Saying Your Names

by Richard Siken

Chemical names, bird names, names of fire
and flight and snow, baby names, paint names,
delicate names like bones in the body,
Rumplestiltskin names that are always changing,
names that no one's ever able to figure out.
Names of spells and names of hexes, names
cursed quietly under the breath, or called out
loudly to fill the yard, calling you inside again,
calling you home. Nicknames and pet names
and baroque French monikers, written in
shorthand, written in longhand, scrawled
illegibly in brown ink on the backs of yellowing
photographs, or embossed on envelopes lined
with gold. Names called out across the water,
names I called you behind your back,
sour and delicious, secret and unrepeatable,
the names of flowers that open only once,
shouted from balconies, shouted from rooftops,
or muffled by pillows, or whispered in sleep,
or caught in the throat like a lump of meat.
I try, I do. I try and try. A happy ending?
Sure enough—Hello darling, welcome home.
I'll call you darling, hold you tight. We are
not traitors but the lights go out. It's dark.
Sweetheart, is that you? There are no tears,
no pictures of him squarely. A seaside framed
in glass, and boats, those little boats with
sails aflutter, shining lights upon the water,
lights that splinter when they hit the pier.
His voice on tape, his name on the envelope,
the soft sound of a body falling off a bridge
behind you, the body hardly even makes
a sound. The waters of the dead, a clear road,
every lover in the form of stars, the road
blocked. All night I stretched my arms across
him, rivers of blood, the dark woods, singing
with all my skin and bone Please keep him safe.
Let him lay his head on my chest and we will be
like sailors, swimming in the sound of it, dashed
to pieces. Makes a cathedral, him pressing against
me, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believe
his mouth his heaven, his kisses falling over me
like stars. Names of heat and names of light,
names of collision in the dark, on the side of the
bus, in the bark of the tree, in ballpoint pen
on jeans and hands and the backs of matchbooks
that then get lost. Names like pain cries, names
like tombstones, names forgotten and reinvented,
names forbidden or overused. Your name like
a song I sing to myself, your name like a box
where I keep my love, your name like a nest
in the tree of love, your name like a boat in the
sea of love—O now we're in the sea of love!
Your name like detergent in the washing machine.
Your name like two X's like punched-in eyes,
like a drunk cartoon passed out in the gutter,
your name with two X's to mark the spots,
to hold the place, to keep the treasure from
becoming ever lost. I'm saying your name
in the grocery store, I'm saying your name on
the bridge at dawn. Your name like an animal
covered with frost, your name like a music that's
been transposed, a suit of fur, a coat of mud,
a kick in the pants, a lungful of glass, the sails
in wind and the slap of waves on the hull
of a boat that's sinking to the sound of mermaids
singing songs of love, and the tug of a simple
profound sadness when it sounds so far away.
Here is a map with your name for a capital,
here is an arrow to prove a point: we laugh
and it pits the world against us, we laugh,
and we've got nothing left to lose, and our hearts
turn red, and the river rises like a barn on fire.
I came to tell you, we'll swim in the water, we'll
swim like something sparkling underneath
the waves. Our bodies shivering, and the sound
of our breathing, and the shore so far away.
I'll use my body like a ladder, climbing
to the thing behind it, saying farewell to flesh,
farewell to everything caught underfoot
and flattened. Names of poisons, names of
handguns, names of places we've been
together, names of people we'd be together.
Names of endurance, names of devotion,
street names and place names and all the names
of our dark heaven crackling in their pan.
It's a bed of straw, darling. It sure as shit is.
If there was one thing I could save from the fire,
he said, the broken arms of the sycamore,
the eucalyptus still trying to climb out of the yard—
your breath on my neck like a music that holds
my hands down, kisses as they burn their way
along my spine—or rain, our bodies wet,
clothes clinging arm to elbow, clothes clinging
nipple to groin—I'll be right here. I'm waiting.
Say hallelujah, say goodnight, say it over
the canned music and your feet won't stumble,
his face getting larger, the rest blurring
on every side. And angels, about twelve angels,
angels knocking on your head right now, hello,
hello, a flash in the sky, would you like to
meet him there, in Heaven? Imagine a room,
a sudden glow. Here is my hand, my heart,
my throat, my wrist. Here are the illuminated
cities at the center of me, and here is the center
of me, which is a lake, which is a well that we
can drink from, but I can't go through with it.
I just don't want to die anymore.

