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Wednesday, May 28, 2008


i feel weak and etiolated, and sometimes think I may have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome? Why do I feel so tired out even after non-strenuous activities like reading (a lot)? I don't feel like twittering this, so blogger will have to take the shit, as usual.



Monday, May 26, 2008

No Black Tie

Hopped over to Kuala Lumpur for the weekend to chill with Koshy and YC, who brought me to the No Black Tie jazz club and bought me Sangria to go along! I took a video of Willy Rebano scating through his Korg R3 vocoder before Maria Angela Quiogue (his wife) began her rendition of Satin Doll. Electronic jazz ey - I wish my dad was there to watch it :) Pardon the crappy quality of the vid...

Other KL peektures here!


Thursday, May 22, 2008


From aspectratio's Canon 5D...


Sunday, May 18, 2008

wenchuan memorial music

So a tantalizingly talented close friend of mine took only one 'whole' day to compose and arrange this memorial mix for the Wenchuan earthquake in Sichuan. It's a great electro-acoustic album free for you to download and enjoy. 

To show your humane gesture of easing the victims' suffering from the catastrophe, donate generously at the above widget. I hope Sonicbrat's musical efforts will inspire and encourage you to do a little bit by raising funds for his choice of charity, the British Red Cross. Thank you!

Please help with the situation in China with any amount! Condolences are not enough... 


Saturday, May 17, 2008

I've got a gadzillion things I want to do! My heart beats rapidly just merely thinking of these things that all take tremendous time and energy to achieve a certain level of excellence. I will trudge on, no matter what. Even at this old age. Even if I can't turn back the clock. Even if it involves the pain of sacrificing other loves of my life to make sure I got my priorities right.


Friday, May 16, 2008

life improvisations

Tinkling and tinkering on the glass mug filled with Argentinian wine courtesy of Ave and Jussi, I am finally posting something meant for my one reader, rather than a regurgitation of intense emotions for self-expression.

Perhaps, this is an tiny update of sorts of what's going on since I came back to Singapore from Australia.

A hundred thoughts flash through my mind each day, though I think a more plausible number is a thousand, or few thousand, whatever. No empirical evidence whatsoever, but yeah, just know that there are a lot of thoughts...

Peeps on MSN start off convos with "how's life?" but I always hated the proverbial "fine" or "good". I've got an answer somewhat now. Life to me is like improvising on music - I try to plan for it but sometimes, the unexpected tune just hits my chord. Like, ill-timed serendipity. I scat through it, thinking I can be flexible, but mostly I scrape my throat.

I set foot again on this island I am supposed to call home after fourteen months away. I honestly don't feel an awashing of homeliness, really, due to reverse culture shock. My heart is of course tied to the people who I feel connected and drawn to - my dad, my cliques, my sworn sister, miscellaneous buddies who crater-impacted me...

Plenty of people have remained the same, with no significant changes except for more birthday photos on their website, or a new job title on their business card. Out of these, there is a [sub]Plenty of people who have progressed to a higher life stage with wedding rings, babies, houses and mortgages, but the core of their beings is same ole same ole.

Then there is a [niche]Plenty who did change as the songs of life modulates on, who happen to be closest to my heart, and because of that fact I discover a dwindling sense of closeness to them. It's hugely my fault because I couldn't keep in smooth touch with them under the bane of long distance. I finally get the taste of what opportunity cost is.

How am I going to improvise now? What to do now? I have no concrete idea... I do have many upcoming things on my plate:: a career in business broadcasting, a prose-writing mentorship, a start up of OHM underground webbie, a revision of vocals/violin lessons. Love (my Achilles' heel) will have to be put under the plate, until it is palatable.

In retrospect, I am glad I went away, despite the opportunity cost of going away. I have transformed to be much more selective plus focused on the stuff I spend my time on. I have decided to choose my circle of influences wisely, for they can make you sprint or keep you just stationary. I have learnt to listen, to really listen. Well, I haven't learnt it in totality yet, but now I intently want to listen to God, listen to speech, listen to sounds, listen to art - triply, carefully, honestly. I want to use the whole of my ear structure, from outside in from a passive to an active state.

These are my improvisations on life. I go with the flow, I follow my feelings, I react to my gut. I am not sure how the music will turn out being so unrehearsed and impromptu, but I know that at least I will be facing the music, and listening to it.


Tuesday, May 13, 2008

I am suddenly very angry with myself.

Why is there perpetually a thick layer of fog in front of me? Why am I so unsmart and unsavoury? Why is my level of passion for what I am passionate about fluctuating? Why do I always have to fight a general sense of malaise? Why am I so not artistically inclined despite my family background? Why have I accepted the social engineering that has turned me into a puny brain?

I guess this is good toxin riddance, literally.


