my propensity to swear like a mo-fo and the warped pleasure I derive from beating my brother in burping contests, the uncouth as we know it today is very likely the better fit.

That is still the sweetest email.

So there.

kellykelly, 4/17/2003 03:10:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

Wednesday, April 16, 2003

I am pissed off at a couple of people today for a couple of reasons.
I do not like being disappointed.
And I doubt they are aware of it.
And that I am harshly unforgiving when disappointed.
I am harshly unforgiving to myself when I disappoint myself. No reason why other people shouldn't be held up to the same standards.

Then I think of how I walked by my car after class just when the lady-who-gives-parking-tickets was about to give me a parking ticket because it was street-cleaning time. I drove off fine-free as the entire row of cars in front of me (at least 8 other cars) would find green envelopes flapping on their windscreens later today.

Then I think of how I came all the way to the school library to get my notes printed, got my notes printed and in my hand, when 5 minutes later, an announcement is made that the printers aren't working.

Then I think of the many many other wonderful people I have in my life who call me roughneck, PYT, or a deep-fried banana.

And then I think, that's my reward for having been nice to the stupid few that end up disappointing and unappreciating.
kellykelly, 4/16/2003 07:10:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Tuesday, April 15, 2003

Follow Up: Bananas

My mummy explains her banana analogy:

Hello my dear precious children,

This article your father photostated about the person who was talking about that banana thing:

The Straits Times: Friday, April 4, 2003
Will Singapore head the way of the banana?
"The genetic make-up of one banana is identical to the next, making it vulnerable to disease. Singapore could suffer the same fate if people always look to the govt for direction, says Nanyang Technological University's new president Professor Su Guaning, in his inaugural speech.
Parts of his speech:
....Not long ago, I read a news report that the world's bananas are in danger becaouse of the fruit's monolithic genetic structure. As bananas are propagated by, essentially, natural cloning, the genetic make up of all bananas is identical. This makes it vulnerable to disease.
Singapore is in danger of becoming like the banana if it continues to look solely towards the govt for economic direction, its people behaving like stampeding herds of cattle, not knowing if they are rushing to paradise or doom. But if we create a diverse ecosystem of enterprises, some may fail but there will always be new ones to take their place. The successful ones will grow and multiply many times over, helping singaporeans prosper. .........."

So, this is where susanna, your father's colleague, got this news from...Scary, sia?
But I guess roughnecks are roughnecks and are hopefully not bananas. But who knows, you might be a GORENG PISANG.


So I could be (re: 13 Apr 2003 entry):
1. An uncouth person.
2. A rowdy.
3. A member of the crew of an oil rig other than the driller.
4. A deep-fried banana.

Reminds me of my secondary school days in Ceder Girls where classmates would call me and a minority bunch of other girls who spoke English far better than Mandarin "bananas" (yellow on the outside, white inside). (Do not link that to my current social preferences.) We'd be the favs of our English teachers and the bane of our Chinese teachers. I still shudder when I hear my Chinese name due to associational memories--only my Chinese teachers would call me by my Chinese name, and it was almost always with a tsk-tsk tone of pity, frustration or disappointment.

Never thought I would be deep-fried though. I've always thought I'd be baked. Or poached. Moist and tender. I think I'd be more yummy that way.
kellykelly, 4/15/2003 06:50:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
Subject: Scary Discovery

My mummy writes the greatest emails. She's a primary school teacher back in Singapore and her recent email to my brother and it is just classic. It's such a hilarious account of a more serious something--the Brave-New-World eerieness of Singapore. Brilliant.

Hello my dear precious children,

I've recently made some scary discovery. I was supposed to call up parents of my class regarding the declaration forms sent to them by mail by the sch. They have to declare that their child is well and has not travelled to any other sars affected countries. And while calling them, I realised all the parents esp the mothers sounded alike. I couldn't tell which is which. Scary, eh? Singaporeans are ALL ALIKE AND THEY REACT ALIKE. Your father always says that we are all ENGINEERED. And he's right! The moms' voices and reactions were all almost IDENTICAL. Of course, I'm one and the same calling each and every one of them. I was like a tape recorder talking and they were too. They were SCARIER than me. Me - I'm me but they are like one person.
Oh, no!

