minishorts.net
Friday, June 25
Wednesday, June 23
Help Needed
Dear all
I know you're ingeniously creative people. Minishorts has just ran out of her resources and needs your help. Could you please all help her think of a very good 'reason' to tell her Mummy something otherwise? There's this thing at the end of this week that she simply has got to go to but Mummy mustn't know for what. But you already know. Shhh... its an all expenses paid weekend getaway by SL.
Sounds romantic, huh?
But it won't work unless she's got a very valid reason.
So think away and help her play.
I know you're ingeniously creative people. Minishorts has just ran out of her resources and needs your help. Could you please all help her think of a very good 'reason' to tell her Mummy something otherwise? There's this thing at the end of this week that she simply has got to go to but Mummy mustn't know for what. But you already know. Shhh... its an all expenses paid weekend getaway by SL.
Sounds romantic, huh?
But it won't work unless she's got a very valid reason.
So think away and help her play.
Monday, June 21
Gah...
After a week, you'd have thought that there's more sense to all these. Unfortunately, the Earth chooses to continue on its drowsy mechanical spinning on its axis, and here she is wasting away.
I fell ill again.
Four MCs in two months. Hip hip hurrah. Here's health, or what's left of it. *sigh*
I've grown to hate the things that surround my very 'well-being'. That, that and that. They all fall into place like dreaded bombs, waiting to explode all at once. I deplore the attention that is given, and yet have no choice but to accept.
Look, you. I know you're older, more seasoned. I'm just trying to do my job. Look, you. I hate talking on the phone for hours, so can't we just get over this in a civilized manner without me having to here you drone on and on about your years of experience and slam me off for 'undermining' your capabilities.
The point is, I HATE DOING THIS. So let's just get this over and done with and head on with life. At the end of the day you're the contractor and I'm the worker, and you know what they always say.
You know you've been in the workforce for a substantial length of time once you realise that contractors remain with the company longer than employees do.
Oh well. To health again.
I fell ill again.
Four MCs in two months. Hip hip hurrah. Here's health, or what's left of it. *sigh*
I've grown to hate the things that surround my very 'well-being'. That, that and that. They all fall into place like dreaded bombs, waiting to explode all at once. I deplore the attention that is given, and yet have no choice but to accept.
Look, you. I know you're older, more seasoned. I'm just trying to do my job. Look, you. I hate talking on the phone for hours, so can't we just get over this in a civilized manner without me having to here you drone on and on about your years of experience and slam me off for 'undermining' your capabilities.
The point is, I HATE DOING THIS. So let's just get this over and done with and head on with life. At the end of the day you're the contractor and I'm the worker, and you know what they always say.
You know you've been in the workforce for a substantial length of time once you realise that contractors remain with the company longer than employees do.
Oh well. To health again.
Sunday, June 13
Saturday, June 12
The Other Things
Apart from work, I have a life too.
Mum and me seem to be getting closer lately. We talk to each other before bedtime, and I'm back to watching those good old TVB no-brainer episodes. They're fun, they remind me of life on the fast lane, and they keep me intact, or at least, suspended. After 10.30 at night me and my mum will be yakking non-stop and discussing the plot. And the pretty girls. And who's more leng chai. (If SL were arond he would go, 'Me dashing and handsome! ?- sorry dear, couldn't resist.)
Speaking of SL, we seem to have been neglecting each other. Grrr... me and my killer job, he and his killer job. The irony, we live less than 1 minute away from each other and yet we only get to meet up once a week and yak on the phone after midnight if we're lucky. What a hateful life we lead!!! Urgh.
I'm supposed to be shopping for another cocktail gown to go to the AIESEC alumni dinner in. Unfortunately, I don't look half as good as I used to this time last year, and those extras that I've accumulated around my waist, butt and arms have got to go. And I've only 1 1/2 months to get rid of them. At the same time I seem to be getting addicted to Coke.
Grrrr...