Monday, May 12, 2008


So drama one meh?


Friday, May 02, 2008

What Employers (Really Really) Want

In today's competitive job market, employers want more than just another polymath with a Ph.D., a Nobel Prize, the cure for Multiple Myeloma Cancer, a photographic memory, multilingualism, or the ability to arrive at work on time.

You need to come up with something that makes you "special", something that meets a vital human need. Can you… read your bosses’ minds?

No? Crikey! Get out there and put some effort into it. Here's a helpful tip: Watch What Women Want. When a fluke accident happens to Mel Gibson’s character (an advertising executive in Chicago), his ears are suddenly enabled to hear what women actually think.

His first target is Helen Hunt, who plays the very woman promoted to the dream position he wants in the company. Gibson decides to sabotage his new boss by reading her thoughts and selling her ad ideas as his own. A surefire way of conquering the employment world!

The movie was released in 2000, and you’d have thought a humongous number of employees everywhere will use the last seven years to master the secret art of employer mind-reading! But nobody did, so you better play catch-up right now!

For the cost of a few brain cells and the effort of passing this blog link to 100 other mates, here’s The Job-Heckler’s Guide to the Employment Galaxy.

Some job-hecklers find it hard to understand what employers really, really want and why they prefer one employee over another. They think employers practise favouritism or that the employee is bending over backwards to be favoured, trying to be the “teacher’s pet”.

Well, the Employment Galaxy is not like school or university. At work, employers try to identify the best employees because they get into the swing of business rapidly. This means employers can sit back and relax with a milky space-cocktail, as net profits increase / stock prices rise / annual salaries double / industrial awards given to company / promotions dished out.

Research undertaken in your area of the Galaxy - by the Business Council of Australia (BCA) and Australian Chamber of Commerce and Industry (ACCI) - identified eight Employability Skills.

Employability Skills are defined in the Job-Heckler’s Guide as skills required not only to gain employment, but also to progress within an enterprise so as to achieve one’s potential and contribute successfully to enterprise directions.

Aussie employers want you to have:
• Communication skills for harmony between employees and customers
• Teamwork skills for productive working relationships
• Problem solving skills for creative outcomes
• Self-management skills for employee satisfaction and growth
• Planning and organising skills for long-term and short-term strategic plans
• Technology skills for effective execution of tasks
• Life-long learning skills for ongoing improvement and expansion in company operations
• Initiative and enterprise skills for innovative results

In simple galactic language, this means before you are hired, the bosses want to find out if you really know how to type or if you really have learned the engineering of effective car brakes. They want to discover how you will behave with other people while you are typing documents or designing cars.

They want to distinguish you as the type who will work hard rather than the type who looks for the easiest way out. They want to realize early that you will not be absent frequently but be depended upon to be there.

Now that you’ve been let in on the employers’ points of view, focus on them! In general, the Guide translates all these to your attitude. Your good attitude determines these Employability Skills, and establishes your high altitude in the Employment Galaxy.

The next time you please your bosses to your advantage, be sure to send Mel Gibson a handwritten thank-you note. He started the mind-reading.


Monday, April 28, 2008


This is Group H.U.G., a bunch of friends
I am vehemently loyal to and will bend over backwards for!


Friday, April 11, 2008

Time is Close for Jenny's Singapore-Bound Flight
The Friendly Times, Melbourne - Apr 11, 2008

Everyone who is reading this email are invited to come to a 'send-off party' at the Melbourne Tullamarine airport this Saturday, Jenny Chan said yesterday night.

The 'party' will be held at the T4 Terminal and will start from 5pm onwards - two hours to Tiger flight time.

Miss Chan apologises profusely for being unable to spend individual quality time with each and everyone who has their eyeballs on this article, but told The Friendly Times that she will be delighted to make up for that with a goodbye hug personally before her departure.

"I don't know how I'd survive in Melby without all these marvellous friends I've made in my 14 months here." she said.

Attendance to the 'party' is optional, and anyone with prior engagements tomorrow can always contact Jenny on her SIN mobile number +65 ****9669 in future.


Monday, March 10, 2008

a return to self-indulgence

Now Open:

Hotel Jen offers a contemporary interpretation of Asian hospitality. Jen, a representation of the Chinese character "", signifies the Confucian ideal of love and goodwill towards people.

(Jen: Shouldn't the hotel be then named Ren? How come these Hongkies got their hanyu pinyin so wrong? Even the closest Cantonese enunciation should be Yarn...)

Hotel Jen offers 280 rooms designed to provide a pleasing blend of style, comfort and convenience.

(Jen: If the hotel truly signifies love and goodwill towards all people, I would prefer the number of rooms to be 888. But then again, with so many rooms, they're gonna need a lot of toilet pipelines...Too much faeces is not prosperous.)