Then I told your father about it and he said yeah, susanna, one of his colleagues had ever told her before about a writer who wrote about singaporeans about us being like a bunch of bananas, all yellow and all looking similar in size, etc, in thinking.

Just telling both of you this to SCARE you.

Aiyah, going back to sch tomorrow. I think I might call in SICK. I don't want to be a banana.

Take care. Be good and be safe and drive carefully.


Now, the ultimate question would be: do all bananas look and think the same?
kellykelly, 4/15/2003 11:12:00 am | link | 0 comments |
I'm having very warm feelings towards Michael Jackson's 'PYT (Pretty Young Thing)' right now.
kellykelly, 4/15/2003 01:09:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Monday, April 14, 2003

Follow-up: From the bottom of our hearts, From the bottom-up

I wrote an entry on Sun April 6 2003 about my dear friend Alex helping out in a move to show gratitude towards health-care workers in light of the whole SARS mania.

The Straits Times picked up on it today.

Wonderful! =)
kellykelly, 4/14/2003 03:36:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

I have somehow been labelled "roughneck".
It's a term of endearment, I was reassured.
Either that or I am:
1. An uncouth person.
2. A rowdy.
3. A member of the crew of an oil rig other than the driller.

Don't be mixing me up with them boys at the drillers now.
kellykelly, 4/14/2003 09:03:00 am | link | 0 comments |
Costs << Benefits

Another stupendous weekend to make all the cramming, studying, stress more than worth the agony.

Which effectively started on Thursday evening with a de-stressing post-midterm Safeway run with Patrick and an exotic home cooked meal of chicken with pears, baked sweet potato with caramelized onions (and a weird but absolutely marvellous topping of, get this, garlic and yoghurt).

Usual swim on Friday. 4 hours of studying for next week's poli-sci midterm. Last minute email from Patrick who has free tickets to sfjazz festival's 'Sekou Sundiata Band/Daughters of Yam'.
'Daugters of Yam' was the opening act and I thought they were full of shit. They had some good moments (my favorite was the act where the jazz band played without them speaking). Was uncomfortably straining to enjoy myself. Was it just un-cultured me? Or were their "consummate lyricism" where "poems such as "African Cosmology" (devorah major) embody an age when acquired knowledge - of gestation, planting cycles, health care, natural history, ritual and a world view - was passed on in song as simply as seeds were planted." (Kate Dougherty - San Francisco Chronicle) simply hot-aired hogwash? I kept thinking of Mike Myers in those hilarious scenes in the classic 'So I Married an Axe Murderer' (god, I need to get that dvd!) where he does a perfect parody of a very San Franciscan pretentious poetry-reading-cum-jazz act. I questioned the sanity of other people who actually paid $20 to get in.

Then, after the intermission, my suspicions were confirmed. I wasn't un-cultured. And the Daughters of Yam were amateurish pretentious bullshit. Because there on stage, I saw true talent. Even by the way they walked on stage, you could tell Sekou Sundiata and his band were seasoned performers at the top-notch of their craft. The divine looking Gina Breedlove sounded as she looked--angelic, soulful, sexy, divine. Goose-pimples galore whenever she sang. Start to finish, I was bopping, swaying, dying to stand up and dance. Awe-some shit. It's so humbling to watch such a great performance where you can't help but enjoy yourself. I wonder what it's like to have such pure wonderful talent. I'll never know.

While most of rainy Saturday was spent cozily cuddled up indoors, the night was spent hopping around San Francisco.

