JOURNAL: Amizadai (Lee Amizadai )

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  • "Oh no, it's 10 am and I'm looking at the second negative!" 2002-06-20 21:56:16 That was the dream phrase of the day. As usual, I cannot provide a context for it.


    I was thinking about the very wrong conversation I had with Steph last night, and about the stereotyped Asian portrayals I came across while growing up in Singapore. I don't recall much, only about two separate incidences that were definitely non-PC:
    a) In the Tintin comic entitled The Blue Lotus
    b) That movie where a whole bunch of Asians jump out of a broom closet shouting "SUPPLIES!"

    I laughed. At age 9 I thought it was hilarious.

    Now I know better - I should have felt outrage for being victimised, marginalised and made to suffer emotional and psychological trauma, for which, if pursused, could probably win me a few hundred thousand dollars in claims. I would also like to blame my parents for not teaching me better and thus exposing my young, impressionable mind to such detrimental and deragatory material for which I have to pay exhorbitant therapy fees for the pathological damage which affects my relationships and renders me unfit for work and for which I could sue for lost income.

    But seriously, racism is rife everywhere I know. In the US, in Australia, and even Singapore, which is touted for its cultural harmony. (Singapore's population is made up of 3 major ethnic groups, Indian, Malay and Chinese.)

    And guess who are the most racist of all? The Chinese. Probably because they make up the majority of the population.

    I talked to my friend Sach who is an ethnic Indian, and he told me of this incident where a Chinese man walked past muttering obscenities about him and his Chinese girlfriend. Now, Sach is a skinny fellow with a tendency to dislocate his shoulder when he sneezes, but he was so inscenced he ran after the guy and physically assualted him in an alley. Sach didn't whack the guy too hard, but the Chinese man was such a coward; he got on his knees and BEGGED Sach not to hurt him. While I am against solving things with violence, I can't help but think that he deserved it.

    As a product of a mixed marriage, I can see a lot of racism in the way my mother is treated. She's Mexican, and most people can't tell what to make of her. Some of them assume she's Malay, or Indian, or sometimes even my maid, and as such they treat her so. Until I address them in Mandarin and inform them (because they ask) that my mother is Mexican. And then you should see the difference in the way they treat her, because she's now 'Western'.

    I had the uncle who didn't care, and would say the most awful things to me about my mother and Mexicans when she wasn't around. It really confused me as a kid, because he was really nice to her in her face.

    But of course, not all Singapore Chinese are racists. The younger, more educated generation is a lot less so. Though I suspect that we still commit quite a few racist misdemeanors, not through unkindness and spitefullness, but through ignorance and insensitivity and general idiocy. When I make a blunder I sometimes ask my Malay or Indian friend if they sincerely thought that was racist.

    Sometimes it's yes, sometimes it's no. But they always tell me it's alright because I'm their friend. And I wonder whether it is, just because they've gotten used to it?

    I was reading a book about the world's greatest military blunders, and some of them were a result of Europeans allowing themselves and their troops underestimate and ridicule the fighting prowess of the "lesser peoples".

    OK, maybe this isn't racism exactly, but it still makes for an interesting quote: Some English general/colonel whose 1,000 strong camp was later demolished by the 200,000 strong Zulu warrior tribe: "How very amusing! You say they are attacking our camp? Amusing!"

    More recently, the fall of Singapore and the invasion of Japanese troops in WWII. The English thought the Japanese were little brown man with buck teeth who couldn't see past their thick glasses to fight through the jungles. Up till the day Singapore was attacked, they were making merry celebrating Chinese New Year.

    Does it sound like I am dissing the English? Because, really, I'm not. It just so happens that I read the chapter on some English/Zulu battle in Africa, and then flipped through another book on the fall of Singapore while looking up material for my essay.

