On the MBA life (Michaelmas edition)

So… Time happened, and it basically made the past 3 months completely disappear. I am (unbelievably, already) 3 months into the MBA program at Cambridge. How did this happen?! How did everything go by so fast?! What have I even learned so far?!

I can’t answer the first two (more philosophical) questions, but I can take a stab at the third. 

Lessons from a 3-months-in MBA student:

1. Time is an illusion; MBA time doubly-so (to paraphrase my favourite author and *ahem* fellow Cantabrigian alumnus, Mr Douglas Adams). An hour in Management Science seems to last FOR-E-VER, but an hour at a formal hall or in exam just fly by. The first week of the term felt overwhelming and strangely unbearably lonely (because you’re actually the loneliest when you’re surrounded by strangers), but the last few vanished in a blink, because, cheesy as it sounds, those strangers had become friends.
2. Turns out that remembering how to ride a bike is like remembering how to ride a bike. I haven’t gotten on a bicycle since I was a kid, so was relieved to discover that it’s as easy as the saying says it’s supposed to be. (I was especially thankful not to have to re-learn riding a bicycle because my bike education was brief but very painful: I accumulated an assortment of bruises of various sizes and colours all the way from my ankles to my knees during the week that I decided I would master a two-wheeled bicycle. I must have been one resilient 7 year old, because if I kept falling off bicycles now at age 30, I’d just give up and call it a day.)
3. I’m in a diverse, international class of more than 150 students and this term took core classes in business analytics, accounting, corporate finance, organisational behaviour and management praxis, but the biggest learnings that I’ve had have been internal. Whether they’ve been validations of things I’ve sort of always known about myself or completely new realizations: I’ve learned a lot about myself as a team member, manager, leader and follower, and it’s all come from my classmates. I have the ability to be more creative, assertive, diplomatic, hard-working, laid-back, structured, tactful and strategic than I gave myself credit for. Not all of these learnings are new or shocking, but I’ve had the unique opportunity to test myself in unchartered waters with a completely new set of people, and it was interesting to see the results.
4. Studying is easier than work. This observation is definitely a function of where I worked before the MBA, because the MBA course is unequivocally intense, but 9-5 classes? Project work after classes? Study group meetings? Late night revision? I was able to take it all in stride because it was still less time and effort than what the peak periods at my current job were like.
5. Everyone is braver, smarter and kinder than they realise. My classmates and I made the journey here for different reasons and from different backgrounds, but we made that huge and critical choice to be here. We all left well-paying jobs, loving partners and/or children, the security and comfort of our homes and cities and countries and what we knew and loved, in the pursuit of the MBA. Everyone has interesting things to say, and different perspectives and experiences - you’re basically never at risk of your ego growing too large. If you ever feel like you’re starting to become big-headed and need a dose of humble pie, just talk to the person next to you – anyone, at random – and wait to come to the realization that everyone here is exceedingly intelligent, and most of the time, in different ways than you are. Everyone has something different to bring to the table, and that something is usually pretty darned impressive. And as an MBA class, we’re kind, which is perhaps the class trait that I value the most. No one is out to make sure their grades are better than everyone else’s; everyone collaborates. Different students ran study tutorials for the entire class to get everyone up to speed in the various classes, people posted their class notes online; any information that one person got from a professor was immediately shared with the larger group. It’s humbling to consider which classmate missed the birth of his child to be in this MBA program; which classmate is a bona fide rocket scientist; which classmate had never done finance a day in his life but still shared his corporate finance notes with the entire class because he had taken diligent notes throughout the term and knew that not everyone made it to every class.
6. And finally, an on-going lesson. I’m not sure what to title it: Long Distance is Hard? Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder But is Not Pleasant to Go Through? Patience is the Most Under-rated Virtue? To say it’s been difficult is an understatement, but it’s an understatement that will have to suffice given the lack of any word that captures the magnitude of how hard it's been. The unpolished, unvarnished truth? It’s difficult when you’re apart from your partner in life. It’s difficult feeling lonely. It's difficult  – it's heartbreaking – knowing that on the other side of the world, the person you miss is feeling even lonelier than you are, and that it's because of a decision that you made, that you wanted to be here, that you wanted to do this. It’s difficult not being able to reassure that person, in person, that the more people you meet without him, the more you realise he is your favourite human being in the world. It’s difficult living your life, making new friends, and having new experiences when all the photos and emails and instant messages in the world can’t make your new experiences come to life, can’t make your new friends more than faces in a photograph. It’s so difficult that I haven’t even let myself feel the full extent of it, because I wouldn’t be able to keep moving if I stop and feel the sadness, the guilt. I have no solid learning for this one; everything I do in this realm is trial and error. Some things work, and some definitely don’t. But if I had to pick a lesson: it would be, ironically, to do this with someone you cannot live without. Do long-distance only with someone that you love with every fiber of your being. It’s what makes it difficult, but it’s also what ensures that you will come back together no matter what: because you can’t not.

