Gigi Chao: ‘Love shall prevail.’

Just a quick note with a few videos about Gigi Chao, while I am preparing a blog post as a comment to TYT’s outrageous coverage of Gigi Chao, that really pissed me off and so clearly showed TYT’s non existing journalistic line when it comes to research, cultural understanding and lifestyles outside of their own “bubble”.

More to read here

Used panties and a ‘proper’ girl

I think I’ve always felt a bit like a ‘nice girl’. Maybe it’s a completely erroneous assumption, but it is probably because I came from a … hmm … something nicer background than the majority of the people I hung out with did – or at least my mom told me that I did. Dad was always “yay diversity!”, “but don’t get pregnant with any guys who has tattoos on their dick” – Yes he actually said that when I was a blushing 16 years old!

Well I was definitely the only one who was forced to do both piano, ballet and posture lessons at an early age – yes I had a parent who dreamed of a prodigy child…. like so many other f..k’ed up Singaporean parents…..

I’ve never really tried my hands at shoplifting, I drank my first beer (too) late, never been the one standing outside Zuok puking myself to pieces and I have never smoked either.

Well.

I got this feeling of being a little too neat and orderly that today is reflected in that I walk around with a pretty hefty anxiety that if I am acting too naive, spoiled or overprotected.

As in when I browse around on the interweb and see an advert for the following:

“Purchase and sales of used sex toys and lingerie”

.. And my first immediate thought is, “no, that is freaking disgusting to sell! Who in the right mind would buy anything like that as a secondhand item!? It’s some of those things that just have to be bought as new!!”

I did manage to think that thought to the end, before it dawned on me that, that might actually be the whole point, that it was used and dirty.

I told you that I am sharp and cunning – after a while.

From there, I wondered if there really was any real profit to be had in this kind (why not triple the value of my H&M panties). It may well be that I am naive. But I am also both a lesbian and a beancounter when it comes to money.

So I investigated.

But it turns out that it’s pretty limited in what you get for your old knickers unless you are providing video and photographic evidence. And that is there where I say stop, the idea of a dirty old man – yes I can’t in my wildest imagination believe that any women would buy second hand panties to well, you know.. – get to smell anything that I have previously worn is too urg, odd.

But it turns out that it’s pretty limited in what you get for your old knickers unless you are providing video and photographic documentation. And that is where my modesty makes a full stop.

So I am an little uptight when it come to that.

Uptight much?

Yes, just a little I guess.

While everyone else is preparing for CNY i’m preparing for school

I’m not going back to study, even I sometimes wish I could do that.

No, I’m for the next month going to teach. !!!…. Yes ol’ little me is going to stand in front of a lot of strangers and say something smart while they all are looking – or staring with their mouths open – at me. Hmm that sounds rather scary by the way. I don’t mind attention, I just feel uncomfortable about becoming the center of attention. Any kind of attention from more than 4-5 people at a time feels kind a scary to me.

I was asked by my immediate boss (I got a few), that if I wanted to try on taking a class in the local uni, on the topic “Journalism in Asia”, on how the political systems is for foreign journalists and how to operate in them. I jumped into it without thinking of what I said yes to, and now I am going to have the first class on Tuesday the 4th.

I am partially freaking out inside of myself right now.

Especially when I earlier today got a call, asking me if I needed anything and what they should prepare for my first class. Oh and if it would be okay to split the class up into two, because 50 people have signed up and requested to participate in it. Initially I was told, that a maximum of 20 people – tops! No more than 25, would attend. Now there are 50! and I am getting cold feet, so thanks for letting me know only a week before I begin.

I am going to teach Tuesday and Thursday through February, 4(2+2) hours per day, so in total 32 hours instead of the 21 hours that initially was agreed on.

Broadly I am going to cover 8 countries; Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Vietnam, Indonesia, Philippines, Japan & China/Hong Kong, and if there is time, then quickly cover Australia and New Zealand too. I doubt that I will have much time left, but I got the material and presentations ready.

