Today has not started off well.
written: 1:49 p.m. on Saturday, Jan. 10, 2009

One. I went to the Botanic Garden (botanical? Whatever) food court after class today to buy back some Indian food for lunch. My brother, being the pig that he is, wanted a fried chicken and a curry chicken. My mom wanted a cheese prata and a plain prata. I told the fucking idiot at the cash register what I wanted. He seemed to understand and I paid him. When he was getting the chicken stuff though, he asked me if I wanted fried or curry. I said, "I want both." He looked at me funny, and went, "No, choose one."

WHAT THE FUCK? Quite unable to believe the sheer depths of this man's stupidity, I told him again, "I want the curry and the fried."

To that, he turned to the other guy working there with this "what the fuck is she talking about expression" and left it at that. Naturally I assumed he gave me what I wanted - naturally, considering it was my money he was earning.

But guess what I found out when I got home? My brother, poor thing, had to go hungry with just one piece of chicken. What the hell is this shit? That man is the stupidest, most obnoxious piece of shit to have ever existed in the history of the universe. Ignoring a customer's order? Seriously? I swear, I'm never, ever going back to that place again, and the next time I'm unfortunate enough to be forced to tag along with my mom, I'll make sure he gets a piece of my mind.

To make matters even worse, my poor mom only had one fucking prata for lunch because the fucking idiot pretended to understand my order when in fact he didn't. Why the fuck do such idiots exist? Find another job, for fuck's sake, one in which you don't have to talk to other people not of your racial group or something. Or learn English.

I don't care if you're Chinese or Indian or Spanish or whatever. If you can't speak English, get the hell out of Singapore. It pisses me off to no end that my bloody country is in danger of being overrun with people that can't speak English. What is the point of Singapore without an English-speaking population? Do the PRCs that come here just assume that everyone in this country can understand and speak Chinese? Did the immigration officials fail to mention that Singapore is multi-racial and therefore everyone here has to speak English? And you know, I don't even think I'm being snobbish here. It's not about speaking perfect English, the Queen's English, even grammatically-correct English. It's about speaking English that the average Singaporean can understand, and being able to understand what the average Singaporean tells you. Sure it's not a PRC's fault that he has a funny English accent, but...why do you have to come to my country when you have your own which apparently you love enough to fight Taiwan for if Taiwan declares independence?

I find it really disturbing that Singapore is fast becoming Little China. Worse, I have no idea where the hell our "national identity" is, assuming we even have one. Is it a wonder that I've been looking to Taiwan - Taipei - for the past few years to search for some sense of belonging? I identify Singapore as my country, but I have no idea at all what the hell that even means beyond its obvious implications. And this letting any random person come in here to work as sales assistants and cashiers without giving a shit whether the person can even speak a basic standard of English or not, especially when that person is a PRC, leaves me utterly cold. You'd think it shouldn't be a problem for me since I can speak Chinese, but I find it preposterous to find service staff that can't speak English in Singapore. What is Singapore without English as the glue that binds us all together?

Anyway, obviously I've digressed. Moving on now.

Two. I was at Subway West Mall yesterday. The bloody Singaporean auntie at the cashier was damn rude. "The foot long what you want?" I was too busy trying to decipher the appalling English to grasp what she was asking. I genuinely didn't digest what she asked me. Amazing.

Then the girl who added the toppings. "Veggies? Sauce?"

Please. It's "vegetables". Oh my god. I want to die.

At least they can speak English, right? Next time I'm craving for a Subway, I'll go to Rail Mall. The auntie there is way nicer than the West Mall one.

***

In other news, I slept maybe 4 hours this morning and woke up at 8 a.m. to go for a 9 a.m. class. I don't remember ever driving on a mere four hours' worth of sleep, and my usually-horrid concentration was even worse this morning. Thank goodness I didn't fall asleep at the wheel.

There was a traffic jam along Bukit Timah on the way home. I almost died in the car. Driving destroys my nerves because I've yet to find out how not to get completely fucking pissed off when stupid drivers suddenly cut into my lane without signalling. I can't express adequately how much I absolutely hate that. It's obnoxious and rude and you expect me to just stop for you? Fuck you.

After thinking about how I could travel within Singapore without getting pissed off, I realised that it's not driving, it's not taking the bus, it's the bloody people. It's the bloody people. MRT - people that don't queue up, people that don't understand how to stand on one side of the escalator - the left side - and leave the other free for people in a hurry to walk on, people that don't let passengers alight first and simply barge in once the doors open. I guess I know what our national identity is: We're damn rude, we have zero civic consciousness, we're all brutes and Neanderthals.

Bus - takes forever to arrive. I'm not a patient person - and that's putting it very mildly.

Driving - fucking drivers that refuse to signal, or pretend not to know how to signal, or can't signal. And I have this weird aversion to pressing the horn. I honestly think I've only used it five times since I got my licence, which is utterly ridiculous. We need to be fast friends - stat.

***

Something felt off today, and when I remembered the atrocity that was last night's match, it all made sense. I can't get the thing out of my head and it's driving me crazy. I whined to whoever would listen about him giving up the match in class today and the typical response I got was, "Did he quit? Did he retire from the match?"

Roger Federer never retires. Otherwise he just doesn't step on the court. But then, does it matter he played it out when he'd already retired in his mind? The force of his assertion wasn't so much his physical presence, his sticking it through until the very last point played, but the mental strength, the determination, implicit in such a statement. It's what I've loved about him, and it's the very thing that I count on to reassure myself when he's down in a match - that he's Roger Federer, and he is mentally tough enough to pull himself out of the deepest hole, the most hopeless situation.

I told myself that repeatedly last night. What made it so incredibly disappointing was how he stopped believing in himself. The Roger I loved never gives up. The Roger that played last night...I'm sorry, I don't know who he is.

I suppose I've been extremely naive, but I genuinely never, ever once even remotely considered the slimmest chance that he'd ever give up a match. That idea, to me, was simply antithetical to everything that he is - or rather, everything that I perceived him to be.

I still can't wrap my head around why he fought with his heart and soul in Shanghai playing with a fucked up back and almost won that match, but couldn't do the same here with - as far as I know - health at 100%. It's like two completely different people played the two matches. Shanghai inspired me, Qatar depressed and disheartened and disappointed me. I am shocked, still rather shell-shocked, that he eventually let his emotions get the better of him.

Oh Roger. Even when you stop believing in yourself, the 213754649021485 in the world that believe in you will not stop. He really breaks my heart sometimes.

***

Lastly, I'd like to say that I hate the look of Andy Murray's coach. Every time the camera goes to him he just has this annoying smug look on his face which gets on my nerves so much. He also did a great job of turning his charge into a fucking golden retriever which, if Murray rises to the top and ends up dominating the game somehow, will spell the demise of interesting, varied tennis. Murray doesn't hit winners; he runs down every shot and makes his opponent hit an extra shot and force the error. It's so boring to watch, which is why I even find his baseline rallies with Roger incredibly boring.

I really hope Roddick wins tonight. He IS, after all, the Original Andy.

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010