the Tree Hole

not born with it

2011-11-29T20:55:00.000-08:00

I recently realised that I have an idealist view on human nature. If I meet strangers in the street, I always assume that they are polite, kind, compassionate and virtuous unless they prove otherwise. Some strangers become acquaintances, and some acquaintances become friends. All of a sudden, I make a shocking discovery that they are just as flawed as everyone else and me. This always, always, without fail, always make me wish that I didn't know them.

I do admit that I feel good for assuming that strangers are good. It gives me a false sense of security of living amongst angels. And I am disgruntled every time I nose-dive into reality. So the problem lies within me. I lack the ability to reconcile with reality. Perhaps, I was just not born with it. And...

A sobre note on petty and great things

2011-11-16T16:56:00.000-08:00

Recently, I went into the retreat mode, i.e. "keeping house". I had an aggrandised reason to do so - study. But covertly, I was hating one of my neighbours so intensely that I decided the mere sight of him is repulsive. This was of course one of those nosy neighbours that love to make their presence felt - incessant smoking, loud talking on the phone, parading the neighbourhood, finger-pointing etc.

It all started from petty neighbourhood disputes with a dose of harsh personality. What I saw to my horror was not how quickly he turned himself into an asshole, but how quickly I disintegrated from a person of reason to a person of inexplicable negativity. Just everything about this neighbour was disgusting, I thought. The whole neighbourhood is polluted by his existence...Maybe I should throw a stone at his window...

It's perhaps not so surprising that a few seconds of hatred would demolish a few year's building of rationality. It corresponds with the law of nature that it takes less to destruct than construct. This is probably what happened here. Hatred is tempting because it is easier for me to do right now. And it gives us a false sense of power over others, whereas we in fact have no meaningful power over anything, not even ourselves if our rational being is the one that's been conquered.

So as I write down these words in a calm drizzling morning like this, I feel sobre and strong again, as if I've just held up a mirror to my smeared face and wiped off the dirt. I may not be a friend to this neighbour for a long time to come, but at least I know that now I'm able to walk away from him without hatred.

intoxication

2011-10-31T19:47:00.000-07:00

I watched this TV drama about court politics in early Han dynasty. It is a cliche of a storyline: throne, heir, concubines, kill your own brother and tragical love. There is something intoxicating about all that. I wonder if a yearning for power and abuse is internal to everyone.

back to square one

2011-10-30T14:23:00.000-07:00

It's jolly great to be home in the morning again. I'm uncertain if Gaya enjoys my company - she did alright on her own for the past month. Now she probably is at a loss to place me. So she lay down, back against me, under our antique radio in a bundle of morning sunshine. She might be secretly enjoying the classic music and the velvety voice of its hostess.

I have just worked one-month full time at a little law firm. Apart from bad ventilation and glaring ceiling lights, it is a very nice little place. Everyone was wonderfully appreciative and self-conscious. But towards the end, it became clear that they had not enough work to keep a PLT around, let alone a graduate. I have to reason with myself to look forward. After all, I have to go where work is, not where nice people are. There is no immediate need for that. Right now, I will relocate my time back into study given my full-time load and a big moot.

So hopefully, a problem will resolve itself in the end. I wish. Or as the Chinese saying goes, there'll always be a way when you drive the car to the foot of a mountain.

learn to "roll with the punches"

2011-09-08T23:37:00.000-07:00

After a few days of suspense, I got an email notification that I haven't progressed into the second round of my summer clerkship interview.

So here's the reality check.

- I'm still going to the Vis Moot. And now I have more time to devote to it.
- I'm still going to find a PLT placement some time after March.
- I might do an LLM in international arbitration depending on how I do in the moot.
- I might have time for a baby.

I think positivism is really important in times like this. I have to admit that I did an okay job in dealing with rejection. And I was blessed with so much support along the way.

My friends really went out of their way to help me. I just wish that I will have an opportunity to repay their kindness down the track.

Future plan for now is: get up, keep going and keep cool.

the odds

2011-08-14T02:40:00.000-07:00

I was doing some gardening yesterday trying to clear my head over a few things. For some mysterious reason, I struck a conversation with a neighbour whom I'd seen a few times, but never spoken to.

To our mutual amazement, his wife came from a remarkably similar background as I. And he is into photography and travel just as K. Our friendship immediately flourished.

I guess the thing is we really shouldn't have waited for 4 years to discover that. : )

So, what's the Rush?

2011-07-23T00:52:00.000-07:00

This is meant to be a recap of my negotiation competition. But I feel like opening it with what my mom was doing when we spoke a few minutes ago.

She said, "I'm lying on the grass n watching the clouds move fast across the deep blue sky." She was up in a Tibetan mountain with a school of kids in their summer camps. "If I'm not feeling a little tired from the work, it would be better." she answer my envy. She was helping with the filming in addition to her other duties as the guide, the organiser, the cultural ambassador, which in turn were additional to her official duty as an ordained nun.

You certainly view the situation a little differently if you got a lot on your mind.

"Mina, you need to take a breath." The last judge told me. I knew full well that we could have lost, even if not for this particular reason. In that round, I responded to ( imaginary?) tricks and evasiveness and dominance with fear, tension and not-so-well-hidden aggression. None of these worked. The very thing that the other side wanted I gave without a condition - the loss of my mental peace. Little wonder that even the judge sensed something in my breathlessness. Even though I thought that I'd held up pretty well. But the cruel reality is that that was all I did. I failed to move beyond it.

I may very well congratulate myself on identifying all the tricks in the world. But the one thing that I fatally failed to recognise in the heat of the moment was that the very reason to apply tricks or evasiveness was usually to disrupt the other side's self-control and control on the process.

"A confident tone is part of the art of persuasion. Don't hide it. Use it from the beginning." The round three judge told all of us. I knew that I was speaking very softly from the beginning. But as we entered into the mad rush of the last ten minutes, everyone raised their voice a little bit to talk over each other. It was collegial, nonetheless. But the judge got a point. There is no reason to hide your confidence before friends or foes.

"So, what's the rush?" Our unimpressed first round judge threw these cold words at us. "Don't get me wrong. I'd say the same thing to the other side, too." he added. We'd forgotten the basics. In real life, there are a range of alternatives if no outcome is reached at a particular meeting: another meeting, agreement in principle, etc. There really is no need to conclude the matter on the spot unless, I guess, you are a crisis negotiator who is talking to someone that has stood on the windowsill of his 40th storey home for the past twenty minutes. Even in that case, you can't afford to lose your calm, your pace, and your rhythm. The moment you rush may be the moment he jumps.

I met him again a few days later. He said we won that round nonetheless, but we could have done better without the rush.

enormity

2011-06-16T08:02:00.000-07:00

finish
i am overcome
everything must finish

random

2011-05-17T16:06:00.001-07:00

I watch my romantic cells dying into the abyss of objectiveness, my emotions falling into the crevice of hard shell.
I'm cool, unfazed and brave.
- The Dream State

a fable

2011-04-20T18:02:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there were a family of wild boars who loved nothing more than rolling in a mud pit. They loved it so much that it was all they did. Whilst they were in the mud pit, they often jostled for the best spot. And occasionally, amicable fights led to small bloodshed. But it was nothing alarming. The fighting parties would be on grunting terms after a brief standoff, and they would be sharing their mud in no time. After all, they were a family. A family never held hard feelings.

One day, one of the boars gave birth to a baby boar. The whole family came to congratulate the boar, rubbed mud on the baby and wished him a long, hairy life in the mud. For the time being, the baby lived happily in the mud like the others. But the mother boar soon realised that the baby would never grow hair or tusks . When the others knew this, they shunned him because of the differences. One respectful elder boar said, "he is never going to be like us." The other laughed at the way he walked and how the mud wouldn't cling to his ridiculously shiny skin." They drove the baby to the edge of the pit because, just like one boar put it, a hairless and tusk-less boar is just a pig and a pig doesn't deserve a place among 'em proud boars.

Since he found no one to play with, the baby wandered off into the woods. At first, the baby would return with stories. But life beyond the mud pit was of no appeal to the family. So mum was the only listener. Over time, she said that if he was happier out there, he should not come back. "But what about you, mom. I can't leave you here." the baby asked. "I'm a wild boar. Don't worry." mum held her tusks high.

This time, the baby walked away determined to find his own life. Believe it or not, he even made friends with eagles, cheetahs and lions (and they didn't eat him!). It was quite an adventurous life. Eventually, when he's too old to travel, he settled down in a cave behind the prettiest waterfall in the woods, only a few short miles from the mud pit. The one thing he cherished the most was his morning bathing in clean spring water which softened his wrinkled skin. You see, he had no hairs whence bugs might grow, so he did not need mud after all. The pig, as his relatives called him, never visited the mud pit. He had, just opposite to their wishes, a long and hairless life. Meanwhile, the wild boars had long forgotten about the baby. They rolled in the mud exactly the way they liked.

nullity in hindsight

2011-04-19T14:06:00.001-07:00

The kind of calmness I experienced when I saw my exam results can be likened to that of a sedated psychiatric patient. In fact my entire semester was insulated by this half-awakeness to the point that after the exams I could not evaluate at all how I had performed. And for the first time at the conclusion stage, I have nullity to say about the semester in hindsight. Tis all good.

On the other hand, the downstair neighbour has a vibrating alarm which sends my floor shaking for half an hour in the morning. It's not funny when I type over a quiet breakfast coffee in bed. I closed my eyes and cursed him in silence. Die, you fool. Wait, don't be too harsh. I don't really mean die as drop dead, go to hell etc. Though to own a neighbour like that is the last thing I ask for, surely someone else enjoys his existence more than I do. So no, don't die. Vanish, disappear, evaporate if you must. (I often find this mental softening process beneficial to an apprentice at buddhism.) So whilst I was softening myself, this drive-me-nuts buzz still shook me floor and hijacked me writing process. I decided to take action. I picked up my glass jarful of colourful Sri Lanka-made cotton fish and shrimps and octopi and gave the floor a few resolute bangs. The alarm stopped.