Will soon be saying goodbye to Cambridge for a few weeks. Michaelmas term, it's been a crazy ride, but I’m out!

On my Kindle

I have been a voracious reader for as long as I can remember.

As a child, I fulfilled all the stereotypical characteristics of a bookworm: I was an introverted kid who was more comfortable hiding behind a book than interacting with people; I was severely short-sighted and started wearing (extremely unstylish – thanks Umi) thick glasses at the age of 8 years old (an affliction that was somewhat alleviated when I started wearing contact lenses at 11 years old but only recently rectified by life-changing implantable collamer lens eye surgery at 28). One of my earliest childhood memories is “reading” Ladybird picture books out loud to a coterie of stuffed animals (in all likelihood, was less “reading” than “making shit up”). I still remember how jubilant I was on the day I raced through a Famous Five omnibus of four books in one day, setting a new personal record for myself. (This seemed like a big deal at the time because it had never before occurred to me to set reading records for myself. Having tasted how good it felt to set and break meaningless records, I promptly broke my own record the very next day and finished a Secret Seven omnibus of five books in one day, proving that I am completely capable of being unnecessarily competitive with myself.)

Actually found the exact versions of the two omnibuses online, in case anyone was wondering how serious I am when I say this is one of my clearest childhood memories.

I used to read EVERYWHERE: on the toilet (TMI?), while brushing my teeth, in the shower (is possible but inconvenient: have made all kinds of shower contraptions to try to prop my books up), while walking (also possible… if you don’t mind wiping out spectacularly now and then), in various positions in bed (on stomach, on back, on side, pillow under book, pillow under chin: the possibilities are endless), and while eating (large hardcover books are ideal for if you must eat with cutlery; if you’re reading a soft cover book, just eat with one hand and use the other to hold up your book). I have read books in the garden, under the bed, while upside down on couches (for reasons inexplicable to my adult self, I actually remember reading a lot of books in this position while I was a child – legs on the couch back or armrest and head on the floor), sprawled on the carpet in front of the TV, in the car. Pretty much any place that it’s possible to read, I have read.

Now that I’m an adult, not only do I still read in all the above places, but I’ve also added more locations: in the cab on the way to work, in the LRT on the way back from work, in my walk-in wardrobe when I’m getting dressed and putting on my make-up. I select what handbag to carry based on the thickness of whatever book I’m reading at that point in time, because I try to never be without a book to read (so for a good few months, while I was reading George R.R. Martin’s insanely thick A Song of Ice and Fire novels, I was limited to choosing from my largest and lightest handbags).

Given my propensity to read and need to constantly carry around a book like a security blanket, it is actually pretty shameful that I took so long to get on board with the Kindle. I resisted for the longest time because I really do love the tactile sensation of reading physical books: I like turning pages, I like the rustle of paper, I like inscribing my name into a book (which I do religiously every time I finish one, along with the month I finished reading it and the cities or countries I read it in). I like buying books and adding to my library, and I like colour-coding my library, even though Alman says it is ridiculously inefficient. But then… I got the Kindle for my 30^th birthday, AND I HAVE BEEN CONVERTED.

Every single book I’m reading has instantly become tiny and light – literally a page large and weighing less than 500 grams. I can buy any book I want! Instantly! Without having to go to Kinokuniya and putting my name down on a waiting list if the book isn’t in stock! I can read in the dark, because I can adjust the light settings! I can (and do!)  have a whole library of books in my Kindle so I’m not limited to only reading whatever book I’m carrying with me that day! (I’m currently veering between reading The Emperor of All Maladies, a surprisingly interesting non-fiction history of cancer, and re-reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy when I want something a little lighter.) The battery life lasts for weeks (can confirm this – I read from my Kindle every day). I can highlight the words I don’t know, and have the dictionary look up definitions for me! I can highlight particularly beautiful or relevant passages for future reference! I don’t have to deal with pesky bookmarks (which I always end up losing) or doggy-ear-ing my pages, because my Kindle automatically remembers where I stopped reading! And best of all – I can fit my Kindle into almost ALL my favourite handbags! I almost fainted when I found out my Kindle fits into my small Chanel flap. SMALL FLAP. KINDLE. Even typing out those words makes me feel giddy.