Enjoy sweeping harbour, city and mountain views alongside a full range of features including our rooftop swimming pool, quality dining, exclusive bars and wireless Internet connections.

(Jen: Okay, I expect good visibility of the Victoria Harbour even on the 3rd level, and the swimming pool area to be free of particulate matter (RSP) and nitrogen dioxide (NO2) from air pollution.)

Hotel Jen is located at 508 Queen’s Road West, Western District, Hong Kong.


Wednesday, February 13, 2008

(small) big brother

I'm so proud of my little brudder. He's doing very well in the army, being part of a pioneer group called Thunder Cats. These elite felines have a higher chance of becoming officers and sergeants. His unit is the 30th Engineers Company - an unit below the commandos.



Wednesday, January 23, 2008

a profile of the mirrored

You never know what an anachronism is until you spot it.

Johnny Depp was standing beside a Pulse pharmacy along Degraves Street in Melbourne, whistling light, dreamy notes on a flute, with his signature smirk twinkling in his eyes.

A giant sticker advertising Xantrax diet tablets on the pharmacy’s glass pane was the backdrop to Depp’s stage, making him seem more displaced. Passersby scuttled past him taking little notice. Had the time machine been invented in secret?

For someone who is a splitting image of Johnny Depp the Hollywood actor, Fingal Oakenleaf - the street busker - has incongruously hit the jackpot in both the looks and personality departments. Except for the bank balance.

Oakenleaf, 33, had no bank account until last year. He has been busking for 15 years in UK and Australia with his celtic harp, low whistle, guitar, accordion and mandolin. On rare good days, he takes home a weight of coins worth $100.

Last year, Depp earned more money in a single year than almost any other actor in history. Never before has a Caribbean Pirate’s career proved this lucrative. Depp swashbuckled his way up Forbes’ Celebrity 100 Power List to be ranked sixth - cashing in on his Captain Jack Sparrow box-office appeal to rake in US$92 million.

Arching his dark brown eyebrows to the rhythm of his tune, Oakenleaf’s gentle eyes said ‘hi’ while his lips were engaged with producing sounds on the flute. Apart from the narrower width of his shoulders, the bone structure of his facial features unmistakably yelled ‘Johnny Depp’.
Oakenleaf had the same sunken cheekbones, singular mouth, stout nose, trimmed moustache and goatee, and even the slight dent on his forehead. The only giveaway was his eyes – a lot less intense than Depp’s.

Tara, a fan on his Myspace Music webpage, gushed, “I dig your sexy spirals!”.

“It’ll be funny if someone went up to Johnny in France and told him ‘Hey, you look like Fingal!’” Oakenleaf laughed, while sitting cross-legged at a Degraves Street café. He admires Depp deeply for his “brilliant method acting and guts to choose oddball roles”.

A long row of undulating umbrellas hiding patrons from streaks of afternoon sunlight had the feel of Paris café culture. Teaspoons were clinking cups as they stir sugar into coffee. The smell of grilled chicken foccacias wafted sneakily into nostrils. Conversation from the next table can be heard if you lean towards it discreetly.

“This is my favourite busking spot. It’s crowded with barely any walking space but I feel like I have always belonged to that niche,” Oakenleaf pointed to the busy lane he usually performed at.

With enough charm to sell ice to an Eskimo, his uncanny resemblance to Depp extended to his non-conformist attitude.

“I never believed in the ‘system’ and I don’t want to be in the ‘system’, I prefer to stand outside and around it.” Portraying a free spirit, Oakenleaf obviously wants to teeter on the edge of society’s system. “The system’s edge is a very relaxed place. I can just float and explore.”

“You can call me rebellious if you want, but I am not hardcore. I don’t go to protests or support death threats. I am only ‘soft rock’,” he quipped.

Oakenleaf busked for the past 13 years in Australia and some parts of Tasmania without a licence though it was free to apply in some areas. For the most part of his busking life, he survived on “cash and caravans”.

Hailing from Plymouth in the United Kingdom, he decamped to Australia when he reached 20, but quickly found himself engulfed in drugs. “Marijuana is my biggest vice,” he confessed. “Now, coffee is my vice too.”

When he was broke, he was left with no resort but to sell his alternative music ‘albums’, which were really his recordings burnt onto CD-Rs, packaged in self-taped plastic covers and monotone paper inserts, in order to support himself.

Oakenleaf’s music sounds like a fusion mix of cabaret, folk, gyspy, and blues - influenced by The Beatles, Bob Dylan and Ani Difranco. “Everything magikal, everything sweet, with tha funk, tha grunt and tha groove is my kinda thang,” he mused, switching between British and Aussie accents.