830pm: joined Douglas at a very San Franciscan loft-party (hosted by 2 trendy gay men too) in Bernal Heights. The Dallowayian hosting of a perfect party is something I'd never have the talent nor the interest to do, but damn I love observing the mechanics of The Perfect Party! There must always be something to keep the party going, moving along: music is but of course a must; the alcohol must flow (and pot too...it is San Francisco dah-ling); food must be brought out at intervals (oh, the cheese and crackers are just marvellous! Mmm, who made the chicken? Is that apple pie baking in the oven? Everyone grab a plate there's piping hot apple pie with ice-cream!); art-work (by the host himself, which I have to say was really really damn good) must be prominantly displayed (and talked about); photography, not only framed-on-walls but also projected sylishly on huge top corner of wall--all of which makes sure conversations is kept chugging along and spirits are kept abuzzed.

11pmWe hopped over (more like zoomed at 100mph at times) to the Union street area to visit one of Douglas' friend who's recovering from an injury. Nice, mellow, lovely; where the conversational topics varied from comparing drugs to comparing festive m&m's (easter eggs ones) to regular m&m's.

After midnight, we cruised by the Union Street bars blasting the warm lovely dB's The Art of Science (still not sick of that awesome cd yet) from Doug's much loved and desired sound system to the bar-hopping crowd. Good responses from some crossing the road, raising their eyebrows and taking 2nd glances. It's that awesome.

1-230am: Helped (whatever little I could) Douglas install his new cd/mp3 disc changer in his car. We were supposed to just test it out, but spent almost 40 minutes just sitting in the car in the garage, playing 'Woob' mp3s...that sounds like a weird thing to do, but for both of us freaks, it was such a special mind-blowing experience. Woob created music for a sound system like that. It was not a car stereo, but a fucking theatre system. With all the subtle, intrinsic sounds from Woob's music, it was like watching a movie where we both were eager to know what happens next.

230-430am: Brought my tired-as-fuck ass down to Patrick's friend's birthday party 4 blocks away. Great crowd, great music from a DJ they had in the house. I asked what time the party would end. "Until The End-Up opens." Whooboy. My body was unfortunately incapable of taking me to party-till-noon End Up.

When I finally got to my car, I was wet from the rain, my contact lenses were sucking all moisture from my sockets and I was tired as fuck. But in a twisted way, this will re-charge me for the hours of studying in the week ahead.

kellykelly, 4/14/2003 07:02:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Thursday, April 10, 2003


Most of Tuesday till 3am: study for Econ midterm.
9-10am: ditto
10-11am: attend class.
11-12pm: study for Econ midterm. Lunch.
1210-110pm: swim 70 laps (a record!)
110-2pm: shower. Show-off new room to friend.
2-3pm: study for Econ midterm.
3-4pm: class
4-5pm: talk to TA about Econ midterm at his office hours.
5-815pm: study for Econ midterm.
815-845pm: print notes Econ midterm at Moffit library.
845-846pm: decide fuck it, I'm going to Sooperqool tonight because(a) I suffer from club-withdrawal symptoms, (b) I need to destress, and (c) I fucking deserve 2 hours of fun after all that shitload of work!
905-907pm: Somehow manage to skip one-hour wait line outside club and get guy at door to let me in in 2 minutes (I honestly didn't know that was the line. No I'm not on the q-list, but I'm meeting a bunch of friends inside who are. Can I give you my i/d while I go in and look for them? Since I'm in here already, can I just stay in? Thanks! I really appreciate it. You're a sweetheart.)
*Disclaimer*: Ignorance is bliss. I was genuinely not feigning ignorance when I passed the line and walked right up to him. It was a messy crowd. There were another bunch of smokers hovering outside. I didn't know there was such a long wait. Really.
908-1110pm: Dance dance dance dance...hurrah! Midterm, what midterm? Whoohoo! Go Spesh! You're fuckin' awesome! Oh my god, who's that DJ? David Phillips! Alright! I love bass, deep heavy bass! Gimme some of that baby! *dumdumdumdumdum*!!
Midnight-2am: Study for Econ midterm.
-planned tmrw-: 9am-3pm: Study for Econ midterm.