--

There's something electrifying about this poem. I shiver. I shudder. My bones turn cold - but I still feel the warmth of hot coco on a cold winter night or the slow teasing flames of a dying fire on bare skin. I love this poem; and I will read it over and over and over again; till I canvas every letter, every syllable, every word onto my memory.

people make me angry.

With finals less than a month away (or approximately a month away), I should not be contemplating on things that do not include the Solow Model of Growth, the six different Consumption theories, the Investment theory, AD-AS/IS-LM curves, Ricardian Equivalence, Government expenditures, Hypothesis Testing, AVANOVA, Confidence Interval Estimates, Normal Distribution, Economic development of Singapore, Education Policies and Housing Policies in Singapore and...well you get the picture.

But right now I am beyond furious with the section of Real Madrid fans who are repeatedly calling for Manuel Pellegrini's sack. GIVE ME A BREAK. You bring in a coach for less than four months, three lackluster performances and a crushing defeat (read: worst defeat in the club's century old history) to a low third division club and you want to replace him. With who? Oh yeah, one of them who has been in charge of a former-great-but-now-average club for five years and only won the Champions League once (FA and League cups don't count), and someone else who did not even last seven months at Spartak Moscow. These are the people you want to see at the helm as opposed to someone who has had CONSIDERABLE success with a mediocre Villarreal club; let's not forget that based on that precise factor we brought him to head the coaching division of the club.

At this point even Florentino Perez makes more sense - he called for patience. He might be a shady businessman who concerns himself more with the Real Madrid brand name rather than the football, but he has the common sense which many of you lack.

If you have seen Real's history for the last seven years, exactly HOW MANY coaches were allowed to stay on for more than two years? For God's sake we sacked Capello after he delivered us our 30th league title. Who in their right minds would do that?

Sir Alex Ferguson or Johan Cruyff, after taking over Manchester United and Barcelona respectively, did not immediately turn their fortunes around. They needed time. It took Ferguson 7 years to win the league; including the 1990/91 season where United finished SIXTH. SIXTH and Real has, despite the constant changes in coaches, always finished within the top four. Let's not even consider England. Let's look at Barcelona. It took Cruyff three years to win the first league title with Barcelona. Pellegrni has not been coach of Real Madrid for MORE THAN FOUR MONTHS.

Get a grip.

Having said that, I hope win or lose against Getafe, I hope he keeps his job. He is not a miracle worker, but he is pretty much the guy I trust right now to manage a locker room full of overpaid unmotivated egos. (Yes I still loathe the Galacticos 2.0 policy and would've heartily preferred the promotion of more Cantera players)

As for those who are taking immense glee at the Alcorcon fiasco, fuck off. I'll remember to be a rambunctious bitch next time your team loses. Just wait and watch.

Pictures that somehow brightened my day

(Juanes doesn't need any introduction)


(Neither does hotshot coach of Valencia Unai Emery with his 439823128754320984324289 feet tall Serbian striker Nikola Zigic)

mi madre

Speaking to my mum makes everything better. I'm feel lethargic to go into details but I can summarize it by saying: she gives me the constant assurance I always seek in my life. Even if we do not always get along, even if our temperaments differ, our tastes are nothing alike either; but at the end of the day, she's there for me, as much as I am there for her.

crying over spilt milk

A confession.

When Madness Is in the Wings

There is something striking and alarming in the glaring resemblance (of what the author projects about her own experience) this has to my life. I've spent years living under intense paranoia; of being judged, being made the laughing stock, the unwitting victim on whom the world can wash its stains upon to quote Toni Morrison (The Bluest Eyes). I felt like Pecola, I felt inferior, I felt everything I did, said, was beyond reprieve. That I did not deserve the benediction I expected the world to spare me in presence of my imperfection.

Then I went to University. I felt the burden of loneliness crashing down on me; I lived away from my family and sometimes I would lock myself up in my room, surviving on cup noodles and cry myself to sleep at 5 a.m. in the morning. Everything else was relegated to the periphery. All that mattered were my imperfections, and all I did was to try and perfect them. I began to imitate people who've walked across the bridge between the rest of the world and the faint existence of my life. I perceived them to be perfect; I felt envious, I drowned in a pot of self pity and I could feel the end near, simmering by the edges. [eta: "Almost all absurdity of conduct arises from the imitation of those whom we cannot resemble." - Samuel Johnson; always remember this.] Waiting to erupt, until one day I'd realize I am not good enough for the world, and I'd want to, or at least try to end things. As Daniel Webster put it, "There is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is confession." I wanted to confess that my life wasn't perfect; that perfection was the only source of happiness in my life; without it, life didn't matter.