An owl-faced pendant made of whale bone hangs precariously around his neck on a frazzled string. It looks as weather-beaten as Oakenleaf’s slightly red, scrubbed-too-hard chest.
A tattoo of a maze on the back of his right hand had faded into a faint blue-grey colour. His harp shrouded by a purple velvet cloth, wrinkled leather satchel and rusty bronze pot sat at his feet as we spoke.

When asked to tell the world who he is in one word, Oakenleaf gave two: “Space Voyager” and launches into a monologue with a look of zen.

“Space is the best thing God gave us. We are in God and God is in us. The face of God is inside the small and big things – the flowers, the mountains, the buildings, the pavement, everything that we see everyday. We rarely think that we came from a mystery – birth. Do you know, all the hurt and pain and disappointment we feel in our lives, like breakups, are actually preparing us for the ultimate release into another space – death? If we realize that the divine presence is in every molecule that surrounds us, we will all have more freedom.”

Dispassionate about people’s general tics and foibles, he gets angry only with Melbourne’s public transport system because “the trains never come on time and tram doors are always in the way of my instruments and my dog”. Oakenleaf keeps an eye on Bazza, his tame 8-year-old Rottweiler.

Being a self-proclaimed gypsy, he intends to vote for the Greens in the coming federal election after becoming an Australian citizen last December, also the month he locked eyes with theatre student Saralia Yael.

Yael added love to his life, and sensual vocals to his Rapskallions band comprising a drummer, a clarinet player, and a bass guitarist. The two have been together ever since, living in a Brunswick St house and then producing a new album, Spanish Galleon.

Currently, Oakenleaf has contractual work in high schools doing music coaching, and a soundtrack project in a local French short film.

A Myspace compliment praises his music. “Thank you so much for playing today. The library was transformed into lush green hills and dappled fairy wonderfully evocative.”

Some critics have a different interpretation: “There is no melody in the music. It drifts endlessly, as if hypnotizing the depths of a disillusioned solar system”.

It is getting dark and Bazza is restless from hunger. As Oakenleaf picked up his stovepipe hat and scruffy jacket, dust escaped from the jacket lapels and disappeared into the air. Without doubt, he will be content to be the captain of his own spaceship, and steer his music the way he wants to.


Wednesday, January 09, 2008

Untitled One

Yeah, this post is named the Untitled One, rather aptly I think, because I have no job title to my name yet, no legal status under my visa yet, and no man to call my own yet. The key operative word is "yet".

Now, now, I think a job and visa will come along soon enough in the next x years (hopefully it's a single digit so I don't have to put xx!). I do have someone whom I am not sure if he's The One but he feels that he loves me a-million-to-the-power-of-one times. When you read beyond the algebra and exponent mathematical references, it just means that everything is still untitled; everything is not ready to be titled yet. When you get past the confusing repetition, it just means that I am not certain about him...

Let's see, if a guy you're dating is willing to give up smoking, willing to learn your mother tongue, willing to try out your religion, willing to be more positive about life - supposedly and assumably FOR you, does it mean you should bend over backwards for him even though you don't feel as strongly as he does for you? To paint a whole picture, the same guy also has slight manipulative, possessive, depressive and abusive tendencies. In consideration of cigarettes, Mandarin, Christianity and pure hope, should you give up trying to love him, or love him despite his trying traits?

I'm sorry...I'm really not a bitch. All these question are asked in pain, in the aftermath of my one true relationship with Mr C, which ended in vain... 

Can I still experience time-stopping, breath-taking, soul-giving love? Am I still able to?


Sunday, December 23, 2007

8 days to 2008

Eight more days to the auspicious fatt-choy year, and while surfing to get myself immersed in Melbourne's subcultures, I decided to blog about the catch-22 situation I find myself in.

Jenny-fucious says: If you have no relevant work experience, you can't and won't get a good-paying big-company job. But if nobody gives you any decent job, you don't get work experience at all. So herein I have applied for a CNBC Asia job in the news production studio located in sunny Singapore, and researched about it, and interviewed for it, and did a writing test, and spoken to the bosses, and gotten an offer, and rejected it.

Yes, you heard right. You read right. I rejected a permanent staff position from the mecca of business broadcasting. I played a poker game with my career and chose to fold my hand. Any other journalism noob/newbie will be dropping everything at once and jumping like a jackrabbit and booking business class airtickets and packing their Samsonite bags and bragging to other graduates about this job offer that will potentially pave the ground for an juicy journalism career for the next 5 years.

But me -- the perpetual idealist, the goldmine rusher, the risk-taker, the poker-folder -- has decided to go against the odds with the wind sock not in her favour, to attempt to look for employment and sponsorship in Australia while hoping against hope, wishing against wishes (?), thinking against think (??).