So this is how a quiet day should start.

warmth

2011-04-18T04:59:00.000-07:00

How alone we are

Born in tears
Die in agony

To make this long journey possible
We put ourselves in your hands
For food
Water
Loving
Kindness
And warmth to fill every passing minute

Till we, too, yearn to live
And to warm others

For without you it is all so empty
And gelid
Wind echos wind
Into the nights of desert

nowness and scattered incoherent thoughts

2011-04-18T01:56:00.000-07:00

For a Buddhist, nowness is a bit of a cliche. We are supposed to live in the fast-moving, ever-changing nowness which consists of minuscular fragments of time. And upon a closer look, we are supposed to discover that nowness is as non-existent as the past and the future none of which we could really dwell on. So we shouldn't.

The thing is as I type from my hand crafted lounge I am thinking that every word I type is a small document of my time, although the words themselves speak of other things. I am thinking that as long as I keep typing I can at least keep pace with time. With some skills, I can even prolong some moments and shorten others. And this is why I adore language. It is just like light, wave, wind, invisible particles played by secret energy.

Now, as I type Now, the moment has fled. My wooden radio plays a piece from London Philharmonic Orchestra. How divine.

a private inquiry into national schizophrenia (I)

2011-04-06T14:51:00.000-07:00

I thought I could learn Hokkien. After all, isn't that just another Chinese dialect. So my lesson with K started from the basics, pleasantries, food, etcetera. I had no problem accepting that the Hokkien version of the classic Mandarin greeting I've eaten sounds more like Slovenian than Chinese. Its exoticness borderlines hilarity: "Wa Chia Boein". And it is actually misleading to spell "Boein" with a "B" as the consonant in fact squats miraculously between "P" and "B". For that, I had to imitate K's lip movements quite closely. It involved first forming a perfect 'O' followed by a prompt yet gentle touching of the lips to let out what sounds like a halfway air kiss, into which a little P-ness was somehow injected by drawing your lower lip slightly backwards. As I repeated merrily to commit the new consonant to my repertoire, K had the uncontrollable urge to shush me because I sounded like a squashed spring mattress-Go figure!

Then, it became apparent that "tears" are in fact "waste discharge from eyes" which in turn can mean the "eye gunk". And "eyes" also sounds the same as "meat" etcetera, which is nothing like Mandarin. And to my great frustration, they often don't correspond with written Chinese. "And there isn't a Hokkien thesaurus or grammar book!!" I thought it was a legitimate exclamation.

So apart from ensuring his military supremacy in the after life, Emperor Chin from whichever year BC did a thorough job to unify the Chinese language. That is, one written form based on the dominant northern dialects irrespective of its applicability to the minority dialects in the south. So basically, Hokkien, amongst many other southern dialects, survived as an oral language.

A written language so detached from its oral forms has two implications: the southerners would remain less educated than their northern counterparts; and they would remain isolated from the imperial bureaucratic system unless they chose to conform. So my impetuous guess is that it all comes down to conformity and control. The diversity of languages would encourage cultural and ethnic diversity and would in turn encourage political, economic and social dichotomy. So for good reasons, Hokkien amongst others must remain dialects and the Hokkien people under the umbrella racial identity of Han Chinese, despite that for a Mandarin to talk to a Hokkien, he would need an interpreter. And ouch, when you eat "meat", you eat an "eye".

I wonder if the southerners in fact attempted to perserve and develop their own languages, and if so what happened to those attempts. Or, has it always been a peaceful subordination to the cultural instructions from the imperial courts thousands of miles north? Or, was it even necessary to give a damn. After all, the southerners could take shelter in the safety of the distance and evolve at their own pace.

I wish I could travel back in the Tardis and perceive the moment of unification with my own eyes. For Han Chinese, the recording of history has always been an expensive and blood-stained exercise. For all we know, the grassroots history is apt to disappear without a trace so that what's left are the public relation campaigns of imperial courts dynasty after dynasty. Yet we live cozily in our micro-reality and educate our kids with the opposite of truth. (To be cont'd)

the bane of a city

2011-04-06T00:40:00.000-07:00

honeycomb apartments ashen with copycat modernity
sprawling rivers of ideals, ambition and audacity
lo and behold, demolitions of mountains

Hypochondriac

2011-04-01T00:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, we go to funny extremes. For example, she complains about her bodily pains. Asked to narrow it down, she often manages to prevaricate until aptly finding an opportunity to blame everything on early onset kidney disease. So I ask her about the urine test results, she would say in genuine puzzlement that there was nothing abnormal on the test. "You are a hypochondriac." I conclude. The other day, I also said that she exaggerated all those pains and minor irregularities in an attempt to attract attention.

As for me, I hide from her the fact that my fingers are becoming rather stiff. I massage them at times believing that that is all they need. It'd be ludicrous to consider a heat pad or any oriental elixer. Tendonitis or arthritis are as farfetched as a Martian invasion into my fingers. At the best, it is the chill of early autumn. I know very well what she would say though: last time I had a terrible infection in my finger joints and I ignored it. (What happened?) Big price to be paid. My right index finger was completely distorted. And doc said it'd have to be removed if I had seen him any later. (How did you cure it?) He gave me some tablets. But I got better only when I soaked my hands in a warm broth of special herbs. A recipe I learnt from an old school friend...(Amazing).

I also fight off other minor ailments without medicine, common cold, minor cuts etcetera. Last time, I had a few reef cuts left to cure in open air, which attracted some curious inquiries into the medicinal tradition of my folks. In all honesty, it was just me, firm believer of the nature's biggest gift to mankind: the autoimmune system. As for her, she treats common cold with antibiotics and minor cuts with bandage and a tetanus shot.

I don't need more examples to stress my point. The bottom line is I don't complain to her and I don't encourage her imagination. When I ponder it in some spare time, I tend to conclude that our behaviours in this regard are moulded around the amount of love and attention we receive. An abusive father, selfish siblings and an unsympathetic husband must have all helped create the greatest demand for attention. On the other hand, loving parents, friendly cousins and a gentle husband must have caused an urge to hide away from attention. This is no doubt a rather singular view, but perhaps with a great deal of truth in it.

For the time being, I realise that I am the only one left in this world to love her and I am her sun and her galaxy. I listen to her complaints, and we laugh together at my offhanded comments. Nothing needs cure.

the perfect triceps

2011-03-20T17:48:00.000-07:00

Being someone who is never obsessed with weight or weight loss, it strikes me as a little odd that I should aim at weight loss for whatever reason. Admittedly, I am a little overweight, that is, about 7.6% over my ideal height/weight ratio. Yet, I don't view the little "extra" of me as threatening to my confidence as would someone who conditions beauty on skinniness.

I have a sporty built, legacy from a relatively active adolescence. So even though I'm now sedentary most of the time, I always look at myself in the mirror and think contently that there is no immediate need of exercise.

So whilst I savour my daily iced caramel latte with double-scoop vanilla ice-cream at the Nosh's, a biochemical button is being pressed again and again without me consciously knowing. The thing is, one day, I wake up to an image of beautiful triceps of American's new first lady. I start to realise what I've been losing.

Hence begins my quest to get the perfect triceps.

one small thought

2011-03-16T21:08:00.000-07:00

The entire universe is collapsing. Yet you are arguing with me.

Haha I love these lines. I've just gotten over the sci-fi marathon, namely, with the doctor.
Doctor? doctor who?
Yea, exactly.

Ok, serious. A lawyer and a sci-fi nut; a lawyer and a graphic designer; I don't blame you. I don't see a straight connection etiher. But here's the deal. Lawyer, that is the adult form of me, okay? I have been very different things way before that. The truth is whichever form I take I am still me.

When I was little, I once walked back alone from my mate's place in sunset. Through a valley, across a stone bridge and along the bank of a river. On the red-brick footpath that stretch into the eternity, a new moon rose above the river into a sky of a thousand colours. There and then, I saw a small lightening, size of my palm, appearing before me and descending into the bricks. And I watched it disappearing. The bricks were barrier to my sense: they were solid existence in which I believed.

For a split second, I realised that if I touched the mini lightning, I might never return home. Despite all its downsides, I still had a home to go to and I did not want anyone to worry. So I did nothing. If anything, it was not fear, but love that dispelled the temptation to touch it. The lightning disappeared quickly. If it lingered for any longer, what could have happened?

One small thought: I'm not gonna break anyone's heart. That was enough to live for.

now it's a new chapter

2011-03-09T22:56:00.000-08:00

I had a book which I started reading in the middle of the semester and, not surprisingly, never finished it. It is now on the top of my reading list second only to the latest issue of geographic which features in bold "designing the perfect pet". Given yesterday my neighbour's cat pooped in my dining room, this issue couldn't have come at a better time.

So my third-last semester has concluded with many questions and doubts. I am confused now more than ever because I dont get nervous or excited in an exam and can't seem to write down as much in the exams as before. Yet I managed to finish all the questions, nonetheless. I can't help asking myself "have I tried hard enough?".

Anyways, I've been reconsidering my position recently and the lifestyle we want in general. So a major change is on the way.

It almost feels like a new chapter is being turned.

light and fluffy

2010-12-26T14:09:00.000-08:00

I made a chiffon cake yesterday with a tried recipe. I flipped it over on a cooling rack. It had a perfect shape and a healthy weight. All were promising until I removed it from the mould much later. There was a hollow at the bottom, and the skin simply did not adhere to the tin. So the inner ring of the cake was in a compressed lump, which I call the ring of destruction.