Oh yeah, since I'm now using a camera phone, I've decided to get a moblog too. Here you go!
Okie. That's about it.
Mum and me seem to be getting closer lately. We talk to each other before bedtime, and I'm back to watching those good old TVB no-brainer episodes. They're fun, they remind me of life on the fast lane, and they keep me intact, or at least, suspended. After 10.30 at night me and my mum will be yakking non-stop and discussing the plot. And the pretty girls. And who's more leng chai. (If SL were arond he would go, 'Me dashing and handsome! ?- sorry dear, couldn't resist.)
Speaking of SL, we seem to have been neglecting each other. Grrr... me and my killer job, he and his killer job. The irony, we live less than 1 minute away from each other and yet we only get to meet up once a week and yak on the phone after midnight if we're lucky. What a hateful life we lead!!! Urgh.
I'm supposed to be shopping for another cocktail gown to go to the AIESEC alumni dinner in. Unfortunately, I don't look half as good as I used to this time last year, and those extras that I've accumulated around my waist, butt and arms have got to go. And I've only 1 1/2 months to get rid of them. At the same time I seem to be getting addicted to Coke.
Grrrr...
Oh yeah, since I'm now using a camera phone, I've decided to get a moblog too. Here you go!
Okie. That's about it.
Friday, June 11
In No Particular Order, In No Particular Form
I'm not your conventional linguist. (I'm referring to linguistics as in the science of language ya, not as in 'knowing many languages') I like the academia because they allow for freedom of expression, and especially because they accept the 'rojak-fication' of American/British English conventions. I enjoy reading bilingual blogs, and always I marvel at the way how some writers have skilfully blended three or more languages (and slang, mind you) into a single post. Of course, some of these passages may not be understandable to the foreign eye, but I think it's diversity; as long as the majority of your intended outreach understands you... well, you're good to go. I don't believe in prescriptive grammar; I trust that language being a living thing, is subject to change and growth, and negatives and positives are very seldom placed in a black and white situation. I'm what linguists call a 'descriptive grammarian'. And oi, I'm Malaysian and as far as I'm concerned, I don't really care about 'good English', because I don't believe in 'good English'---to me the concept doesn't even exist.
Unfortunately, in my line of work, grammar, spelling, style... is a black and white concept. It's either right, or wrong, and Br/E is the way to go. This is where the problem kicks in.
I can't be unstylistic. Yet I still have to be stylistic. I can't bring in American conventions, yet in spoken British English even, they have Americanisms seeping through and 'polluting' the language, as purists maintain. I have to be very cautious about spelling, have to watch out for the 'z's and the 's'es very carefully... you never know you see... and you can't ever be too sure. For every preposition that appears in a line, I have to question it. You can't ever say 'I'm calling for a meeting.' It's got to be, 'I'm calling a meeting.' Both are right in society but because we're using British English, the former is absolutely intolerable.
I have to make sure that contractions don't appear at will, sentences don't ever start with the conjunction 'but'. I have to ensure the right use of the Past tense, make sure that the continuous tense should never appear when it's meant to be a simple tense, and mind you, it isn't ever that simple.
It's easy to know all these conventions, you just need to memorize them from grammar books. You just need to 'take charge of your own learning', (well, as if I have the time to), and then convince people who obviously have years and years of experience ahead of you, that you are right and they are wrong.
Now try convincing authors when they have past year examination papers to look back and present proof in that manner. You photocopy the materials from THE number one grammar reference. It's what we're all trained do to, check up your reference, memorize the points and rules, keep them yardsticks and share this gained knowledge with authors. Oooh, authors, they're like dormant volcanoes, rich in knowledge, but when they explode, they really explode.
'Bullshit. I don't care if the grammar books say that, the past year examination paper tests on it, and so I want that line in the passage NO MATTER what you say.'
