BigSqueak close up

Nothing comes between BigSqueak and her sunflower seeds. See how intent she is. How she'd survive in the wild, I have no idea. Even if the predator comes, she'll refuse to stop gnawing. Luckily for Squeaks, they escape extinction by being cute.

This is their favourite cubby hole. Both Squeaks like nothing better than squeeze together inside. Unfortunately, they have greatly increased in size under our loving care, and Big Squeak alone fills up almost the whole tube now, as she curls up into a fur-covered ball of muscles. You can imagine the squeaking and squabbling when poor little PipSqueak tries to push her way in as well.

Only Black?

This isn't a new toy.

It is merely my new utilitarian travelling companion. I shall be honest here. If not for Audible audiobooks, which run on Creative devices, I wouldn't have bought another Creative mp3 player. As a serial customer of the company, I can't help noticing that there are some fatal weaknesses in the way the products are presented. It is very well to have technically sound models, but a company can fumble so easily on simple, superficial matters, and suffer unnecessarily for them

This is a Zen. It is very cheap, thank goodness. Notice that it is black, and there wasn't really a choice, only between different black patterns. So I closed my eyes and picked one. I asked for a case, and got the above. In this era of cool, jazzy iPhone skins, my poor country mouse of a Zen is wearing an ill-fitting black (again) case that slips off every now and then. It doesn't even close properly >:I

I understand of course that mp3 players are a waning industry, so less effort is invested in this department. But this nevertheless is a Creative product and I am a customer, even if I paid only $89 for this item. What sort of message is conveyed when design of such indifferent quality is allow to flaunt the Creative brand name?

Leverage

We invent new words all the time, and when we don't, we are busy using words in new ways. I have no idea why, but people love using nouns as verbs:

Let's journey together
Can you loan me a pen? and grrr...
This impacts our country.

Frankly, I think this betrays intellectual sloth (stone me if you will!) We just can't be bothered to think of the correct words, and why must 'lend' take on so many forms? Lend, lent, loan...who cares?

But today I am ranting about the abuse of a different word. Somewhere, the word 'lever' finds its way from the science textbook into financial jargon, in its noun form 'leverage', where it is used as a verb.

I leverage my capital to increase my income.

In this new disguise, it then slips into everyday use, thereby usurping the function of its mother verb 'lever'. But the worst offence is, people then develop the habit of tacking on an extra preposition to this (no!) verb

I leverage on my skills in cooking...NOoooooo, why have 'leverage on' if you only need 'leverage', and why use 'leverage' if you mean to say 'lever'?

If you insist on using the word wrongly, at least, use it wrongly in the right way! Arh, now even I am confused.

The Squeaks

Meet PipSqueak. Little Fish took an unexpectedly good shot of her, though sadly, the resolution is too low. Isn't she adorable? She looks so timid! The other picture below is her feeding.

This is BigSqueak. She's trying to come out and play, but we are teasing her by pushing her back into the cage. See how far she's stretching her neck! Eventually, we did let her come out in her ball, and it was as usual, difficult to persuade her to leave it after that.

Duty

Read an interesting article about younger men marrying foreign brides. One was quoted saying that he wanted to get married so that his children can support him in his old age. Why does it sound so...wrong?

I guess, it just seems such a feudalistic way to see one's own wife and children. He paid a price for his foreign bride, and he bore his children. Then he assigns them important tasks in completing his life plan. It is almost as if, they belong to him. But you see, they don't.

I vaguely remember that at the altar, we vowed to love each other in woe and in weal, in sickness and in good health. A marriage is meant to be held together by unconditional love. Who knows if one of the couple would one day become the weaker link? What if, despite forking out good money for a healthy looking bride, she turns out to be barren, and thus fails in her destiny to provide children for him? Is this an occasion for a refund?

Besides, one never owns the children he has, even if he bore and clothed them. They belong to themselves, and have every right to live as they wish. They don't exist to support their parents. They usually do, because people usually love their parents. It is one thing to enjoy the fruits of love's labour, another to plan with cool calculation one's security in old age. The more we expect from others, the higher the chances of disappointment.

And if this is the deal offered by the would-be husband, I am not surprised that my lady compatriots are not interested.

