FINE-d

This blog couldn't have come sooner, but in a way, it's more than overdue.
In the past few weeks since my last mass-ish update, I have been in 4 different countries, I have hit new highs and lows, and I have seen history repeat itself all while I have broken new records among friends. And on this latter point is where I shall start my update...

--

In our 5 months studying in Singapore, many warnings had been headed to obey the law. Of course, like everyone else that comes through this City-State we had the pop. culture image of Singapore ingrained in us: play hard, but stay within the lines even harder!
So, we would ride the MRT (metro) careful not to board with drinks or food (or durian, cause that's a category all on its own). We would walk the streets and keep everything on our persons-- spit, trash, and all.
All in all, we were cautious of being out of step at the wrong time and none of us wanted to face the re-precautions of such actions. At worst, Singapore still practices the death penalty, and at best, the government is fine-happy. On this last point, there is a particular t-shirt that deserves noted credit for creating this perception (see right). In fact, I was actually told by one Italian backpacker that the sole reason he came to Singapore (for 3 days, which he ended up abhoring) was to purchase this infamous "Singapore is a Fine City" t-shirt from Chinatown and walk away, with a fine. Needless to say, he was not fined (hence, "abhorred"). So it goes without saying, a lot of people have this idea about the government and the oft menial things they will do to keep their city as such by fining the people that walk its streets.
Anyways, as it concerned us exchange students, this perceived threat soon became a running joke, or to some, even a challenge of defiance. After a few months of nervous self-enforced best behaviour out of what some concluded was simply 'hypothetical fear', we all became more confident in the gum packs we kept hidden in our pockets and jay-walking tendencies. And as time kept-ticking, no one was caught-- for anything.
Much like the Italian backpacker I would later meet, I remember talking to some friends at the end of our exchange and almost laughing at the fact that no one had walked away with a scratch. Everyone-- all hundreds of us wild-Western liberalists-- left without so much as a light scold from the Singaporean government.
I myself had never fantasized in egging on the police, nor challenging the states authority. But in any case I have to admit, I felt pretty confident that only something drastic I did could warrant such attention (or, detention). You see, a friend of mine had calmed my fears one night over wine and cheese as he recounted his two years serving in the mandatory Military Service (MS). As a Malay-Singaporean, young guys like him are often placed in the police force. The most evident reason for this is that a large part of crime in the state is Malay driven-- and so the government hires and recruits men that are able to communicate with this demographic. My friend tells me that, like most young guys serving their time in the MS (and there are A LOT of these young guys, considering ALL young guys have to go through MS), he was shy of girls. And so it was that he never implicated any girl while on duty, despite having seen some questionable things.
Of course, I had noticed this hands-on. The young police officers don't look, don't question. In fact, they even look scared of YOU.
And so, there I was, approaching the very final days of my time in Singapore and like the rest of us internationals feeling quite immune and befooled by Chinatown's most deceiving souvenir.

But all that was about to change.

As I made my way to the airport (destination: Bali!), I had preemptively given myself more than enough time for any airport altrication, should one happen. It was just this feeling, a little pulse I felt deep in my gut enforced by my previous adventures (see blog one), that had made me think ahead-- 4 hours ahead just to be sure.
And so, after sleeping at most 2 hours the night before, I was prepared for the worse-- or my worse, I should say. But what I hadn't been prepared for was being DETAINED!

YES, I-- a young, GIRL, from Canada-- was detained in Singapore for what I would soon have a name for. My crime: "Overstaying".
After a couple of hours having to deal with a middle-aged, female immigration agent-- who was clearly not charmed by any of my charms-- I was made to sign a statement that recognized I had been illegally (she kept repeating, just so I would never forget) living in Singapore for a total of 13 days.
You see, when I had gone to renew my passport with the Canadian government (that fateful day), they had assured me I would have to stay in Singapore in the meanwhile, but that my presence would be classified under "Tourist", which gave me exactly 60 days (to wait out my passport, worse comes to worse).
Twenty-two days later when I finally got my passport back and was a free citizen of the world again, it took only five days before I exited/ fled the country to take refuge in beautiful Bali. Which made a grand total of twenty-seven days-- or, thirty-three days before
"Tourist" expiration date; or, otherwise seen through my eyes, good to go!
Well no, I was not good to go! (Thanks again, Canadian Government!)
In the end, I had to pay a FINE!