Although all of the above did not contribute to the economy in any way; and most of the time mentioned was spent sitting in front of the laptop being a fucking nerd, I still feel that this is productivity. Somehow.
kellykelly, 4/10/2003 05:29:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

I dreamt about death last night.

I remember nothing about the dream. Except that it was about death. I remember no images, sounds, story-lines, voices, people that probably constituted the dream. Only the faint but heavy, astoundingly sad but almost peaceful feeling that kinda floated around me when I woke up. I don't feel it now per se, but I remember the sensation, which means that I am feeling it as I recall it, right?

I think my subconscious was reminding me that the brain, aside from tangible senses like sight and smell (refer to yesterday's post on memory), registers and remembers feelings and emotions as well. So it made me dream a dream of which I remember nothing except how I felt.

I would like to explore ideas tying together notions of tangible senses (tangible as an adjective here is so tautological. Sorry. But it sounds nice) that can be tangibly captured by technology, tangible senses that cannot be tangibly recorded (refer to yesterday's post again), and intangible emotions that cannot be tangibly recorded but once recalled is relived and therefore exists again, yadda yadda. But my midterm's tomorrow. And I have to get back to learning about the Great Depression, the Marshall Plan and the Asian Economic Crisis. Pardon the sloppy throwing-of-thoughts prose sans a thesis. Again. (I see this becoming an annoying habit. It's just too easy. Plus it prevents me from slipping into pretentious introspective prose trying to decipher the logics of life with I-thought-my-thoughts-were-unique-but-in-fact-they-are-just-silly theories. *shudder*.)
kellykelly, 4/10/2003 08:40:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Wednesday, April 09, 2003


It just seems easier to accept that our brain can capture images & sounds than it is to phantom how on earth it allows us to remember taste & smell.

I remember every pretty feature of that Britney Spears lookalike seated across me at Hua-Hin last night; I remember the tune of the bad Latin music that they played at the Thai restaurant. ("Talk about an international experience. I get to eat Thai food, listen to Latin music, with a Singaporean girl, in California." quoth Patrick.) No problem. I can accept that there's some reasonable scientific mechanism I don't know about through which the brain allows me to remember that.

But it seems more of a miracle that just as clearly, I remember exactly the degree of sweetness, spiciness, sourness of my tom-yam soup, and the powerful beautiful scent of the jasmine flowers that fills these trees outside a house along Channing Way (just past either Dana or Ellsworth) that made us stop in our tracks.

Probably because we have technology that allows us to capture images and sounds. But none for taste nor smell. So the latter seems more of a mystery because we cannot recreate in tangible forms that memory. I have a point that runs along the themes of humans and technology, dehumanizing of, mechanizing of senses, playing god, security in scientifc explanations, yadda yadda. But I've a midterm to study for right now. (And there's probably a Time magazine article already written about this anyway.) Hence the sloppy throwing-of-thoughts prose sans a thesis. Forgive me.
kellykelly, 4/09/2003 01:27:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

Monday, April 07, 2003

From the bottom of our hearts, From the bottom-up

My friend Alex (the Singapore doctor-to-be one) is involved in this campaign in Singapore that his friend started. The aim is to spread awareness of SARS and show gratitude to health care workers. There have been an uproar in the media over Singaporeans ostracizing health care workers because they are so vulnerable to this new disease. Faith has a personal account of it in her 5 Apr blog entry.

They already have a guestbook up online. They are making 5-6 1.8mx2m banners (the PVC materials for which were actually donated by some dude they picked from the yellow pages. How nice.) of the above logo that Alex made, and bringing it around to universities and schools to have it signed before they display them outside Tan Tock Seng hospital. Alex calls this campaign a "total defence novelty"--he wants "Medical defence" to be the 6th pillar of defence for Singapore.