Taiwan, South Korea, Brunei and India among other will be skipped because I don’t have the needed time.

Style check:

  • Hair Bun – Check!
  • Black Rimmed Glasses – Check!
  • Practice strict facial expression in front of the hall mirror – Check
  • Try various styles of clothes – Check, Check and Check.
  • Cane – Check… hmm better not. Uncheck.

Okay, I’m ready.

Sort of.

 

Just musings from the past.

Do you know that?

The first day that you stand infront of the bathroom mirror and say the word.

Or try to say it.

“I am G..”,

Shake your head, fingers are edgy and you mess up your hair until finally you look back into the mirror and look into your own eyes.

“I am Gay,” you whisper to yourself.

You stare for a while and look at yourself in the mirror.

“I am Gay”, you say with a higher and stronger voice.

“I am Les-“, you then try to say, but stop yourself in completing it.

“Wait! Am I really?”,

“But I just want to be like everyone else!”,

Maybe around this time you freak out and try to convince yourself that “no, you aren’t really a les – eh gay person”, and even after than mindbloving kiss, that felt like your feet lost touch with the ground, then you run out to find someone to confirm, that no, you are not that person that you just saw in the mirror. You are not her.

So you run out and jump on anyone that you like just even a little.

And for a while you might even feel happy on the outside.

But eventually you are back infront of the bathroom mirror, looking for that feeling that they couldn’t give you, no matter how much you tried.

You kept thinking of that kiss, that first touch.

“I am Gay”,

“I am a Lesbian”, you finally say to yourself.

“Les-Bi-an”,

And you feel scared, nervous. Nervous but also happy.

The butterflies are back

That word, you are part of it, it defines you.

“Gay”

That is who you are.

The first gay person that you met was not the one who gave you that stunning kiss, those butterflies, or that look on the street when you passed her.

The first gay person, you realise. It was yourself and she has always been inside of you, just waiting to acknowledge her, and now she is coming out to you.

Naked, Ugly, Nice, Beautiful, Gorgeous

You have probably all seen the wonderful pictures that photographer Gracie Hagen has taken of naked bodies, respectively proud and more hunched postures.

They are absolutely amazing. Especially when you reach the point where your media trained perfection seeking eye begin to see how beautiful the crooked bodies are as well.

Gracie Hagen’s project, is a project to show how you can manipulate the body to be aesthetically respectively inviting and equally less inviting. And how much a good attitude can help. Hint, Hint :)

See all the photos here there are really a lot of gorgeous pictures!

And then we can always talk about pubic hair another day. Or their lack of. 

Me an online Hermit

I was working on another post about my slight irritation about K. No! not K from Men in Black. eew Gross! But K as in K my ex. Anyway it’s not about her.

But I was writing about that post, when A.N my coworker (yes if you had been just a little faster you would have noticed that I first wrote cowhorer, whatever that might mean,)  who coincidentally also is part of my blog post, send me a Skype message.

“Why are you an Online Hermit!! I can’t find you on Facebook!!”

I can only agree with her, I am an online Hermit.

I am not on Facebook any longer and haven’t had an account for a few years now. It does not stop me from Facebook stalk friends or people that I find interesting by the way. But a personal Facebook account. Nope don’t have one any longer, and it’s because I felt that Facebook has turned into something that is close to social porn, where you have to expose yourself to such a degree that nothing is personal any longer.

It almost turned into an almost mandatory bodily function that if you went to the toilet, where you might have to do number 1 or maybe even number 2, then it was a must that you had to do number 3 too! – checking your Facebook and Twitter account to see if you missed something while you had your knickers down around your ankles.

But really guys? get a freaking life! and remember to disinfect your phone after you had it in your hands in a public toilet!

I am back on Twitter btw. I had to contact a person who only had a Twitter account to be contacted on, so well, no choice. Then later I also ended up asking what’s her face on TYT on where she got some boots that she had on, on a show, but else I am almost absent from there as well.

Yesterday morning I got an email from an US employer that I from time to time to do some freelance work from, where they requested access to every permanent staff and freelance staff’s Facebook account who is providing them with materials.