But hey, this situation has made it extremely easy for me making new year resolutions for 2008. There is only one: get a Aussie J-O-B. And no, nothing to do with gigantic white phallic symbols.

Anyway, Confucius said: "Woman who finds job at crystal ball company will make a fortune."


Wednesday, November 28, 2007

A Transformers joke

Once, while having sex in a tractor-trailer, part of Chuck Norris' sperm escaped and got into the engine. We now know this truck as Optimus Prime.


Monday, October 01, 2007

the importance of being earnest

In Oscar Wilde's classic comedy, two men lead double lives in order to escape from unwelcome social obligations, an activity they refer to as ‘Bunburying’.

Volumes of academic analyses have been penned about Wilde’s most definitive play, The Importance of Being Earnest. But, if you are looking for subtle existential philosophy and complex underhanded social commentary, you will need to visit a university library.

Candlelight Productions' version of Wilde's play makes no attempt whatsoever at a moral-of-the-story lecture, but educates with hilariously witty dialogue and a quirky plot, inclusive of ‘The Complete Bunbury Experience’.

Patrons take on a Victorian identity in this interactive 'Experience' and are treated as guests of the Worthing and Moncrief families. As you walk into the theatre in Hawthorn, you are transported into the late 19th-century, and for a moment, escape from the daily grind of life.

A program booklet with my name in cursive handwriting was the ticket to the first scene of the play - Algernon’s flat in Half-Moon Street. Candlelight Productions’ butler walked me politely to the entrance and announced my arrival with loud pomposity. I felt compelled to do a curtsy and then waltz into the ‘flat’ in the midst of live piano music and operatic vocals.

For the next half hour, I played a game of croquet under an instructor’s guidance, received etiquette and elocution lessons, ate cucumber sandwiches served by my very own maid, and introduced myself to someone I did not know, all with the class and manners of the Victorian era.

Held in a grand sitting room at the Memorial Hall of Christchurch in Hawthorn, a heritage building overlooking the Yarra River, the venue was the perfect hideaway from the bustle of the city beyond, yet cunningly located just under the noses of people you want to avoid.

It was pleasantly ironic that Candlelight Productions found itself producing a show centred on the avoidance of social responsibility, especially when they have upped the ante in their responsibility for the environment.

Recycled paper, green printing technology, sweatshop-free clothing, Fair Trade coffee, and free-range eggs were used in the production of the play, which was also carbon neutral.

Directed by Matt Hammond and remaining faithful to Wilde’s text, misunderstandings, faked deaths and shocking revelations abound in this two-hour romp.

With some of the best one-liners ever heard on stage, it is a mark of Wilde’s genius that it remains as humorous now, as it was 100 years after it was written.

John Worthing is Ernest in town, but Jack in the country. His friend, Algernon Moncrief, refuses to let him marry his first cousin Gwendolen until he clears up the whole matter of ‘little Cecily’.

But Gwendolen doesn't want to marry a Jack, she wants to marry an Ernest. And thus Jack and Algernon discover the 'name' is of utmost importance!

Speaking in Old Englandish accents and pulling it off well, the cast threw themselves into their parts with relish.

The performances were light and effervescent; actors seemed to be harbouring a repressed excitement which gives the entire play an energetic direction and a secret glee.

A high point was when the audience was knocked over with laughter as Jasen Swafford and Ben Ridgwell, in characters as Jack and Algernon, burst out unexpectedly with a Justin Timberlake-inspired exchange in the third act.

Jack asked, "Shall we sing them a song?”

Instead of “whistling some dreadful popular air from a British Opera” according to the original text, Algernon replied, “How about Cry Me A River?”

Jack said, “Good heavens, Algy, we’re trying to bring the girls back, not bring Sexyback!"

The completely clueless audience cheered for the innuendo of the song titles. The actors then swung back into action without a backward look.

This play will give you pause to think about your own social masks, and Wilde would be pleased. And it is probably a good thing to think about, because double lives can get you into lots of trouble.

You do not have to try to find any veiled political insurgency in The Importance of Being Earnest. Instead, you spend much of the play laughing. Consider yourself warned: the characters have an ability to be both sharp and blunt simultaneously.

As you leave the theatre and declare (with your new-found elocution skills), “I say, ol’ chap, jolly good show, and a ruddy good evening at that!”, the Bunbury Experience will have been completed.


Saturday, September 01, 2007

Four years ago.

Back in the days before Friendster changed the edifying 'Testimonials' section to the elusive 'Comments' (just like every other social networking site, blame homogeneity), this paragraph appeared on one of my earlier testis, as internet language goes.