What I love about this, aside from the obvious reason that this is a great warm-hearted gesture, is to hear about such a spontaneous grass-roots reaction towards a national problem. Something like that happens in America all the time, to a larger extent. Hence a small action like that would seem like a natural reaction in America. But it is a big Something to me to hear about this. The governement in Singapore gets its tentacles into too many things, and are too loud it, and then campaignizing everything. True, it's far less pervasive than before, but they are still laughable at best, mostly annoying. Quiet little bottom-up campaigns like that just seem so much more sincere and effective.

Kudos to these dudes who fight the social apathy that my government's backfired attempts-to-include ironically and unfortunately engenders.

Alex is probably the most involved person I know in Singapore. He's always been sincere, vocal and very pro-active in concerning and engaging himself in the Singapore society that exists around him. Most people I know born and bred in Singapore, my lazy ass included to a large extent, are part of the inactive majority imbued with the above mentioned social apathy. My social consciousness, simply that bothering-to-bother-ness, soared only when I came halfway across the world. Does it mean anything too to mention that my dear friend Alex Gorny only came to Singapore (his mom is Singaporean) in 1999 at age 19, having lived in America and Germany prior?
kellykelly, 4/07/2003 12:12:00 am | link | 13 comments |

Sunday, April 06, 2003

"Next stop, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch"

"Excuse me sir, how do I get to Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch?"

"How far is Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch from here?"

"Now approaching Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. Please stand clear of the doors."

"I live just 2 blocks from Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. You can't miss it."

"www.Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.com How could you forget?"

"Dude, you thought the toilets in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch were bad? Wait till you check out the ones at Krungthepmahanakornamornratanakosin- mahintarayutthayamahadilokphopnop- paratrajathaniburiromudomrajaniwesmaha- satharnamornphimarnavatarnsathit- sakkattiyavisanukamprasit. 2 letters for ya, "P U!'"

"Har har...betcha can't say Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch 3 times fast!"

Oh yes I can!"

"What the Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch?"

"...so I was at the Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch right, and this like totally hot chick comes up to me and..."

"Holy St Mary's church in the hollow of the white hazel near a rapid whirlpool and the church of St Tysilio of the red cave! Did you see the size of that thing?"

"Yeah, people always find it funny that I have the same last name as a train station."
kellykelly, 4/06/2003 03:51:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
Under the Influence!

Jeeeeeeeezzzz.....I heard Chemical Brothers' 'Under the Influence' in Douglas' car today.
When the first BBBBBRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUEEEEEEWWWWWW shook through my entire body, along with the tee-hee vibrations from my seat, I felt completely under-the-influence HIGH.

Fortunately, my 50 buck Altec Lansing speakers (farrrr from $4500 custom-made Porsche ones) respectably handled the BBBBBRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUEEEEEEWWWWWW pretty darn well when I got home and downloaded the song. 'Twasn't the same of course, but still fun. Go listen!


I can't get my brain to concentrate on my Econ 115 article about the Marshall Plan. (aaargghh!! I wanna go watch Spesh instead! 4 - glorious - hours. To be opportunity-costed into Econ midterm studying. Priorities! Priorities! *impatient tap tap tap of wanna-dance feet* gottabringonnerdkellygottabringonenerdkellyooommmm....)
Although it is interesting to learn that the US gave $13.2b to Europe, of which $2.7b went to France after WWII. One bit of history for these arrogant bastards to give their high-horse another giddy-up.
kellykelly, 4/06/2003 01:16:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
Under One Roof

Saturday afternoon at 2332 Fulton.
We have country music blasting from Roger's room.
Hard rock from Nellie's.
Drum & bass from mine.
If Savvas was here, there'd probably be some of that Greek folk music that I hear every morning.
College kids and their beloved music taste.

kellykelly, 4/06/2003 08:52:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Saturday, April 05, 2003

Gov.sg: How to Live My Life!

