Much Ado About Nothing

I asked my Finnish clustermate to join me for basketball at night, and she said that she would try, but she had judo in the afternoon before basketball and she was afraid she would be too tired. I said okay.

A little while ago, she popped by my room after her training, face rather flushed and hair damp with sweat, to tell me that she was sorry but she really was too tired for basketball. She added: "But do ask me another time ok? I don't want you to get tired of asking me or something. " (I had already asked her twice before. The first time she joined me for basketball, but the second time she was too tired to, having been jogging earlier in the evening. This was the third time)

I thought that this was a really good way of handling things. This way, she does not have to feel bad for turning me down twice. She also makes sure I understand that she would be very willing to go for basketball if she weren't genuinely tired, so that I would be sure of asking her another time. That is good communication.

What a contrast this behaviour is to that of someone else! This other girl is a law classmate from PGP whom I saw this morning in the canteen. She said: "So, are we playing basketball tonight?" seeming really keen on it. Thinking that she and another girl would be playing, I said that we did not have enough players but I would try to get some people to join us. She said okay and that she could get a friend to join as well.

That afternoon, I sent her a message confirming the game. She didn't answer till a good while later and her message was: "Can't play tonight cos supporting the Oscars." If you can't imagine the impact this message had on me, let me tell you that everyone else in the world can tell me that he or she cannot play tonight without drawing any adverse reaction from me, but she alone cannot. Why? Because she was the one who initiated the game causing me to go into all that trouble to message people! The word for my state of mind at that moment, my friends, is "咋到". I was annoyed and I told her so. Probably she felt that her behaviour was not so nice, for she later agreed to come down for the game.

Finally, all I have to say is that these little interludes, and this post reminds me of the title of one of Shakespeare's plays -- Much Ado About Nothing. In the end too many people couldn't come down for the game and I called it off. So how does this leave me? A little wiser, I hope.

Profs and pet animals

Some professors have their favourite animals, which recur time and again in their lectures in examples to prove a point.

Torts lecturer Prof Kumar loved to bring up his pet lion and discuss the interesting things that could happen between law students and professors' pet lions. "Now if I were to bring my hypothetical pet lion into the LT, and it were to accidentally eat up a hypothetical law student, I could be liable for negligence, even though I did not ask my lion to eat that student."

Trusts lecturer, venerable Prof Tan frequently mentions a pet tortoise. Named... Priscilla.

"If I were to create a trust for the maintenance of my pet tortoise, the courts might not know which tortoise I was talking about. The object of the trust would not be certain. But If I were to create a trust in favour of my tortoise, named Priscilla, then the courts would be able to determine which tortoise I was in fact talking about. "

Or:

"Even if the trust was improperly constituted, the object of the trust would still exist. Priscilla would still be very much alive and going: 'Kang-kung, kang-kung', and would still need to be fed."

Your soul and your humanity

NUSS is going to organise some masquerade, and a publicity poster appeared in the poster sleeve of the lift at my block sometime yesterday evening.

It was not a good poster. Granted, the picture of an eyeless, ghostly-white mask plastered over the poster arrests your attention, but for all the wrong reasons. That unnatural viasge evokes mild shock, to begin with, followed by revulsion. When one's nerves steadied somewhat, one might sneak covert looks at the apparition and discover that the poster was actually about some masquerade party. What is the good of a poster that causes the viewers to associate your event with negative emotions? We are being a little conterproductive here, aren't we?

Sometime later the same day when I stepped into the same lift, I saw that the creepy poster was now a crumpled wad in its plastic sleeve as if someone had extracted it, balled it up and stuffed it back in. It was quietly removed the next day. An accident? Or just someone's natural but unfortunate reaction towards the poster?