Last year wasn't the proudest moment of my life. I have made decisions that I regret, and would do anything to take back, and start over. Relationships were broken, friends were let go, and all I did was withdraw from the face of the world because I felt like no one understood me. Every raised intonation drove my inferiority complex to the overdrive, every disappointed stare crushed the valves around my heart like you'd do to a stress ball and nothing, absolutely nothing took shape of optimism in my life. I'm not making excuses; I am confessing.

Today I feel brave enough, happy enough, and grateful enough to confess how derailed I was last year. I used to think if you don't drink excessively, smoke or do drugs, you are okay. You are a good kid, you can do no wrong. It took me a while to realize there are other ways that the human psyche can get the better of you. When you afford your life to lose all direction, when you topple out of balance, when you do not reach out and ask for help, when it becomes too much for you to handle on your own...so please dear reader, if any, reach out. Ask for help. A dented pride is a small sacrifice compared to rediscovering your capacity to feel happy. To enjoy the world for all its worth so that when it's time to go, you are able to sigh in peace, reflect and think, "Well I've had a good one. Time to move on."

I learned this the hard way. I hope you take the easy route.

(I don't believe in anti-depressants. Zolofts and prozacs are temporary; the real solution lies within. The challenge is to (re)discover your capacity to feel the good emotions and filter out the negative ones; to realize that you are not alone, that the world doesn't hate you, doesn't judge you, and in fact you are free to be whatever you want to be. Therein lies true happiness. That is all you and I can hope to achieve. One day.)

i got myself into some trouble tonight...

(Not a big fan of the Delta Goodrem version; Aaberge's slightly husky voice lends a better tone to the nature of the song.)

I am in love with this song. The lyrics never cease to blow me away and every time I listen to it, I am overcome with a combination of nostalgia/tranquility/peace of (my) mind. I image a sunset by the beach; the bruised sky overhead; the sunlight fading behind the shifting sea clouds; the gentle collision of waves against the sand; preparing for high tide; the wind blowing against my face, seeping through my hair, un-combing it, making a mess of it...there are some things that cannot be condensed into words. I think this song, the feelings it invokes is one of them.

[I refuse to comment on football. I REFUSE. The rambunctious Liverpool (and Barcelona) fans an go and fuck themselves. Putain.]

i promise to think of a good title later.

I just finished revising the basic fundamentals of the Solow Model of Growth. Of course the in-depth analysis (of how savings rate affect the economy, the instances when an economy starts off with too much or too little capital AND THE STUPIDLY LONG WINDED ENDOGENOUS GROWTH THEORY) remains to be covered. With finals less than a month away, I am reasonably satisfied with the amount of progress I am making. I am starting early; something I failed to do in my freshman year, leaving everything to the last minute and as a result my Grade Point Average suffered. It’s ironic that in this semester (of my Sophomore year), I am much more motivated to do well than I was the whole of my freshman year. There is a catch though – I have to work hard to be able to qualify for Honours. An economics degree without honours, in my view, is equivalent to not securing a Bachelors degree at all.

The top graduate schools (for Economics) are constantly on the look out for top scholars with near perfect GPA, tons of research/working/internship experiences in the field. To be able to stand a chance to compete, I need an Honours degree. I need a minimum of Second Upper Class which, at this point in time, looks like an impossible feat. I do regret the slack and absolute lack of discipline in my first year. My father puts it aptly, “You screw up your first year so badly, that you spend the rest of your time (at the institution) playing catch up.” This was exactly what had happened in Secondary School and Junior College. He feels it restricts my potential; puts a damper on it if I am desperately trying to get my grades up above average rather than striving for a near perfect GPA.

At this point I have to seriously consider the possibility of graduating with a B.Social Sci degree, get some work experience under my belt and then apply for Graduate school. Of course mathematically it is not out of bounds yet; but the tricky thing is that with every semester the modules aren’t getting easier.

However, I know I have the aptitude for it. The current module I am doing is a Level 3 module. I performed disastrously for its Level 2 equivalent. Logic dictates that Level 3 is inherently tougher than level 2. I am finding Level 3 a breeze; it has drawn plenty of gasps and odd facial expressions from my friends. Why? I asked myself. The answer is simple. This semester I have been a lot more disciplined. Living at home, as opposed to dorm, helped get my mindset into shape again. I am working hard again (not as hard as I would ideally like to, but this is baby steps towards the ammendment process), I have begun my revision early and I shouldn’t be here crafting this entry but my head is going to explode if I have to review another word from my Macroeconomic Analysis lecture note.

