Rather quiet around here huh? Term's been whizzing by, I'm done w 5th week already, more than halfway through, it's scary. But no more of that. Today, I finally stepped into the Ashmolean museum, after 7 (!!) terms in Oxford. Yes I am ashamed of myself, but better late than never, so I popped in after lecture just now. Had always meant to check out the Strad that everyone talks about, and found a number of Amatis and Ruggeris in their collection as well. There is SO much to see, I was cursing myself as I glanced at the floor plan and realised what a treasure trove it was. Should start a routine of stopping by every week after China lectures to see the collection bit by bit, yet then again, it's already Week 5...

But yes, it is a fantastic place, the early Indian artefacts are fascinating though only managed a rough skim. I managed, though, to check out their new exhibition on 'The Pissarros at Home', not just Camille but also his son Lucien, and more than just the Impressionist works that I've always associated him with. Discovered that his charcoal and pastel studies are beautiful as well. I've always admired artists for their acute eye for detail, and their ability to perceive the world with such sensitivity, subtlety and liveliness. Pissarro did gorgeous sketches of his children as well, in the garden, reading a book, slouched in a chair; things our eyes just instinctively skip over, only to rediscover with amazement how much beauty it could hold.

And I also learnt that even if it is sunny and bright, it is nevertheless already autumn, so fields which appear green, pristine and dry are actually soft, muddy and very gross. I learnt it the hard way, of course, when I happily decided to go jogging in the park up the road from my place, only to return to scrub my disgustingly muddy and squishy trainers.

Arghhhh so close!! :( Goodbye John Kerry, here's to another 4 years of conservatism, inarticulate articulation, funny monkey faces and (to quote RM at class today) "maybe US shall become a theocracy". And Tom Daschle's lost his seat too, with the GOP tightening their grip over the Senate. It's all over, Kerry's conceded, shall now just wait for his statement. Arghhh. I'm not even American, nor in the US right now. Scary how politics gets a grip over you, even if just so temporarily. But alas, Michael Moore, a brave but failed attempt there. Get cracking on your next Bush-bashing, and maybe they'll give you an Oscar for that, since they'll realise how horribly wrong there were and how you've been right all along. Bah.

I did promise I would explain the previous post, but I don't think I will now. Some things are best treasured and savoured in their exclusivity. I wish happiness came in chunky packages instead of evanescent, ephemeral moments. But I will remember, crystallise and make space for them in my little repository of unspoken joys. Thank you for all the thoughts, insights, laughter and everything in between that words cannot do sufficient justice to.

I wonder if my astonishing cheerfulness and determined essay writing was but a supreme defence mechanism to a deep, sad melacholy that has finally surfaced today.

Spoke to my parents last night and just again this afternoon, and felt bad that they had to worry just because I was croaking over the phone. Mum mentioned about the tragic end to the case of the missing Chinese girl, and I felt a horrible sense of loss. It was also in the conversation that she mentioned something of the past that would be dealt with next week, and it again opened another dark box which I have fought so violently to shut over the past year.

The past just has to creep up and tap you from behind when you least expect it. That sense of security, easy routine, hearty laughter and fuzzy hearts will freeze over with the sudden chill from an unwelcomed intruder who throws the door open and leaves you shivering, raw and weak once again.

I've got a new album up and running, btw.

AHAHAHA, I just realised that Daylight Saving ends today, so I will gain an extra hour. Incidentally, I am writing an essay and intended to stay up through the night to finish it, so it's perfect because I have been given an extra hour plucked from nowhere!!!

Ok I know it's very juvenile, but I cannot help it. Am typing out an essay on egalitarianism while coughing my throat dry and aching all over from the flu. Thus this sudden ecstatic jolt on realisation that the end of BST is actually working to my advantage. I spent the loveliest Saturday in very dear company and am still feeling all warm and happy despite being ill. And W just called to say he might be able to get us tickets to Vengerov's recital in December! Of course there's Peishan's grand 21st to look forward to.

Heh, it is such a rarity to be able to write an essay without the usual angst and pain. It's just a pity that I have to be ill when everything is all dandy and good, but it's not dampening my spirit one bit. There are trade-offs in life and I think I've still got a good deal this time.

And I am re-reading what I just typed without really understanding what I'm trying to say. It's the medicine, the exhaustion and the post-high-syndrome all working at the same time. I will explain another time. Right now, I just realised I've squandered 15 minutes of my free extra one hour away!

Got a snippet of this at Pol Theory lecture this afternoon, and was piqued enough to download the article to read it in full... Anderson is arguing that egalitarianism is demeaning and she offered this:

To the stupid and untalented: Unfortunately, other people don't value what little you have to offer in the system of production. Your talents are too meager to command much market value. Because of the misfortune that you were born so poorly endowed with talents, we productive ones will make it up to you: we'll let you share in the bounty of what we have produced with our vastly superior and highly valued abilities.