"Jenny has a strength of character and great moral values locked deep within her. These qualities are attractively bundled within an adorable package of perpetual cheer and joy. There is alot more to her than meets the eye. :) Despite her ditzy and flaky exterior, she's an incredibly intelligent girl, she can get a little intense and emotional at times, but that comes with youth. A few more years, and all these qualities will complement each other and make her a successful person. She'll go far, she just has to learn to be patient and to control her strengths and make them work as one."

This is not a self-plug. I'm not that cocky! But the life experience and wisdom of this supervisor at work shone on me, and himself as a result.

Four years later.

Nothing in that testimonial has altered much, and on hindsight, I'm surprised at Mervyn's acute sense of observation. But I am still waiting upon success and have more convictions to add to that paragraph.

I'm a late bloomer, but I have finally found myself and decided on the endeavours I want for the rest of my living years.

- Christian goals: Ministries in praise and worship, youths-at-risk, world missions
- Career goals: Media profession to write about social justice, arts and culture, science and technology, international relations, disabilities
- Linguistic goals: Translation skills between Mandarin, Cantonese, English. To relearn Japanese. To improve American accent.
- Musical goals: Refresh skills in the piano, violin, drums and vocals
- Entrepreneurial goals: To open love-themed cafe at 40 years old
- Spiritual goals: To enlarge sphere of thought in prayer, and salvaton for parents and cousins
- Literary goals: To read 100 of the best books from cover to cover
- Social goals: To have a friend from every major religion and every main ethnicity
- Cosmetic goals: Weight gain to 48kg. Teeth / boob / nose job? Hahaha.
- Other continuing goals: Photojournalism, scuba diving, Cantonese opera, silkscreen printing

On another note, a recent sermon in church has brought forth a new revelation: there is a ground-breaking pattern in my life. Most ventures I've been involved in were all budding organisations, all training grounds equipping me for the future.

At SCA, it was the last year of enrolment and first year of part-timers.
At Pacific Internet, it was the feedback management team birthed from the resolution team.
At Yamaha, it was the revamp of a whole series of advertisements for the music school.
At The Strikeforce, it was the pioneers who performed before the name got trademarked.
At ECC, it was the 10.45 contemporary service which closed after three years.
At RMIT Journalism, it was the first batch of a new single-year graduate diploma syllabus.

It's never been so clear. It's unprecedented. Thank you, God.


Friday, August 24, 2007

wishing and hoping

There is this one day in every year when a girl feels abhorrently selfish and demands birthday presents like:

- a white padded jacket - snow white, no less
- an extended study bible
- a spa and massage voucher
- a gym membership
- a big tote bag!!!

How about this? You can throw birthday cake at me. Fair exchange?

Remember, 2 x 4 = 8.


Thursday, August 23, 2007

queen of space cadets


Monday, July 09, 2007


Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket


Friday, June 29, 2007


Broken fingernails,
Chipped at the corners;
And cuticle cellulite
Leaves none to the imagination.

A tummy, rumbling to the ends of
Large intestines, withheld from capacity.
Hydrochloric acid is a large energetic burden
A frail girl's stomach cannot hold.

A contrite spirit, full of regret and sorrow,
hammers at the soul of one and many, unjustified.
When the facade falls in utterly stunned nothingness,
The human is hollowed out, awaiting the next fulfilment.


Wednesday, June 27, 2007

the cold seeps through

Melbourne has caused me to rethink 'acclimatise'. The word is not the same as 'assimilate', as I found out as the coldness of the temperate winter seeps into the new season, and seeps through a 44kg body used to a tropical climate.

Autumn, with its ubiqitous fallen leaves, was beautiful and balmy. I cockily thought I could survive the next season as it gradually turned colder. The Melburnian winter, though by no means harsh, was unbearably cold - below my horrorfreeze threshold - on some days. It is hard to describe; it would have to be experienced, to be felt.

The arid wintry cold is so drying that it crusts up a sandwich in a matter of minutes, and makes my otherwise plump lips cracked and chapped. As I tap on my keyboard and type this post, my fingers feels like how it would be if I stick them in the freezer for two minutes, only I didn't do that. The atmosphere, the air, was enough to chill my fingers, toes, nose, and sometimes brain. The frosty weather and a limpid consiousness seem to be synonymous. I just want to be lazied up and warmed up, and do nothing else except slump in front of a heater. Even that gives me an odd sensation - my limbs are getting their surfaces burned by the direct heat, but the bones are still cold from the inside. This is what a popsicle must feel like when a warm tongue licks it.

On the more toasty side, I finally have smoky breath, and an electric blanket. Both are presents, from nature, and a kindred friend.


Friday, June 22, 2007


1. Because China is becoming the next world superpower, so you should hang out with Asians more - to learn Chinese, to eat rice, to laugh at their button noses.

2. Because if Pirates of the Carribean 3 depicts Singapore as pirate-infested with Chow Yunn Fatt as the lecherous pirate lord, you must come to a Singaporean's (rented) Lair.