Speaking of Macro (as it shall be referred to from this point onward), why can’t the Professor follow the build up given in the textbook? (Mankiw, G, Macroeconomics, Sixth Edition) Makiw starts with the basic Production function, builds up the impact of Money supply in the economy, then International Trade, before introducing the Solow Model of Growth and finally the big picture of the IS-LM/AD-AS concepts. Reading the textbook makes more sense as opposed to my lecture notes. We started with the Solow Model, we hopped to Money and Banking, we did Consumption Theory and Investment and now we are doing IS-LM/AD-AS concept. Next we’ll be doing the merits (demerits) of the Short Run and Long Run macro policies and then end with Open Economy. Which means, International Trade – MY FAVOURITE DARLING MACRO TOPIC – has to wait right till the end of the semester, in exactly 3 weeks. Boo. Hiss. Throwing a tantrum.

I think I am going to take one day at a time. Do my revisions systemetically so that I am not at a loss before the final examinations. Whatever happens from thereafter, I am not going to waste my time worrying about it. Just yet.

If you still haven’t figured it out, this is a feel good/self motivational post. Because once in a while I need to tell myself that I am not going to screw things up. That I am not restrained by my past. I can do anything I want if I put my heart/mind/soul to it. And I will.

symbol of romance

Quand j'étudiais du français, je ne l'ai jamais apprécié. Maintenant, je le manque. Je veux apprendre du français encore. Je veux parler bien dans lui. Si je vais à Paris encore, je parlerai seulement en français. J'ai essayé ce juin, mais je ne me suis pas senti assez confiant. Je manque mon Semestre 1 Professeur. Il a fait du français classer très intéressant. J'arrêterai l'écriture en français avant que je me gêne.

Here I love you

by Pablo Neruda

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.

The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.

Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.
Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.
Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.
The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

♥

Taking time off from analyzing the consequences of supply shocks on short run and long run equilibrium output and price.

Nokia loses it.

The infamous lawsuit that's been buzzing the world as of yesterday 22nd October 2009.

If you read on, you'll see that Scott Lindvall aptly summarizes the situation; "They (Nokia) have kind of declared war on the iPhone."

Apple has a reputation of not playing by the books, but filing multiple patent infringements in one lawsuit is what makes this interesting (we all love a bit of drama don't we?). The claims by Nokia are legitimate and the suit comes after months of negotiation ended in futility. (Case-in-point: Product wise, Apple wins the competition hands down. Service and durability wise I'm still undecided. As a Nokia user, however, I admire how sturdy their phones are)

From Nokia's official press release:

The ten patents in suit relate to technologies fundamental to making devices which are compatible with one or more of the GSM, UMTS (3G WCDMA) and wireless LAN standards. The patents cover wireless data, speech coding, security and encryption and are infringed by all Apple iPhone models shipped since the iPhone was introduced in 2007.

Watching this case progress will be interesting. If Nokia wins, they stall Apple's development in the telecommunications industry and pocket a couple of hundred millions (see Economist link above). But if Nokia loses, I think its share in the industry is going to drop further - maybe to 42% or so, and continue doing so for the next couple of years. The timing of the suit makes it more controversial; especially after Apple posted record profits in this quarter and Nokia, acknowledged losses in the industry. As a consumer I'd tell Nokia to focus on the attractiveness of their phones. The iPhone wins hands down because it is sleek, flexible and has plenty of interactive features. Nokia's high end N-series doesn't make the cut - not entirely. Maybe hire a few new designers, or invest more to find out from your consumer base why people are turning to Apple these days. Apple's got this brand status; Nokia doesn't. A lot of people view Nokia as an ordinary man's phone, whereas the iPhone reflects status in layman communities. Or at least that's how it comes across as.

Either way, I can't wait to read what Apple has to say to this pending suit. *excited*

It's a pig, no it's a man...no it's....H1N1

(Youtube is not entirely about music videos and stand up comedy. Once in a while, you come across some informative or practical - for real life usage)

Despite its pandemic status, I have successfully managed to ignore it so far. Three scares and two false alarms later, I remain unconcerned by placing blind trust in my immune system. (At a time like this, I appreciate my parents' enthusiasm, almost two decades ago, to get me an overwhelming number of vaccine shots; despite my kicking and screaming and ear shattering wails) However, my mother's diabetic. Contracting the virus will not do any lasting harm on me - considering I avoid the unnecessary complications - but it might endanger my mother. That scares me, more than the question of my own well being. Singapore, even though many like to vehemently deny, is a hotzone. Being extra precautionary is not a sign of paranoia. People need to understand this; I need to understand this.