I replied back to the HR person that send it out – and very classy to see that the email was send publicly with every email address in the TO list instead of BCC – that I didn’t have an account on Facebook any longer and therefore couldn’t give them access.

45 minutes later I got the following reply with a cc to my contact “Please reactivate your Facebook account and give us access to it, or we are unable to receive materials from you any longer.”

hmm bye, bye from me.

Women and their ink

I just have to say it.

I find inked women damn sexy, I mean, not the ones with tramp stamps and porn tattoos all over, but inks with thoughts and meaning, no matter if it only gives meaning to themselves, that is sexy I think.

Maybe it is because I don’t have any yet – oh I want one, two and maybe a few more, and I know what they should be, I know where they should be and yes, my Pinterest account is also full of tattoo inspirations. But right now I still have to make it further than to the door of the tattoo shop.

And not to run away when they look at me from the inside of the store would help too.

Yes I like to act tough, but I am a chicken inside when it comes to pain. Or more, it’s the idea or thought of pain in the near future that get me to chicken out.

And you know who… even got a few before I did. hmm. grrrr

So this leads me to my most recent shopping experience at the nearby minimart / supermarket

There was a lesbian. Yes, that was of course highly speculative, because she was alone. She was not busy groping or French kissing anyone up against the freezer when I met her. She didn’t have a sticker on her jacket, explaining that she was into girls.

But she got:

  • Cap
  • Crew Cut
  • Piercings
  • Practical jacket (!)
  • Mason Pants, including a ruler and a spirit(bubble) level in one of countless pockets on her thigh
  • Sway
  • That “look” in her eyes
  • and Tattoo’s

Check, Check, Check and Check.

Maybe she was just a house squatter, on her way to occupy another building? If you are from Singapore, and since you are reading this blog, then the chance is that it is highly likely, that you are. Then a squatter is a person – usually more than one person, who occupy a building that have been abandoned and empty for a longer period of time, to live in. Not really legal to so, but as long as the building owner does not freak out, then the police usually leave them alone – and they arrange some awesome parties once in a while.

Well, back to my story.

Anyways, It all worked well together: cap, check. Mason Pants, check. Spirit level, check. And I am always very curious when lesbians look, well “lesbians”. Yesterday I mentioned this to a lesbian friend, who equally got that lesbian look (think Caucasian version of Pat Law) and she said, “Funny, I always get a little annoyed with these types.”. I am sure Freud could get a lot of excitement out of that.

So we got to talk – the squatter type, not my friend. And it turned out, that she was an actual live carpenter.

By the way that reminds me, how many female carpenters are there in Singapore? I don’t recall ever seen a female carpenter in Singapore – Ever! and that makes it a little bit more exciting to meet a real live female carpenter. Okay, I know that in Singapore there is a bias and social boxing between white collar and blue collar people, i.e. people who actually know how to do stuff with their hands… I mean professionally – not the hm other way. Okay, I am officially rambling now. But what I mean is that I don’t care about what people do with their life as long as they feel happy with them self and what they do.

But have you ever seen a female carpenter in Singapore? If you do, then please let me know, because then I would like to interview her.

Of course I with my high heels and meticulously long hair quickly had to wove into the sentence that “my crush in Singapore she …”. with strong emphasis on “SHE”. In other words, “I am just like you! I am also a lesbian! and I’m totally not judging you!” Complete foolish conversational response related to “I actually have friends who are Ang Moh (Caucasian)”.

Where she interrupted me by saying

“Take it easy, even with your heels and femme look, then there is no way that you are straight, the way that you checked me out before we got to talk”.

Shit. Busted.

But after a short chit chat – comparing if we had any common friends in the Team L Circle, we split and agreed to share a drink if we got to meet in Vive one day.

By the way. It is amazing how much you can get out of a person just by telling them that you like and/or find their tattoos sexy.

In a top-10 over meaningless blog posts, this one gets the nominated for the top spot.