    I am a product of my times. The Spice Girls rock(ed), and I love Guy Ritchie movies, and I watch anime, and I rooted for the Japanese soccer team this World Cup. For me, all that is in the past. But there are older Singaporeans who resent the English for leaving, and passionately hate the Japanese for the murders and the tortures that came after the defeat. These things are part of their personal past. These are the people who lost family members and friends to the Japanese, whose growth was stunted from the imposed rationing, who lived through the most awful atrocities. Can we blame them for being racist? I can understand where they're coming from, but I wonder if they can accept that the younger generations would rather forget history and buy Japanese electronics and support Manchester United?

    Yikes. Where did that historical/racism spiel come from? That's almost a thousand words... I wish it was this easy to generate words for my essays.

    DIE, ESSAYS DIE!

    By the way, check out www.tintin.com. It's a pretty cool flash website, even though I don't understand a thing on it because it's all in French.  
  • Harro! Me no speaka good Engrish! Ah, so! Ah, so! 2002-06-20 11:26:20 Ami: Steph! Hurry up with that note! The library closes at 10pm!

    Steph: Wait, hold on, this sentence doesn't sound grammatically right...

    Ami: Oh, just write whatever. We're Asians, we're not supposed to have a good grasp of English anyway.


    Some self-reflexive, non-PC amusement - which probably cost me God's favour, because I just got fined $24 at the library.  
  • clutching the splinters together 2002-06-19 21:06:32 I lost a contact lens down the sink this week. It slipped out of my retarded fingers because I was blind and groggy from having woken up.

    I've been wearing contacts for about 7 years. The first 5 years I never ever lost one. And then in the last two years, I lost THREE. The one I just lost makes FOUR. They are bloody expensive to replace, and I won't be able to replace them until I go back to Singapore. So I threw up my hands in the air, ground out a (very rare) cuss word that came out sounding like "FUGGG!" (because my nose was blocked) and kicked the cabinet. And then I left the toilet, because I was tempted to grab my plastic bottle of Listerine and throw it at the mirror. Ooh, I'm so dangerous and destructive! As Bubbles from Powerpuff Girls once said: "I'm HARDCORE noooow!"

    15 minutes later, while walking to a friend's house for dinner (one of two I've had this week), I stopped walking and started bawling. When Wally turned to see me blubbering on the street and asked me (in horror) what was wrong, I told him it was because of the contact lens. "So stupid, so stupid, I've lost it so many times this year, and I never lost it before, and I'm so retarded," I blubbered, my face all gross and splotchy.

    But I hardly EVER, EVER cry, EVER (just thought I'd emphasize that point) and never about something as trivial as that. I think he knew as well as I did that it had more to do with a contact lens. This week has been a blender of being sick, rushing my essays, not sleeping enough, feeling guilty when napping, not having money, not eating because I have no time, wearing the same socks for over a week, having my ADSL bandwidth run out in the middle of the month (which translates to more bills to pay), having my room look like it violently imploded... so many little things, all painted on top of the other, tangling me up so I finally TRIPPED--

    Wally, to his credit, didn't try to stop me from crying. Frankly, I think I would have taken it out quite violently on him if he had tried. He let me disengage quite easily from the hug he gave me, but stood close enough to shield me from nosy stares. And for a minute and a half, I noisily leaked snot and tears, letting myself give in to self-pity and absurdly thinking "One of EK's sundaes would be so appropriate RIGHT NOW."

    And then I thought, "OK, enough, this is stupid, I'm hungry now," and I stopped, and we went for dinner. Happy ending.

    For those who would think I am on the brink of a nervous breakdown or weak and pathetic, know that that pity-party had the same effect as me doing my occasional little prancy jig of rage. It disperses all the bad feeling into the atmosphere, free to be called upon by emo bands for repackaging into angsty songs for tortured teenagers. So next time you hear an angry song by Stabbing Westward about losing a contact lenses for the fourth time in 2 years, you'll know where that originally came from.

