A small sampling of the people I've met in Singapore.

Yuni

Two weeks ago, I had a chance to be aquainted with Yuni, who is a staff on the international relations office of N.U.S. (or something of that nature) and organized the weekend Tiomann trip for international students like myself. This is a weird, extremely narcissistic bias of mine, but people with "Y" names tend to subconsciously get extra brownie points with me--and the more similar to my name, the better. But not exactly the same, because then I would have to eliminate you. In addition to that, she apparently has a brother named Fayumi--whom she calls "Yumi" for short. Clearly, her parents have unexcelled taste in naming their children.



But Y name asides, Yuni was so concerned that one stray kitten chilling on the pier would somehow accidentally fall into the ocean she picked it up and carried it safely to the mainland. And it didn't end there. She bought ice cream and bread from the nearest food stand to make sure that this malnourished thing was well-fed. I was very amused. Not only that, I was moved. If someone is willing to put so much time, money and effort towards one flea-bitten, disease-ridden stray kitty (and for some reason, Tiomann is just swarming with them), then you can be certain that he or she has a pretty big heart.


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Dr. Shen

Dr.Shen teaches the introduction to Asian theatre class that I took this semester. I know it's weird to call someone of his age "cute," but Dr. Shen is just that. A cute Chinese man. Maybe it's the way he holds the sheet of lecture notes over his mouth while he's talking like a shy geisha girl covering her teeth with her silk fan. Or how he constantly oscillates between self-deprecating humor and joking narcissism over his own academic brilliance. Or the way he... awww, shucks, just look at him! Don't you want him to be your cute, non-creepy uncle who shows you videos of Japanese puppetry when he's not busy working on the next academic thesis that will shake the very foundation of theater studies as we know it?



I kind of look whorish here because that day I had to act in a five-minute scene from a Chinese play where I played a saucy whore. Either that, or I'm making that up and I actually do wear six pounds of make-up every day.

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Seno Gumira

Okay, so I didn't really meet Seno Gumira. I was indirectly acquainted of this Indonesian author through my Southeast Asian literature class because we happened to read his trilogy of short stories for a recent lecture.

But not only did Semo Gumira manage to write a short story that involves zombies AND a scathing criticism of the Indonesian government, he bears a very uncanny resemblance to my apartment mate Robbie.

Semo Gumira:




Robbie Akira Monsod:





Or maybe it's just very powerful wishful thinking on my part because as much as I hate to admit it, I really do miss having a domineering Japino around to verbally abuse me and tear down my self-esteem every time I think I lost something important when it's actually in immediate physical proximity of me. I hate you, slut. I mean, DON'T HURT ME I LOVE YOU

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Arthi



I'm cheating here because Arthi actually lives in Los Angeles and I knew her before I even came here. But I talk to this hottie every day on AIM she may as well be in Singapore. Now if only.

Arthi is one of those amazing people who manages to have time to be a pre-med student and a very creative, artistic person at the same time. I don't know how the hell she does it. I can't wait to see her again--because our hang-out sessions always inevitably seems to end with one of us massaging the other person's back on someone's bed. I question my own sexuality every time I think of her. Sometimes late at night I touch myself and start sobbing uncontrollably for no particular reason. Oops, now that just really ventured into T.M.I. territory, didn't it? I was just making that up to be FUNNY! Ha, ha! HA HA HA HA HA! Ha, ha, ha...

On a completely unrelated note, I'll be back in five minutes...

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Some Random Sister



Now I don't know who THIS sister in the hoochie black dress is, but clearly she knows how to keep it REAL. Even in a farewell buffet dinner at the Ritz Carlton hotel, she knows her ROOTS. You can take a fly girl out of Westwood, but you can never take the Westwood out of a straight up P.I.M.P.C.E.S.S., BITCH! Just want to give a quick HOLLA to all the homegirls hanging in the 310. Um, did you hear me? I said HOLLA, YOU STUPID DUMBFUCK HO BITCHES! Don't raise your arms all at once now. Seriously.

I don't smile in photographs because when you're straight outa WestWOOD, smiling is a sign of weakness.