Month: May 2007

Yes, it’s out now.

Download it while it’s hot!

… a random woman down the street walked up to you and told you she really likes your glasses? In fact, she likes the pair so much that she can’t wait for an answer to her question, “Who is it by?” and literally grabs it off your face to check it out for herself. And check out herself with it on?

… a totally unrelated random woman sits down really close to you while ogling over your (arguably chic) green messenger bag? That she’s so engrossed by the bag on your lap, she doesn’t realise she’s got her (arguably wonderful-smelling) hair in your face as she’s bent over trying to make out the bag’s brand from its logo?

… you saw a cute ogre? You know, the kinds that are hideous and grotesquely-deformed, but yet you find something about their mannerisms that make them undeniably endearing? Like that grunt of appreciation that escapes its lips—alongside the flare-up of its nostrils—as someone offers her a candy bar?

No, it wouldn’t be interesting at all. It’d be weird.

Trust me.

Have you ever had that sickening feeling when you know you don’t want something, but also know that deep down, you really need it? It’s such a paralysing emotion to experience; being unable to move neither forward nor back, stuck only in the harsh realisation that whatever you do, you’re about to end up unhappy, unsatiated, or both.

I believe life would be simpler if it were more like fairy-tales; where what’s right and what’s wrong is starkly delineated. Without any shades of grey to get lost in, you can clearly paint yourself black, or white.

With me thus far?

Good, now replace the whole spiel about “being painted black or white” with “desiring women or men.”

Have you ever had that sickening feeling when you know you don’t want something, but also know that deep down, you really need it?

I know we’ve been through this a few times, but don’t you think that after being here for so long, it’s still really ironic that the only women around I find cute are so out of my league, they wouldn’t even be caught dead talking to me?

And, the women who really want to talk to me are so bleh that I can’t imagine them good for much more than a laugh… at their expense?

I really must rethink my strategy.

And, on a somewhat connected note, the people I’ve been running into around town just seem so beautiful of late. I mean that literally, superlatively so, and not in some weird way. At least, not weirder than having the urge to tell every woman you cross that she’s the most exquisite creature you’ve ever seen. And not be lying about it.

It’s like the town has been invaded by angels—the kinds without wings. Or perhaps they’re alluring elves without the pointy ears. Or perhaps, the town has been flooded by a slew of new fairies—the kinds without pointy ears or wings.

OK, I don’t know where they’re stemming from, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? All this means is that there is now an even greater abundance of women who will not talk to me.

I noticed her as she was emerging from yoga class—mat rolled up underarm and tight sweatpants on. I walked swiftly past, mumbling something barely acknowledging her presence as I crossed her.

A few years ago, I knew her name. And that’s not all I knew.

Today, all I could remember about her was that she was “that guy’s wife.” It’s almost as if nothing else mattered, and this was her defining characteristic.

Ergo, it’s more ironic that I’d forgotten his name too. All she was to me was an unknown’s wife.

With work taking up more and more of my time of late, I’m finding it exceedingly hard to concentrate on other things—including writing. However, being the brave soul that I am, I’ve decided to force myself to try this evening.

I have some good and some bad news to share, and I’m going to begin with the bad news.

Over the past week, I’ve been a victim of several counts of credit-card fraud, which has resulted in me losing around $1000 to the ether. What’s worse, this soon escalated to more of an identity-theft when random services I did not request for started showing up at my door—like that bright orange box with the Vonage phone registered to akgbc99dbq3 I stumbled over as I returned home from work yesterday. I am still in the midst of sorting out this crisis, though no one need worry; most of my money has been retrieved, and everybody I’ve spoken to has been very helpful.

I do have to deal with getting by without one of my cards for a few weeks though; it is being replaced with a newer—hopefully more secure—one.

Another scary happening—also stemming from cyber-space—was a serious-sounding letter I received from my ISP accusing me of some evil activity. I nearly cracked under the presumption that their stern notice was a precursor to some sort of lawsuit. You see, when you’re a poor student, whether or not you’re innocent won’t matter in court. You’re never going to be able to afford that fancy lawyer. Anyway, it’s been some time since this happened, and since nothing’s come of it, I’m going to assume it was some sort of cruel prank; and slowly step away.

Now, on to the good news.

After being ensured funding for a couple of years to pursue my post-doctoral research work at Cambridge, I went ahead and formally accepted the offer. I plan to finish-up my work here late Fall this year, and begin my life there early next year. I must say I am extremely excited, as the work promises to be fun and is right up my alley, and what little I’ve experienced of Cambridge in my travels has been wonderful. In general, the atmosphere is just so much more scholarly than here. And scholarly is good.

I think it will be a pleasant change to go somewhere else and do something different for the next few years of my life—before I have to pause and take stock of where my life is once more.

The prestigious nature of it all, the thought of being able to speak and write in real English again, the grand plans of using the U.K. as a base to launch many travels around Europe… everything excites me tremendously. But even so, amidst the goosebumpey skin, a part of me can’t help but wish for a completely different life path. One that’s firmly rooted in the familiarity of the same place for eternity. One where I’d never have to leave, abandoning love.

I know I’ve not been saying very much lately, but things have been going on.

For instance—over coffee earlier this morning—I was offered a research position at Cambridge. Not Cambridge, Mass, the University of Cambridge, UK.

Perhaps I will start pondering interesting things over there sometime early next year. Perhaps.