First up, it was not the recipe, and there was no mistake in executing it. It was not the mould which, albeit non-sticky, had always sufficed the purpose. Any doubt that a defunct oven might've caused the ruin was removed by the fact that the outer ring of the cake was curiously and godly chiffon! Then it dawned on me that in the heavenly time of topping the mixture with chocolate chips, I was drooling over the thought of a chocolaty top and piled up way too much. The poor cake died from its own weight and perhaps, my greed.

mysteries

2010-12-07T05:38:00.000-08:00

Tonight I discover
my Gardenia blooming for the first time
and
a ring-tail possum peeling treebarks as it picks its way up an eucalyptus
then
a fruit bat shot through a star-lit summer sky like a shadow

the rock

2010-11-21T02:05:00.001-08:00

He saw this rock during a snorkelling trip. It sat squarely on top the rugged terrain of a rock pool. His beautiful wife was following a few rays that came into the shallow water to chase the morning's tidal feed. She gestured to him animately. But he could not be distracted.

He had wanted for their garden a rock just like that, the shape of a spiral seashell covered by broken cones of some long gone resident crustaceans. These little cones had tops like that of a volcanic crater, which gave the rock something beside itself to be admired of.

The rock, my dear. The man mumbled.
His wife looked back. Didn't you see the rays? She inquired: her French accent gave her girly charm despite her age.
We will have it for our garden. He said.

untitled

2010-11-19T12:45:00.000-08:00

A good thing about having blinds instead of curtains in a east-facing bedroom is that the sun always finds its way in and awakens you at the same time. So you get up, drink your first cup of water, pull up the blinds and bathe in the sun for 10 minutes to get your daily vitamin D. And amongst all things, you typewrite, and gather your thoughts for a thoughtful day.

You also once lived behind an eastward window which in turn overlooked an eastward valley on the mountains of an eastern country. The sun, you know the same yet distinctly different sun, rose from the depth of the valley, between the joint of two smaller hills and past the dewy green of the bamboo grove. You would wake up to the sound of the clearing of dry throats, the breakfast being made, and the minor arguments that began the morning. You felt oddly reassured that somehow someone else was responsible for your life. And all you had to do was to feel blessed.

something about a morning

2010-10-28T13:25:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, getting up in the morning is like confronting myself. Confrontation can be a frustrating way to begin a day. These mornings tend to be cool and rainy when the layer of warm air between the wool quilt and the bedsheet is just the right temperature and moisture to keep me cocooned forever.

The other mornings, the sun burns at my face with a juvenile exuberance that makes me cower for I have nothing even near its enthusiasm to spare for the day. Despite a deceptively full calendar, my day is always about moving from one weather-controlled room to another, uninnovative and drab in our civilised way.

For the opposite reasons, nights make me feel better knowing that no one is doing anything particularly important and no time is wasted for not doing anything. The darkness disguises the slippage of time. In our dreams, we can all indulge in a momentary illusion of eternity, however misleading it may be.

Then, the morning will come again. Sometimes, when I'm too sobre for it, I will be reminded that the clock has ticked for a night and here's a chance for redemption.

nightmare kitten

2010-10-26T20:03:00.000-07:00

We came across this video "Nightmare Kitten" on the tube. It featured the cutest scottish kitten sleeping in someone's palm and kicking the cute little legs in her dream. She was so adorable.

I was saying to K this morning that I had a dream of the two of us going on an adventure which ended with us being dragged by a fatherly figure to the attic of a dilapidated wood cottage leaving a blood trail behind. Then an avatar of me fled to get help. I sensed some commotion in the woods so I quickly hid behind a giant tree.

In the valley sprawling before my eyes, hundreds of beasts walked clumsily on their hind legs in the direction of the cottage. As they did that, their beastly heads turned into carefully combed human heads and their furs into suits. They eventually gathered enough confidence in their steps to stride like humans. I couldn't recall fear or anxiety for the fate of the pair in the cottage. I was filled with marvel and curiosity. Then the day broke.

I pondered the meaning of the dream for the whole morning. It was purely bizarre that I should have such a dream given that I never had nightmares. It probably would not qualify as a nightmare since there was no fear.

When I shared this with K, he said "so is that why you were kicking all night?" : )

Shambala

2010-10-26T02:05:00.000-07:00

For a while, I was under the conviction that the human society that we live in now is full of filth. It is this despair that gives rise to the longing for Shambala. Then, when the tide of despair eased, I found myself renouncing all worldly pleasures while secretly praising the pure joy of owning a new mac - MacBook Air. It is rare that I should devote any time describing an earthly item in my possession. But as far as necessity is concerned, I must honestly confront this layer of hypocrisy by singing my praise aloud. Air has earned it.

Then, I had a second thought about pouring out metaphors and parallels, and the most unusual and gallant words discoverable in a Thesaurus. Instead of wasting my time on stimulating the imagination of some imaginary readers, I shall stay true to my feelings. The indescribable feeling of laying my eyes on its unblemished aluminum unibody has revived my faith in simple beauty.

It so happened that when I was searching for a desktop image befitting my little beauty. I came across a painting by Nicolas Roerich. It struck me in awe. It is, indeed, called "Path to Shambala".

many choices

2010-10-23T04:15:00.000-07:00

I recently came to the realisation that one can only live within the limit of his choice. And choice, whilst being influenced by external forces, is ultimately steered by humans.

Say, if you have 10 dollars and you are a little hungry, what would you do? Are you gonna buy a meal? Are you gonna give half of it to a street artist? Are you gonna buy a box of pins and sell them for a profit? Are you gonna buy a hot dog and save the rest? Or are you gonna use it to buy you a ticket for an adventure into the unknown?

The last option is beyond the limit of our experience and most risky. But it will be as rewarding as your imagination and creativity may take you.

I think I might use it to bribe someone of an important piece of information.

locus standi [admin law, general]

2010-10-20T01:05:00.001-07:00

standing
A person's right to bring an action

no time to lament

2010-10-18T19:40:00.000-07:00

Before I rushed to open the envelope, I practised to be a warrior, namely to conquer emotions and restore calm. It was a successful exercise, which I'll elaborate on in a separate post.

There was a piece of A4 paper in the envelope bearing the fruits of my hard but haphazard work last semester. I succeeded in being extremely excellent, sucked and mundane at the same time. In the end, I evened out to be just below the distinction line with all the subjects completed. I know I shouldn't be harsh on myself. And I am not because there is no time to lament.

The point is with all other activities extinguished in the background, by that I mean, work, having a baby, partying, holidaying etc., collecting distinctions is the only fun I'm supposed to have.

So in that sense, last semester was a catastrophe. And I attribute that to a huge bundle of strategic failures, namely, not having come up with a unique strategy per subject earlier. Other minor issues include living in the illusion of abundant time at the beginning of the semester, living under the misled impression of security with my tabled notes, and being stupid enough to attempt a question first which I actually didn't immediately understand.

The good thing is that these only require simple remedies. There are a few things that I need to do in the first week of the new semester.

1. collecting and browsing old exam papers
2. ask for tips on each subject
3. make a reading and assignment plan
4. practise exam questions way before the exam

Gosh I'll be prepared.

habeas corpus [admin law, writ, general]

2010-10-14T18:46:00.000-07:00

Vola, you may have the body.

This is such a central phrase to the American crime scene dramas. But it really only reached its climax of popular use during the era of Guantanamo bay spectacle when so many lawyers argue the release of their innocent clients from unlawful detention.

Headlines on a Typical Day in China (Sina)

2010-10-14T16:31:00.000-07:00

Foreign Affairs Ministry: Protest Against Any Country Meddling in the South Sea Dispute

Xinhua News Agency Net: Norwegian Academic Criticizes the Nobel Committee for Harbouring Evil Motive

US Treasury to Publicize a Report on Countries Who Manipulate Their Exchange Rate

Sale of Diesel Generators Soar Following Restrictive Electricity Supply in Parts of China

Toxic Gas Leak from A Deserted Chemical Plant in Hunan; Hundreds of Square Meters of Vegetation Died

Russion Police Rescued 30 Chinese Workers Detained in Clothes Factory

Worker of Shenzhen Wild Life Sanctuary Mauled to Death after Falling into Tiger's Enclosure

Unverified Voice Record of the Party Secretary of Chongqing District Scolding Developers for Undermining Feng Shui

Netizens Expose Hundreds of Beijing Government Officials for Buying Undervalued Properties; The Officials have all Denied the Allegation

Woman from Hubei Fell to Death from Police Office Building

So what've we got?

Emotion-themed:
Intimidation: Flexing muscles for border Disputes with neighbours
Fear: International Pressure on Human Rights
Anxiety: American pressure on RMB appreciation
Desperation: Domestic energy shortage
Indifference: Environment neglected and beyond help

Character-themed:
Chinese Migrant Workers outside China: staff foreign sweatshops
Chinese (Migrant) Workers inside China: OHSE non-existent and beyond ridicule
Communist Government Officials: lots of perks and freedom to practise superstition (not region though)
Police: just earned themselves a slogan for the next safety awareness campaign "Kind reminder: Staying in a Room with Windows may Lead to Fall"

write'o'clock

2010-10-13T08:54:00.001-07:00

Nocturnal and Diurnal
Which side of the clock are you?

Sound of all kinds, birds to start with
They remind me of the ticking of time
make me anxious
The daylight
So bright
I feel like cower
It may be a sin
If I do nothing with it

Next comes the night
My body is non-functioning
All I wanna do is to lie down
Like a wasted man
Then on the occasional nights
In the misleading stillness
I stay up with most of my senses and functions switched off
Except eyes and fingers

I type-write
Thinking that I have all the time in the world

you sound like a time waste to me

2010-10-12T19:26:00.000-07:00

I spoke to a kitten owner today after seeing his ads on Gumtree. He proclaims to have two litters at home with two moms breeding at the same time and takes pride in the fact that he breeds them at home, not a cattery.

So each kitten is on sale from $170 to mid $200. The one I am interested in is a Calico. Sex unknown and only half of its face shown. So I asked for a full face photo. Here's how it goes.

Me: Oh hmm I'm interested in the Calico. Can I have a full front photo?
Him (a thick and slow voice): I can see it in the picture. I have a lot of people putting deposits already. A lot of people just like the white ones. blah blah. funny you like the calico.. blah blah...I had a Manly buyer who paid me in full upfront and reimbursed $30 petrol fee.