So, 100$ later I walked out with a receipt which had my name right at the bottom on the dotted line signed beside the word "Overstayer". I was, officially, fined in Singapore for being an Overstayer.

At first, this thought made me want to cry. I held my receipt, holding back tears as I doumbfoundedly walked through Changi airport to the only place of comfort I knew, the book store (right beside the pastries stand).
And there, as I browsed the books (while devouring my chocolatine, and then my swiss pastry), trying to find comfort in Haruki Murakami's short stories noted for spiritual emptiness, I started to think about Chinatown, and that stupid t-shirt, and that silly Italian backpacker... and how utterly jealous/ awed he would have been of my story.

In hindsight, thus, I've proudly held on to my receipt. In fact, when I have a home and a wall to call my own again, I will hang it up, right next to that stupid t-shirt and be living proof that fines do happen in Singapore, under the most unfortunate circumstances.
So you see, I'm quite proud of my accomplishment-- only because today I can tell you, I'm FINE-d!

Perspective in a Quote

God turns to you and gives you a piece of the universe that is just three millimeters large and says to you:
"Your job is to take care of it. Not make it bigger or better-- just take care of it. And when I'm ready, I'll take it back, and your life will be over."

- Daniel Gottlieb, "Letters to Sam"

http://letterstosam.blogspot.com/

A Month's Progression

As I'm nearing the end of this month, May, I spent a good hour or so in reflection. I had seen so much anxiety, doubt, and misfortune over this month I forced myself to rethink all of these moments and put them in a new light. In the end, it turned out that the easiest and most comical way for me to make light of my May was to highlight all that really went down. At then end of my list I realized that it wasn't all wasted time. So, here it is for all of you who were wondering on the other end what the hell I have been doing with my life this past month:

(list goes in order of occurrence and is based on how I will remember my May)

1. I graduate! (almost)
2. Get called 'unemployed'
3. Forced to renew my passport, quoted June 3 return date = Stuck in Singapore for 22 days
4. Move into local hostel (un)conveniently situated in the middle of wanna-be India; take on 9 new room mates
5. Go to first legit job interview wearing 4 inch heals (and run away from having to accept/decline job)
6. Find out graduation is postponed, and hence so is title of 'unemployed'-- Officially in the 'student' box again (good news)
7. Got my hena did where Beyonce did!!
8. Computer dies once and for all(bad news: lost all my photos from months of travel)
9. Email Steve Jobs in light of above situation (still waiting for response)
10. A day later, Ipod dies
11. Beloved Ear phones found suspiciously missing one ear
12. May 28, passport is back three days early!!! Officially a free person of the world again (very good news)
13. Lost travel journal (includes memories and moments of travels over the past 5 months)-- mostly concerned about whose reading it right now (sorry it's rubbish!)


Hena on my feet!!
Beyonce had her hand done, for 5$.
I had my foot done, for 10$.

So there it is, it's been one hell of a ride.
Only one more day of May.
At this point, I don't think anything could possibly add to this list of gains and losses.

Commitment

I saw a wedding today. It was a nice, gray day in Singapore and the party was taking photos outside with a beautiful view of the Fullerton Hotel and a river at their backside. The bride was dressed in a metallic-black gown. Her maids wore metallic-white. The couple was young. Perhaps 26 at most. While the girls had their photos taken, the groom sat hunched over a park bench, spewing out a fountain of brown chards and liquids.
At a glance, it was quite the unconventional wedding: a bride in black, a groom sick before the first dance. All this foreshadowing the most conventional of all acts: a ceremony to seal a deal for a life-time. Not even parents make this promise to their children.
The irony of this picture strikes me as the real deal of marriage. Namely, the puke. The dark.
But, as I walk away and take a last look a the bride now posing in all her glory on a bridge over water, not waiting for her husband to strike a pose I am forced to think of small words I have just recently read: that the true irony of commitment is that it is deeply liberating, in work, love, and play. It frees you from yourself.

Maybe then the black and the puke are just what we are able to express when we commit... .

The Confession: I am a student (still), (stuck) in Singapore

25 days.
Or, four weeks.