And so we keep making mistakes (that aren't really mistakes if you're talking about language in the real world), and every year, over-zealous parents and teachers bang the doors of the Lembaga and Majlis Peperiksaan Malaysia complaining about factual and language errors.
Students hardly study for knowledge. They all study to score in the examinations. If you get 2 As, you're not clever, if you get 12 As, you're a genius and you gain national fame. It's terrifying, everyone out there is competing to prove their might, when all our students are ever learning to do is 'pass examinations with flying colours'. The screwed up thing is, the examination questions aren't even accurate in the first place, if you really checked up British English (which is what Malaysia is supposed to be using). Wait, wait, not only are the examinations thick with errors, even the HSP (Huraian Sukatan Pelajaran, the national syllabus) for English is strewn with grammatical errors, incomplete sentences, and 'colours' is spelt as 'colors' in some pages, 'colours' in other pages.
Well, this is only about English. Ever wonder what happens in other subjects that our poor students have to study and sit? By the way, it's supposed to be 'sit the examination' not 'sit for the examination'.
Now excuse me while I go and mark out all the 'but's' in the sentence openers.
Unfortunately, in my line of work, grammar, spelling, style... is a black and white concept. It's either right, or wrong, and Br/E is the way to go. This is where the problem kicks in.
I can't be unstylistic. Yet I still have to be stylistic. I can't bring in American conventions, yet in spoken British English even, they have Americanisms seeping through and 'polluting' the language, as purists maintain. I have to be very cautious about spelling, have to watch out for the 'z's and the 's'es very carefully... you never know you see... and you can't ever be too sure. For every preposition that appears in a line, I have to question it. You can't ever say 'I'm calling for a meeting.' It's got to be, 'I'm calling a meeting.' Both are right in society but because we're using British English, the former is absolutely intolerable.
I have to make sure that contractions don't appear at will, sentences don't ever start with the conjunction 'but'. I have to ensure the right use of the Past tense, make sure that the continuous tense should never appear when it's meant to be a simple tense, and mind you, it isn't ever that simple.
It's easy to know all these conventions, you just need to memorize them from grammar books. You just need to 'take charge of your own learning', (well, as if I have the time to), and then convince people who obviously have years and years of experience ahead of you, that you are right and they are wrong.
Now try convincing authors when they have past year examination papers to look back and present proof in that manner. You photocopy the materials from THE number one grammar reference. It's what we're all trained do to, check up your reference, memorize the points and rules, keep them yardsticks and share this gained knowledge with authors. Oooh, authors, they're like dormant volcanoes, rich in knowledge, but when they explode, they really explode.
'Bullshit. I don't care if the grammar books say that, the past year examination paper tests on it, and so I want that line in the passage NO MATTER what you say.'
And so we keep making mistakes (that aren't really mistakes if you're talking about language in the real world), and every year, over-zealous parents and teachers bang the doors of the Lembaga and Majlis Peperiksaan Malaysia complaining about factual and language errors.
Students hardly study for knowledge. They all study to score in the examinations. If you get 2 As, you're not clever, if you get 12 As, you're a genius and you gain national fame. It's terrifying, everyone out there is competing to prove their might, when all our students are ever learning to do is 'pass examinations with flying colours'. The screwed up thing is, the examination questions aren't even accurate in the first place, if you really checked up British English (which is what Malaysia is supposed to be using). Wait, wait, not only are the examinations thick with errors, even the HSP (Huraian Sukatan Pelajaran, the national syllabus) for English is strewn with grammatical errors, incomplete sentences, and 'colours' is spelt as 'colors' in some pages, 'colours' in other pages.
Well, this is only about English. Ever wonder what happens in other subjects that our poor students have to study and sit? By the way, it's supposed to be 'sit the examination' not 'sit for the examination'.
Now excuse me while I go and mark out all the 'but's' in the sentence openers.
Thursday, June 10
Caveat
If you burn out I won't have the energy to go see you.