One of the first books I read when I got my Kindle was the 900+ page Middlemarch, which I have been trying and failing to read, for the past 14 years, since I was 16 years old. I’m not even exaggerating – I’ve been trying to read this ever since my favourite teacher, who taught IGCSE English Literature, recommended it to me. But no matter what edition you try to buy, the Middlemarch book is like a brick. I couldn’t carry it around with me constantly, and so I never made it past the first few chapters. And then I got my Kindle and finished it in 3 weeks. It’s been on my To Read list for the past FOURTEEN YEARS…. And I finished it in 3 weeks on my Kindle. TECHNOLOGY. AMAZING. The only thing I’m really missing now is having a real, physical book added to my library every time I finish a book on my Kindle, but even this is surmountable – I will be purchasing the physical copies of the books that I like and want to keep after I read it on my Kindle.

Reading while eating has become a total breeze – I’m now free to use cutlery with all my meals, like a civilized person. And I have finally, FINALLY achieved my life-long dream of being able to read while in the shower (may or may not be achievable for you as well depending on your bathroom configuration: I can do this with my Kindle propped up on the sink, having glass shower panels, and sufficient distance to reach out and touch the screen when I want to turn the pages). (I feel that Kindle is missing out by not advertising this more as a key selling point.)

TECHNOLOGY 1 PAPER 0.

On Terry Pratchett

Intensely, profoundly and immensely saddened by the death of Sir Terry Pratchett. I have written about him before in this blog, and have even lamented the impending void in my life that would (inevitably) come when I finished the Discworld books and Sir Terry passed away.

That day was yesterday, and my world feels a little dimmer today.

I am intensely, profoundly and immensely grateful for Pratchett’s 40 Discworld books. I am grateful for some of my favourite characters in literature (Death, the Librarian, Sam Vimes, Lord Vetinari, Susan Sto Helit, Carrot Ironfoundersson). I am intensely, profoundly and immensely grateful for the humor and warmth and humanity that is infused in all of Pratchett’s work, because Pratchett knew situations can be silly, people can be foolish and humour can be hilarious, but that doesn’t mean that the story can't also be sharp, intelligent, nuanced and moving. 

I started reading the Discworld books because they were funny, but I kept reading them because they touched me.

My favourite Discworld quotes:

 “I meant,” said Ipslore bitterly, “What is there in this world that truly makes living worthwhile?" 
Death thought about it. 
CATS, he said eventually. CATS ARE NICE.

- Sourcery (1988)

Give a man a fire and he's warm for a day, but set fire to him and he's warm for the rest of his life.

- Jingo (1997)

“And what would humans be without love?”

RARE, said Death.

- Sourcery (1988)

Just erotic. Nothing kinky. It's the difference between using a feather and using a chicken.

- Eric (1990)

Five exclamation marks, the sure sign of an insane mind.

- Reaper Man (1991)

Time is like a drug. Too much of it kills you.

- Small Gods (1992)

 It is said that your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. That is true, it's called Life.

- The Last Continent (1998)

“No it's not!” said Constable Visit. “Atheism is a denial of a god.”

“Therefore It Is A Religious Position,' said Dorfl. 'Indeed, A True Atheist Thinks Of The Gods Constantly, Albeit In Terms of Denial. Therefore, Atheism Is A Form Of Belief. If The Atheist Truly Did Not Believe, He Or She Would Not Bother To Deny.'

- Feet of Clay (1996)

WORDS IN THE HEART CANNOT BE TAKEN

- Feet of Clay (1996)

Getting an education was a bit like a communicable sexual disease. It made you unsuitable for a lot of jobs and then you had the urge to pass it on.

- Hogfather (1996)

Don't put your trust in revolutions. They always come around again. That's why they're called revolutions. People die, and nothing changes.

– Nightwatch (2000)

If you trust in yourself ... and believe in your dreams... and follow your star... you'll still get beaten by people who spent their time working hard and learning things and weren't so lazy.

– The Wee Free Men (2003)

“Mistress Weatherwax is the head witch, then, is she?”

“Oh no!” said Miss Level, looking shocked. “Witches are all equal. We don't have head witches. That's quite against the spirit of witchcraft.”

“Oh, I see,” said Tiffany.

“Besides,” Miss Level added, “Mistress Weatherwax would never allow that sort of thing.”

– A Hat Full of Sky (2004)

He was determined to discover the underlying logic behind the universe... which was going to be hard, because there wasn't one.

- Mort (1987)

Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.

– A Hat Full of Sky (2004)

"All right," said Susan, "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need ... fantasies to make life bearable."

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little-"

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

"So we can believe the big ones?"

YES. JUSTICE. DUTY. MERCY. THAT SORT OF THING.

"They're not the same at all!"

YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.

"Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—"

MY POINT EXACTLY.

- Hogfather (1996)

You will be very missed.