Me: So the Calico is still available?
Him: eh yea. I never let them go now even when people ask to pay more. My cats never jump on the kitchen bench or the coffee table.

Me: So can I have a full front photo? I had a calico before and I am particular about the look.
Him: I can see him in the photo. blah blah...you can never replace a cat. I had a white cat before. I can never find the same one.
Me: Yea, I know each cat is an individual. I just am very particular about the look.
Him: Me train my cats. They even wouldn't jump on my TV bench. You leave a sandwich on the table. The cat's not gonna eat it. If I see 'em putting a paw on the table, I click my fingers. Every time they do that, I click my fingers......
(Me thinking: oh really, with all 10ish cats you are having in the house?)

Me: Look, you obviously train your cats well. So can I have the photo?
Him: My cats come wormed, vaccined, microchipped...it's in the ads.
Me: yea I know.
Him: lots of people don't read the ad.
Me: I do.
Him: I take a full deposit and give you a cash receipt. I have to tell you that it's not refundable. I always tell people that on the phone.
Me: ....

Him: blah blah blah....Look, I can't let people visit because I have two moms breeding at the time. (Did I even ask to visit?)They will stop breeding if you visit....blah blah blah
Me: (interrupts)Look, I appreciate that you are a thorough and responsible person. I'm gonna talk to my husband and 'll let you know.

Pause.

Him (slow and methodical, chewing on each words): You know I've talked to many people. I think you sound like a time waste to me.
(He neatly cut off after spitting out the last syllable.)

So it's actually quite funny that this kind of conversation is taking place. By all means, I would've loved to be more polite. But I think there's a certain lack of knack in me to handle this kind of conversation or people.

He might very well be struggling with expenses or mortgage or in other sort of difficulties. Who else would've raised cash on home-bred kittens in such a desperate way? Maybe I should've seen through this earlier and showed some compassion instead of getting impatient with him. Oh...really, is there another way to get me out of this kind conversation without offending him?

trap

2010-10-11T17:40:00.000-07:00

A gigantic web lays in waiting
An unsuspecting spider trapped
In the bight of greed

in the sun in a garden

2010-10-04T17:14:00.000-07:00

The house was locked on all sides
Four windows and two doors
She never leaved

She is overwhelmed by the guilt of being sun-drenched
The same sun that did not shine on her silver hairs
which were on occasions combed back by her little helping hands

No one took the trouble of buying a wheelchair
Down from six short flights of stairs
Forty-eight steps
She was not worth their time
And the little her was a wimp for not insisting
Knowing that the silver-haired was only too kind to be of burden to any

The exceptional thing that she demanded was being placed on the balcony
To see her little girl off well after she had disappeared from the corner
It was an established routine
In her bid to savour every bit of the visit
Sorrow was caused with innocence to her young heart
But for that the old lady must be forgiven

Life in a square box is a cheat
She is awake to the fact that she is not reliving it for her
She has a voice, an able body, an ideal husband, ample love
and a plan for better things
And above all, that seafood stew in a slow-cooking clay pot
would certainly smell strange in the dusk of those mountains

In her life in the house
She plays Scrabble Solitaire
listens to jazz in early morning
and reads novels on the lounge

Days are identical to the point of fakery
Except at night she dreams about wheeling her around in the garden
so many times and in varying versions
as if that is the only thing that has really happened
For the warmth of the sun on their shoulders feels very good

the survivor game

2010-09-28T17:33:00.000-07:00

Players sat evenly around the oval table, few unaware of the true game they were in. The experienced claimed superiority in reminiscing with the head of the table. The rest displayed interest in the trivia and laughed timely to entertain the self-indulgent talkers.

Sides were chosen even before the game started. The smart tagged along the superior in the disguise of docility, the politics worked out, invisible alliances forged and the Sword of Damocles ready.

The prospect of working with some is unpleasant. But stereotypes and personal feelings are to be postponed until a later date. Right now, it is all about andrenalin.

In fucking hindsight

2010-09-14T21:32:00.000-07:00

I picked up my first novel and finished it in a day. I'm not kidding. It was the first non-legal text I had read in 4 months. And it was the best. Most suitable for my PETS mood, soapy, entertaining and loads of swearing.

I was totally overloaded this semester. Logically, I did shit in a couple of questions. Other than that, my time management has improved. The interesting thing is that I was in an automatic mental blank after each exam. In a sense, it helped because it allowed me to move on without worrying about how I did. Yes, the bottom line is that I've passed. And cocky to say, I always do. So that is just shit. The real difference is in the marks. When they come out, I might need a pain killer.

Future strategy for now is to get a head start on next sem's projects - my own pathetic summer course aided by the generosity of strangers. I'm in turn handing out help to a few others. Just to keep the good energy flowing and make me not feel like a total freak.

Then there was this drama of exchanging study stuff, alert of condescending participants in the moot, not being able to get a holiday. The only sad vis-a-vis upbeat is kissing goodbye to my little loyal ibook. I'm getting a macbook pro for work now on an investment loss. 12-hour days, he'd better be strong. Beaucoup bad shit. I'm gonna make it fucking work.

Poems at 3am and best memories of the past

2010-08-17T17:59:00.000-07:00

I miss a certain smell
A summer night by the Han river
Breezy and peaceful
I swung under the stars
With millions of questions about them
The frogs never stopped to ask
Why so curious a little girl

Love was so generously given
Unconditionally and resolutely
Dinner laid on the stone table
I sat down under the plane tree and ate fast
Knowing that when I finished
I would have the loudest cricket to catch

My sister told me about her secret guardians
When we took a siesta together inside the mosquito net
A smoky green over and above us
Her pandas , dragons, tigers and phoenixes hovering about
At their Ladyship's service
I was promised my very own if I be a good girl

To L with Love

2010-08-12T23:45:00.000-07:00

Give me a moment to gather my thoughts please.
What was I going to tell you?
Oh yea, let me start with where I am.
I am sitting here in my small north-west facing study which has a view, through the twigs of two cypresses in their 50s, of the radiance of the setting sun on the neighbour's tiled roof. I had the window open to let the breeze in, the kind of warm breeze you would expect in the spring of the Northern Hemisphere where we grew up. It is kinda summery in mid August in Sydney. I could almost go jogging in my black singlet and shorts and a pair of ray-ban on my face. But you know I never wear glasses. I have the most perfect eyesight in the world and a small nose that is not engineered for the average sunnies on sale in a Caucasian city. It took me a good while to find a suitable pair. You know the kind that would not slip down my face for want of a supportive nose...emm.. before I go astray in my narcissism, I must remind myself "this is not about me".

So I am sitting here and writing to you except that neither is this about you since you are non-existent, that is, you existed before, you lived, you left, you went away, you escaped, you deserted, you disappeared, you were taken away, evicted, extinguished...and don't bring me to explain any further.

The question is how did it happen to you and why you of all people? You put up a poster of Godfather III in your bedroom. You slept with Al Pacino staring down at you with his palms closed and face aggrieved for god knows how many nights. You met his eyes pondering the truth of those words - the same thing I did when I took a break from the rest of this distressed and pathetic family that you left behind. I could not escape his gaze. And the message contained in those words of his I could not help but notice. It was very kind of you to send me that private message. Thank you. It made me feel less bad for a split second. Later, I escorted a van to the top of a deforested hill where the southeast wind blew away some of your trails. I thought to myself that it was quite unnecessary that I had to perform this role. I always preferred a milder confrontation with the reality as you knew too well. I liked being left alone or with one or two friends. You know we had good fun the other summer cooking with your best mate, don't you. And I was sorry that I could not make it to the party at the water-theme park. I really had to be left alone that day. If I knew that you were going to leave, I'd have been there even if I had to stay away from the water. That would be funny because you and everybody else would be thinking that I was out of my mind. Of course, by the time I was at the hilltop, none of this was your concern anymore. But I knew for certain that you would've cared about what I thought, and I you.

against an innocent soul

2010-08-05T07:36:00.000-07:00

He who thinks that he can righteously beat a child is wrong
A child commits no greater evil than what she is taught
what she is seeing
and what she experiences on herself

A child is born with an open mind of the utmost purity
an innocent heart filled with trust and hope
a child life is a wonderous, harmonious balance
blessed with the nature's essence

But with violence
You lodge a dagger into such a tender soul
creating a monster bleeding forever in sorrow

And you think it does not matter
Because the life of the purest spirit it may be
is one that you give birth to
you creat it
you nourish it
you possess it
you may rightfully dispose of it with your filthy hands
in the name of selfless, parenting love

*For young victims of family violence, if you follow the story of Kiesha.

a theatrical moment

2010-08-04T00:13:00.000-07:00

X enters the stage and kicks the shrunken shadow of a man in the chest.

Now, get up you coward.

the shadow moans.

Come on, fight me!
Unbuckle your belt and beat me
What, you wouldn't fight a man stronger than yourself?

the shadow cries in pain.

Mercy
Young man
Mercy

X laughs.

Mercy, you asked!
Yet you never gave.

X picks up a knife and draws closer to the shadow.

Please forgive me
I am old and ill
I am no threat to you anymore

The shadow retreats, but falls onto his knees.

You sure are old and ill
And pitiful and ugly, I hasten to add
And for that want to be forgiven
But I am not convinced

X holds the knife to the shadow's neck.
Remorse!!!
Monster, remorse!
Did you ever regret what you did?!
Did you ever wonder how we felt?
No,
You were far too busy enjoying the music of us crying in pain!

The shadow groans and attempts in vain to retreat.
No you are not sorry.
You are just afraid.
Monster
Today I serve you justice

X holds up the knife and comes down at the shadow with force. The shadow falls unto the ground.

X exits the stage.

Voice Over
I despise what you did.
So I will never become you.
This is your punishment.

Dante

2010-08-02T06:12:00.001-07:00

I watched a comical adaption of Dante's Divine Comedy the other day and it had me thinking

"if Muslims are all bound to the Christian hell for non believers, who is going to the Islamic heaven?"