(This video post serves three purposes. 1) Provide some basic information on the H1N1 strain. 2) For your viewing convenience, dear imaginary reader and 3) a placeholder for future references.)

ETA: Fed Plans to Vet Banker Pay to Discourage Risky Practices

The officials emphasized that the plan was not intended to make pay packages more socially equitable but was part of a broader effort by the Fed to shore up the stability of the banking system. That effort has included tighter supervision of lending and trading practices and higher requirements for capital held as a cushion against losses.

So the FED is going to let the banking hierarchy get away with making millions, on tax payers' money? At least they are increasing the reserved requirement ratio - the amount of capital they expect, by law, the banks to hold back before they lend out the rest of their liabilities. The problem however is that the banks aren't lending! There have been very little long term investment to kick-start the upward movement along the business cycle. I only have 3 basic level economics courses under my belt - I have recently embarked on my sophomoric journey this academic year - in university and even I can posit that the way Fed's going, it is going to take a long time before any sign of progress is made. After exhausting its monetary policy, perhaps the government should look to making changes in its fiscal policy - except with a trillion dollar debt per year for the next decade, their hands are pretty much tied. America needs to increase their savings rate; they need to push it up beyond the 10% that is hypothesized (the actual rate is considerably lower).

when reality and fiction collide...

Body of Missing Florida Girl Is Found

When Criminal Minds and Law & Order: Special Victim's Unit, in particular comes to life, it is both shocking and disconcerting. I don't want to go at lengths, trying to delve into the killer's psyche, but needless to say, the lack of remorse scares me. How can someone simply kill a child, and dump her body in a landfill? (Assuming the killer dumped it there, and not elsewhere) Do they not feel any sympathy? Or a second's hesitation when terminating an innocent life?

Reading news like these disturb me. Quite a bit and now I keep having thoughts about what if this happens to me? Or happens to someone I know; what would it be like to lose a relative to murder? It's a macabre thing to ask, I understand, but sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I am very much aware how lucky I am, being where I am situated. The crime rate (or at least heinous crimes and child murder) here is practically non-existent and at 3 a.m. in the morning I can walk through an empty park without fearing for my life.

I am thankful for it. As much as I am sorry for the girl's family. Burying your young can never be an easy task. Hell, saying goodbye to a loved one is hard as hell.

first drafts are shit...hemingway said so!

Creative Writing class is interesting and intellectually stimulating until you find yourself at the receiving end of the stick - by stick I mean constructive critcism (from henceforth, it shall be abbreviated to Concrit) on your work. Most authors, or to be precise, most amateur, unprofessional (not in the derogatory sense) authors fear the criticism more than the Soviets feared Stalin. It can make or break a writer's confidence, stimulate or wear out his/her writing muse. Which is why I think the way we word our concrit is imperative - it should be insightful and it should assist the writer to improve on his/her work. There should be plenty of positivity involved when critiquing someone's work. If you continuously say, "This is bad, I don't like this, the grammar here is atrocious, this character is shallow and I wouldn't be caught dead hanging out with your protagonist," it reflects more on your personality than it does on the writer's. It highlights your personal insecurity on your writing than the person you are critiquing.

On the other hand, touching your critique with a handful of compliments (like, "I really like this line!" or "the wordplay here is excellent!") can boost the writer's confidence and inspire him/her to produce a fantastic work of art. It also provide a level of personal satisfaction, knowing your inputs helped someone to overcome their literary barriers and create something beautiful, something lyrical, something...you get the idea. My classmates (and Professor) were extremely helpful in phrasing the exact questions I had in mind about my own writing, and spoke it out loud. For my benefit. Whenever I write, I like to ask myself a barrage of questions - about the overall story, the individual characters and specific plot lines. As a writer you know the beginning, you know the middle, and you know the end - which puts a damper in asking these lists of questions. You end up censoring yourself. For example, if you wanted to know if your character comes across as someone sympathetic judging by a sequence of actions in the beginning of the story, your mind will be inclined to say yes if you know at the end he does something that is worthy of sympathy.