On MBA applications

So after months of preparing, researching and obsessing like only a truly Type A Person With An Obsessive Personality is able to, I am happy to report that (a) I’m officially done with my MBA applications, and (b) I’m going to Cambridge.

I feel the need to make some record of this process since it took up such a large chunk of my life over the past few months. From researching different MBA programs to preparing for the GMAT to actually taking the GMAT to writing, ripping up and re-writing essays to shooting video essays to refining CVs to preparing for interviews: the application is a real marathon, and the sheer amount of effort involved in the process itself weeds out anyone who isn’t serious about doing an MBA. After much blood (figurative), sweat (metaphorical) and tears (very occasional – I blame PMS and stress), I can narrow the key milestones down to:

1. Research

As someone who naturally relies on data (and lots of it) to make decisions, I researched the shit of the programs I was applying to: school websites, YouTube channels, GMAT forums (beattheGMAT and GMATclub in particular), official business school blogs, unofficial MBA student blogs (from current students to fellow applicants documenting their journey), business school rankings (there are many, and each uses different metrics to calculate rankings) to advisor blogs and talking to alumni. I may have totally gotten away carried away with this, and more information is not necessarily better (after a certain point). But essentially, what you need to know is what deadlines to adhere to, what GMAT scores are required, and how the program is structured. 

Also, I am totally weird and at this point gave my project a name (Cronos: leader of the titans… cause you know, because an MBA is supposed to create future leaders – cheese alert) and created excel sheets setting out the timeline and deadlines for each application. 

2. The GMAT

This was, for me, the most nerve-wracking aspect of their entire application process. Not an aptitude test like the SAT (which I didn’t study for anyway because I was too busy with my A-Levels); not completely dependent on knowledge - requires much more strategy because you’re penalized for missing questions; and sneakily computer adaptive, so it adjusts the difficulty of questions depending on what kinds of questions you’re getting right, which means it really doesn't matter how many questions you answer correctly - it matters how difficult those questions are. The GMAT tests your quantitative skills (oh hey again integers, powers and roots, linear and quadratic equations, geometry, algebra, statistics, triangle and circle formulae, speed/distance/time problems and the bane of my existence, probabilities), without a calculator (!!), as well as verbal skills (sentence correction, reading comprehension and critical reasoning). Throw in an essay, analytical interpretation of graphs and data, add strict time limits. Result? A lot of stress. 

For Quant, I followed a strict schedule, systematically revising all the GMAT's math topics (some of which I hadn’t thought about since high school) using video lessons from Magoosh. (Different online prep programs teach the same GMAT topics in different ways, and it really depends on your personal preference. I signed up with Magoosh after trying out The Economist’s GMAT Tutor on a trial basis. The Economist's Tutor wasn’t video-based and I realized I really needed to have someone talk me through math problems in video forms to visualize what the hell was going on.) I mapped out my entire study schedule on my calendar, going through a few topics a day, and set aside the last month for straight-up live-and-breathe-quant problem solving (from Kaplan pdf study guides with problem sets that I downloaded) and practice test taking (a GMAT session is 4 hours, so the test is also an exercise in mental stamina; there are tons of free tests online though the most accurate are the official mba.com tests). I revised a set number of quant topics every evening for a few months, and pretty much all my spare time was used for quant problems (I carried around a notebook and questions, and solved questions on the way to work, in the plane on business trips, before going to bed).

In contrast, the Verbal section came very easily to me, and I actually enjoyed preparing for it. I didn’t have to revise anything, which made sense - unlike Quant’s high school math topics, people actually use their verbal skills on a daily basis. My focus was just to familiarize myself with the questions and the GMAT's way of thinking - the test definitely has a preference for a certain kind of language. I solved Magoosh’s practice problems during all the spare time I had when I wasn’t able to whip out a pen and paper to do quant problems, and solved problems on my phone (Magoosh’s questions are accessible on phones which was one of the main reasons I chose to study with them).

I did practice tests every week for the last month, paid attention to what I got wrong and why, took a day off work to take the test and came close enough to 700 to satisfy myself. I emailed my score to each school and asked if I should still apply, and got the green light from all.

3. The Application

I submitted 3 applications to 3 different schools, all of which asked differently-slanted essay questions, all of which used different CV templates, one of which asked for a 3 minute elevator pitch video essay, and all of which required application fees (very ouch - the application process is not cheap).

CV: brush up, refine, send to colleagues for their opinion, and proof-read a bajillion times, because there will be typos in there.

