I Heart Music Benefactors

This is dedicated to the generous greatness that is Marten. I ended up sleeping at 6 am this morning, gleefully listening to albums I’ve been longing to get my hands on for years, all of which he brought today to lend me in an unassuming green plastic bag that gave no hint of the joy that waited within. Some of them were albums I’d specifically asked about borrowing, and he threw in others he thought I’d like. So far his judgment’s been spot on.

Study of English law will now have to compete with:
DJ Shadow: Entroducing
The God Machine: One Last Laugh In A Place Of Dying
Neutral Milk Hotel: On Avery Island
Yo La Tengo: And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out
Guided By Voices: Under The Bushes Under The Stars
Ninja Cuts: Flexistentialism
Jurassic 5: Quality Control
Quasi: Featuring Birds
Fugazi: End Hits
Flaming Lips: Clouds Taste Metallic
Puressence: Only Forever
They Might Be Giants: Apollo 18
The Velvet Underground & Nico
60 Ft Dolls: The Big 3
Soul Coughing: El Oso
My Vitriol: Losing Touch

The Boys

Sometimes over here I forget how nice it is to suddenly see people I’m normally with only at home in Singapore. Luke and Walter flew over here from the US during their Thanksgiving holiday, and this evening I finally managed to meet up with them as well as various other ACS types, all of whom I’ve somehow met over the years. Dinner was good – I finally got to try the famous Four Seasons roast duck rice at Bayswater which every Singaporean studying here apparently swears by. It was pretty good, but what was more important to me was that there was proper spicy chilli. That alone can make even bad food taste good. It’s unbelievable how I can miss something so simple so very much – so much so that I’m willing pay something like ten times the price it would be in Singapore just to eat it here at the few Chinese restaurants that serve it.

But beyond the food, I also really enjoyed the company. In the summer of ’99, before we all started our first year in university, my mother once remarked that for every one time I went out with “the girls”, I went out five times with “the guys”. She was right, more or less. While I count a number of girls among my closest friends, I tend to get along better with guys, or at least, they bore/irritate me far less. These guys in particular. There’s something about those ACSians, I gotta say, maybe something about their particular class, maybe something about the fact that they’re all from the GEP. I can’t put my finger on it, but whatever it is, it makes them great company. Out of the people I met tonight, only Luke, Walter and Vikram were among the people I meet up with a lot at home, but Donovan and Kaifeng ably stepped into Jeff’s shoes and conducted the “Slam Mich” campaign on his behalf. I’m not sure if other girls would define great company as being continually insulted by people you’ve only known for a few hours, but it entertains me immensely. Especially when I get my own back, which has been known to happen.

I’ve been trying to do some work for the past hour, but I haven’t been able to concentrate. I keep remembering. And smiling.

Crime And Punishment And Bunny Rabbits

It’s so trippy reading Crime and Punishment and listening to 69 Love Songs at the same time. I was reading “And he prepared to brave boldly the terrible catastrophe he anticipated. Occasionally the desire came upon him to rush on Porphyrius, and to strangle him there and then. From the first moment of having entered the magistrate’s office, what he had dreaded most was, lest he might lose his temper. He felt his heart beating violently, his lips become parched, his spittle becoming congealed…” while singing “Let’s pretend we’re bunny rabbits, let’s do it all day long, rapidly becoming rabid, singing little bunny songs…”

From Club To Cathedral

It’s been an interesting weekend so far, which probably means it’s going to be a terrible week. This year I still haven’t managed to find that fine line between unwinding from the week and getting so completely unwound that you can’t get yourself together for the next one. In case my mother is reading this, I have to clarify that I don’t mean that in a drinks, drugs and bad, bad men way, I just mean it in a not doing my work way. Which she shouldn’t have a problem accepting, given that I’ve been like that my whole life.

The Gallery at Turnmills on Friday was well worth the eight pounds (the best thing about getting on the guest list, given that their members’ bar vibe was more like a slightly run-down sandwich shop than anything else. Note to whoever does the music: Playing Air, good. Just chucking the entire Air album into the player, not so good.) We were a slightly disparate group united only by the fact that we were all Vish’s friends who all enjoy clubbing, but given that conversation isn’t exactly a factor that defines the success or failure of a club experience, it felt far less awkward than any other kind of social event would have been. Less enjoyable moments of the evening included losing Russ for an hour, which was stressful given that he had my money and keys, and I didn’t fancy throwing myself on the mercy of the various dodgy characters who tried equally dodgy pick-up lines on the nearest lone female they could find. Being sandwiched between Crazy Elbows At Eye-Jabbing Level Girl and Very Sweaty Shirtless I’m Sooo Cool Because You Can See My Calvins Over The Top Of My Well Filled Trousers Guy, as was my unfortunate situation at one point, can also lead you to contemplate giving up the unequal fight for dance floor space and just rocking to and fro in a fetal position. But it was, all in all, a good night. :)