Oh this is so cute! My government has a website for Singapore citizens. They have a site telling you how to Experience Youth. Ya gotta check out the FAQ. My government is like, wayyyy cooler than your government! They tell me what is puberty? Why am I suddenly so interested in boys/girls? How do I talk to someone of the opposite sex? How do I get what I want in life? AND, they tell me how I can find my (*sighhhhhhhh*) soulmate. Does your government do that? Huh? Huh? Noooo...they just let you live your own life the way you want to.
kellykelly, 4/05/2003 12:45:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

On Bancroft. Boy wearing army-camouflage patterned T-shirt with big bold white words: "Ha! Now you can't see me."

* My Canon digital elph camera
kellykelly, 4/05/2003 08:33:00 am | link | 0 comments |
yeesh...although, with drum & bass blasting, my room is in danger of sounding like an Abercrombie & Fitch store.

It still sounds great though.
kellykelly, 4/05/2003 03:55:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Oh - my - God.

A whole new world has been opened up to me.

Which is stupid because shoutcast has been out there for so long.

But I only now visited it.

And now I devour...

I'm in a mood for drum & bass recently. I've never really gotten into it. But it's growing on me very very well. It makes me want to do that spastic dance that make people look like they're in spasms. I'm blasting this right now. Trippy! Love it.
kellykelly, 4/05/2003 02:54:00 am | link | 0 comments |
Life's Little Pleasures II

When a car pulls out of a parking space just in front of you half a block from your destination.

Happened to me last night in Nob Hill. And today in Berkeley.

Oh joy. That makes me happy.

I was born under a lucky star. (A tarot card reader in Vancouver actually did tell me that.)
kellykelly, 4/05/2003 02:05:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Friday, April 04, 2003

Only in Asia...

Told ya Michael Jackson was cool. Now everyone's donning it.

And, and, it not only protects you from SARS, check out these satisfied consumer comments:

"I like wearing masks because they can hide my pimples and make me look mysterious,"
"I think people in Hong Kong are looking better now that they're wearing masks."


kellykelly, 4/04/2003 05:14:00 am | link | 0 comments |
Till the Hat Lady sings...

Oh it's an experience living in Berkeley!

Walking down Telegraph Ave after dinner last night, Patrick decides to buy himself a hat when passing the famous 'Hat Lady' aka the "The Crow Lady"'s (one of those Berkeley 'personalities') store at the corner of Telegraph and Durant. So we pause at her stand. And I don't know how or why but she starts an almost one hour monologue with us. Berkeley personalities love going on annoying ranty monologues. She could have lived the life she says she's lived. Or she is a well-read and imaginative deluded split personality. In any case, she's funny as hell.

She scats on about race. About what being a black in America meant compared to say, Finland, where she just returned from. About how racist 'Bringing Down the House' was. (I agree. I've heard about the whole argument about the different status of blacks in American and Europe. As whacked as she seems, she made sense. I noticed that difference when in France.) She tells about being in the store and some white dude going up to her and saying "yo yo yo...whassup boo?" the way that white guy did to Queen Latifah in the movie. About how she's completely into country music. And how the most racist white Americans are the white-male-liberals and the least racist are surprisingly the redneck-yanks. She's black, but insists that she ain't and rattles off a list of her ethnicity. She insists that Patrick is not white either, being half-Italian, half-Irish. Then starts mentioning about Mr Hot Irish Man Colin Farrell and says "ohmygodohmygod, he was on David Letterman last night and..." I just burst out laughing (I was just telling Patrick about my hots for Colin Farrell 5 minutes prior while picking out a movie at Blockbuster) and tell her I made a silent prayer the night before to have a wet dream about him (didn't happen. Shoot.). There you go, united colors of benettonization right there: a fat black (oops...not "black") lady and li'll asian girl drooling over the same hot Irish dude.