I can't be a candle forever, I have my own problems to look after. I've got a weak body made of wax, and when the fire gets too close, I melt. My wick is rather useless, blow and I'll go out, I'm left in darkness. The last time I lost my flame, you came and lit me up all over again... but now, I'm really worried.
I'm worried that you can't keep your own flame. Your own body's getting weaker. I see you getting stumpier. I see the wax dripping down, you're getting short, your own wick's becoming unreliable.
Do you get this?
If this goes on, who's going to light me up when my flame dies out again?
I can't be a candle forever, I have my own problems to look after. I've got a weak body made of wax, and when the fire gets too close, I melt. My wick is rather useless, blow and I'll go out, I'm left in darkness. The last time I lost my flame, you came and lit me up all over again... but now, I'm really worried.
I'm worried that you can't keep your own flame. Your own body's getting weaker. I see you getting stumpier. I see the wax dripping down, you're getting short, your own wick's becoming unreliable.
Do you get this?
If this goes on, who's going to light me up when my flame dies out again?
Wednesday, June 9
Here's A Good One
'The most essential gift for a good writer is a built-in, shock-proof shit detector. This is the writer's radar and all great writers have had it.' -Spring 1958 Paris Review
I think there's a writer in each of us who blog. Anyone who's intrigued enough to set up a blog and post that very first entry would have had that imagination, and that tiniest bit of aspiration... 'Here goes nothing.'
You type what you will. It's go from that very first click of the 'enter' key. After that, there's no looking back. Whither or not you continue blogging, that's another matter altogether. I know of friends who profess to want to write one day but have not the discipline--yes as much as the inappropriacy of this word here, its necessary here-- to go beyond the first week.
But for those who continue, for those who go through the various stages of a blogger's life, you've had it before. You've felt the excitement of seeing your own creation bounce to life on the word's biggest free publication ever, you've gone through those stages of learning up basic html and maybe css to customise your presentation space, and then you've surfed the net for inspiration, read dozens of other blogs and found friends along the way. You've join communities, perhaps, sometimes, attended blog-dos. And you've had comments trolls leaving footprints in your little 'home', some stalkers perhaps, you've even ticked off some other people, sometimes. You hang out all your dirty linen to dry in public, and usually you get 'sympathy', yet you know shit's going to be remain shit all the same.
It's good shit, by the way, all these, these things that come with this practice. When I was in AIESEC a senior used to tell us that shit actually means 'Special High Intensity Training'. Okay, so this is going to sound so cheesy but, you know? Blogging is S.H.I.T., in that sense. Before you know it your language skills improve (it doesn't matter what medium your blog is in), and then you start to gain stylistic methods as well, and of course, you become more sensitive to the things around you.
Suddenly the Internet isn't so much about chatting or checking e-mail anymore.
I think there's a writer in each of us who blog. Anyone who's intrigued enough to set up a blog and post that very first entry would have had that imagination, and that tiniest bit of aspiration... 'Here goes nothing.'
You type what you will. It's go from that very first click of the 'enter' key. After that, there's no looking back. Whither or not you continue blogging, that's another matter altogether. I know of friends who profess to want to write one day but have not the discipline--yes as much as the inappropriacy of this word here, its necessary here-- to go beyond the first week.
But for those who continue, for those who go through the various stages of a blogger's life, you've had it before. You've felt the excitement of seeing your own creation bounce to life on the word's biggest free publication ever, you've gone through those stages of learning up basic html and maybe css to customise your presentation space, and then you've surfed the net for inspiration, read dozens of other blogs and found friends along the way. You've join communities, perhaps, sometimes, attended blog-dos. And you've had comments trolls leaving footprints in your little 'home', some stalkers perhaps, you've even ticked off some other people, sometimes. You hang out all your dirty linen to dry in public, and usually you get 'sympathy', yet you know shit's going to be remain shit all the same.