The question is equally valid the other way round. Putting any two religions with the concept of infidel and hell, they will collide like matters and antimatters. I find it most amusing that despite this apparent paradoxy people will not think twice to shed blood over the version of their belief.

a break

2010-07-26T01:22:00.000-07:00

You bank in a well-earned break from logic, coherency and the blah blah blah of the reality
Things are oddly clear when broken down to pieces
Glued up and staring back at you from a mirror
(They make a lot more sense that way)
Then as always,
Take a walk through the torn bits of your illusory life
Except this time you are aware of the solitude of you and your shadow
Parting the sky
On the back of a wooden unicorn
Which the two of you stole from a merry-go-around
And this
is the only time when you are not afraid to fall

depression at dusk

2010-07-21T01:16:00.000-07:00

I've lost the ability to speak beautifully

For all I know
My heart is weary and eyes tired
The sadness of my world
and yours and theirs weighs down on me

Is this the punishment for not being selfish enough
Or for not being divinely altruistic?

Was this the case for Avalokitesvara
The great when she was about to fall
What exactly did she see
That made her lose faith in us all?

why bother

2010-07-18T22:55:00.000-07:00

This morning I read news about human rights abuses in China. One headline after another. It looks like that a bloody revolution is needed over there to dismantle the tyranny. But the real question is what are they capable of building afterwards. If they are just going to repeat what all other rules have done, they may as well remain happy slaves of the empire and pray that God will strike down a lightning on those who commit evil.

It makes me laugh and despise and cry. Now that I am a safe distance away, why do I even bother?

about a cypress

2010-07-09T01:09:00.000-07:00

A cypress is never to grow tall if planted in a pot,
Nor to acquire its magnificent shape without braving the elements
Needless to say,
Not even before a year without care it exhausts its subsistence

Truly sad is a life of a tree in a pot
And genius is the equation of nature
With every lesser competition
Comes more fragility

And fragility for a tree
is fatal

tabula in naufragio [real property]

2010-07-06T21:32:00.000-07:00

tacking: later equitable interest holder without notice tacks its equity unto the legal estate by completing the acquisition, thus jumping the queue.

Nemo dat quod non habet [real property, commercial]

2010-07-06T21:26:00.000-07:00

a person can't convey an interest which he/she doesn't have.

math

2010-06-24T22:12:00.000-07:00

It's the middle of the semester. So understandably, I have a mountain of notes in backlog, as well as three assignments which I haven't written a single word for. Amongst all, my cousin is coming over for a short holiday. We were both exhilarated upon finding out that she was going to have a business trip to Australia. Suffice to say that enough plans were made to show her around Sydney and Jervis bay. But that was at the beginning of the semester. I had no way to know...well I should've known better...that the work was going to build up. Now, she is officially expecting only two days with me next week and the rest of the week on her own, and to top it up, potentially a week of bad weather.

What I feel the worst of all is that it is impossible to keep up. I have a lot of time to myself. But when I do the math, it is actually just from 7 to 10 minus minimum 2 hours worth of routines, 1.5 hours in transit (make that 2 if I cycle)...1 hour of idleness...3 hours in a lecture...in theory I have 7 hours of study time if I study like non-stop and totally concentrated. In reality, that rarely happens, let's say, if I get up for a coffee or have sandwiches while typing or reply to an sms or email or browse the web, easily another 2 hours. Now I have 5 hours of real study time minus the time I spend calling my mom, baking a sponge cake or a simply bullshitting on my blog. Vola, looks like it's down to 3. Now with 3 hours left, I haven't even mentioned my social life. So as a result, i study a good 3 hours a day WITHOUT any social or gym time.

Doesn't science always tell the cold concrete solid truth? This is exactly why I hate math.

a prendre [land]

2010-06-15T21:04:00.000-07:00

profit a prendre = profit gained

live

2010-06-15T06:13:00.000-07:00

this world
has little to live for
if not for love

2010-06-15T06:02:00.000-07:00

Watching things go wrong
terribly wrong
for a long time
All we did was nothing
but wait for the day of judgement to come
And be happy for their punishment
or sorry for their stupidity
Then live blindly ever after
With the consequences

from yesterday onwards

2010-06-07T21:25:00.000-07:00

Nothing to be said about yesterday
that left us
so cruelly
we were yet to lament its desertion

Nothing be said about today
that breezed through our hairs
so gently
we were yet to appreciate its existence

And about tomorrow
we will be trapped in our own vehicles
old and deteriorated and forever fastened unto us
and travel in silence

Pur autre vie [real property]

2010-06-01T17:12:00.000-07:00

for other's benefit for life

De donis Conditionalibus [real estate]

2010-06-01T16:40:00.000-07:00

Attaching a condition to land ownership by requiring male heirs to be born
Fee tails
Statutes of Westminster (1285)

Curia Regis [general]

2010-06-01T16:32:00.000-07:00

embryonic courts

note bene [general]

2010-05-31T04:15:00.001-07:00

Note well "NB"

a three-minute poem

2010-05-24T15:55:00.000-07:00

If I have to write this poem in three minutes
I write nothing but behind a stringent cypress
the French plane of autumn
sprawling right here outside our window
a fading green
pale yellow
and flaming red

wishes

2010-05-23T15:08:00.000-07:00

wish I were richer
when grandma was bedridden
so I could make my own decision
to buy her a sandal wood comb
and comb her white hair
or to buy her a wheelchair
and take her down for a walk in the garden
on every shiny day

wish I were a better cook
when grandma was bedridden
so I could make my own decision
to buy her an oven
to bake a gluten-free chiffon
or a dozen berry strudels
and she can have a little
only a little bit that her health permits
and I shall finish the rest of them
by her bedside with her watching on
with a wide smile on her face

wish I were bigger
when grandma was bedridden
so I could make my own decision
to live with her
or to stay so close
that she wouldn't have to watch me
from her small balcony
leaving until I was long gone
and could not be seen

an emotional reaction

2010-05-19T16:48:00.000-07:00

I just recently become thoroughly convinced that one should never react to something while feeling emotional. One, that is defined as an aspiring lawyer or any person who seeks the most effective way to extricate from trouble, long-term and short-term.

The fact is that no matter how perfectly articulated and reasonable you think your reaction is, the other side's feeling is inevitably neglected or overlooked while you respond with all that indignation stifled in your throat. And really to reach a most satisfying solution, the other side's feeling is something critical to factor in even though they are the original perpetrator, the provoker, or the attacker, ok perhaps, not the attacker.

If the emotion you feel is just slight annoyance or even indignation in a business context, a response under emotional influence is driving you further away from your goal. To start with, you lose the ability to think laterally while being emotional. Then, you tend to overlook the fact that the other side has common human feelings. This leads to unintended negativity to be generated where you least suspect. Soon, the wind will not be blowing in your favour.

This is not to say that you should compromise your rights to please or pacify the other party who is clearly in the wrong. Simply put, when your response is considered and measured with the other party's feeling/face always taken into proper consideration, your response will be generally well received.

Ok, this is really a lesson learnt from my recent experience. For privacy reasons, I will not put it down. "Never react when you are feeling the urge to react." is the one motto I take out of this unpleasant experience to which my emotion is 20% responsible. :) (but hey, being harassed every Saturday morning!)

Next time it happens, I'll just shut down my phones, emails and all other instant communications and take out my old rusty tick clock and sit down for 5 minutes doing nothing.

what's happening in China

2010-05-17T15:21:00.000-07:00

Recently in China, a few Chinese from vulnerable background went on killing sprees at Kindies and primary schools. The target victims were allegedly children of well-to-do families. How did the killers know that? They knew because it was a popular kindy or school for public servants. Then, in another spree, women, and young women only were targets.

So it's actually like vulnerable and terribly wronged people killing more vulnerable people than themselves.

If they were so unhappy with the society or the people who made the society that way, why didn't they seek revenge directly from them? Like many other Chinese, they probably lacked the courage to stand up, hence venting off on innocent unguarded children and women. It says a lot about what crooked souls that today's Chinese society is capable of churning out. Something is terribly wrong with Chinese in China.

fallen leaves

2010-05-16T20:58:00.000-07:00

a walk on fallen leaves
gentle rustles on the golds of autumn
I shall not forget

the heck

2010-05-16T16:44:00.000-07:00

I applied to enrol in 5 subjects this semester and initially got 4 approved by the board citing some generic cut&paste reasons. Then I spoke to a grumpy guy on the phone detailing my situation, predicament, plan and determination. He listened impatiently and asked me coldly to put them down in a letter of appeal.

I must've somewhat felt grateful for being on the appellant's side for the first time and so early in my legal life. So I immediately wrote him a letter, painstakingly finger by finger on my iphone and took satisfaction that I had presented the strongest argument. Then I received another bureaucratic letter...Simply put, no one is allowed to finish this course earlier than 3 years. In other words, by granting your appeal, we open the possibility of letting you finish in 3 years. This is most ridiculous. Why haven't you put this rule down in the handbook in the first place.

magpies

2010-05-13T16:53:00.000-07:00

a flock of magpies
visited in the morning
drank from the water bowl
sang a few drunken tunes
and threw up wild berries
in the blue China pond

inter vivos [commercial]

2010-05-11T19:58:00.000-07:00

transfer of gifts between living people as opposed to those in contemplation of the death

name

2010-04-15T02:54:00.000-07:00

I called a childhood friend today
who gave birth just 24 hours ago
and sent me an sms

this was the first time we talked
in five or six years
a ridiculously long time
for a best friend like she to me
and I to her

"Who is it on the phone please?"
A voice in her late twenties
Somehow I never lost the magic trick
of hearing the 12 years old in her
eternally familiar, recognizable and comforting
"Willow" I said
That's the name
I haven't used for a long time
No other code required

Pause

2010-04-07T03:50:00.000-07:00

Have you ever paused for a moment
for a dragonfly that circles a place
where it should have not appeared
for a habitat that was lost
without its realization

Have I put it too blatantly
that it counteracts all poetic potentials
that might otherwise have been achieved
through a dragonfly's tragic reminiscence
of its phantom home
that was destroyed for our pleasure

a long long time ago

closed

2010-04-07T03:47:00.000-07:00

too painful a world
I would like
to shut my eyes

news

2010-04-01T20:41:00.000-07:00

I've got a f/t job offer. It is good, to put it simply. I'm gonna do it for the whole month of April and see how I go after that. How is it going to affect my study is a myth. I guess now it is a major challenge to study well and work f/t. Has anyone done it before? I wanna be the top top student, hey.