3. Because people who come will have a chance to get pirate loot bags. Or goodie bags, or doggy bags, however you call it. Trea...sure. Aye?

4. Because it's really easy to go to Kew East from the city. Take tram 48 from Flinders/Swanston Street, or bus 207 from Lonsdale/Swanston Street. Sailing time is a mere half an hour, with 2 mins of walking time from alight point to doorstep.

5. Because it's winter and Jenny is going to cook steamboat!!! You can also name any Chinese dish and Jenny will ATTEMPT to cook it for your gastronomic pleasure. While you dig in, choir-trained Jenny can also sing a song for you.

6. Because you can bring your own music, partners, animals, potblesses, movies or sudoku puzzles. Beer in all kinds of containers will be provided. BYO, or ROTFLOL, mate.

7. Because for RMIT students, the first semester of the graduate diploma in journalism is finally OVER! This made us pull our hair out from writer's block, and cry tears of frustration. Now, if only tears can cure cancer.

8. Because Jen is alone in Melby with all her folks 6000km away, and is dying to practise some aussie lingo in trade with Firefly galactic phrases.

Avast, and Adios!


Friday, June 08, 2007

low point

after stoning on the bed's edge for 4 hours, i trudged out of the house this afternoon in my bedroom slippers, only realising my choice of shoes at the bus stop. it's not as simple as waking up on the wrong side of the bed when I also forgot to wash my face or pluck my eyebrows or have a decent bit of breakfast or do the dishes. I feel hugely ineloquent, shitty that the transcribing for my in-depth article is not done yet, and like a dumbass because writer's block is rapidly clearing out my brain space.

i'll have to sink to the roots and sip some water from the soil. i wish i can be reborn in a new country.


Saturday, June 02, 2007

thirsty merc @ ballarat woolshed

As the stage was shrouded with blue light, Ryan Hearts opened the concert with a quiet ban. Hauntingly sweet tunes alternating with an upbeat tambourine and clappy rhythm, then darker numbers. Acoustics not as good when you're standing right at the front, but lead singer's effortless schoolgirl beauty shines through the smoke machine's output. Woolshed atmosphere is as raw as the sound reverberating through your being as you stand on the wooden ground. Can't help but notice how all opening acts are similar in genre with the main act. Layering sweet ethereal voice was welcoming and warming from the cold winter air outside. Best song was as usual last, with a teenybopper climax.

Old Man River with his boisterous candy rock was next in the lineup. Almost comedic with afro-cuban hair and a lanky frame, but songs like La were infectious verbal grub with 2 melody lines! Lots of major keys with adorned guitar. Much better live than recorded, espcially the song Sunshine. A tighter band than the first opening band.

Finally at 10pm, 2 and a half hours after stated gig start time, Thirsty Merc appeared to quench the audience. Lead singer is Orlando-Bloom lookalike ruffian. Better lighting, Shadows animalist. Influenced by Bon Jovi and Silverchair. Too long breaks in between makes the crowd rowdy and impatient and a fight broke out after Thirsty Merc turned down an encore offer.


Thursday, May 10, 2007


When you're standing alone at a bus stop that has no shelter waiting for a bus that comes never on time and only twice an hour, while everybody is warm in their cars, looking happy with their families and certain of their near future; and the wintery wind sweeps you constantly, and your skin itches for no reason, and your tummy is rumbling, and your nose is bleeding, and your throat is dry, and your bag is heavy with the daily collection of newspapers and free tabloids, and you think of your unwell dad and uncaring mum, you feel it intensely.

This must be what loneliness is.


Monday, April 30, 2007

my personal statement

Okay, i know this is the 2nd "my abc xyz" type of blog post in a row, but being in Australia for the first time has prompted me to be very reflective about my life recently. So, try not to get bored if you can help it? :) The below is an excerpt of the personal statement i wrote as part of an application for an arts bursary.

My greatest short-term personal goal now is to make the most out of my current postgraduate diploma experience at RMIT University in Melbourne, and stay focused on my studies in journalism.

My professional development may seem to be temporarily halted right now due to further studies, but I still prioritise continual growth and improvement. This year, I am confirmed for 2 work placements at Leader, a community newspaper, and Channel Ten, a national television network.

At the moment I also have several directions in how I want to make use of the rest of 2007 to better myself, ranging from expanding my general and specialist knowledge in all areas (even trivia), and interacting with as much diverse people as possible.

I am looking for stimulation and challenge in my life, even if sometimes it is beyond my station in life. I want to travel all around before climate change or natural disasters alter the ‘worldscape’ too much. I am also looking forward to making sure my parents retire in comfort, and buying properties of my own within the next 10 years.