Threadfin

I've expanded my repertoire of dishes, though I no longer like cooking. It is not fun anymore, and I'm so tired of healthy dishes - porkball porridge, steamed fish, lightly stir-fried tenderloin. Sometimes I am tempted to put in a few drops of sesame oil and rice wine...but no, these things are forbidden for now. Too 'heaty'.

Apparently, the convalescent has to feed on this special fish 'gnor he', to make sure that the wounds heal better. Unfortunately, since I know only the dialect name for this fish, I have no idea how to buy it at NTUC. I see 'snapper', 'cod', 'salmon', 'batang'...which is 'gnor he'? Being a anti-social and misanthropic, I don't speak to strangers and hence cannot ask the 'aunties' shopping in NTUC. And being a modern woman, I don't dare to go into the wet market...not that there is one where I live. Sigh...

Luckily, NTUC must have realised the predicament we young wives are in. It helpfully labelled the fish '五鱼' at the fish counter, and I understand enough dialect to know that 'gnor' means '五' in Mandarin. Ladies who are like me, for your information, the mystery fish is 'threadfin'. Now you know.

But I haven't found the sugarcane yet. Never mind, at least I have also learnt to double boil.

Mostly empty

Were the tins half full or half empty? Mine was mostly empty.

It has been years since I last sold flags.

Maybe I have become older and less charming, or maybe I wasn't wearing a school uniform, and hence somehow invoke less sympathy. Whatever the reason is, people HAVE definitely become less generous and more hostile. I remembered gathering much more donations from the passers-by then. In fact, it was those who refused to donate who looked embarassed, as if they felt obliged to donate. What has happened to our society since?

I didn't mind the heat and discomfort of standing beside a bus stop with a tin, even if it meant getting covered with dust from vehicles' exhaust fumes. But what hurt most was the rudeness I experienced. My goodness, being a misanthrope, I wouldn't say that I am usually friendly. But it was shocking to see the kaleidoscope of rejection methods. Some people...simply put, behaved as if they had the right to treat others anyway they want. I wanted to say, hey, I'm a volunteer, not a beggar ok... Just trying to help out here. Trying to be useful to society, even if it annoys you. You have the right to be a stingy bug*er but not the right to be a rude one.
Ok, I admit, eventually, some aggressiveness in me manifested. I approached a group of NUS students and (politely) asked if anyone would like to donate. The semi-circle of undergraduate eyeballs stared at me uncomprehendingly, and so I said coldly, "Not one among (all of) you can spare one coin?" Then I rolled my eyes at them and walked away. Self-righteousness rarely felt so justified. So there!

Some pictures

Smiling through the brain freeze. Actually we came out into the open just for this shot. Then it's right back into shelter and heating.

Forgot which lake this was. Too many lakes around

A pensive moment on the train.

The snowy mountains! Always winter and never Christmas!

Graffiti

It is everywhere.

It doesn't matter where you go. If there is a blank and reasonably smooth surface - an old shed, under the bridge, on garden seats - it is possible canvas for self-appointed graffiti artists. No real skill is required, as V pointed out, they all seem to follow a similar style. The graffiti usually consists of words in fat bubble letters, just as what we saw on the Mrt train graffiti. The repertoire of the graffiti artist might even extent to simple cartoon characters. Some sadly resorted to random squiggles of paint.

And thus, in the otherwise pristine environment of pastoral countryside, in the gleaming towns, a subculture of free-spirited self-expression insists on making its presence felt, or rather, seen.

Graffiti is so prevalent in Switzerland that I am beginning to wonder if the recent case of Mrt vandalism is reflection more of cultural differences than criminal intention. Maybe it is perfectly acceptable over there, and even blotches of spray paint are preferred to unadorned surfaces.

Toilets

I am traumatised by the toilets in our rooms. Our dear host country have no qualms it seems, about doing its private business in highly open ways. The toilets in our rooms dont ever seem to be fully partitioned off! And the shower area is, gasp, a glass cylinder! And in one room, the cistern aka throne is simply part of the room. No doors, no walls. Only token glass panels. And I thought that only prisoners arent allowed privacy when they go to the toilet! I must say, the interior design really take the open concept toilet to new heights. What a dreadful avant garde idea.