That's the amount of time it takes for the Canadian Embassy to renew my passport overseas (and surprsinngly, yes, even in Singapore, a place highly noted for it's general efficiency).

I guess there are two things to take away from this fact:

First, true as tested the Canadian Government is inefficient, anywhere and everywhere.

Second, creativity; or, how to spend time in a foreign place where you are not allowed to work (even for free), nor are allowed to leave, and have already explored its various offerings over the past four months.

--

Real time check: currently on last day of week 2. Which means about 2 weeks left. Or, 12 days.

---

They say that if you wait long enough and are patient for the good things, time will always turn something up. But feeling slightly more proactive about my life and circumstances (partly out of necessity), I have spent a large chunk of my time trying to plan out 'time', with a guiding question of "what to do, post-grad?"

In the beginning, I gave myself a year. The plan was (is) to graduate in a foreign land, get lost in other foreign lands, hopefully pick up a foreign fling and then in the fall of 2011, settle back in Canada as an eager law student. So, that gives me over a year; Or, four semesters (2 summers, one fall, one winter) to make the best of my life and chase the moments.

With this overall goal in mind, only ideas here and there have guided my steps. Like, for one, apply around and get the best job (fail). Or, for seconds, Fall in love with a man who owns a palace in some far off land and wants to spoon feed me for the rest of my life (fail). Fail. Fail. Fail.

It seems that this plan isn't panning out. (I blame the Canadian Government, always.)

Give me ten years and this one year, in retrospect, will seem like a blurr in time. A second of a twenty-four hour day (? my math might be off on this one here). But in the moment, the hand ticks slowly. Really slowly. I watch it, literally and figuratively. Mostly I watch it thinking I could be elsewhere-- like on some Indonesian beach perfecting the art of surf. Or thinking that there are so many things wrong with this place. Where is their life? (come on, no gum!? no porn!? all work. no play!)

And then I remind myself, I'm the one who is STUCK (literally), and where is MY life?

Well, in the next few days or so it is pending, I admit.
But after that, I swear I get my life back on track and stop being a waste of carbon.

In a bit over two weeks, or 15 days, I will be moving to the Philippines, temporarily. I have volunteered over my hands, my time, and my wallet for 10 weeks. I will be working as a health care volunteer serving a rural village and aiding an overworked doctor. (p.s. This anticipation definitely makes the minute hands tick slower... )

So, this is my life, as it is today.

Four months after I willingly arrived to Singapore, I am now held captive to this very city against my own wishes, dreaming of now impossibly faraway beaches.
Which leads me to conclude a third thing about the facts of this situation:

Exoticism and wanderlust can happen everywhere and anywhere-- even in a place once dreamt of.



In the end, there is one thing I am really happy to add to my confession. You can call it an appendix, if you will. Or a slight correction of details:

A few days ago, I would have had one more terrible thing to add to my list of terribles: I was then considered "unemployed". I had finished school and had moved on from being a student to 'jobless' (or actually, I hadn't "moved" on to anywhere, hence 'jobLESS').

It was a friend, actually, who made me aware of this fact. He greeted me on the very day I had finished my very last exam saying, "Congragualtions, you're officially unemployed!"

Piss off.
This is without a doubt the worst word in my life. It's like the big cuss which should never be spoken, or the the bad picture which should never be tagged.


Well, to my luck it turns out there is one other burreacracy that delays everything: University. Apparently, my official records cannot be released in time for this coming graduating term. Which means, I am officially still a "student" until the summer's end.
Most people rejoice and wait anxiously for their graduation day. Not me.
I don't want to have to figure out my life, its details, just yet.

So, I am a student (still), (stuck) in Singapore.

This is the oxymoron of my life.
That's my confession.

Bargaining High

I’m standing in front of a full length mirror. Side profile. One foot shoved awkwardly in 4-inch heels; the other balancing dangerously on tippy-toe trying to catch Up.

“You think?”

“I know.” He says without ever haven taken his eyes off my reflection.

Guys are so easy to read. I knew the minute I slipped on this stiletto he was sold. The black-skirt-with-white-top ensemble from the store before didn’t take much convincing either.

A very particular look passes across their face when they approve. It’s a momentary thing and if you’re not quick enough, you’ll miss it. But the look is definitely there when they blush approvingly of you and yours. It’s as if they are going to say something, but don’t know how to translate Dick into Proper. And then as quickly as the thought came to them it passes into a grin, only to then fade into the folds of their face to be ever-lost to fantasy.