While Pat picks out a hat, she asks me where I was from. I said Singapore. And she gives a full minute pause, gapes wide-eyed at me and gasps "That's...my...favorite...country...in...the...world!" So she's never been there. But apparently she loves it. Go figure. Works for me. Her conversation prior to this realization was mostly directed to Patrick (I personally think she has the hots for him), but after that, I garnered a fair share of her attention (whoohoo). I tell her there are many Singaporeans studying in Berkeley. She asks me "where are they???" So if you are a Singaporean student at Berkeley, speak to the Crow Lady. She loves ya.

Patrick buys a cool woven hat for 20 bucks (from her wayyy overpriced 45 cos "I'm an artist!"). The transaction takes another 10 minutes to complete. She whips out a camera and takes a photograph of the hat by itself ("every hat gets the same treatment"), and another one with Patrick wearing it, takes out a big black book and writes down a description of the hat and has Patrick sign his name and email on it. She gets my name down too ("Chan...oh you are of Chinese descent"). Almost an hour after we paused at her hat stand, we walk away with $20 less and a hat. This is not the efficient market transaction economy Adam Smith envisioned (which reminds me god, I've to finish Wealth of Nations soon...I'm so behind in my readings! bah!), but damn, it's FUN!

Oh by the way, I've learnt that I live on a "catty-corner" from the Shell station.
kellykelly, 4/04/2003 12:15:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Thursday, April 03, 2003

Such an interesting example of the attempt to sensationalize news. One would wonder why he did it.
kellykelly, 4/03/2003 06:57:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Wednesday, April 02, 2003

Life's Little Pleasures

Just getting ready for sleep, I turn on the tv and flip through the channels, reach CBS and who should I see shaking David Letterman's hand but my hot fantasy boy Colin Farrell. ohjoyohjoyohjoy...he's such a charmer. And that Irish accent. And that nonchalant wit. And that hot hot hot dripping sex appeal.

Dear God, I've been a good girl. I do not lie. Nor steal. Nor kill cute animals for their fur. Nor etc. Please let me have a wet dream about Colin Farrell tonight. Amen.
kellykelly, 4/02/2003 04:21:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
"Work is the meat in the hamburger of life"
Wise words from Ray Kroc.

For some reason my brother forwarded me a link to this article 'Can McDonald's Cook Again?'

Maybe it's because I possess zero business sense and zest (my Singapore education has left me exam smart, street unwise, highly risk averse...yes, blame it all on the system), but I love reading business profiles like that. It's the novelty of the non-academic world I've not (yet) been in. It's a great article. Very informative.

Also, it's the first concrete thing I've read for maybe 2 weeks. Because of the whole moving out deal and the whoo-hoo spring break thing, there has clearly been a dull-ification of my mind, that I'm eager to pay attention to again. I do need to do that because the shitload of school work I have in front of me is staggering.

But aside from necessity, in a masochistic way, I welcome it because (school) work is where I feel most secure, most valuable and most...concrete (for the lack of a better term), despite my increasing frustration towards the nebulous, unproductive, and seemingly gratuitous nature of my academic life. E.g. how did my A+ing yet another midterm (yes yes, I'm show-offing a little. Just grant me that will ya? The following self-depracation will make up for that), where I identified terms like China's "Mandate of Heaven" and Africa's "Rights in Persons" in 1/2 a page each, described what 'The Bush Doctrine' is in 2 1/2 pages and argued in 5 pages how were the Amerindians more resistant to diseases that killed off 90% of their population, the Spaniards would not have conquered the Americas so easily and therefore, we might not have had the Atlantic slave trade economy which brought Western Europe into power, add value to my life and the economy in general other than to give me a transient hurrah? I did not come up with an awe-inspiring business model that changed the way businesses work. I did not program an application that would make our lives online easier. I did not weave a nice basket that looks so pretty someone will tote and use it everyday. I did not produce an amazing piece of music that will make many people dance and smile.

Yet still, as stupid as the quote sounds, work is the meat in the hamburger of my life. School work that is. Because that seems to be the only channel I have to show some self-worth. Oh yeah, a chick can rely on working out, dressing up, making up to look cute and hot for that. I'd rather, to further use the stupid analogy, use that as my sauce to spice up my hamburger. But that's not the real caloric value in my meal that chugs my system on.