A pale mask with dark eyeholes has such an unnerving effect probably because it is such a hideous parody of humanity. It is something that looks vaguely human, yet is not. It is like a person without a soul, a mere zombie, a corpse. As eyes are a window to the soul, so is a face with dark spaces instead of eyes remarkably like a soulless body. Similarly a person without a face evokes the same feelings of dread and horror. Korean or Japanese horror movies sometimes portray a woman with a face totally obscured by her hair, a sight to unnerve the thrill-seeking viewer. Heck, I remember when once I sneaked up onto a roomful of friends draped in a white sheet with my hair loose and obscuring my face, people told me later that the effect was truly horrifying.

It is the sight of a thing that might once have been a person, the notion of perverted humanity that casts its pall of dread on the average beholder. It is a fear that goes beyond fear of death, for death is at least a respectable release from a fleshly body, where the soul floats off to the great ever after, wherein it hovers in those unearthly regions and showers benedictions on the still-living (generally speaking, not being limited to the view of any particular religion). I suppose what we really fear is the notion of a spark of human consciousness, unnaturally trapped in something that was once-human and yearning for release. Does this mean that subconsciously, we realise that being deprived of our humanity is a fate worse than death?

A kindred spirit out there

Lois McMaster Bujold has the most delightful and playful manner of relating a story, and in language with nuances that you just want to linger over, as you might over scent of fine coffee.

I have found a kindred spirit who apparently loves Ms Bujold's work too, although I have never met this unknown fan, and probably will not know anything more about her other than her name. I found two library receipts in the past two Bujold books that I borrowed, both bearing her name: 'XXX, Miss', indicating that she, like me had borrowed the books on separate (probably impulsive) occasions; and, judging from the date, just shortly before the examinations last semester, or at least during the reading period. Rabid Bujold fan. I can sympathise with such a person, though.

I remember her name. How interesting it would be if I happened to run into her in person one day and perhaps see her name written on a nametag or something 'XXX, Miss'. I could then casually ask: "You don't happen to have read Lois McMaster's books from the NUS library before, do you?", and maybe her eyes would widen in surprise and she would ask: "How d'you know?"

Regret in hindsight

Have you ever looked back on an incident in retrospect and wish that you had behaved differently? The incident that I am referring to here is only a minor glitch occurring in the afternoon, which I promptly put behind me, but upon revisiting it wish that I had acted differently. I wish that I had at least protested, at least challenged the cashier at the co-op, at least asked her to prove where in the world did she get this 'rule' if she did not pull it out of a hat on an impulse.

I wanted to buy a textbook when I saw a guy from my year also buying the same textbook. I offered to help him buy the book as well, using my co-op card which offers a 5% discount, translating into a saving of $4 per book. So I picked up his book and mine and prepared to pay. But when I told the cashier that I had the discount card she told me that each customer could only enjoy the discount on one textbook. That was a new one. I was stunned, but in my consternation meekly complied and handed the book back to that guy. I got my discount, he didn't, but no one thought anymore about it.

But where did she get that 'rule'? On what was it based? Whose authority? Where was it written? No one ever showed me any contract when I was applying for the card. No one ever informed me that this rule had been implemented sometime between the last year and this. Belatedly I checked the back of my card. No mention of the limitation.

Why, why as a law student had I not reacted quicker? demanded proof? enforced my rights? challenged this unauthorised rule-making? faced off the cashier? Even if the cashier hadn't made the rule herself and was only taking orders from whoever was in charge there, I'd like to see how this figure of authority thought that he/she could change the rules unilaterally.

From a legal standpoint, if we wanted to construe this co-op card as a contract, several things must be said: 1) This is not a privilege granted by the co-op to students, but a contract entered into with consideration provided on both sides (I paid $10 for the card). 2) If there were any such conditions and limitations to this agreement it should have been presented to me at the outset; any later unilateral (meaning a one-sided) changes to my detriment without providing me any compensation are invalid.

But so what? So what if the co-op owner had absolutely no right to do this? Was I to loudly protest at the scene, demand to see the manager and create a big row, not to mention embarras that poor guy who probably would not have minded paying the extra $4? Fat lot of good this belated realisation did, but if this realisation had come sooner would I have acted on it? It would have been messy, very messy. But there is never a quick solution to disagreements, law student or no.