I do realise that building a career is a bit like a game of snakes and ladders, so I will take any opportunities as they arrive and see where they take me. Because of my background, I have a high adaptability factor, and a curiosity of the same level to match. I am particularly passionate about the actual practice of cultural policies, the management of community arts, the technicality of arts law, the longevity of galleries and museums, and the philosophy of arts research.

Ultimately, my career, after my family, is the most important, and I find that it has always been my vision to work for a traditional or alternative arts organisation which may not be very well established, and be the one who turns it around and get it accepted into the ‘mainstream’. I hope to one day lead a team of enthusiastic artists committed to producing creative history in wider society.

Passion is the only trait I need. Passion is permeating and ensures permanence. The training in such an arts-fused environment like Melbourne will enhance my current experience and knowledge of both conventional and contemporary forms of the arts. Being in Melbourne is living the arts every day. Here, all sorts of performing artists and creative industries are encouraged, especially indigenous art and culture.

I grew up in a family where witnessing my parents struggling to keep the traditional art of Cantonese Opera alive was an everyday affair. Due to family circumstances, I did not have the luxury to study music until competence. My violin and vocal lessons were truncated because my father could not afford them.

The training from RMIT University in a professional setting, coupled with my own extracurricular initiative to acquire accreditation in translation between English and Chinese, will enable me to rise to a position where I have the power to add value to the arts scene in Singapore.

Arts is a source of intellectual capital and the essence of life, however, some Singaporeans regard it as merely entertainment. In boosting the appeal of the traditional arts such as Cantonese Opera, which is one of the most unique expressions of the Asian culture, bookmarking it with credibility of higher tertiary education will gain the trust in potential audiences. Arts should not be associated with dodgy artists wanting to make a quick buck.

My current self-funded training in journalism will also prepare me to be an external, objective advocate on the value of arts; and since journalists possess the clout of the media, I can be an effective mouthpiece for the promotion of the arts.

I see myself contributing to arts development and arts practice in Singapore by being a spoke in the wheel, by being an instrument of change, by being a mover and a shaker. My goals are to utilise my private contacts to engage in international networking and facilitate collaborations of Singapore artists with foreign institutions, or vice versa - showcasing overseas artistic offerings to Singaporeans, and broadening their mindsets about the arts.

The CEO of National Arts Council, Mr Lee Suan Hiang, has just been re-elected in 2006 as Board Member and Treasurer of the International Federation of Arts Councils and Cultural Agencies (IFACCA), and as Chairman of its Asian Chapter. This is good news for Singapore as it will enable Singapore to play a bigger international role in the arts.

Another major goal that I foresee achieving is the education of artists about a proper code of ethics involved with the trade. I believe that a spirit of integrity and excellence, and not shoddiness, should be tied to artists. Like my father, I am willing and going to commit my whole life to the arts. Even though it was not economically viable for him, he still stuck on after all these years, and I am going to continue the legacy of his good work.


Sunday, April 29, 2007

my favourite place

Its warm duvet covers, consoles and comforts my bare legs, to the guilty point of arousal. Embraced by accompanying reveries of a lover long departed, my closed eyes swirl like foam on stirred coffee, REM viciously lapping under my eyelids. My skeleton refuses to support me as I slump and lapse, yet again, into sweet apathy. Plotting mutiny beneath my dark skin, strong waves of consciousness seep in slowly as my brain lies flaccid on its soft pillow. Cushioning the flotsam and jetsam of restless thoughts that taunt my body for dawning duty, it attempts to hold its ground with tranquillity made in the long night.

Its musky scented sheets and creaky mattress boards consume me wholly. Desperate for more winks, I drift and float towards a deserted island, ostracised by the popular woken world. A voice between my ears is babbling incoherently, seeming to invite me to the realm of popularity. I decline. My affection unrivalled, I still recline in the eiderdown like a china doll in wrapping paper, snug in the quaint cosiness of its offerings. Pleasurable lulls lift me to its addictive land of dreams whilst I am incubated in its perfect hibernation.

Intrigued by how it so smoothly clouds my mind and sucks my being, I conclude it must be lonesome without a pacifier. Oh, how it causes the day to pause, and the earth to stop turning on its axis. It could just shroud me forever.

Oh, what a bed!



for the record

|jenny c| |singaporean|cantonese| |virgo|hetereosexual| |24august|telok blangah| |deer-lookalike|i'm a dear| |music & journalism| |desires to be serenaded| |abuses literary devices| |unwilling perfectionist| |clings on to idealism|
|goes for all or nothing|
|vehemently loyal in love|
|gives glory to God| horrorfreeze[at]

guilty by association


where the hell is J


seen through a rectangle

earworm of the month

Dreams of a Butterfly by S 0 N I C B R A T

?wassup, dudette