Negotiation Reflective Journal [1]

2010-03-29T02:13:00.000-07:00

Date: 4pm, 29 March 2010 at GRG

Context:
EP Interest Based
Ongoing Consensual

Assessment of the players:
The Opposite Party: misinterpretation of crucial information, serious mistake (played a card too early and incorrectly), relevantly weak argument;young, well-presented, eloquent/not very prudent,
Me: slow in figures (did not prepare a concession), may have over-played a leverage resulting in possible negative implication of indifference/lack of enthusiam or commitment; researched own options well, generally played well

Unsymetric Information: I had more information about the opposite party than they about me.

Preliminary Result:

the Saga of returning (iii)

2010-03-22T16:28:00.000-07:00

The way I wrote the earlier parts of this "Saga" puts me at the risk of sounding patronising. I probably whined like a misfit or a delicate well-to-do city girl who had it tough. But that is not the point. The point is that, despite how much I had read about and sympathised with the poor people, the experience of being among them, sharing their experience and witnessing their way of life came as a shock.

A few months back or maybe a year ago, I saw a documentary on SBS about a day in a migrant worker's life. This was about a mid aged peasant from western China making a meagre living as a delivery man for a courier company. He lived in a windowless basement room in Beijing, just big enough to hold a double bed, an adjacent wardrobe and an electric cooker at the end of the bed. He kept it immaculately clean. He also owned a rusty push bike, being the tour of his trade. He would mount a huge box on his back seat and pedal through the streets of Beijing.

Back here in Sydney, people are used to whinging about poor hospital service, terrible city rail..."Worse than the third-world blah blah". These people have no idea what a third world is. So didn't I.

There's an invisible side of China that has been buried under the communist propaganda of equality and the working-class rule. When I stepped into a smoke filled room that was accessible through a shopfront at the railway square, I saw rows upon rows of bunk bed in the thick dark blue mist of a windowless room. On each of the bed, a fatigued migrant worker in transit cocooned by a heavy cotton quilt, fast asleep. The room reeked of cheap cigarettes, foods, and a mixed odour of unwashed hairs and fabric. It was quiet and only occasionally someone coughed. Otherwise, all I could hear was the breath of hundreds of people asleep and a faint tuneful snooze from the far corner.

20Yuan would buy you 8 hours of sleep here. When I enquired the price, the "inn"-keeper shot me a critical look. Obviously, she thought that I did not belong there.
I walked out and strolled along the shops. There was a Internet cafe with a dozen PCs that came with overused and greasy keyboards. I noticed that it was not full so maybe it was a little on the luxurious side when one had to choose between sleep and entertainment for 20 yuan.

I was tired and my feet numb from standing for too long. The waiting rooms were only open for those whose train was departing in 30 minutes. I had no choice but wandering around like a lost soul on this wintry day.

I decided to move close to the gate where I was going to get my ticket. With a bit of luck and money, I might find a decent place to rest. It turned out that there was a properly manned hostel right outside the gate. Lots of people crowded outside it, but few went in. I excused myself through the crowd and turned into the hostel, feeling the weary eyes on me. It was still morning. I paid 40 Yuan at the concierge for 6 hours, which should cover me till the departure.

A bulky guy led me upstairs. It was an eerie place to be. Inside the building, two rows of identical rooms skirted a long and dimly lit corridor, for some rooms the doors cracked and windows broken. Strangely, most of them were empty till I walked along a tall ceiling-ed theatre room where a dense forest of bunk beds spread across the floor like an army base or a classic dormitory in a southern factory. Most of the beds were occupied. So this was the more affordable option.

We climbed the drab cement stairs which had handrails with scaled paints and a rusty, unreliable look. The man led me into a room, not more than 7 square meters big and filled with six single beds all with white linen. It strike me that this building could have been a deserted hospital. "There," the man pointed at a bed expressionlessly and left.

I sat on the bed with my back against the bedroll, alone for the first time this morning. I thought of taking out my laptop and writing something and then thought how odd it would look in the present environment. I did not know if I was going to have a room mate. If so, what kind of room mate would I have? A wife of a migrant worker? A female migrant worker? My mind wandered off like crazy. Now I was among them. Maybe, I shouldn't wear what i was wearing. Maybe I shouldn't have a laptop on me. It would make me a target. A target of what? I knew my stereotype was talking and I was assuming rootless assumptions.

A mother and a daughter came in. The same man led them to their bed and left. They smiled at me, a kind unsophisticated smile. They wore old fashioned but clean and tidy clothes and carried a modest travel bag. I smiled back. Not a word spoken. The mother made the bed and let the daughter get in first. Then she crawled in herself. I broke the silence. "There are plenty of empty beds around here. Why don't you take an empty one."

"They don't allow it. We only paid for one bed. " The mother spoke with a western accent.
"I think it's ok. You can move when someone else shows up. It doesn't look like that they are going have a lot of guests anyway." I said.

"hmm,right." the mother went to sit on another bed. A few minutes later, the man showed up miraculously - I had not even heard a footstep. He shouted to the woman "Get off that bed, you lousy woman!" and was about to thunder in. The woman quickly stood up and moved to her daughter's bedside. I was dumbfound.

"Isn't the man terrible?!" I said only when the man was safely away.
The woman was peaceful about the treatment. She said it was his job.

I felt sorry for her. My inability to do anything for them made staying with them in one room uncomfortable. I tried to find something to say. "Where are you from?" "What are you doing here?" "How long are you going to be here for?"

It turned out that the mother and daughter came from Xinjiang, the westernmost province in China and were on the way to the daughter's university. The daughter smiled shyly while listening to us. They were going to be here till tomorrow and change a train for another city. I forgot the name of their destination. It was immaterial anyway. They were content that the daughter was going to the uni and that they actually had a bed to sleep over the night.

I put off my guard and by now I was dying to go to the toilet. The woman told me that if I walked along the corridor and turn left and turn right, there was a toilet. And she said that she could watch my luggage if I wanted to go. I hesitated. I had some valuables in the luggage.

I looked at them. They looked friendly and honest. It's just going to be a few minutes. I thought to myself. They are not less trustworthy because they are poor, right? I could trust them for a few minutes, couldn't I? I persuaded myself. And of course, nothing had happened when i came back. The mother and daughter chatted softly and soon the daughter was asleep.

The mother sat at the edge of the bed. I said to her that she could come and sit on with me as I was only sitting on my bed.

"It's fine this way." she said, gently. "I'll sleep when she wakes up. We can take turns. You should rest too since you are on a train tonight." I didn't tell them that I was going to get a berth.

The room was cold and empty. The woman just sat there silently, not attempting again to lie down on one of those unused beds. I thought it was poignant that it had to be like this, and that I was just one cold and pretentious observer who did nothing to help.

I sat there and was lost in thoughts, lots and lots of useless, empty thoughts. My phone finally rang and I got a berth to Guangzhou tonight at twice the ticket price.

I was not very happy.

a Chinese Piece on Filial Piety

2010-03-19T03:48:00.000-07:00

Here's a translation of an often quoted piece on filial piety on the Chinese forums. It was said that this was originally sighted on a wall of a nursing home.

My dear child,

When you were little, I spent a lot of time teaching you how to use a teaspoon, to eat with a pair of chopsticks...to tie your shoes, button your shirt...teaching you to how put on the clothes, comb your hair, wipe off your snort...I live in the sweet memories of those little things that we did together.. So, when I forget things or forget how to have a dialogue with you, please give me a little time, wait for me for a little while and let me think it over again...But it is quite likely that in the end I am going to forget about what I was going to say altogether.

My dear child, do you remember the first baby's song you learned to sing after we practised hundreds of times together? Do you remember that every day I racked my brain to answer your endless little questions that popped up from nowhere? So, now when I repeat an old story over and over again or sing a nostalgic song over and over again, please feel for me and allow me to linger in those memories. I was only hoping that you would chitchat with me.

My child, now I always forget to button up my shirt or tie my shoes. When I'm eating, I may spoil my clothes. My hands are shaking when I comb my hairs. Please do not hurry me. Please treat me with more patience and gentleness. When we are together, I can feel the warmth in my heart.

My child, my feet don't support me well. I can't stand steadily, let alone walk. So, please, could you hold my hands tight and walk alongside me, slowly just like when I held yours and we walked forward step by step.

Well, what to say. I was born with a short temper (that's a perfect excuse). I think I'm prone to being impatient with my parents. Already, I count the times that mom repeats herself in the phone, oh and dad too. And I normally coldly say "you've just said that for a dozen times, now would you please stop." If they repeat again, I'd say "now that's the 13th time." I really should be more gentle. Maybe Chinese do otherwise have a high standard on the filial piety and obedience which I struggle to reconcile with. But what's being said here is actually quite basic and reasonable. I'm sure we all need to be reminded of this sometimes.

the Saga of returning (ii)

2010-03-16T17:24:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was cooking dinner in my kitchen which faces the west overlooking the meadow park. It had been overcast all day. All of a sudden, the sun came out, the rose gold of a setting sun that was. It shone straight into my eyes, its radiance enveloping my body and spirit. My whole being was filled with indescribable warmth and hope.

I made a mental note to write about this magical hour. But then I remembered that first I was going to finish this Saga of Returning at the request of one reader (probably the only reader, lol). Herein was also an interesting connection between one's mood and the weather, not pleasant though.

