Monday, January 28, 2008

not political

The past few days I've found myself worrying over a t-shirt.

On a whim I went over to queensway and printed this picture on a t-shirt.

Underneath I added the words "Everybody Loves Harry", a tongue in cheek reference to the sentiments I imagine more than a few of us Singaporeans have towards politics at home. I was planning on wearing that shirt to the airport when I fly off for exchange but I find myself, if not afraid, then extremely worried that I won't make it past immigration should I do so. Or that I'll have immigration waiting for me when I get back.

If you'll remember, sometime back a dialogue session was held between a certain member of the government and a panel of selected journalists. A question was asked regarding the so called "fear" that Singaporeans have of voting for the opposition and was met with laughter and a rather less than complimentary attitude. The journalist was chided for not telling the public that there is nothing to be afraid of. Well this isn't about voting but dammit I am skittish about wearing a t-shirt! I'm worried about this post even. I rewatched the dialogue just to make sure I didn't make sweeping statements. It took me a lot of debate to decide to post the picture even though I found it off the net on some random google search and I honestly don't think I'm being unrealistic in my fretting. The repercussions are nothing if not terrifying.

Friday, January 25, 2008

dutch light

I was having problems getting my new mic to work on my computer the other day so I brought it down to the NUS co-op to let the "experts" take a look at it. They spent half an hour fiddling with it, poking jacks and devices in every hole, telling me about operating systems and motherboards, switching hard-disks, and finally concluding that I had to reformat my entire computer just so I could use the microphone.

Yesterday I asked Andrew over to help with the reformatting and instead he solved my microphone problem in 15 minutes. It seems when IT people have no idea what's going on they'll tell you to reformat. Kinda like how medics in the army face everything with that miraculous, all encompassing, life giving cure....Lactated Ringer's Solution. Better known as the intravenous drip.

"Medic I think I have a fever"


"Don't worry its just a cramp..."


"I'm a bit hungry..."

"It's I.V. time!"

"Err...I have a third nipple"

"I'll just get the I.V. out of my pack don't you worry"

Ok ok fine I'm an ungrateful bastard.