Essays: were different for each school, even when the questions were similar. Each school has an angle and a type of culture/candidate they’re gunning for – having done the research (see #1), you should at this point know what that is. All my essays were specifically tailored for each school – it’s really not just a matter of changing the school name. I used an LBS alumna admissions counsellor to help give me a perspective on my strengths and weaknesses, and to advise me on the essays. We went through about 5 very extensive edits of each essay (and in total, there were more than 10 essays), and I think it was totally worth it. She’s not paid to be nice, and sometimes she ripped my sentences to shreds, but with less than 500 words to sell yourself, you can’t afford to be sensitive about it. I shot a video essay in front of the Petronas Twin Towers (looking back, was not the wisest decision to spend lunch hour in a suit jacket in the blistering hot sun) and was extremely fortunate to have my very patient husband shoot and edit it for me.

Referees: were given the heads up months beforehand, and references were submitted well ahead of deadlines without any problems. I don’t think people generally have a problem being referees, but I do think they have a problem with last minute deadlines. All applications are now submitted online, so if you know your referee isn’t the most tech-savvy person in the world (one of mine really isn’t), encourage them to submit early. I also don't think it matters how important/high-ranking your referee is. I didn't see my reference letters, but I'd imagine there's more sincerity and enthusiasm that will come through when your referee has worked closely with you and is really rooting for you to be successful. I'd take that over a reference from a Group CEO or MD anyday.   

Also, online applications in general are extremely annoying, because they count characters, not words, and because Murphy’s Law says the internet will fuck up just when you pray it that it doesn’t. I submitted one application using extremely sketchy internet in Cappadocia in Turkey; and another while sitting in a car outside Sid’s on a Friday night. I do not recommend either of these methods, unless you enjoy near-heart attacks.

The remaining questions on the application: are not insignificant. I treated all the other random questions with as much care as the essay questions, because your CV, essays and question responses are going to be read together, and you can’t sound inconsistent.

4. The Interview(s)

There are online resources for the different kinds of questions and interviews each business school has (one of the best databases is at Clearadmit). All my interviews were similar, but one was on Skype, one was on the phone, and one was in person and on campus. I prepared responses to every conceivable question I could be asked, had different stories on hand around different central strengths and weaknesses that I wanted to highlight, and tailored each answer to each specific school’s ethos. I didn’t have time to practice with other people or in front of a mirror because work (the thing I was doing in addition to all this!) was piling up, but if I had to do it again, I’d factor in more time for that.

And after all that... I put it out of my mind, and stopped worrying about it. The waiting was made easier because I’m naturally discreet and don’t count my chickens before they hatch, so no one (other than my bosses, a few select colleagues, close friends and family) really knew I was applying. I got my offer from Imperial early on, in December, so was lucky to have that as a back-up. I got my offer email from Cambridge when I was half-asleep, and read it in a haze of grogginess. I got a congratulatory call from Oxford a day later, on a weekday evening. I'm not an overly emotionally expressive person, so each offer just made me feel a very quiet sense of happiness that all my work had paid off. I think I'm still at that stage where it's all still sinking in, because it is definitely surreal to have spent close to a year working towards a goal, and finally achieving it.

So Cambridge: see you in September! In the meantime, I’ll be chilling out and not doing any sort of GMAT or any business school application-related work ever.

On the Proust Questionnaire

Have decided to re-take this again when I'm 40 years old and see how my answers have changed (if at all).

 

1. What is your idea of perfect happiness?

Basking in the sun with a good book on a beautiful beach; having a swig of an ice cold drink and going for a dip in the sea to cool off when it gets too hot, and then repeating the process until sunset. I could honestly die happy while napping on the beach in between chapters and swims.

2. What is your greatest fear?

Inadequacy, failure and geckos (ugh, geckos).

3. What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

My thin skin (metaphorically speaking).

4. What is the trait you most deplore in others?

Lack of consideration towards others and rudeness. I am a huge believer in the rule that you can gauge a person’s character based on how they interact with waiters, servants and cashiers.

5. Which living person do you most admire?

My mother, because the older I get the more I begin to realize what a gargantuan responsibility and life undertaking it was to give birth to, raise, educate and civilize five children.

6. What is your greatest extravagance?

Chanel bags, and scented candles. I have a small but carefully curated and impressive collection of both.

7. What is your current state of mind?

Caffeinated.

8. What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

Preaching righteousness, especially when it’s related to religion. Just be good, and do good. There is absolutely no need to preach your apparent virtuousness and piety to the unrighteous in an attempt to get them to be your version of “good”. You look like an asshole when you do it, and I’m pretty sure the higher being you worship wouldn’t want you to be an asshole.

9. On what occasion do you lie?

Sometimes (and only sometimes)… when it avoids hurting other people’s feelings and is about a trivial issue.

