No Te Preocupes
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02-2004
03-2004


27 April Tuesday
All in all, Spring Fling turned out to be a mixed bag. Third Eye Blind was the featured band, which was really really cool. Their concert lasted around an hour, and they played most of their hit songs (I think) - Blinded, Never Let You Go, Walking with the Wounded, How's It Gonna Be and, for their grand finale, Semi-Charmed Life (of course). The weather turned out to be warm and sunny, and I very much enjoyed the vegetable burrito I bought from the burrito cart (at long last! I'd been dreaming about that burrito since Spring Break, I think, when I decided to stop eating out). At the same time, Marissa was kind of mopey because she couldn't find Tony and Erica only emerged from the suite for the last couple of songs. Bee-Seon was supposed to call me, but she only did at 2:30 when the concert had started and of course I didn't have my phone with me and I wouldn't have heard it ringing anyway. The QMC people - Chad, Megan, Chris - weren't around. I saw Rosario in the distance - and I suspect she saw me too - and was debating for too long whether or not to go up to her; and then someone I think is her girlfriend appeared, so that was that. So I actually ended up spending most of Spring Fling with Amy, which was a tad weird. I think the best part of the afternoon was hanging out and dancing with a bunch of the international people - Alvin, Raja, Priscilla, Diego etc. - before Amy and I went off to try calling Marissa again and the group disintegrated.

Right after the concert ended I went off to take a nap, and managed to do so despite some student band fervently playing outside my window. What's on tonight? Dinner with Charlin, capoeira, and then I have to buckle down and finally start my seminar paper on the differential responses of the black and white gay communities to the outbreak of the AIDS epidemic from 1981 to 1985.


19 April Monday
I ate ridiculous amounts of ice-cream today - even by my standards. What the hell was I thinking? I had a large cup of coffee oreo ice-cream with nuts and Reese peanut butter cup pieces; and then another large cup of strawberry ice-cream with the same toppings. I finished both off, even though I realised (once I placed my order, of course) that strawberry and peanut butter don't really go well together. Dammit! Should have gotten chocolate instead. I only have two excuses - it was Ashley's, which I can never resist; and it was free, at the History Department's annual spring reception.

I have lost motivation to work on TTOA, which is not good. I wrote a synopsis of the entire series - as I envision it now - over the weekend and emailed it to Professor Crowley, who says he will take a look at it before talking to his agent. I feel like until I know what's up with that - whether I have even a shot at publication or not - I can't continue with the work. There is just so much to cover (thanks to my own ambition, really); it will take effort; I am lazy.

Here is a quote of the day. I bumped into Jason P outside the High Street gate this evening, and we chatted for a while. At one point he exchanged a couple of words with a guy passing by, and once the guy left:

Me: Is he gay?
Jason: He really shouldn't be ... but he's straight.

The weather has turned warm enough to bike again, and I have fallen back in love with my bike. Now that I'm cycling regularly, I can't imagine how I survived on foot through the winter (oh yes - the ice, sleet and freezing winds that made it suicidal to bike). It's just so much quicker and more convenient to get from place to place on a bike! Now I think nothing of dashing down to Undergraduate Career Services and then back up to the Hall of Graduate Studies (as I did today to meet Jason for the reception); or of leaving Yale University Press for my history section, which is located on the other side of campus, and coming back to work afterwards. Things would be perfect if only I knew how to mount curbs on my bike, so I don't have to get off and look silly everytime I want to move off the road onto the curb.


17 April Saturday
I didn't actually get to finish yesterday's entry, because I was running late for Michelle and Lakshmi's birthday dinner at Bangkok Gardens (although of course, as it turned out, Michelle herself was even later). I have realised that I'm probably a waiter's worst nightmare - I ask anal questions about every dish on the menu, I am extremely picky about what I finally order (I sent back my pad see aw dish last night because it didn't have egg in it - hope the kitchen didn't secretly take revenge) and I'm a stingy tipper. In my defence, I'm much better than I used to be, because I used to agonise over the menu for ages; and then whine incessantly when it turned out I had a bad dining choice. Now I both agonise and whine for shorter periods of time.

After the dinner I went to watch the Konjo! show with the QMC gang, because Megan was performing. They started half an hour late!, and insisted on having "audience participation" in between every single one of the dances (well, those that I could stay for, anyway) - which meant we would have random people stand on the makeshift stage (usually friends or enemies of the MC) and flap their arms in imitation of the Konjo! dance moves. This also meant that, although the show purportedly started at 9 am, I only caught three of the eight dances before I had to rush off to meet Jason. Thank goodness for my bike; and the fact that it's warm enough to cycle again! Now I'm very antsy about being late when meeting him, after we argued over my being late for ten (I want to say ten, although it might have been fifteen) minutes late.

