Homesick, ’cause I no longer know where home is.

I just remembered John Virtue’s London paintings. I went and saw them at the National Gallery in 2005 and some of them are just so breathtaking in the flesh. Unfortunately I couldn’t find a picture online of my favourite one of the series, but the online pictures really do them no justice.

Then thinking about John Virtue got me onto other artists I used to like. Some of Dylan Izaak’s work is also London-themed.

Also, Jeff Koons (bar his more pornographic stuff).

(Oh, if I could have a chair like this in my future living room. My life would be made.)

It’s been a bit of a revival for all things unrelated to my degree, which is a crying shame seeing as I’m in the midst of exams. Definitely still glad I didn’t do an art degree though!

I went to one of my best friends’ art show last week, you see. These things always provoke a slightly whimsical reaction from within me… ‘What if I’d done art? Would I be happier now? Would it have been truer to myself?’ *wretch* No, I would have struggled then moped for a while and dropped out.

I’m quite relieved also because all the girls at this show I went to were dressed exactly the same. It was like they were in uniform or something. They were all wearing loose summer dresses with tan leather belts around their hips. At least at SOAS it’s okay to roll in wearing what looks like your pyjamas. It seems to be arty, you have to dress arty too. And I got so many evil death stares while I was there, like I was stepping on their turf or something. Surely you’d think they wanted people to come and see their show?

That leads me onto something more general. Why do women hate other women so much? It’s something I’ve been noticing quite a lot recently. Women smirk if another woman trips, look each other up and down in that really mean, obvious way that they do and generally don’t do each other any favours. I’m hardly a feminist but really? Is this necessary? Women dress up for other women, rarely for men. I know I dress for other women (men don’t care about pencil skirts, peep toes or A-line dresses, frankly) but it’s often in fear of the silent wrath that other women might inflict on me. I was at a club last year and these horrible, horrible self-proclaimed indie girls with giant, back-combed hair were evilling me and my friends. One of them put out her fricking cigarette on my friend’s forearm (obviously before the smoking ban grrr). I would say sorry for stepping on someone’s foot, let alone for BURNING THEM but these girls thought it was hysterically funny.

I know this argument has been made time and time again but women are encouraged far too much to scrutinise and criticise other women, and indeed other people in general. It’s not like I expect an Oprah-style let’s-hug-each-other-and-ice-cupcakes-together-in-slow-motion moment, but I think a little consideration wouldn’t go amiss. Even if they just gave me a break for a little while, that’d be great.

Mungkinkah ini tandanya cinta.. Ataukah perasaanku saja…

I love a bit of Vina Panduwinata on a sunny day.

Last night I met a couple of people who genuinely believed in the invisible hand of the market. Needless to say, my reaction was not unlike this:

They were vegetarians who tried on several occasions to convince others among us that it is inhumane to kill animals in front of other animals, or something to that end. It’s immoral to inflict ‘fear’ on animals, so it was argued. So we have to consider the feelings of animals, but if people are poor and living below the poverty line, then that’s ‘just life’. I think people who believe in trickle-down economies are genuinely delusional. I, apparently, am just ‘jealous’ of millionaires and only want them to be taxed highly because I envy their wealth. I doubt the vague possibility that I could value human life (and human quality of life) over money even crossed their mind. The free market is a man-made concept. I am unconvinced that any man-made system could ever be perfect or bias-free. I think in many sectors it works in favour of large businesses which dominate the market and thus make it difficult to penetrate or it at least creates a glass ceiling above which smaller-time traders cannot pass.

People who believe in minimal tax bug me too. The fact that you can afford private healthcare and private education for your children does not mean that everyone can. To believe that everyone has the same opportunities is just short-sighted.

It annoys me somewhat when people base their political opinions on individual and parochial observations they make of people around them. Just because so-and-so is a ‘waste of space’ single mum who commits benefit fraud, it does not mean that all of the tax you pay goes into funding benefit cheats.

Enough ranting. It’s not like someone’s political views make me think they’re bad people. But sometimes, when you think about the way someone perceives society on the whole, you gain a valuable insight into their attitudes towards more personal relationships.

Aaaand that’s it. I must attack my room; it is a mess.

Buang semua puisi antara kita berdua :)

I’ve pretty much always been one of those people who’s crammed like an absolute madwoman the night before exams. Well, my first exam is tomorrow and guess what? I’m not cramming! However, the worst of my exams is on Thursday so I’ll be back to cramming again on Wednesday. It feels like a small achievement though that I’m somewhat prepared for tomorrow’s exam!

I spent 8 hours in the library today. Normally I last no longer than about 4 because as soon as I step into the library I just feel like it’s nap time! I think it’s the quietness and overall warmth. I managed somehow to hold out today. I had one of the nice seats on the first floor that’s near the windows and looks through onto Gordon Square. I have to admit I was very jealous of the people sunning themselves on the grass, but what can you do?

I’ve got so many new academic year’s resolutions for the coming year. I’m such a lazy student (even by usual student standards!) and need to step it up.

Well, back to the grind. What a bore!