The taxi took me to a starred hotel and there was only a deluxe king left. The room, spacious with a huge ensuite and a balcony, seemed almost too luxurious for 188yuan (approx. AUD30). I called mom who saw me off earlier on that I arrived in Hankou alright. It had been such a hectic night that I didn't realize that it was 2 o'clock already. With the aircon turned on and the room being warmed up, I treated myself to a hot bath. When all that was done, I wrapped myself in the feather-weight duvet only to find myself staring at the ceiling.

It was a completely different world here from that of a damp and crowded night on the railway square where thousands of people camped waiting for a train that would take them south (mostly). I, despite the difference of our material surroundings, shared with them the same communal anxiety of not being able to get a ticket. And this anxiety kept me wide awake. For them, it was a mission to get an affordable standing-room ticket or, a bit on the luxury side, a seat ticket. Of course, they would want to travel fast. But a delay of a day or two so as to land a cheap ticket was probably acceptable. For me, my problem was multi-dimensional. I needed to catch up with friends in Guangzhou, after which I'd travel to Hongkong for my connecting flight. I could not afford to travel any time later than tomorrow afternoon, this afternoon to be exact since now it was already the early morning. And to make sure that I'd arrive in good spirits for the farewell parties I needed a soft-berth for this 12hr journey, nothing like being stuffed in a seated carriage where standing-room tickets are oversold and one goes nowhere without first negotiating the jungle of legs.

I managed to doze off for a couple of times and had nightmares of losing my budget flight which was not refundable.In one episode I was even stranded at my parents' from the very beginning. The other episode had me making fanatic calls to Malaysia Airlines to postpone my flight. It was honestly the most ridiculous sleep I'd ever had.

I woke up at 9, overworked and too tired to feel hungry. I checked out, not knowing if I was going to have any luck today. I went back straight into the ticketing hall at the station. There were more than ten columns of people already queuing up, schools more standing losely at the end. A skinny mid-aged man navigating the queues up and down caught my attention. He had a ticket in hand and spoke to people from time to time. I guess he was a covert scalper, covert being they were theoratically not allowed to do this inside the ticketing hall. But as with most rules in China, there was always a way around it. Within minutes, he came near me.

"I have a ticket to Xi'an. I had some emergancies at home so the trip is cancelled. Miss, do you want the ticket?" I peeped at his ticket. It was worn and wrinkled.

"You have a berth ticket to Guangzhou?" I put it bluntly. He quickly looked around and gestured me to follow him. The instant ticket information screen said that there was no ticket to Guangzhou. I was left with no alternative.

Once we were in the open-air area of the square, far from the reach of any security post. He made a phone call. "I can get it for you, but only half an hour before the train departs."
"Are you sure you can get it? Half an hour before is a bit risky." I said.
"Don't worry. I have someone in there." He glanced at where we came from.

The price was 1.5 times of the official rate, paid on delivery. It sounded deceptively cheap for the desperate situation I was in. So I was glad and even thankful for the exploitation. At the moment, I couldn't care less how he was gonna get this ticket, or why he could get it when there was no ticket available according to the station, or why he could not get it earlier. There are bigger questions to be asked by the people who, spring festival after spring festival, get to strand on a popular railway square in cold nights some where in the country. The answers are obvious and I guess the people are just tired of asking.

The man took my phone number and took me to the main entrance of the station. "I'm going to secure your ticket. You wait around here before the train departs" So this was where our transaction would take place. He talked briefly with a rail worker at the gate and disappeared into the station. My anxiety eased and I started to see my surroundings.

The crowd around the entrance wore an identical "tired but alert" look. They just stood there or sat on their luggage peacefully. Twas very strange, everybody (except me) seemed to be in somebody else's company, yet nobody seemed to be in the mood for a chitchat.

It was definitely a cold morning. The moment it came into contact with the cold air, the warm breath turned into white cloud. There was nowhere to sit, no entertainment, just hard, frozen cement floor to put the feet on. I was amazed by the patience of the people around me. Their calmness contradicted the extreme shortage of personal space here, so much so that it was most eerily tranquil right now on this probably densest place on earth. The feeling was surreal.

[to be continued...]

the Saga of returning (i)

2010-03-14T15:10:00.000-07:00

In Febuary 2006, right after the Spring Festival, I spent a cold night at Hankou train station trying to secure a ticket to Guangzhou. I confess that it was an ill timed return. To arrive in Guangzhou in time for my connecting flight back home to Sydney, I had to mill around with thousands of migrant workers who were heading south to their Zhujia Delta factories. And many, like I, did not have a ticket either because it was impossible to book across the rail networks or because tickets were "sold out" (and I do not exaggerate) to well-connected scalpers.

I had never been among migrant workers myself, let alone competing with them for a train ticket. The sheer number of migrant workers in transit here was overwhelming, most of them waiting subduedly in the drizzle (luckily twas only a drizzle)on the rail square because the waiting room was packed or they did not want to waste 20yuan in a private "rest station". There was a group of us who newly got off the train and wore that sexy at-a-loss look of a prey, which must've seemed so attractive to the scalpers/ticket agents that within minutes we were led by a complete stranger to a side exit of the station where an alleged ticket transaction would take place. We waited for some time and a ticket to Guangzhou was so hot that even a scalper had nothing in store for me. My hope of heading south tonight waned. By now I had already regretted wearing a long black woolen trench-coat which was already wet and heavy thanks to the rain. And the other disastrous fashion choice was to sport a Pierre Cardin luggage of a stylish non-water resistant canvas material, perfect for the weather! Soaked and frozen, I started to pick my way out unto the main road when a young man appeared.

"Hey, it's almost midnight. You haven't got a ticket?" To that I responded with silence. He walked alongside me.

"Look, I'm an off-duty mechanic and just came back from my shift." He pointed to the station. "My big bro works in the ticket office. He can help you." He couldn't mean his blood relative. This must've been a coworker of his as it was common to refer to a friendly superior at work as a big bro/sis. Or it could be an Aniki of a gang, I thought. He was alone and looked sincere.

"It's ok that you don't believe me now. You'll believe me if I show you the ticket right?" He sensed my hesitation. "Just tell me where you are going."

"Guangzhou, as soon as possible, one berth" I said, starting to show some interest. He immediately made a phone call. "Yes, ok, yes, one berth.Yea? You have it? ok." He put down his phone. "I can get you a ticket but it's for tomorrow. I can find your a cheap and nice place to stay first and my big bro will come to see you with the ticket."

"Whereabout?" I asked, only out of curiosity. "It's in a village not far from the station. You know the area where those peasants built three storey buildings and lived on the rent? It's pretty secure. There's a family hostel run by a kind aunty whom I know well. I always bring her guests." He was in a rush to convince me.

Despite the context, surprisingly the offer didn't sound so dodgy. I actually overheard a young couple in the group talking about affordable accommodations in a village nearby when I was waiting for the ticket just now. They said that they stayed there before and it was reasonably clean.And I suspected that it was the same place that this guy was talking about right now. In fact, I was quite ready to believe that a lot of people in my situation might find the offer appealing. But of course, I was never going to go with a stranger this late into the night. So I hailed a taxi. He was visibly upset and wanted to tag along.

"No, you dont have to come. I'm finding my own place. I'll contact you tomorrow." I said. "Oh, we can get this cab to drive you to the place and you decide." He was irritated, probably over the time he wasted on me, and wanted to force his way into the cab. "You heard the Miss. Leave her alone." The driver cut into our conversation and I was thankful for that. The guy was now furious, swearing at the driver and put one hand onto the wheel. My heart froze at this drama. The driver just calmly brushed his hand aside and started the engine.

"Please take me to a good, reputable hotel as close to the station as possible." As soon as we were on the road, I relaxed. For the first time in a whole hour of what seemed to be an eternity, I was in a dry, warm and well-lit place, with a view for a hot shower and a good night's sleep ahead.

"It's dangerous to wander around this area at night for a young girl like you. You never know if he was a bad guy or just a crazy scalper." the driver said.

"I know." I said briefly, thinking about the people that colonized the rail square tonight, many of whom were easily younger than me. They didn't have the luxury to choose where to stay, or even worse, to buy tickets from a scalper.

[to be continued]

torn

2010-03-10T20:28:00.000-08:00

two faces of a tyrant
one inviting a thousand curses
and my indulgent vengance of a methodical kill
*caned, stabbed, stoned, beaten, total annihilation

the other vulnerable and tender
once hid underneath a table from the menance of darkness
and cried over a collapsed sand castle
or the death of his favorite canary

with the day of ruin looming
all of the above will not matter
peace will come when I'm no longer torn

the semester in hindsight

2010-03-09T18:59:00.000-08:00

When I finished the torts exam on Monday, I couldn't feel the bliss of freedom because I was overworked and overstretched and I was not a memory foam. So it took a while for my brain to awaken to the fact that I was f-r-e-e as in free to catch up with friends, free to research on my next news assignment, free to read a non-legal book, free to travel, to do pro-bono work, to prepare for next semester's study...and on the last few words, freedom is so paradoxical in my case.

For the first time, I've outgrown the age when freedom meant not waking up before 12 or sitting on the eaves of an ancient dormitory and singing tunelessly with my best friend* our feets dangling some 40 meters above ground*. And freedom now means days packed full of agenda other than study and relentless researching on writing, on what am I going to uncover this time.

I am digressing from writing an eulogy of the previous semster. Oh what the heck...I'd just cap it like this "never wanna live through contract law again."
Too tired even to think of it, why am I writing about it anyway.

Sic utere tuo ut alienum non laedas [torts]

2010-03-06T04:29:00.000-08:00

Use your own thing so us not to harm that of another, eg. in nuisance

[*I must confess that there's no way that I can pronounce this, let alone remembering the spelling. I just copied it straight from the notes...for fun...]

small

2010-03-05T23:08:00.000-08:00

ever wonder why it seems
that for a lot of people
their minds grow small
as their egos grow big
and fast like a tumour
sadly this must be another case
of equilibrium at work

hearing the time

2010-03-05T06:47:00.000-08:00

A night of rains beat the awning
gently
patiently
unhurried by winds of a makeshift Sydney autumn
When you are fast asleep
I have just saved my spreadsheets
and now listening to the stealth of time
dribbling loudly away in a pretense of silence

Lessons learnt-contracts

2010-03-03T19:31:00.000-08:00

Last semester I rattled about my bleeding memory in criminal law exam. This sem, in contracts exam, I noticed major improvements on my exam technique, time & NERVE control.

