Archive for October, 2011

You know how people always tell you about how crazily fulfilling it is to act for the little man in the street because you fell like you are helping them take on Goliath and doing your little itty bit for society and making the world a better place and all that jazz?

Lately, I’m beginning to feel that these people may be the very same ones who try to sell you the myth of charity and world peace.

I act for large companies more often than the individual. Quite strangely enough, it’s the cases where I act for individuals that vex me way more than the cases where I act for large companies. The individuals that I act for have a nasty tendency to turn sour, petty and calculative on me. Or even if I don’t end up disliking them a whole lot, there will at least be periods of time where I am mildly to moderately annoyed with them. Then once their problemis are solved, they mostly disappear into the woodwork without even a Christmas card to show for it.

Companies, on the other hand, have a tendency to try to form a relationship with you, discuss a problem objectively with you, have a better perspective of things than individuals. It is far less emotionally taxing and they at least remember you at Christmas so you don’t feel used and abused.

I certainly hope that this is just borne out of my inability to deal with or relate to most people and not indicative of some more sinister, systemic failure with people.

Whatever it is, I don’t think I am genetically able to move out of my side of the work for a long time.


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s for angsty

In relation to my request for his email address, someone told me over the phone today:

… at…K for Colombo…F for France…

I was so thrown off at K for Colombo that I proceeded to record his email address down in a gibberish of letters, amongst which indicated that I had at that moment actually thought that A was for England.

WTH. Why couldn’t he just tell me the name of his organization and tell me that his email is @[initials of his organization] instead of going through this whole spelling thing and scrambling my brains as a result?!

But then again, it could be because I am going through the most contentious week of my life so my patience for all things is just really really short.

Oh well. Back to figuring out what the F his email address is so that I can send him the [mother of all] Defence[s] that I had devoted the better part of this afternoon drafting to vet.

Some days, I feel like my wit is wasted on most people.

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For the longest time, my daughter referred to herself as 草莓姐姐 ie Strawberry Girl because we would put this Body Shop Strawberry Body Lotion on her after showers plus 草莓姐姐 is also a character in one of the Taiwanese children’s programmers she watches on television sometimes.

Then one day, we saw a giant poster of Strawberry Shortcake and Blueberry Muffin at Terminal 3 and she asked me who Blueberry Muffin was. I casually told her 蓝莓小姑娘 ie Blueberry Girl.

So apparently, when my father picked her up from school today, he was told by her nursery class teacher that my daughter has decided that she was Strawberry Girl no more. Instead, she is now 蓝莓小姑娘.

Amused, the teacher went on to ask her what her parents were. Parroting a lesson in the Chinese zodiac which my mother had given her, she proceeded to tell her teacher that her father is a Snake and her mother is a Monkey.

*face palm*

We’ll probably be marked down as the strangest parents after this, methinks.

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hole in the ground

At some point in time this morning, I sent the following text message to The Buddha:

I have a very pertinent question to ask. How many times can one be sent to Court on the wrong day / at the wrong time in one week?

I don’t think I can ever begin to describe the neverending series of unfortunate events that came together to fill in this entire week back to back. It’s been so bad that it rained on me halfway into my run on Wednesday night and when I fled the office yesterday at 5:30pm to get a haircut [which usually makes me feel better about life], I was told that my regular hairstylist had left the salon. WTH.

[On the bright side, I met the only hairstylist in the history of my quest for gloriousness who didn’t try to torture my natural curls into submission to transform me into a template straight-haired girl (if only for a very brief while), and who entertained me by flirting shamelessly with me so I am officially converted and very grateful to the hair salon for fixing me up with him on such short short notice.]

Given that I have two trials and one appeal next week [yes, my friends, trial season is upon us again…tis the time of the year where everyone looks at their backlog, go oh crap, and send everyone to trial…], I suppose I should be glad that all this crap is being unloaded this week and hopefully not the next.

I shall sit at my desk and try very hard to have a very uneventful rest of the day.

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Lion has discovered the virtues of self help last night.

My kids sleep on mattresses on the floor of our bedroom since they outgrew the cot. We figured that they can’t fall off anything on mattresses so that’s the safest way to organise bed time. Peanut sleeps through the night but sometimes, Lion still gets up and fusses. When he does, I usually get out of bed and lie down next to him for a bit until he falls back asleep again.

When I woke up this morning, Lion was lying between The Other Half and I on our bed.

I thought that The Other Half had carried him onto our bed when he fussed and I was too passed out to deal with him since Lion couldn’t climb onto the bed by himself yet…well, at least I thought so until The Other Half denied carrying him into bed.

So at some point in time in the middle of last night, Lion had woken, found me too passed out to comfort him, and took matters into his little chubby hands by walking to my side from his mattress at the foot of my bed, climbed onto it, and found a nice space between The Other Half and I to curl up and wake up next to me.


I hate the world today but when I think about the bleary eyed Lion making his way to Mummy in the dark and the feel of his little head burrowing into my side, I felt immensely better about life.

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As part of my birthday celebrations, Jeffrey and I arranged to meet for one quick drink last Tuesday at about 6pm, before we return to our respective lives in about 0.5 to 1 hour thereafter.

I only managed to get out of my office by 5:45pm, ran madly across the river and got to the pre-arranged watering hole at a little past 6pm. I picked a seat and texted Jeffrey to let him know that I was there. Then I ordered a drink and pulled out my book to read while waiting.

A while later, my phone beeped. It was Jeffrey telling me that he was going to be late because he was stuck in a meeting. “I couldn’t leave the meeting because I was…erm…chairing the meeting…” said he rather apolegetically.

So if Jeff was chairing a meeting that probably means that he has become a larger potato at work, right?

For some reason, I just can’t wrap my head around the idea that Jeffrey has become a larger potato at work because my memories of Jeff is forever tied up with sitting in front of him in class 2B at age eight and sitting beside him in class 5C at age eleven.

He probably feels the same about me as well. But then again, there is something infinitely more awe-inspiring in an architect in a big name firm than an embarrassing two-bit langgar lawyer, a cross-section of practitioners that most of the legal profession try their darnedest to sweep under the carpet.


Over the weekend, someone I haven’t spoken to since secondary school left me a message on Facebook asking me whether I minded terribly if she contacted me for some legal advice.

Under normal circumstances, I would have been deeply offended. But then again, I am repeatedly reminded by others of my profession (usually the ones who earn far more money and have far more minions than me) that I should “give back” to the society. So I replied and told her to get me in the office this morning.

And then because I was having that kind of a morning where I sat at my desk, twiddled my thumbs, and can’t wrap my mind around any real work, I ended up calling her back myself.

She sounded absolutely shocked to hear from me. We talked about someone else’s legal problem for a while, then she tentatively asked me how was life as a mother with a stressful job, and particulars of my job, what I do, what do lawyers do in general. We chatted for a while more before I really had to get to court.

From the tone and the contents of the conversation, I surmised that she felt the same way about me that I did about Jeff. In her mind’s eye, she can only picture me as that reclusive, angsty little fourteen-year-old slinking around school carrying a classical guitar and singing sad, sad songs, and she can’t quite make the mental connection between that and the voice on the phone explaining the law of insolvency to her in her best client voice.

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Birds on my office wall!

4-layered chocolate cake I spent the whole of Sunday baking

Coffee Mousse Cake from my lovely girls at work

Lovely cake from Laurent Bernard from The Other Half

Happy Birthday to me 🙂

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