this shit is scary!

i’ve known about the ability of soya to mimic hormones for a long time, but it never really registered as a health risk because i’m chinese and we eat tofu and drink tau huay and dip everything in soya sauce.

but fermented soy and non-fermented soy are two different things, eh? like wine and vinegar, potato and vodka, etc.

so, yeah. lactose- and gluten- intolerant as i am, i have had to switch to rice milk. and it’s surprisingly good. not as chalky as soy milk, and very light and easy to digest. i might have to try other brands, but so far i’ve been drinking Rice Dream Original, and it’s been pretty good-going for the last month or so.

the difficult thing is finding cafes and coffeeshops that serve rice milk, and also finding rice milk substitutes for cream and yoghurt, because there isn’t that big a market for such stuff (as compared to soy ones) since most people immediately choose soy over milk if they’re lactose-intolerant, and so most coffee places have the soy option, but nothing else. same story with cream and custard and yoghurt.

i think i’ll have to visit the organic shop to check out their full rice milk selection, and if their collection seems paltry, the internet is my next best friend.

perhaps it’s pure coincidence.

but after sending off one email with subject line as is the title of this post, i had 3 separate, and methodologically different, inquiries into where i was at this very moment. email and friendster and myspace all make me visible, but invisible as well. i’m easy enough to find online, but who knows where i am in real-life.

i might be in barbados for all you know.

+ is it hard? it must be really difficult, huh? (as compared to what?)

+ are you going to be a solicitor or a barrister? (solicitor)

+ are you going to practice? (yeah)

+ which type/area/kind of law are you going to specialise in? (don’t know yet)

+ do you have any advice for me? (read the fine print)

+ can you be my lawyer? (if you pay me)

+ do you like law? (yeah)

+ why are you studying law? (can we talk about this another time?)

and then there are also those people who’ve teased me relentlessly throughout my undergraduate days about doing law because it’s apparently as cop-out a degree as business or finance or accountacy, in that it is ‘vocational’ and that it almost guarantees a job upon graduation, and implying that i’ve got no intellectual curiousity and/or i’m playing it safe.

those people, they’re all doing law conversion courses now, and want my notes. tag-alongs. and, also, why do some people insist on pretending that law degrees are non-intellectual? they know that it’s very demanding, and they know that it’s not just regurgitation, so why do they carry on slagging it off? if they had to sit through some of the classes i took, they’d realise that it’s as intellectually high-falutin’ as international relations or philosophy.

idiots like these piss me off.

but anyway, having (almost) finished going through my pre-course reading for my LPC, i don’t think i’m going to like the course very much. it’s all very boring and ‘what does regulation 97459 say?’, all very practical and rote-learning. oh well, just one more year of hypothesising and then i can get down and dirty with reality.

i was informed a couple of days ago that my commenting function was fucked.

and i just found out why. it’s fixed now, so comment away my friends.

sorry to those who’ve been desperate to tell me their opinions and are now resolute non-commentors but, really, you could’ve emailed me, y’know?

i’ve cut my hair off -
goodbye hair that swishes and tickles my elbows.
hello hair-styling products, i haven’t seen you in a long time.

i recommend my hairdresser for
- working in a salon that’s got a brilliant name
- that also offers you a choice of coffee, tea, beer, wine or water
- for being very handsome
- and also very patient
- for being willing to listen to what i wanted
- for being chatty,
- but not overeager to chat, thus allowing me to read and distract myself from the lengths of hair hitting the salon floor

everyone, please enter Tim from Pimps and Pin-ups into your hairdresser-of-note list.

++++

you know you’ve reached semi-adultdom when you go to a housewarming party,
and you come across strollers,
booties, bottles and babes in arms.

when we left, i announced that we ought to do it london-style (although, strictly speaking, it’s not london, but a european thing, generally), so i leant over and it was *muackmuack* goodbye darling!

i think she was slightly taken aback, and rather shocked.

but, oh well.

it’s strange how i can and do kiss people i meet for the first, second, umpteenth time, on the left cheek and then the right cheek, when we say hello and when we say goodbye, and it seems nothing but natural and polite and friendly.

but when it comes to fellow singaporeans there’s a paralysis, a fear of being too expressive. the hugs seem stilted, and sometimes even unwanted; kisses, even air ones, are almost non-existent except between lovers and/or very close friends; we wave and waggle our fingers instead.

i find this very disturbing. is it just me, or is it everyone else?

most of my friends think i am very funny for running away every time my landlord decides to come around with the plumber, an event that has occured twice in the last three weeks.

but, friends, ’tis not madness, there is method in it.

until my landlord texted me on monday evening, while i was having roast chicken and tuna steaks somewhere in east sussex, informing me that they were waiting for the water to be turned off by the council and that the mirror is still off the wall in the toilet (we have a HUGE mirror, like 4 feet high and 6 feet across, to hide the plumbing behind it) and that they will try to get the radiators replaced by this week, or else they will scrap the idea for now and try again another time.

another time! *faints*

i have had to move my bookshelf into the middle of the living room, and my desks are now inaccessible, my laptop is now on top of a 3 foot high speaker and i am perched off a stool and squished between the window and my aforementioned bookshelf as i am writing this. i have also discovered that my bed cover (a rather pretty sage green throw with tassels etc) is stained in one corner from radiator water, and my wall has dried radiator water streaks on it. yuck.

so, i am not doing this again, sometime in the future. i refuse. as such, i am not running away the next time the plumber comes - i will stand there with arms crossed and make sure he gets the damned thing done, or i will throw a screaming fit.

but at least the water is still running, because we have people coming around for dinner tonight, and they will be expecting proper food, not biscuits and crisps.