Before the exam, I was still sweaty palmed and generally freaked out at the sight of people cramming a last-minute cram (I had to look elsewhere). And on top that I still prayed with my palms closed in front of my chins, elbows on the booklets before the announcement of reading time. (I had an auspicious number "13". But I guess the fact that I am eastern means that I'm not going to affected anyway. In addition, 3 is my lucky number!!)So despite the slight signs of nervousness, all went ok until I discovered -post mortem- that I actually invested some 20 seconds ponderin whether or not to include an argument, which, albeit small, may contribute an extra 2 marks. And WHY I DECIDED NOT TO IS BEYOND ME!

After the exam, my friends wanted to discuss the questions. But I decided that I was not comfortable doing that. After all, there's torts to come. I don't want to cry over spilled milk (and I do seriously hope and invoke celestial help to keep my milk in the jar!)

Lessons to be taken away from this exam are fairly general: discuss it if it's relevant!!!!Damn it, just do it.

actio per quod servitium amisi [torts]

2010-03-01T23:11:00.001-08:00

loss of consortium (a wife/husband's companionship and services), usually in personal injury cases

desperation

2010-03-01T00:34:00.000-08:00

racing
against time and knowing
that there is always a way to cheat

Causa sine qua non [torts]

2010-03-01T00:33:00.001-08:00

a necessary condition

Re Polemis [torts]

2010-03-01T00:27:00.001-08:00

direct cause

Res Ipsa Loquitor [torts]

2010-02-28T20:54:00.000-08:00

the action/thing speaks for itself. In tortuous context, an injury is self-evident. A nominal defendent may be able to be sued on the facts of the injury

en ventre sa mere [torts]

2010-02-25T23:01:00.000-08:00

in the mother's womb. used to discuss certain rights related to an unborn child

volenti-non fit injuria [general]

2010-02-25T21:15:00.000-08:00

that to which a man consents can't be considered an injury

Yippee

2010-02-24T16:42:00.001-08:00

Hey, I just finished my contracts summary!!! - 6days21hrs to go..half of which will be now spent on torts and the other half on practising problems.

contra proferentum [contracts]

2010-02-22T21:26:00.001-08:00

against the defendant; least favourable to the defendant, eg. in construing the meaning of an exclusion clause

jus quaesitum tertio [contracts]

2010-02-22T14:44:00.001-08:00

Right on account of third party (privity)

why law?

2010-02-21T13:59:00.000-08:00

The other day I was confronted with a contemptuous question (by the way it was asked) " Why do you study law? Money? Stable income?"

This was from an old acquaintance from the old journalism school days, who is now an aspiring author, playwright, proud and "financially independent" living in one of the most expensive cities in China. And I, by coincidence, just gave up my comfortable job one year ago and the book that I professed to be writing has never gone beyond Chapter III. And now I'm studying law, and suprised myself by my dedication and hardwork. So why?

I actually don't have a single-pointed answer for this. When I started, I had many hestitations and justifications which balanced themselves out. Money (perhaps and greed are a convenient association with certain unfortunate professions) was an appeal to start with, but not so much a temptation in a secure and "fair dinkum" country anyway. I have all the lifestyle that I ever hoped for. In a typical stereotype, being a stressed-out lawyer might as well bring ruins to my lazy life on some of the world's most beautiful beaches. Come to think of it, what a bummer!!

Nonetheless, the study was a plain sailing for me and a good beginning if one's performance can be measured by marks. So I guess then I just tagged along quite happily as though I'm destined for this. The law study has everything that I wanted: mental stimuli, satisfaction, a career to build up on...and stories upon stories that I might draw upon in creative writing as my torts lecturer, a very entertaining Chinese Aussie once put it and I quote "facts are stranger than fictions". After all, "words" are what I'm dealing with one way or another.

Law is in fact also an intellectual way of living(maybe not really in my m/land), making meticulous science out of common sense. It is directed and guided but is never rigidly formularised. There is always room to manoeuver in and facts to argue about. I enjoy hearing novel arguments and marvel at the limit of my insight. It's fair to say that some people after reaching a certain stage stop heeding the fact that they have limitations. They may become way too content to learn, too righteous to be challenged, or too comfortable to be changed. I was almost on the edge of becoming like that, but I voted myself out. I'd rather be brain dead studying law than brain rusted doing an average work.

Now I need to go back to my torts notes. My poor mate Ki msged that she couldn't sleep now. If I don't get torts done soon, I'll be on the same boat.

Quantum Valebat [contracts]

2010-02-18T17:54:00.000-08:00

resitutionary claim to recover goods

quantum meruit [contracts]

2010-02-18T17:53:00.001-08:00

a species of restitution to recover services/debt. this is based on unjust enrichment

big sister 2

2010-02-18T04:24:00.000-08:00

I concede that I will probably disqualify myself as a big sister if there is any test on sisterhood as such. My problem was that I tend to have inconsistent performance when the subject of my authority/affection changes.

This particular situation was aggravated because we were all cousins and only saw each other occassionally. We children, though all from one-child families and having only each other as the closest thing to a sibling, were nonetheless deliberately kept apart. This probably had less to do with the fact that we lived in different households than that we were raised by idiosyncratic parents who, without exception (i stress), were methodical and competitive "educators" that viewed their child's "peer influence" with open suspicion.

I was after all impressionable and chose the subjects of my affection according to how well their parents were viewed by mine. So I was justifiably hostile towards my second younger cousin whose mom was widely disliked for being uneducated and selfish. I was very loving and big-sisterly to my third younger cousin whose unwaivering support I enjoyed as much as my mom enjoyed the support of her mom when both of them were little. I was also quite ready to love the only boy cousin I had because he was so sweet to me like a puppy and his parents had no obvious row with mine. Along the same line of logic, I was indifferent to my youngest cousin whose parents rarely mingled with us anyway.

It is pathetic that I only realize now that growing up from one-child familes we were all a tad lonely and perhaps all wanted a big sister to look up to. But gone is the childhood where a little warmth and a little companionship would really go a long way. I was unknowingly entangled in the adults' politics that I was not really a good big sister.

big sister

2010-02-17T15:46:00.000-08:00

From as early as i could remember, i was always someone's big sister. Only on occassions rare and far between, I played a content role of a little sister to a cousin of mine. This was when the two of us became little rascals and we came up with more mischief than the adults could handle. I even put up with the her gimmicks when she tried to defeat me in a game. She was, beyond my imagination, a self-taught guru in frog fishing, story telling, bat shooting, survival in the wild, and crab catching. In fond memories of the last, she was cluey, thorough and methodical. She surveyed the fields well, never leaving a stone unturned, and she possessed an acute sense of conservation (marvellous for an 8 yo) as she always told me to let go of the small crabs. "We'll catch them when they are big enough."

She was a dedicated hunter, stopping at nothing to grab her trophy. This explains why she was mad when one day I fished a crab out of a rubber pipeline which the mountain people used to duct spring water to their household. Parts of the crab were curiously red, as if prematurely cooked. We were both admiring him, when at an unfortunate turn of the event, the crab, with that disproportionately long and gigantic claw of his which I failed to appreciate in the spur of euphoria, pinched my thumb vigorously. I jumped up and down, shaking my hands and swinging my arms. She immidiately tried to calm me down. Of cos i couldn't remain as calm as her. The crab took advantage of my moments of vulnerability and launched himself into the pool of water with the aid of my shaking. My big sister's eyes locked deadly on his trail like that of an eagle on her prey. She leaped towards the pool, only to stop short and surveyed the depth of the water and the underwater terrain. Seeing the crab contemptuously retreated into a pile of rocks, she lashed out her frustration, "You idiot! It wasn't going to pinch you for long! If only you could stay calm and let me get it!!" "It wasn't my fault." I said, my thumb still aching from the attack. "ok, now now, let me see your thumb." she gave in.

I still laugh when remembering the scene where watching from moist eyes the crab bid his swift and smug retreat in grand victory. That was the only time my big sister called me an idiot.

restitutio in integrum [contracts, equity]

2010-02-16T22:44:00.001-08:00

to restore to the previous status quo

no poem

2010-02-16T22:41:00.000-08:00

no time to be poetic today
dried coffee mugs and a burning hard disk
stare at my exhausted eyes

the last few miles

2010-02-16T22:36:00.001-08:00

The last few miles always seem to be extremely long and incredibly exhausting. I am so sick and tired of the last few "small topics" of contract laws: rescission, equitable estoppel, restitution, liability in torts, misleading&deceptive conducts, privity, statutory unconscionability etc....damn, they really are a dog's breakfast.

On the other hand, I find it getting harder to press my butt on this hardwood chair for another 16 days. I'm only half-cooked...but I just don't wanna sit there.

No to mention that my fun with torts is only just beginning. The good thing about that is that in comparison torts is just a baby.

cheers big ears

29 Jan 2010

2010-02-16T16:03:00.000-08:00

i woke up to mom's sms. she was 3 hrs behind me which was 4am her time. she was usually early. and at 4, she would be working with others at the canteen. thousands of people need to be fed. they only ate two meals a day so breakfast was important. her message said "call me", which i dutifully did. she said she was worried about us but she could not turn on her phone because the "force" came with a detector for mobile signals. she'd have to wait until they had gone. i wanted to say "tell em to f*k off" but the call was possibly monitored. i did not speak. so she said "it's free here. we are free. they spend a lot of money to help the poor people. they are doing good things."

my dear mom, how i wish that things are changed for you and others.

per se [general]

2010-02-15T23:26:00.000-08:00

by itself, of itself
*this is the most cliche word. people say it all the time just because it sounds better than plain english. LOLxx