I enjoyed today's lesson thoroughly; I'm seeing my Professor tomorrow and we are going to go over the details and some additional bits of prose I wrote on my way home (Yes it takes me one and a half hours to get back home). Right now, I have no motivation to study, which, I hope will go back to the purgatory it came from and leave me, my guilt free mind at peace.

wall street 213129839012831 - 0 main street

"We're very aware of what's going on in the world, but we have to trade that off with being fair to our people who, we believe, have performed admirably throughout this crisis." - David Viniar, CFO, Goldman Sachs.

I don't even know what to say, except wave a white flag of resignation. Main street's always gonna pay for Wall Street's fuckery. Be as fair as you want to your people, but what about the taxpayers whose hard earned dollars put you back in shape? They are still unemployed, their household income still remains low, there is still tension floating in the jobs market, the financial market and hell the crisis still has a long long long way to go before we see positive signs of recovery worldwide (not to mention the US government's trillion dollar debt per year for the next infinite - exaggerated, I know - number of years). Paying your employees a renumeration of $527,000 per person doesn't even out your $200m charitable contribution - it's noble but it's not enough.

Yes I am bitter.

Even if I have no direct relation with Goldman Sachs, in a grand scheme of things, whatever fuckery that goes on Wall Street inevitably affects me, and the income of my household, 10,000 miles away. (The ironic thing is, five years later after graduation, if Goldman Sachs offers a job, I'd take it without a second's hesitation. Yes I'm a hypocrite - so I've been told)

your last hurrah...yen

If this is the Yen's last hurrah, I wonder what the implications might be for Singapore.

Like Japan, Singapore has a excellent national savings rate - which is never fully disclosed and for the right reasons. From as far as I know, most of it is used to service public investments abroad. Singapore in that sense is cushioned for the time being, relying on its negative public debt (it is negative I think. I will check and edit this post should it turn out differently) to further expand on its infrastructure and prepare to fundamentally change the economy to suit the changing needs of multi-nationals. Sometimes I wonder how differently Singapore would have coped if it A) Never separated from Malaysia or B) Had adequate landmass, labour pool and natural resources.

I am currently studying, as part of a university requirement, a module on Singapore's history - one part political, one part social and one part on its economic history. One of my readings proclaimed (by Linda Low) that the government, on hindsight, did not have a grand plan in the eve of 1965 (right before merger). They improvised, made it up as they went along, guided by a group of highly motivated individuals in the process - I'm talking about the first generation PAP leaders - the links of Mr. Lee Kuan Yew, Dr. Goh Kheng Swee and Mr. S. Rajarathnam.

As a foreigner here, I have heard many locals complaining about the limited liberty they have here to express themselves. Some tell me they are not allowed to openly critcize the government, while others posit that PAP's unicameral politics is turning many youngsters apathetic towards Singapore politics. I don't hold an opinion on what they say to me, because first of all, I am an immigrant. My areas of concern lie more with the Manmohan Singh government, Indian National Congress and India's economic performance. However, on occasions I feel the need to point out to these people that not everything the government did or is doing has been out of line. Think about it, dear imaginary reader, post 1965, with the loss of a common goods market (that many envisioned Malaysia to provide), high unemployment arising from post war population boom, and absolutely no natural resources at its disposition, the government did turn Singapore into a first world country (with third world privileges). It takes meticulous planning, or improvisation in this case to pull off something like that. In their haste to critcize, which by the way is a common mentality here, the government, most of the people I come into contact with overlook this.

I should stop typing and finish off making note cards on Singapore's Education policy through the last half of the century.

Also, in a context not remotely related to the ongoing financial meltdown (hello Japanese government debt, which is almost as impressive as that of the US of A), the price of cockiness is almost cathartic. Funny too, to add on to the list. I hope Liverpool's defeat against Lyon is going to temporarily shut up the small fraction of their obnoxious fanbase whom I loathe - the ones who need to remind the rest of the football world about their five European cup triumphs. (By contrast, even the most hardcore of Real Madrid fans I have had the fortune of running into, do not need to boast or continuously remind everyone about their 9 European Champions league triumphs.

Though I am not generalising. The majority of the Merseysiders are polite - and indulge in civil rivalry with other fans. It's always the handfuls isn't it? Stupid black sheeps of the flock. No matter. I am just going to watch and snicker from the sidelines as they try to comfort each other by...yep, you guessed it. By reminding themselves how glorious their club used to be (yes they were, but overdoing it loses the appeal - clearly they missed the memo).

...lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds...