10. What do you most dislike about your appearance?

I have very wide feet for my (lack of) height, which I inherited from my maternal grandfather. Ironically, having wide feet has not made me less clumsy (which you’d think it would since I have more surface area on the ground when I walk).

11. Which living person do you most despise?

Ibrahim Ali, President of Perkasa, who embodies everything I despise in the world: far right politics, racism, extremism, wanton and deliberate stupidity and lack of reason, and misogyny.

12. What is the quality you most like in a man?

Wit and humour.

13. What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Wit and humour – I am an equal opportunity liker.

14. Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

As large as I like to think my vocabulary is… I’m afraid the answer to this is “like”. As in the Valley Girl usage, not the adverb.

15. What or who is the greatest love of your life?

My husband.

16. When and where were you happiest?

I don’t really think about happiness in superlatives, because that’s depressing. But a consistently happy part of my day is getting into bed and the few moments before sleep when I am suffocating my husband like a sloth on the last tree branch in the world, because I love sleep and am the world’s clingiest sleeper.

17. Which talent would you most like to have?

Any scrap of effortless, natural musical talent would be great to have, if someone could inject that into me now, please. Unfortunately I am pretty tone deaf and although I studied classical guitar for years I promptly forgot how to read musical notes when I lost my guitar.

18. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Umm… to swap my hobbit feet in for dainty feet?

19. What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Living life every day is an achievement – I don’t think of my achievements in terms of rank. They’re all cumulative, and they’re all an ongoing process for what will be the sum total of my life (and that, I hope, will be a great achievement). It is totally corny and slightly embarrassing to admit, but I really do try to remember to “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle” when I think about achievements: how could you ever measure someone else’s battle against yours? They’re all equally significant and personal.

20. If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?

A fat, pampered, coddled family cat.

21. Where would you most like to live?

Hawaii. Based almost solely on what I saw of it in The Descendants.

22. What is your most treasured possession?

My stuffed toy Mickey Mouse, who I have had since I was 1 year old. He is (literally) irreplaceable and so old that he is falling apart at his seams.

23. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Being responsible for something that has caused irreparable, irreversible heartache to someone you care about.

24. What is your favorite occupation?

Reading. Preferably while eating, but will also settle for on a couch with a blanket.

25. What is your most marked characteristic?

My totally sarcastic and deprecating sense of humour. (Not really, but I have no idea how to answer this.)

26. What do you most value in your friends?

Kindness and fun-loving-ness.

27. Who are your favorite writers?

Douglas Adams, Charles Bukowski and Virginia Woolf.

28. Who is your hero of fiction?

Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird and Sam Vimes from the Discworld series.

29. Which historical figure do you most identify with?

Cleopatra, because she was a badass feminist.

30. Who are your heroes in real life?

People who dedicate their lives to a meaningful cause and make sacrifices to do it. I have the utmost respect for people who run charities, work in the Peace Corps, work for Teach for America/Malaysia etc: I’d love to do that, but I have grown too accustomed to leading the not inexpensive lifestyle that I lead.

31. What are your favorite names?

Pandora, Isadora, Inara, Lorelei, Raphael. If I decide that these names are inappropriate for my future children, I plan to use them on cats.

32. What is it that you most dislike?

Geckos. Haven’t we already covered this?

33. What is your greatest regret?

“I do not regret the things I did, but those I did not do”, said Lucas from Empire Records.

34. How would you like to die?

While sleeping, in my bed. Though this would be quite terrifying for Alman to wake up to a dead me, at least I’ll have passed away doing one of my favourite things (sleeping) and without being aware that I’ve passed away.

35. What is your motto?

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

On turning 30

 So… I turned 30 last week. That’s a bizarre sentence to type, because most of the time I feel like I’m perpetually 19 years old (I have no idea why). It’s even more bizarre that 30 just snuck up on me surreptitiously. I had always imagined that 30 would arrive with an impending sense of doom or huge fanfare or a sudden emergence of wrinkles and white hair overnight and an existential crisis about how old I am but… nope. I have been too busy getting on with my life to worry about what age I am, and I feel pretty good about it.

It is very apt, then, that I was reading Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay on my birthday present, the (TOTALLY AWESOME, NEW LOVE OF MY LIFE, DESERVES OWN POST ABOUT IT) Kindle Paperwhite that Goose gave me, and Gay says this about her 20’s:

Girls reminds me of how terrible my twenties were—being lost and awkward, having terrible sex with terrible people, being perpetually broke, eating ramen. I am not nostalgic for that time. I had no money and no hope. Like the girls in Girls, I was never really on the verge of destitution but I lived a generally crappy life. There was nothing romantic about the experience. I understand why many young women find the show so relatable, but watching each episode makes me slightly nauseous and exceptionally grateful to be in my thirties.