After spending my Friday night in a mother-worrying activity, I decided to spend my Saturday night doing stuff that would make her happy. There was a youth celebration mass at Westminster Cathedral, which most of the people in Newman House, as well as the Singaporean Catholics, were going to, so when I woke up (at 4 pm!) I decided to make the effort, despite the worrying possibilities that the words “youth celebration” suggest. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad – they did, for the most part, manage to strike a balance between making the mass a little more upbeat than usual and making the stupid assumption that all youth like electric guitars, full drum sets and feelgood but ultimately meaningless outbursts of praise when they go to mass. The marked lack of enthusiasm displayed by the congregation whenever the songs did involve clapping was truly heartening. So there, Charismatics…

So now I’m sitting here with some honeyed water and some, er, ham (don’t ask), with a big bands compilation on, and I’m happy with two well-spent nights. Give me a club or a cathedral, Heineken or honey water, Timo Maas or Tommy Dorsey – it’s all good. :)

Late, Spotty, Grumpy

I reeled into the law faculty an hour late to hand in the essay, but at least the damn thing is done. A spot of horrific proportions has manifested itself on my forehead. At about 4 am this morning, in utter misery, I resorted to one of my traditional methods of happifying myself by putting on some good music and watching myself do some goofy dancing in the mirror. So there I was, gettin’ down to some Jurassic 5 (borrowed from Joseph), and then I noticed The Boil That European Community Law Built. Given that I’m not at all used to such eruptions, it was profoundly depressing.

I’ve decided to sod the tutorial and sleep.

Or I might rewatch the X-Files episode I recorded off BBC2 on Wednesday – while watching I was continually annoyed by the poor standard of writing, cinematic cliches and general plot incoherence, but when reading other people’s reviews of the episode on the Web, I was amazed to find that it was reasonably popular. Either I’ve become an old grumpy Phile hankering after the old days when the conspiracy actually made sense, or I missed something that they all saw. Here’s an idea – get an infinite number of X-Philes typing randomly on an infinite number of computers for an infinite period, and maybe a sensible explanation of the conspiracy will emerge, or alternatively, evidence of the writing team’s powers of logic and common sense. Either will suffice.

Hitting The Fan

I have 23 hours in which to research and write my essay.

After that I have 5 hours in which to recover and prepare a tutorial.

After that I have to decide whether to meet a friend who’s come down from Oxford for dinner, or go for choir practice, or go for a revision tutorial directly after my first tutorial.

After that I have to go to Anju’s house-warming party and then get to Turnmills by 10.30 to meet Nick, Vish and Vish’s horde of friends so we can get in on the VIP list.

Once in there I have to summon up the energy to actually dance.

At some point during the weekend I have to meet Victoria to prepare for our client interviewing competition. I also want to meet up with Luke and Walter while they’re in London over their Thanksgiving holiday.

At some point I also have to do a seminar and a tutorial for Monday.

At some point I also have to do the two criminal law essays that everyone else handed in two weeks ago.

Oh, shit.

Off The Ground And Stumbling

Joy. The problems I’ve been having with updating my site have been solved by Russ, my usual first port of call for technical assistance. Thankfully, this time when I asked him to figure out what was wrong, there was actually something wrong. Usually, the problems magically cease to exist at the very instant I’m trying to demonstrate them, having gone on and on in my usual lengthy way about the inconvenience and annoyance they’ve caused me. This, of course, is a source of great amusement to him, as are all my other little quirks and foibles…

The point is, anyway, that I’m starting to get my act together with this page. Now I just have to get my act together with my life. European Community law, here I come.

Long Short Break

Today could have been better. I didn’t go for any of the four hours of lessons I was supposed to go for, which is quite worrying. I *am* doing something productive now though, or at least I was before I decided to take a short break. :)

I should really pop down to Stefan’s room and return him his Radiohead book, which I’ve had for the past two weeks. It was quite a good read for someone like me who’s been buying their albums but doesn’t really know anything about them. Assuming the writer was giving an accurate portrayal (which is, I admit a huge assumption as rock journalism goes), I was drawn to the picture that emerged of the band as people and musicians – the overall impression I got was that of people who have found the happy compromise between pursuit of intellect and artistry, and keeping their heads on straight with regards to everything else that’s important about living life.

Kid A has been growing on me. I don’t foresee liking it more than OK Computer but a number of its more subtle touches are beginning to sink in – a dissonance here, a resonance there, every now and then there’s something that catches my attention and makes me check the track display so I can remember it for future listening. I don’t think this album has the coherence and flow of OK Computer, but I definitely wouldn’t say Radiohead have lost their way or anything quite so drastic. [Random edit upon re-reading this in 2008: Haha, I totally prefer Kid A now and have for years!]

Anyway, most of the best albums I’ve ever listened to, or at least the ones I’ve ended up liking the most, have always taken a while for me to like – OK Computer took me three months to get into, and my first Sonic Youth album (Daydream Nation) took a year to go from something that sounded very interesting but very strange to something that sounded better than anything I’d ever heard. I was only convinced I hadn’t wasted money on Neutral Milk Hotel’s In The Aeroplane Over The Sea after four months. I liked both Odelay and Midnite Vultures by Beck the first time I heard them, but since then Mutations, which I was disappointed with at first, has emerged as my favourite Beck album.