How Plagiarism Software Found a New Shakespeare. I strongly believe that my twitter dashboard is a maze of wonderful things (at a 99% confidence interval rate) waiting to be unearthed. This was one of them. I find the concept truly fascinating - precisely so because of the (over)emphasis the academia places on Plagiarism and plagiarism detecting softwares. I've heard my Professors harp on the seriousness and consequences of plagiarism for over a year. While it doesn't apply to me directly (at least not at this point in time), I have always wondered the depths to which students will venture to, in order to get that perfect A+ without doing an ounce of work. Finding Shakespeare while trying to catch cheats, is a delightful composition of irony which I hope will assist to further expound on this chance discovery.

ETA: I take back what I said about my twitter dashboard - I now reduce the confidence interval to a 95% after a this post about Why Jews are liberals came up. I clicked with the hope of reading a (adequate) explanation to this direct, slightly controversial question asked by none other than The Gaggle (Newsweek). Duly disappointed and would like to claim back the 5 minutes of life wasted on reading it. Thank you very much.

I Kill People

I am at a loss for words. I am heavily conflicted. It's so bad that it's actually catchy, and funny and once again proves the general consensus that you don't need talent to rap - as long as you are able to string together words into a suitable rhythm...but seriously, Anthony Hopkins of cock and Albert Einstein of dick made my night. In about t-10 seconds I am going to expire from aneurysm caused by excessive laughter.

t-9

t-8

t-7

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t-1

KABOOM.

biblophilia...it's inherent.

Fired from the canon - a list of books you should (apparently) avoid.

Clearly someone had a little too much time on their hands (which they could've loaned out to me; I need MORE TIME!)

I find it offensive, or close to offensive that One Hundred Years of Solitude has been added to that list. I've had to defend the book from my friends - my brilliant English Literature major friends doing Post Modernism - carefully defend every argument they brought up against Marquez and then tactfully pitch in, and promote Love in the Time of Cholera. (The book can be tricky, as are all of his work, but upon finishing it, I can definitely assure you the overwhelming feeling of completion, fulfillment, satiation; take your pick. You shouldn't avoid the film either - Javier Bardem instantly ups the rating by a few stars in my books, then again, I am a biased little (shallow) fangirl)

Personally, my preference of Marquez over Rushdie centers around Midnight's Children. We did the text last semester for Reading British and World Texts and I went to take the exam without touching the book. I wasn't sure if it was coincidence or not, but the two weeks Midnight's Children was covered in lecture and tutorials, I was away conducting serious diplomacy (Model United Nations) at the Hague. I still keep the book. Guess you can call it a memento - I do have every intention of giving it another go. But I have relegated it further down the pecking list. The Great Indian Novel by Shashi Tharoor takes precedence above all. Except, I NEED MORE TIME DAMMIT.

Lastly,



♥

An untimely rambling.

Paul Krugman's latest discourse on the banking system in the US of A makes an interesting read; my point of relevance being my field of study and some personal interest. He essentially says that Goldman Sachs' sky rocketing profits in the third quarter, the gradual return to the practice of excessive wages for the Wall Street hierarchy does not spell the end of the crisis, as some might have been inclined to believe. The unemployment rate (not just restricted to the US) is still high, investors are wary which explains the flourish/profitability in trading operations and not long term investments.

But there’s an even bigger problem: while the wheeler-dealer side of the financial industry, a k a trading operations, is highly profitable again, the part of banking that really matters — lending, which fuels investment and job creation — is not. Key banks remain financially weak, and their weakness is hurting the economy as a whole.

He further mentions CitiGroup and Bank of America - the "weakest links" of the banking systems, still posting losses (which the CNN article helps to break down and explain better), he writes about how banks are still not lending, and lending is what the US economy needs to spearhead investment, jobs and future growth.

According to the Lawrence Summers (Chief Economist for the Obama administration), "There is no financial institution that exists today that is not the direct or indirect beneficiary of trillions of dollars of taxpayer support for the financial system." It paints a depressing picture of the situation at hand today (though according to the CNN article, Goldman Sachs has apparently paid back $10bn of taxpayers money to the US government). Main Street is still suffering, the ripple effects of this crisis is still being felt all over the world, and Singapore is venturing options of providing efficient and effective labour at an even lower wage. I find the inequity instrumental in the failings of the financial infrastructures this past year.

I believe that in a capitalist society equality of income is never desired. It can backfire, provide a disincentive for people to work harder, essentially resulting in a dwindling level of efficiency. With companies excessively looking for ways to cut cost, (outsourcing) this would create further exacerbate the situation. As idealistic as it sounds on paper, most people (those who do not particularly care about the field economics) champion for equal wages, for bridging the rich-poor divide (which, to some extent I support) and reach an idealistic utopia - sounds familiar?