It resonated with me, not because I had a particularly terrible time being 20-something (for the record, I also did not have terrible sex with terrible people while being terribly broke), but because I really do feel like I’m in a much more enviable position now than I was at any point in my 20’s.

 

In the grand old tradition of lazy writing and year-end/start-year lists…

 

Why Being 30 is Awesome:

 

1. I give less fucks.

And it is truly liberating. I am a pretty high-strung, tightly-wound individual. When I was younger, this meant I used to care a lot about things that honestly, in hindsight, didn’t really matter in the long run. (To quote super economist JM Keynes: “in the long run we are all dead.”) I used to worry about what people thought of me, about making a bad impression, about saying the wrong thing, about coming across as unintelligent. Gradually, I learned to distinguish between what matters and what doesn’t; to follow the principle that it is better to have said and done than to regret not saying and not doing; and to prioritize my fucks accordingly. If it doesn’t matter, and it holds me back: fuck it. I think (and I hope I’m right) that if you have conviction; and logic, reason, and integrity to back you up: you have to just keep doing you, and tune out the background noise. I now give fewer shits (metaphorically, not constipation-ally), less fucks and generally care less about things that aren’t important to me, things I cannot control, and the people to whom I’m not important.

2. I’m more comfortable in my own skin. (Literally.)

This confession can totally be chalked up to me being in equal parts insecure and an unfashionable vainpot (the most unfortunate combination ever), but throughout my 20’s, I used to hate being seen without make-up, I was perpetually anxious about the way I dressed, and I have been in a constant battle with my hair since I was 13 years old. My relationship with my appearance has improved throughout my 20’s, but ironically, it has improved because now (and this is also partly related to #1), I generally give less fucks. My physical attributes are never going to magically transform into something different, so you do what you can with what you have, and call it a day. That isn’t to say I don’t care at all anymore (you can pry my NARS Orgasm blush from my cold dead hands… after you apply some on my cheeks so I can go to my grave looking rosy), but it means that I DO now like how I look even without make-up. I wear make-up because it’s fun and it makes me happy, but not because I’m going to freak out and not function in life if I’m not wearing it. It’s taken me almost 30 years to be friends with the person I see in the mirror; sometimes her hair still looks crazy and her boyfriend jeans are too baggy, but we both don’t really let it bother us that much.

3. I’m financially stable.

Especially compared to my teens (when my income was totally dependent on my parents, for which I will always be grateful; but being the eldest child of five means you never have very much disposable income) and even my early 20’s (as a fresh graduate). I’m now fiscally comfortable, and can indulge in whatever strange and weird spending habits I so desire, whenever I desire (books, bags, and travel, mainly) without having to answer to anyone. I’m half of a Dual Income, No Kids Yet couple, have life insurance, savings, pay my taxes and bills (mostly) on time and hopefully, early this year, will become a joint home owner with Goose. We’re going to own a house?! That’s pretty financially stable.

4. I have a great support system.

This, for me, is probably the most meaningful difference. When I look back on my early 20’s, the period after graduating from university, I remember being achingly, suffocatingly lonely. Most of my family was in Brunei; my then-boyfriend was in the US; my high school and university friends were scattered around the world finishing up their degrees or starting their careers.

 

When I moved to KL, I literally only knew one person whom I counted as a friend, and I hadn’t seen or been in touch with her for 5 years. This probably wouldn’t have been such a big deal if I was naturally gregarious, but I’m not. I’m not outgoing. I tend to be cautiously quiet around people I don’t know. I don’t think I make a stellar first impression and can sometimes come across as cold. And I did encounter more than a little culture shock when I moved to KL, which made me wonder if I could find anyone I could really connect with, if the culture just seemed so alien. It was lonely, because I remember being very alone.

 

During my first few weekends in KL, I slept all day during the weekends, because I had nothing else to do and no one to do it with. I think I cried on occasion, but I can’t remember because I have mostly blocked it out and because tears are pretty unproductive. I fulfilled my social interaction quota at work – my colleagues were kind and hilarious, but they were significantly older than me and didn’t really want to be hanging out with me outside of the office – and via Skype and chats with my far-flung family members.

 

I plodded along with the dogged, and fortunately for me, not deluded, determination that I was going to give this city a try for a year or two, and see what happened. So what has happened now is that I am no longer lonely. I have best friends, good friends, and acquaintances in KL. I have people to call in an emergency, people to go out with, people to have lunch with. If I sleep in all day during the weekend, which, I must admit, still happens on occasion – I do it knowing that when I wake up, my husband will be in the living room playing video games, waiting for me to wake up, so we can have the lunch that we had delivered from a home delivery service because we are lazy. It is incredibly comforting to be so not lonely, and so happy.