    It was physical stress as much as it was a psychological, maybe more. I was WEAK, and I didn't even notice how badly I was taking care of myself. Now my flu is almost all gone, and I'm making sure I eat and sleep more, so embarassing incidents like this will be kept to a minimum if not totally outphased.  
  • Rejoice! For you are dead! 2002-06-16 08:25:55 "All stories end badly if you keep them going long enough."

    This is going to be my favourite quote for a while. It so fits my appetite for pathos and tragedy.

    But really, I'm quite the big-picture optimist. I'm just pathologically paranoid about the evil little jigsaw pieces. Murphy would be proud of me, the way I stick to his creed. But if you're talking about philosophy of life, I guess Danny Elfman's quote fits the best.

    "Darkness can never last too long
    if you laugh in his face."

    And you wonder why people laugh MADLY. BWAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA!


    Scooter, *I* wrote about my friend first, so guess WHO is stealing WHOSE plot. Tsh! Go find your own stories, or I'll sic the Finger-Puppet of Death on you! 
  • trying to drown in a shallow puddle 2002-06-16 06:49:56 Well, I guess I'm going to have to see the doc tomorrow. Got a bit worse today. Was feeling weird and short of breath during church today. I don't know if it has anything to do with the fact that I didn't sleep a wink last night. I lay in bed for 4 hours, trying, trying, trying, without success. Maybe I should have gotten out of bed to do my essay, but then I probably would have just sat in front of the computer with my brain whirring, whirring, whirring away and not gotten anything done except get stressed and frustrated.

    So much WHINING. Shut up, shut UP! *Ami slaps herself upside the head.


    My neighbour left her weighing machine outside her door today. I stepped on it, and discovered I have lost about 4 kg. Yay for flu and lack of appetite. Now I just need BICEPS.


    Bad news. 10 MBs to go on my bandwidth allowance. I can't afford to go over the limit and pay 18 cents per additional MB, so I'm pulling out the ADSL cable tonight.

    Leave my over-priveledged self alone while I beat my chest and howl about the woe, oh the painful woe of having to apply for a 56 k service. How far I have fallen! Go away if you have no sympathy for me.


    I said a rather strange goodbye to my next door neighbour last night. He left this morning for Singapore for the holidays, and since my lease in this place ends this month, I won't get a chance to see him again. Except maybe for the few days after he returns to Australia and before I leave the country.

    I found Jimmy outside in the dining area stressing over some last minute project at 3am. He hadn't slept in two days, so I gave him a shoulder rub while he lay his head on the table and drifted off for a couple of minutes. Then after whacking him a couple of times to wake him up again, I made him noodles for supper. Nothing special, really. Having 3 am suppers together and the occasional shoulder whacking session is rather common and totally platonic.

    I didn't realise this would be goodbye until just before he ate, he commented how this was the last time I'd give him a shoulder rub and the noodles I made him was the last supper I'd cook him. Thank goodness he said it, or I wouldn't have thought to say a proper goodbye before leaving for church this morning. I took the opportunity to pray for him when we said grace over supper.

    It's not like I'm never going to see him again. He has plans to stay in Australia, but he regularly returns to Singapore where we both attend the same church. But the time of our being neighbours is over. I'm going to miss the midnight trips to 7-11, the late night confidences about his new relationship with his girlfriend, the constant ribbing in the corridors. And now I'll have no excuse to complain about his snoring (that comes through the wall we share) or roll my eyes at his over-excited bongo playing or shudder at his corny sense of humour. One thing I won't miss, however, is his uncanny ability to startle me while doing the most unstartling things. He's shocked me by simply walking past my room, by being in the kitchen when I walk in, or stepping out in front of me in the street. OK, that last one would have scared anyone. Wally was with me and he almost shoved Jimmy before realising it was him.

    Glaring at him just make him giggle, so retribution usually comes in the shape of a fist aimed at the shoulder.

    I'm glad we had supper before he left. It gave a very nice sense of closure to our experience as neighbours. 
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