It's good shit, by the way, all these, these things that come with this practice. When I was in AIESEC a senior used to tell us that shit actually means 'Special High Intensity Training'. Okay, so this is going to sound so cheesy but, you know? Blogging is S.H.I.T., in that sense. Before you know it your language skills improve (it doesn't matter what medium your blog is in), and then you start to gain stylistic methods as well, and of course, you become more sensitive to the things around you.
Suddenly the Internet isn't so much about chatting or checking e-mail anymore.
Tuesday, June 8
Go... Gone
My brand new Sony Ericsson T630 went up in flames today. Literally. Actually, the phone is still intact, but the charger zonked out on me and decided to call it a day, after three days of being my property. It was sitting comfortably in the socket for about 15 minutes, while I worked on the computer, and then suddenly, there was this loud and abrupt buzzing sound and the whole computer died.
I thought my Mac decided to die an early death.
See, at first I was almost in tears because the computer is FILLED with work, compiled over a period of ... many many months lah. And then I thought, okay, cool, I'll get a new computer come July... but then, the work gone! The things lost, and the things I'll have to do.
But it wasn't the computer you see. The technicians pulled out the plugs and there it was, my Sony Ericsson charger?FRIED. The computer's okay, everything is intact... just that the electrical plug-in sockets are now obsolete and awaiting attention.
So there goes my NEW PHONE. Grrr... and I thought the worst was over.
Ooh. But you know it already. That's like so fun! Astounding, but still. Fun.
It's just the things I like?well, they're really quite common. Things like: freshly washed hair, gel-less please, ooh, haircream off too! I like the smell of clean after shave, and that unmistakable scent of antiseptic soap... I like dry carpets, devoid of damp musty whiffs, and clean car floor mats that don't remind you of public buses or taxis. Things like that. Very simple, yeah? Easy to do. See, how easy to please I am. Smell nice, look nice, clean up nice.
I thought my Mac decided to die an early death.
See, at first I was almost in tears because the computer is FILLED with work, compiled over a period of ... many many months lah. And then I thought, okay, cool, I'll get a new computer come July... but then, the work gone! The things lost, and the things I'll have to do.
But it wasn't the computer you see. The technicians pulled out the plugs and there it was, my Sony Ericsson charger?FRIED. The computer's okay, everything is intact... just that the electrical plug-in sockets are now obsolete and awaiting attention.
So there goes my NEW PHONE. Grrr... and I thought the worst was over.
Ooh. But you know it already. That's like so fun! Astounding, but still. Fun.
It's just the things I like?well, they're really quite common. Things like: freshly washed hair, gel-less please, ooh, haircream off too! I like the smell of clean after shave, and that unmistakable scent of antiseptic soap... I like dry carpets, devoid of damp musty whiffs, and clean car floor mats that don't remind you of public buses or taxis. Things like that. Very simple, yeah? Easy to do. See, how easy to please I am. Smell nice, look nice, clean up nice.
Monday, June 7
Grrrrr....
What the fuck is wrong with you, dudes? You have a problem? You walk right in here and rub the mudstains off your soles on MY carpet, MY floor, you don't even say thank you for giving you a window to my world, and you start criticising me for the lousy drapes that I hang around the house?
But then again, I forgot. Oh well. You're forgivable. You know why? Because you're not even a friend. Heck, I even forgot why you're not a friend in the first place. I realised it, in an afterthought. I remember that you're not a friend because you refuse to choose me. The irony is, if you refuse to choose me, why the heck are you commenting on the upholstery and the tea that I serve for guests?
But never mind.
I was told this years ago: on sunny days, there's the sun. On rainy days, there's the rain. It's always been simple. The difficult thing is realising that things can be simple. I'm jotting this down to remind myself.
But then again, I forgot. Oh well. You're forgivable. You know why? Because you're not even a friend. Heck, I even forgot why you're not a friend in the first place. I realised it, in an afterthought. I remember that you're not a friend because you refuse to choose me. The irony is, if you refuse to choose me, why the heck are you commenting on the upholstery and the tea that I serve for guests?
