serialdeviant.org(y)

Alan Rickman as the voice of Marvin? Martin Freeman as Arthur Dent?!

*wibble*

I’m a bit excited about seeing The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (at some point soon, I hope).

Following this post from mrbrown (and resulting comments), I’m thinking a little bit about what it means to me, this whole being Singaporean business. I’m tempted to say ‘Not a whole lot’, it’s been my response for so many years, but surely the place where I was born and went to school must mean something to me? It’s my heritage, right? The kopitiams, the Ah Bengs, Orchard Road (the comic, not the shopping), Zouk, my schools, the food, the food, and the food.

My mum lives there, and she’ll never leave. She’s Singaporean through and through (she’s even a career civil servant, okay). Bloogers like mrbrown and Mr Miyagi (and countless others) have no problem blooging in Singlish (and I imagine it is part of their appeal), but I find it very difficult to do the same. You’d think that was strange, since I spent over 18 years speaking Singlish so fluently my English took a back seat. It comes down to Australia — I found that if I spoke English (and slowed down), people actually understood me (which is always nice). Since then, it’s been no more Singlish for me. I’m not ashamed of it, I think it’s a great characteristic of my culture, this colloquial version of English, but I can’t bring myself to pepper my sentences with ‘lah’ and ‘meh’ and ‘hor’ — it’s just not natural for me any more.

So, does that mean I’m less Singaporean because I don’t ‘do’ Singlish? Have I done this deliberately because I’m trying to distance myself from Singapore and being Singaporean? Do I have some major self-esteem issues or what?

I really don’t know. I’ve been asking myself these questions lately because I do work hard to not be identified as Mainland Chinese. I don’t have a lot of Mainland Chinese friends, partly because I don’t go out of my way to hang out, and partly because we don’t have a lot in common (I can generalise, really). I don’t have a lot of expatriate friends either*, so maybe I’m just a wallflower, but anyway.

I always read about Singaporeans getting homesick and missing the place. I’ve never, ever missed Singapore when I was away. Even now, when I’m grossed out by the spitting, snot rockets, wanton littering, and the list goes on — I have never once thought, I just want to go home. I appreciate Singapore for its cleanliness, convenience, and efficiency, and I love the food. I enjoy myself when I go back on holiday. It is my home, but only because Mum’s there. I wouldn’t object to living there again, I don’t think, but I don’t have some great yearning to stand up and sing Majulah Singapura (Onward Singapore) on 9 August every year**. It’s a place, and what has made me who I am is not a place, it’s the people who’ve affected me.

Being in China has made me think very hard about what it means to be Singaporean, in my own way. I am a Singaporean who:

• watches Star Trek (thanks for letting me watch reruns at dinner time, Mum)
• listens to ska and jazz and indy and pop and rockabilly and psychobilly (thanks, Area 7 and The Living End and Marco for introducing me to Reverend Horton Heat)
• does not listen to Cantopop, J-pop, Hokkien-gua (Hokkien songs), or Country & Western (thanks, Mum for not listening to that stuff either, but thanks for listening to Elvis)
• laughs at Blackadder and The Office (thank you DVDs)
• eats meat pies (thanks Murdoch University refectory)
• spells in British English (thanks, Sir Stamford Raffles)
• will eat kway chap — pig intestines, tofu, egg, plus broad flat rice noodles in a dark broth — willingly (thanks, Singaporean hawkers)
• can say ‘aye’ in all seriousness (thanks, Neil, really)
• has never dreamed of a car, condo, lots of cash, credit card, or career (I have no idea who to thank)

And it doesn’t make me any less Singaporean than Tan Ah Beng, just a different one.

* This is distinct from knowing a lot of expatriates. I think I know a lot of expats as a natural extension of what I do.
** Here’s a theory. If I’m born and bred Singaporean but have no particularly patriotic feelings about the place, is it Singapore’s fault? If they’d done it right, I’d be sewing the flag on my backpack, right?

*sniff* I’m sure Delboy and Indira had as beautiful a wedding as the pictures show.

Who’d want to be told they’re hung like a bull at the Mission Mountain Testicle Festival? I don’t think anyone could pay me enough to eat any animal’s ‘nads.

Both my websites are scoring similarly well on the Gunning Fog Index (what a surprise, since I author both of them). I am as readable as a popular novel — success and riches are mine! Via Kottke.org.

I think I’m in love. Nokia’s just announced the arrival of the N91 (via The Register). I’ve been drooling after the Treo 650 since it was announced, and last night I got a good look at the dopod 818. I’m suffering from a surplus of gadget-lust and a deficit of income-for-buying-said-gadgets.

Meet Dig-dug, by far the Cutest. Rabbit. Ever.