After that, who knows if he still cares about the shoes, the skirt, or the white top I’ve worn to bring out the highlights of my hair. But at least I got his attention. And of course he’ll reassure me once more with a casual nod to the shoes. “I know this is the one.”

(Grin fades to neutral sheep.)

If only jobs and life were as easy to know as boys know the right shoe for you.
To them, as long as it’s got height, it’s right.
To me, even if the job fits into one of my 100 or so odd keywords (such as: “interesting”, “social”, “people”, “travel”, “sun”, “window”, “underwater (?)”) it’s only maybe right. In short, there is a complex combination of keywords that will go into making me satisfied.

I clearly haven’t found it. In retrospect, as I look at myself in a half-length mirror back at home it’s obvious that a man helped pick this outfit; or at least, that it is worn with men in mind.

In two hours, I’ll be one interview down (It’s worth noting because this is my FIRST interview post-graduation). In two.five hours, I’ll be thinking to myself that said-employer offered too much (given what I was worth); and yet too little (given my keyword quota).
In three hours I’ll have an awkward date that will stay pending (did he say lunch, dinner, or never?). And in five hours, I’ll be right here, sitting where I am, thinking what I think: the shoes were too high.

But a girl does what she must. And to find my first keyword combination post-graduation, the look had to be perfect even if it got me what I never bargained for.

The Guilty Little Secret We ALL Share

(This piece was written as a response to an article featured in Glamour's June, 2010 edition. I am not normally a magazine reader, but I came across this one and felt something had to be said for the girl's side. So, here it is. Hope it can stimulate some interesting conversation, if not imagination.)

"jake" is the pseudo name of a "real, live single guy dating in New York City" and writing editorials for Glamour magazine. "jake (a man's opinion)" is the title of his editorials.

"Highlight reel" definition: the mental tape that rolls in one's head of other sexual partners while in the act of making love to your partner.

“Off in your own world again”?
The Guilty Little Secret We ALL Share: A Response to Jake’s confessional “Highlight Reel”

Looking beyond Vince Vaughn’s “highlight reel” scene in the popular Hollywood blockbuster hit Couples Retreat, is an equally telling scene in the less popular romantic comedy Young People Fucking. The latter film intertwines the stories of various couples in which one of the main plots is that of The Couple, Andrew and Abby. The long-time daters are having trouble with their sex life and, looking to confront the issue, girlfriend Abby challenges her partner to open up sexually.

Unlike Vaughn’s scene where the men assert their guilty pleasure of thinking about other women during sex, in Young People Fucking the so-called “highlight reel” of sex isn’t gendered as a purely male phenomenon. Indeed, when broached by her prodding boyfriend for being “off in her own world again” while in the act, Abby reveals that her imagination often takes her elsewhere and most often to Ian Ziering (in his Beverly Hills days as the heart throb, Steve Sanders).


This is an interesting comparison and it brings to question Jake’s confessional article in Glamour. In an overtly apologetic and revelatory tone, Jake tells his readers that he is guilty of sin like other normal men of mentally wandering during sex. What was well done by Jake is that he reassures us (the females) this is nothing to worry about, for what he and our men are doing is rather quite healthy for relationships. As he points out, nearly all men do it and at the very least it can serve to keep the guy going for longer, if you know what I mean.

Thanks for the reassurances, Jake, but no need to apologize-- women are guilty of sin too! Indeed, watching Abby acknowledge and confess her affinity for Hollywood hottie, Ziering makes the audience realize that women, like men, are wanderlusts. We too fixate on various other fantasies during sex.
Perhaps we are not as vocal about it. Perhaps we do not recycle through as many people in our reel. And perhaps some of us won't ever admit it, either to others or ourselves. But women too have wild imaginations that help keep their sex life going. And as Jake concludes this is healthy for men; it's healthy for girls. Actually, it's healthy for US.

So I don’t think Jake should be expecting any "serious hate mail" for his revelatory confession. If anything, after reading this revelation about women and our wanderings in bed I hope he’ll be able to accept the fact that Strawberry (the pseudo name of his female Lover) isn’t 'there' half the time either... .