But never mind.
I was told this years ago: on sunny days, there's the sun. On rainy days, there's the rain. It's always been simple. The difficult thing is realising that things can be simple. I'm jotting this down to remind myself.
Saturday, June 5
Sigh
I'm been struck with a very bad bout of luck this week. You know, when things seem like they're not going to get better, they really won't. Or ... Oh well.
First, I have that silly thing that's been happening at work (which leaves me in a fix really, because I have no idea what's going on at all), and then, just as I thought I could have a relaxing holiday with friends and loved ones, my handphone got picked. This was in the cinema yah, while watching Harry Potter.
So anyway, those of you who know me personally, please note that I'll be out of contact until Tuesday or Wednesday.
First, I have that silly thing that's been happening at work (which leaves me in a fix really, because I have no idea what's going on at all), and then, just as I thought I could have a relaxing holiday with friends and loved ones, my handphone got picked. This was in the cinema yah, while watching Harry Potter.
So anyway, those of you who know me personally, please note that I'll be out of contact until Tuesday or Wednesday.
Tuesday, June 1
Don't We All Know It Already
My life for the next few weeks is set to be living hell. It's because of this immense project that's been (so-called) handed to me on a platter, that I have to take up, whether I like it or not .
It's times like this that I really, really miss being just a student, and living in the times when mistakes are forgivable.
It isn't nearly the same as the time when pet projects are just what they are: pet projects. This project, you see, clashes completely with my principles in life, that is, to look up, look forward, look beyond. This absurd, absurd project, instead, tells me that we need to take a step back, learn from the past, and veil our eyes to the atrocities of the world.
It forces me to teach our children to be ignorant. That 'ignorance is bliss', that rape cases don't occur, that stress is a non-occuring phenomenon, that there is no such thing as a body hugging t-shirt, and school uniforms that accentuate the shape of a girl's body are non-existent.
It tells me to ignore the presence of diet pills, of the fact that the gender gap is closing up, that boys and girls should not be seen in the same photograph together.
This project, leaves every single person on the team, disillusioned, and hampered by the mis-screwed minds of the people 'up-there'. It leaves us reeling in shock over the explicit details of the Noritta Shamsuddin and Canny Ong cases, and cursing ourselves in horror that knowing that the might of the pen is in our hands, we can't yet do anything to save our future generation.
Bureaucracy is a horrible, horrible thing. That red tape, you don't know how far the line goes, or how many red tapes there are ... but you know, the scariest thing is: it's not the biggies who are making the decisions, its the smallies who think they're biggies.
But don't we all know it already.
It's times like this that I really, really miss being just a student, and living in the times when mistakes are forgivable.
It isn't nearly the same as the time when pet projects are just what they are: pet projects. This project, you see, clashes completely with my principles in life, that is, to look up, look forward, look beyond. This absurd, absurd project, instead, tells me that we need to take a step back, learn from the past, and veil our eyes to the atrocities of the world.
It forces me to teach our children to be ignorant. That 'ignorance is bliss', that rape cases don't occur, that stress is a non-occuring phenomenon, that there is no such thing as a body hugging t-shirt, and school uniforms that accentuate the shape of a girl's body are non-existent.
It tells me to ignore the presence of diet pills, of the fact that the gender gap is closing up, that boys and girls should not be seen in the same photograph together.
This project, leaves every single person on the team, disillusioned, and hampered by the mis-screwed minds of the people 'up-there'. It leaves us reeling in shock over the explicit details of the Noritta Shamsuddin and Canny Ong cases, and cursing ourselves in horror that knowing that the might of the pen is in our hands, we can't yet do anything to save our future generation.
Bureaucracy is a horrible, horrible thing. That red tape, you don't know how far the line goes, or how many red tapes there are ... but you know, the scariest thing is: it's not the biggies who are making the decisions, its the smallies who think they're biggies.
But don't we all know it already.