Think about it. You work 10 hours a day and earn $100. Your friend works for 5 hours a day and also earns $100 in a truly equal society. Seeing your friend laze around on his couch while you are frantically trying to finish up the report and have it on your boss's table by the end of the day, will undoubtedly make you question yourself. Why are you working twice as hard as he is, and still getting paid the same amount of salary as him? In effect, he gets paid twice as much as you are (in five hours) by putting in half the effort.

Economists and social scientists can draw up thousands of complex models, with minimal error that can, and has rightfully predicted a lot of outcome in the long term. However, models, in my opinion, can never have the capacity to account for the one crucial factor, the last piece of a very complex puzzle you can say - human capital. We cannot substantiate human capital and condense it into a variable (X or Y, or a number between 0 to 1) and put it into the model and expect it to generate precisely, the future of our state, and our economy. If we did, this financial crisis would have never happened.

The question about low wages for Singapore was posted on one of my subject forums - funny thing is that the subject has nothing to do with Economics. In fact far from it. Singapore's export dependency can't be helped, and its land size, and population contribute to its vulnerability against global factors on the financial platform. Everything, including water is imported and while Singapore still retains a lot of higher skilled work, outsourced by MNCs from Europe or the USA, the fast rise of its neighbours - not even India and China - like Indonesia might change the status quo in the future. A lot of my colleagues/friends/classmates seem to be under the impression that because Singapore's a 'tiny red dot', nothing world shattering will ever happen to them. Contrasting that with the constant complaints about how foreign talents are sweeping away jobs from the locals (at 1/4 the salary) amuses me.

This is why I am love reading Economics. In my freshman year, while trying to adjust to the aggressive transition from Junior College life to University life, I had momentarily lost my passion for the subject. The more I read about the financial situation of the world today, the more I am beginning to appreciate it again. Precisely because I can apply things I am learning in the classroom, to the real life out there - true I can do without the complex formulas from time to time, but no matter...

About me

The Sanctimonious Fanatical Pickle goes by many different aliases, of which, the prominent ones are The Sanctimonious Fanatical Pickle and S. S is a twenty something person with questionable mental stability. She is currently pursuing an undergraduate degree in Economics and is looking into a possible second major or a minor in English Literature. Her interests expand over a wide range, from inspecting the daily interaction of the demand and supply in a market guided by the so-called Invisible Hand, she enjoys immersing herself in classical literature. When she is feeling particularly adventurous, she dabbles in modernist and post modernist literary texts, Jacobian plays, Shakespearean Sonnets, and occasionally frets over Wall Street, Main Street and Maynard (Keynes). Her interest in politics is centered around the South Asian context, which reflects in her overtly biased stand against the United States. She means no offense to any real or imaginary reader of this blog and acknowledges her fundamental rights to her opinions. She entertains debate, under the precondition that it is conducted in a civil and just manner.

When she isn't submerged in Academia, she enjoys football, which, she refuses to address as Soccer. She divides her time between Manchester United and Real Madrid, hates Cristiano Ronaldo and Liverpool, has inappropriate crushes on over aged ex-football players turned coaches. One day, if luck permits, she'd like to be BFFs with Gonzalo Higuian and Juan Mata, and play football with them on the beach. (Before you ask, yes she does know her offside rule, the advantages of 4-4-2 over 4-3-3, the concept of a Catanaccio and has a supremely vast knowledge about the game and its history than your average female football fan)

S has a knack for music - currently she is fascinated with Morrissey and Antonio Vivaldi. She plays the guitar and is crudely obnoxious about it at times. She writes too - or at least tries to but all that she can come up with her hyperbolic, pretentious mass of words. Useless words in plentiful numbers. The book(s) she'll read over and over again until she is 70 and blinded by cataract are The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and The Lord of the Rings, which, she'd have you know is NOT A TRILOGY.

S blogs elsewhere too. But that remains a source of mystery!

Points of contact

My experience on the internet centers but is not limited to the blogsphere. Below are the ways I can be contacted. Please note that at this point in time I do not accept anonymous love letters, hate letters and marriage proposals. However if you offer me dictatorship over parts of Antarctica, I might take a look at your proposal before deciding to bin it

Email: shaysta89 at gmail dot com

Other bits of the internet you can find me stalking:

• Twitter
• Last.fm
• Delicious

More to be added as I venture out into newer niche corners of the internet.