To the ugly and socially awkward: How sad that you are repulsive to people around you that no one wants to be your friend or lifelong companion. We won't make it up to you by being your friend or your marriage partner -- we have our own freedom of association to exercise -- but you can console yourself in your miserable loneliness by consuming these material goods that we, the beautiful and charming ones, will provide. And who knows? Maybe you won't be such a loser in love once potential dates see how rich you are.

~ from Elizabeth Anderson's article "What is the point of equality?" Ethics 1999

I was so amused when the lecturer first quoted this in his handout, but it did suddenly dawn upon me that perhaps sometimes, we are helping the less fortunate for morally repulsive reasons like condescending pity. I'm not saying that we do that, on the contrary I believe in inherent goodness, but I bet sometimes we do.

It's been a while, I know. But first, a shout out to Joce *waves frantically* Thanks for leaving a tag, hope you're well too, will be back in December and we must go for coffee yea!

It's been a crazy week, I've no idea why, but big hugs and many thanks to all the various people who have rallied round, provided much comfort, and helped made things better. I have another essay due Tuesday but will get around to that in a bit, after this. Things just seem to be a little out of control here and there, and in the course of one week I attain tiny evanescent equilibria, only to fall into the dark pits of essay-PMS and extreme frustration from work. It's hard to explain, but pointless to expound here. But various marvellous people in my life have been a great help and I feel so blessed.

Have had various good conversations over the course of the week with people who mean a lot to me, and they left me burdened, puzzled, happy, enlightened and more thoughtful all at the same time. It was good to Skype w you, and we must do this more often. So much more to say, understand, hear, listen, ask, wonder. I'm glad we at least did some of that, though it never seems enough. Late night conversations tend to be the most insightful and thought-provoking, somehow because by that hour, you have let your defences down and open up more freely, both to speak and to listen. Peishan's gem of an epiphany, if I may quote her, from Skyping last night: "One of the best things in life is being part of someone else's happiness". Indeed.

I've been having trouble sleeping recently, perhaps from the recent infusions of caffeine (thought I could hold that back but apparently not), from being bogged down with work and applications, from stress, and from the uneasiness of not knowing what to know or make of things, especially when they relate to people and things that are very dear to me.

That was surely not very coherent, and I'm not going to bother editing it, because China's political and economic reforms beckon. But just a final parting: thank you.

This is an amazing read: http://books.guardian.co.uk/review/story/0,12084,1317040,00.html Sorry I can't provide a hyperlink cos the worm has screwed up loads of settings on my lap and applets just refuse to run, sigh.

On the bright side, I just had black sesame tangyuans for dinner, bought them from the Chinese provision shop across town yesterday. Night before, I had an amazingly fancy food dream that featured yong tau foo, rojak, yu pian mifen, crabs w tanghoon and more. I always feel rather ambivalent waking from such fantasies, not just specifically about food but happy dreams in general. On one hand, being happy while you were asleep must be a good thing, and to have dreamt of pleasurable things must give some utility. Yet on the flipside, you hate the feeling of having to get up and away from this fantastic virtual world into the dreary cycle of workstudywork; the realisation that none of this happiness will translate itself into any tangible reality, but only leaves the cloying aftertaste and some unexplained melancholy for the rest of the day.

As they interviewed an art critic on BBC3 about the Bruce Nauman's new installation at the Tate Modern, I remembered how we lay under the great orange sky of the Turbine Hall at Eliasson's Weather Project, staring at our reflections above. Between chatter, laughter and pointing out kids making star formations, we shared the comfortable silence of being in the same physical space with everyone else yet closeting ourselves away in a secret unspoken world. Everything was calm and peaceful under that bright, luminous space, while the harsh gusts stirred the Thames outside. What I would give to live such a moment again. I am getting addicted to BBC3 live, their lunchtime concerts from the Wigmore, evening concerts from the RFH or Barbican, and obscure composers who are in fact very palatable to my plebeian ears. A perfect antidote to the recent demise of my MSN Messenger. Good grief, it is only 1st week and I am tired already. Fournier's Bach suites on the player. Such a long time since I properly touched those, or the cello for that matter.

Collections are not that painful after all, besides the strained writing hand and the wrung-dried brain. They build some sort of solidarity in the midst of finalist gloom, passing knowing grins and smiles in between bouts of writers block. I did an IR then did 2/3 of an Aesthetics, just lost motivation after people started walking out early, and I didn't really have a 3rd question to do either.

I still read as slowly as before, die la. My first tute is on Monday but I think I'll take up the kind offer not to do an essay and instead 'go for a chat'. Pol theory is fascinating, but am not taking in v much as yet.

Mooncakes spoil after 2 weeks, as I found out w dismay last night. I was (and still am) v v sad about it. Now I'll have to wait a full entire year for bingpi yuebing, sigh.

OK, I should be swotting like hell for my collections, but somehow it's not yet happening. Have a long long way to go, but judging by past experience, something miraculous will happen within the next 3 days. Either that or I'll just flunk them and blame post-summer blues.