I've also realised that I interact with my Asian male friends (well, Xizhou and Jason) as if we are a crotchety old couple - we quarrel as if we've been married for years. Our arguments are often rather silly and domestic, springing out of small things that one or the other of us said. I wonder if that's a function of the way I've seen my parents react; or if it's just the mix of our particular personalities.

Jason and I actually did end up arguing again last night, although we resolved it then and there, talked it through and had a good conversation afterwards. It was a pretty nice outing, in all - we took a long walk to Libby's, the famous Italian dessert place in Wooster Square, where I had coffee and a very good peanut butter cheesecake (and I haven't had cheesecake in ages! - I remember that time back in Singapore, back before I had began Yale, when I embarked on the hunt for the perfect cheesecake). It was very creamy, not dense, and the cookie crust (yes, crust is very important) was excellent. We definitely have to go back there again.

I returned to the suite fully intending to relax, read and sleep early because I had to do laundry the next day (my clothes are spinning in the dryer as I write this - I had better luck this morning with the machines). Instead I devoured the leftover sushi that Erica had brought back from dinner at Miya's with her family (despite not being at all hungry) and went to a Sigma Chi party with Erica and her sister (who's in high school and was visiting), Jess, Reuben (Trumbull guy), Drew (Jess's friend from high school who's now a biochemistry grad student), Marcus and Xining (Erica's fencing/ex-fencing friends). They were all very drunk - they had gone sake-bombing at Samurai's, then returned to the suite to do more drinking. As more than one of them pointed out to me (and they all seemed to think it a brilliant observation), it must be problematic being the only sober one in a group of drunk people. I agreed that it could prove boring at times, as when they began highly voluble conversations about nothing at all, but assured them that on the whole it was an interesting and amusing experience.

So, my first foray into frat life at Yale! I'm still trying to figure out why I did it - I guess the best reasons would be that I was curious (which is how I always end up at these things), I didn't feel like doing work and for some reason I wasn't tired (despite waking up at 8 am to go running). Sigma Chi has a house at Lynwood Place. It was overspilling with people in the rooms, which they had converted into dance floors with techno music and weird lighting, and in the backyard, where the drinks were being served. Of course, I saw hardly anyone that I knew, given that I never go for these things and neither do my friends. I bumped into Diego, who told me he was feeling down because he had found out that the girl he liked didn't feel the same way (man, do I feel him!), and we met Noah and his friend. The problem with these parties, of course, is that everyone is drunk and straight - quite a disappointing and at times lethal combination. (Which would also explain why I don't generally go for them.) At one point I was on the dance floor - not so much dancing as squeezing through masses of people and looking around to see where the five or six people I actually knew in the whole of this house were - when a random drunk guy started dancing with me (if you can call what he was doing dancing) and trying to make out with me. So I had to shove him away, letting him be carried off in a sweaty wave of people, and get out of there. Erica and Jess were very amused when I told them about it.

On a semi-related note, I decided last week not to associate with Sarah anymore, because her condescending attitude towards me whenever we talk about sex and relationships really annoys me. It's as if she thinks she has the right to tell me what I should do - which is her is to do as she does and hook up with lots of random people; and if not, of course, I have no life - because of what happened in Spain. The thing is, though, that I dreamt of her last night! I think it must've been because I saw her outside Sigma Chi, and we exchanged a couple of words, and I had been going around that night with a vague sense of wanting to hook up with someone (although Sigma Chi, for me, was probably the wrong place to look for something like that). Weird.


16 April Friday
I am so upset with myself! I missed the perfect opportunity to ask Natasha out yesterday! We bumped into each other along Rose Walk yesterday afternoon, after the bizarre sleet of the morning had stopped and the weather had turned nice. We were chatting, the sky was blue, the sun was shining, she was smiling at me - and I was just too tired to register the opportunity (I was really tired and headache-y yesterday) so I walked off. And then realised it had been a perfect moment in a perfect conversation to slip in the, Hey, are you seeing anyone right now? Would you like to go out etc. etc. question. So I turned around, and she was wandering off in the distance, and I started after her; and realised again that I would look really silly running after her - Wait, wait, I forgot to ask you something - which would also ruin the confident, attractive, casual image I would want to project when I did actually ask her out (if I ever do!), so I turned around again, made some noise of frustration to myself, and continued to Trumbull for lunch where I whined about it to Amy and Marissa.

(And I know, I said that I wouldn't think about asking her out anymore; that we're not compatible; that I don't find her that attractive anymore ... but. It's Natasha! I think this has become something I need to do for its own sake, more than for any expected payoff, so I can finally get over the last vestiges of that wrenching, hopeless wistfulness that dogged me all throughout spring semester last year.)