Damn. This hasn’t been a short break. I blame the music, maaaaan.

This House Would Abort Abortion

I’m still feeling good from the weekend, just having gone through Monday. This is extraordinary, given that Mondays usually leave me stressed, headachey and exhausted by the mere thought of the rest of the week ahead. Today I managed to wake up for breakfast again (I realize how pathetic it sounds each time I tout this as an achievement), went to the computer room to do research on abortion for my debate later in the day, took surprisingly coherent notes in my criminal law lecture, and sat through a two hour long seminar on self-help remedies in contract without falling asleep even once. And all this with a general air of contentment, minus the sappy smile.

In the evening, I spoke in the debating society’s weekly Monday night debate, proposing the motion (with Nick and Terry) that This House Would Abort Abortion. For one of the first times ever, I actually did give a damn about the side I was arguing for. I usually don’t have extremely strong opinions either way because I don’t think I’m qualified or informed enough to form them, but the pro-life cause is something I do feel strongly about.

I lost the debate, as I had expected. Most of our Monday night audience votes according to their individual beliefs rather than on anything that is actually said in the debate, and most people these days probably think that abortion is a right. They’re entitled to that belief. But I do wish I hadn’t been destined to lose even before I stood up to speak, simply by the side I was on. All the same, we lost much more narrowly than I had expected, and there were people who voted for us against their own beliefs, because they felt we had given a better case. I do feel good about that – it meant I had succeeded in my lesser aim of challenging the assumption that the right to abortion is a natural manifestation of a modern liberal society.

This was probably one of the most satisfying Monday night debates I’ve spoken in so far, apart from my first one ever, last year, when I did This House Needs More Porn – it’s funny how they happen to be two debates that couldn’t be more different. I could still improve on my Monday night technique, though. Russ made mention of veins popping out on my neck and too much gesturing with my left hand, which I seriously hope doesn’t look as bad as I imagine it all looking. But despite my inner cringe at the thought, I’m glad he said it, gladder that he stayed to watch the debate even though that meant he probably ended up eating dinner past ten o’clock, and gladdest that he voted in proposition, because he wouldn’t have voted that way if the case we’d put forward hadn’t convinced him.

Eep. I should really get started on essay-writing. All the debating in the world won’t convince UCL to give me first class honours if I end up flunking all my classes.

Debating At Cambridge

It’s been a while since I last wrote something here. Whenever I tried in the past week, I kept realizing that what I wrote would be essentially the same each time – a frazzled lament at my rapidly approaching essay deadlines, reluctance to go to the Cambridge debating tournament this weekend, and generally bad time management, all of which reinforce each other to create a self-perpetuating cycle of self-aggrandizement.

Which, if committed to this electronic page day after day on end, would be rather boring after a while, as well as unrepresentative of what I actually do with my life. More importantly, it would mean that I’d be spending time whining instead of actually correcting the source of my problems.

But! Today I feel good. I do have to get a start on the two essays on criminal law that were due on Friday (ulp), as well as the one on European Community law that’s due this Thursday (zzz), but I’ve had 12 hours of sleep, some good coffee (Aroma, Tottenham Court Road), and right now, all that doesn’t seem too depressing. (Note to self: this will change, Michelle. You’ll read this and weep a few days from now…)

The predominant reason as to why I feel good is the Cambridge IV, which I got back from last night. We came in 15th out of 72 teams, which is pretty good considering it’s a high-quality tournament and we hadn’t prepared at all. I also came in 15th in the individual speakers rankings. I guess I’m just really glad things went right for us for once – a few weeks ago, at the College of Law IV we were languishing near the bottom of both team and speaker rankings, despite speaking no worse than we did at Cambridge. In fact, I think I spoke better there than at Cambridge, which really calls judging standards into question, given that judges at the College of Law seemed to hate my speeches and judges at Cambridge seemed to like them.

The social side of things was markedly better as well. Being good friends with a number of the Cambridge debaters organizing the tournament came in useful in various ways, and the fact that they were all a)nice and b)pretty damn competent added to it. Having not had a proper conversation with Aaron for far too long, it was nice to finally get the chance to spend some time with him. Side note: I must be one of the most comfortably accomodated crashers ever. I’ve never had to sleep on the floor at away tournaments, thanks to lovely people like Aaron (Oxford) and Vikram (Cambridge) who give up their beds. I wish I’d seen Dennis giving his “Most Camp Speech Ever” performance in the semi-finals, but his rendition of it later was amusement enough. I’m going to be thinking about that and laughing for weeks, which isn’t necessarily a good thing, considering that this laughter often comes while walking alone along the street, or during a tutorial.

So. I’m VERY glad I went to Cambridge. I’m not stressed about the undone work. Tonight, I’ll put on some Pavement (I’m in the mood for Terror Twilight), and get a start on everything.

I am a happy person.