Oh, Happy April Fool's Day. I wanted to do something here for that occasion. But it requires creativity. That I have none. (Refer to above aside on blaming the system).
kellykelly, 4/02/2003 02:37:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Tuesday, April 01, 2003

I'm such a pleasure slut. It took only $3.99 to make me deliriously happy. All I did was to screw...in a lightbulb.

Finally bought a red bulb from Walgreens that I've been wanting for my room. I screwed it in ("How many Kellys does it take to screw in a lightbulb?") and voila!

Oh boy oh boy oh boy...this looks SO fuckin' awesome! It matches my lava lamp perfectly. With Nick Warren's 'Back to Mine' contribution, my room now glows and thumps in a trippy brothel-esque/clubbish red.

Good God, my room is so sexy it's turning me on.
kellykelly, 4/01/2003 12:41:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
Rounding Up

Good lord, had my Spring Break ended on Saturday as expected (I had intended Sunday to be an eventless get-ready-for-school day), I would have been perfectly satisfied, but the actual Sunday just took it up a notch and turned the perfect Spring Break into a perrrrfect Spring Break with an *exclaimation point*.

I got up, completely refreshed from pretty much the first proper night of sleep I've had all week, cos I did my body a favor by resisting clubbing the night before. Did the usual 60 laps in the pool, came back to a phone call from Patrick. The weather, hot and perfect, insisted that we spent the day outdoors. So we head over to Baker's Beach with his friend Douglas (another Douglas), also fondly known as "Dither" to his friends (it's got something to do with him being an architect. I have yet to fully get it.)

Baker's Beach was just beautiful.We didn't get to the nudist end of the beach that Baker's Beach is supposed to be famous for however. The weather was incredible. One wouldn't normally be able to sit on a San Francisc beach clad in merely a bikini at 4pm and not freeze to death. I did yesterday.

I have a hard time not acting like a stupid tourist whenever I go somewhere with a view of the Golden Gate Bridge:

I always remember innocent li'll me sitting in the Borders bookstore in Singapore just before leaving for Berkeley, flipping through tour guides of San Francisco, always seeing pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge and wondering what my future life overseas will be like (awww..ain't that cheesy?). And everytime I see the Golden Gate Bridge up close and personal, I still feel fucking blown away that I'm actually here.

I whipped out my Kelph . I love these pictures because they completely captured the spirit of the day for me.

Gotta love them rainbow blankets Patrick bought:

Asses and guitar behind us:

I heard the story of Dither's tattoo of the Chinese words "House Death" at the back of his neck. It's got something to do with his thesis. On cemetaries. And dualities of life. Can't remember much of it. Very Tolstoy-esque. I would like to read it.

We had some great conversation going on that day, just from the outstandingly intelligent company I had. At one point, I wish I had a video camera with me and do a mock-documentary indie-flick style.

Some dude went around handing out these fake "one deception" notes, chanting "Impeachment, not war." Although I don't see the point of his effort, I have to admit that this was one of the more creative anti-war statements:

Later, a rainbow appeared:

So did a plane:

The sun started to set:

Just love these candid pictures of couples I saw at the beach. They look so lovely:

It got too cold after sunset and we packed up and ran back to the car freezing.

The perfect day just got perfecter after sunset. We headed to Safeway (I always love a trip to Safeway!) to get groceries for our chinese chicken salad dinner, rented 'Y Tu Mama Tambien' that I've been wanting to watch for so long, laughed our asses off at the Simpsons ("I wish God was alive to see this"), made dinner with some great drum&bass-ambient music going on and watched the movie which was weird but completely captivating.

Just an awesome awesome day where everything just worked. My entire spring break was unplanned. I couldn't have planned it any better than this.
kellykelly, 4/01/2003 12:45:00 am | link | 0 comments |