13 April Tuesday
How do I hate the rain? Let me count the ways.

It prevented me from going for capoeira tonight!! I am so upset. I was originally thinking of jogging down there anyway, if the rain didn't get too heavy; but given the way it's been pouring since the afternoon, I would probably drown somewhere along Chapel Street.

I didn't make it to my history seminar this afternoon, after Spanish class (fine, that's my own fault, I lack willpower - but I've been so good this semester!; I'm entitled to miss one class). Instead I squelched back to the suite, complained to Erica and Marissa, peeled off my wet shoes and socks, changed into wonderful dry clothes and took a nap. I haven't left the suite since - because we're in McClellan, we don't have direct access to a dining hall; so instead of braving the elements, I had cereal for dinner (which is possibly what I would've had in the dining hall anyway, given the quality of the food there). I've actually been pretty productive, as a result - I finished revising TTOA (now to write a synopsis of everything that is going to happen, although I don't even know it yet), finished revising my History of Brazil paper, filled out the Chinese visa application and affixed my bad photograph (taken at 1 a.m. in Walgreens last Friday) to it.

Everything becomes wet and muddy and icky and gross.

Oh, and the earthworms all come up to die. I hate squirmy slimy things, but squished things are even worse.

Can you believe it's supposed to rain - as in, thunderstorm-kind of rain - straight until 4 a.m., at which time there'll be a window of dryness until 9 or 10 a.m., when it will start raining again? Erica and I checked this on weather.com. And here I bemoaned the tropical monsoon climate of Singapore.

What this weather is perfect for is curling up in bed under the blankets to read - not work-related stuff, but something fun - and drink hot chocolate while the rain beats against the windows. Which is what I'm going to do right now - except with an apple instead of hot chocolate. My choices of literature are Thomas Mann's The Magic Mountain, Jeffrey Eugenides's Middlesex and Marissa's Marie Claire magazine (the Hair Issue, ooh).


10 April Saturday
How to be a computer idiot 101:

When you finally realise that the version of McAfee VirusScan that was bundled with your laptop has in fact expired two years ago, do nothing about it although Yale provides all the latest virus protection programmes your heart could desire, absolutely free! ... because you are too lazy to go to the website and download them.

When your original Internet Explorer start-up page (New York Times, of course; although now I'm thinking of switching to the BBC) is replaced with a Do you want free sex? website, deal with the problem by never directly opening up IE again (instead relying on links in AIM and Outlook Express) ... because you are too lazy to run to a computing assistant, even though one of your best friends at Yale is one.

When pop-up ads for cellphones and plane tickets and threesomes start proliferating everytime you click anything in IE, discover the usefulness of the Alt+F4 keys in closing multiple windows quickly ... because you are too lazy to search for a pop-up blocker programme to download.

When your laptop starts saying that its "dangerously low on resources" although you are only running two programmes, get used to working with only one programme at a time (as they must have in the 1980s) ... because you are too lazy to run to a computing assistant etc. etc.

When your laptop starts consistently crashing five minutes after you open up IE, call it a virus-laden piece of crap and make sure you never use IE for longer than five-minute intervals ... because you are stupid; that's all there is to it.

At long last, when it takes lightyears for your laptop to respond to each click of your mouse; when it shuts down each time you try to open a folder - any fucking folder; when it is full of bizarre programmes that have installed themselves onto your hard drive; when IE doesn't even respond anymore, you break down in front of your aforementioned best friend the computing assistant ... who is incredulously amused by how lazy and stupid you've been, and who out of the goodness of his heart spends three hours on a Saturday afternoon in the basement of the Yale law library helping you restore your laptop to some semblance of functional stability.

And so now I'm finally back at my suite, running a comprehensive Symantic AntiVirus scan on my laptop and devouring cereal (Wheaties, vanilla soymilk, sliced bananas) because I feel weak from hunger and stress. I've been terribly traumatised by my computer for the past couple of days, especially last night when I was trying to register for the LSAT in London this June and IE was giving me hell; and this morning when I had to restart my computer five times in an hour just so I could check my mail. That left me too agitated to write a journal entry in the morning, as I had intended, so instead I flipped through Marissa's Jane magazine and fretted and waited for brunch so I could confess my stupidity to Paa Kwesi and seek his help. Even now I don't really feel up to intellectual rigour - so I think I'll just finish this off, revise the first 20,000 words of my fantasy novel (which now has a title! - The Thief of Amaddan), fill out my China visa for my trip in May and maybe do some reading about Brazil's foreign policy with regard to Cuba for my Spanish class simulation on Tuesday before I meet Jason for our customary York Square film.

There is a great scene towards the end of Monster, which was the film we watched last week (warning: spoiler). Aileen (Charlize Theron) is in jail, and she calls her erstwhile girlfriend Selby (Christina Ricci) once she is allowed to. The audience sees the two of them talking about the murders Aileen committed; Selby tells Aileen the police suspect her and she is scared. And then Aileen starts telling Selby how much she loves her - I love you with all my heart; my soul - and even as we hear her voice speaking, the camera pulls back to show that the phone conversation is in fact being tapped and recorded and there are a number of detectives in the room with Selby, all listening in to what Aileen is saying. The scene ends with Aileen's voice saying that she will take all the blame - I did it; it was all me - and the detectives signalling victory to each other. The entire film was very intense and upsetting (desperate and abused prostitute murdering a string of truckers, so starved for affection she throws herself at the one person who appears attracted to her? good god, what a perfect set-up for an unhappy story), but this scene in particular struck me on a number of levels - the depth of longing, the extent of betrayal, the aching intimacy and the unavoidable separation.

I think Monster is one of those films that is powerful and thought-provoking and well-made - good in every sense of the word - while being very unpleasant to watch. Beyond the physical brutality and violence that takes place on-screen, there is a callousness and cruelty to most of the characters; and an air of despair and inevitability pervades the film. It is very painful to see Aileen try to rise above her circumstances as best as she can and fall even lower as a result, unaided by a society that treats her with contempt and suspicion or that does not even notice her at all.


3 April Saturday
So I stopped by the Drag Ball at the Women's Centre (that hotbed of sexual deviance and scandal) last night to see Chris dressed as a girl, Megan dressed as a guy and Chad dressed as ... a confused transvestite stripper? No term I can think of quite covers it. It was actually pretty fun - I danced with Chris and Chad; Chad, who must've been pretty drunk because he was all over me; Chris and Megan. Megan made such a cute boy! I was quite struck - she wore Chris's collared shirt, suspenders and pants; did something to her hair; and she has quite an androgynous face anyway. She could totally have passed for a pretty boy. Chris, on the other hand ... well, he did go to great lengths - he borrowed Suzanne's wig, got made up by Megan's suitemates, and even shaved his legs. And he did have very nice legs. Still, I had to tell him he wasn't my type. I also bumped into Tori, who's in my Spanish and History of Brazil classes, but whom I had no idea wasn't straight. She was very friendly, possibly because she was drunk; pity I'm not attracted to her at all. And I met Rosario again, whom I hadn't seen since Spring Break, but only briefly - she was kind of flirting with me again; but I think she just does that all the time. I didn't stay long, mainly because I had to wake up early the next morning to do laundry.

Yes, I woke up at 8 am today and all the six washers in the Bingham basement laundry room were taken - by the same person!! That turned out to be Lazar, who blithely told me that he does laundry every other week. What kind of guy does six loads of laundry every two weeks? Goodness. Also, six pairs of somebody else's socks somehow ended up in my pile of laundry, as I realised earlier when I was folding my clothes. I'm trying to figure out how that happened. Ah well, poor guy (or girl with very large feet).

As I mentioned to Paa Kwesi over our weekly brunch today (he seems to be becoming my morning-after companion - something happens to me and I dissect it with him afterwards), my forays into what Jen calls "the seedy underside of Yale" (me: Oh, come on; her: It's a drag party!) make me feel like I'm in a whole other social dimension, albeit one that overlaps with the regular world of classes and dining halls and extra-curriculars. It's always very strange when I meet people whom I know from other activities at such parties and the interactions between us are completely different. I think it's more so for me than most, because of the nature of such gatherings - for example, you can see someone every week for months and never even think about them being gay; and then you meet them at the Women's Centre one night and you're like, Oh, okay; interesting. Then there's the issue of maintaining those two worlds - for instance, do you pretend that you never saw them in drag when you meet them in class again; or does stuff spill over? Or perhaps this is just college, where things happen and then people move on without batting an eyelid.

Oh yes, I got the Trumbull Class of '55 fellowship!! Yay!! I was so sure I wouldn't get it, because Santiago who went before me and Lily who was after me were all dressed up like they were being interviewed by Morgan Stanley - while I walked in in my Trumbull sweatshirt and orange sneakers. Also I figured I was non-male, non-white and non-American - the anithesis of everything Yale was when my interviewer was at school. They awarded me $2,500 - out of the $3,000 I asked for, true - but it's still a humongous sum! The only problem is that now I'll actually have to do the research project ... or figure out some way to fudge it while I have the time of my life in London this summer.

I went to see a student film, The Davis Sisters, last night with Suzanne, Katie and Chad. There had been a lot of hype surrounding it - it took one and a half years to make; it ended up costing $10,000 (probably an urban legend); the director (some junior) insisted on bringing in a professional cast and crew from New York. It turned out to be extremely disappointing - a melodramatic, heavy-handed 20-minute piece about a pair of sisters in abusive relationships with bad sound and image quality. That's $500 spent a minute! It certainly made Suzanne and me feel much better about our film, which we had in fact spent three hours shooting earlier that day.