 

 

QED: 30’s > 20’s.

 

 

On feminism

Feminism is one of those topics that I get intensely, superbly worked up about, and as a result, when I try to explain it, all the clarity and succinctness (hah) that normally manifests in my writing or speaking immediately disappears in a puff of pink smoke and I end up trying to write or say a million thoughts at once.

That is my disclaimer. I will now proceed to list out my thoughts about this as coherently as I can.

I am a feminist.

(Duh, right?) I feel like I should be upfront about this. Gender equality is a concept in which I believe very, very strongly.

If you don’t believe that people should not be defined by their genders, that people should not be limited or constrained by society because of what kind of genitals they happen to be born with; if you believe one gender is entitled to more rights than the other: you are a terrible human being, and you should know that is a fact, not an opinion.

But if you, like me, also believe in gender equality, “Why, Iman,” you may ask me, “don’t you call yourself a humanist and be fair about it?” That would cover the equality issue, right?  

The simple reason is that life is inherently already unfair. It’s great that you would want these conceptual terms to be fair to both genders, but unfortunately, the ship of fairness has sailed and crashed into an iceberg a la the Titanic.

Referring to the concept of gender equality as feminism reminds everyone that we live in an entire world (not just a society, not just a country) that has been built to favour males. Even if the males in question didn’t ask for it.

The simple truth is that being male (like being white in many places in the world, like being Malay in Malaysia, like being rich in… umm… just about anywhere), always and inherently grants you a privilege. Calling feminism feminism makes you remember that while the end goal is a balanced, equal society for both genders, it’s females who are disadvantaged in this system, and female rights, on the most part, that need to be addressed.

(For those who are super well-versed in feminist theory – there is actually a whole other school of thought that believes that the term feminism excludes transgendered and transsexual people, who can be even more disadvantaged and marginalized than females by the world we live in. This is something I’m still learning more about, and thinking about how to reconcile this fact with the concept of feminism. For now though – I am fighting my own homeground battles. I don’t wish to exclude others who are fighting their own battles, but for now I can say that I am a feminist who also cares strongly about gay, bisexual, transgendered, transsexual and queer issues.)

Why am I a feminist?

Do you remember the moment you had an epiphany about the way the world works? For me, it was when I discovered the existence of the concept of feminism, and immediately following that, the realization that the world that I was living in was a patriarchal one. (To people who know me in real life and know I am always harping about “the patriarchy”: it literally means “a system controlled by men.” But isn’t it true? THE ENTIRE WORLD is a patriarchy.) And it was like a light bulb went on in my head.

For as long as I can remember, I have felt this burning, angry feeling inside me about being a girl, or specifically, about not being a boy. When I was growing up, it felt like the boys could do anything they wanted! The boys were never limited! It was constantly inferred or announced, subtly or directly, that boys were better, faster, stronger, and freer. No one ever told my boy cousins to stop slouching because it wasn’t ladylike. No one ever tsk tsk-ed that my boy cousins didn’t know how to cook. How come the women in my family had to serve themselves dinner after the men have filled their plates, have to pray behind the men, had to defer to their husbands instead of mutually agreeing as partners? How come, no matter how successful or independent I am, I will always be, in religious law, the ward of a male, be it my father, husband or brother?

If there is one thing in the world I don’t respond well to, it’s illogical restrictions. I fucking rail against illogical restrictions and expectations and  shackles; and I use the term shackles because when I think about it, it actually makes me feel physically suffocated.

When I found out about feminism and the patriarchy, I was finally able to put a name on my anger. That was why I felt so hard done by (in feminist theory terms: marginalized). That was why the world seemed to favour boys. I was playing in a game that was already rigged to let the men win no matter what. Why hadn’t I seen it earlier?

The more aware I make myself about feminism, by reading about feminist theory and feminist news, the more I see the ways in which the world is unfair; even now, when I’m no longer comparing my freedom to my boy cousins’. I’m still catcalled, or hissed at, or whistled at, like an animal, and made to feel unsafe just by crossing a street. I’m still called “dear” affectionately at work, by older male colleagues who no doubt think they’re being paternal, but who are not calling my male peers “dear” and thus are genderizing me. I’m still dealing with the fact that men are just treated differently to women, all around the world. Am I still angry? Yes. I’m always angry. Every day I am reminded that my gender and my feminine appearance gives people preconceived notions about how they can treat me and what to expect of me.

Do feminists hate men?

Some feminists hate some men, some men hate some feminists, some people who may or may not identify as feminists hate other people who may or may not identify as feminists. But is man-hating a pre-requisite to be a feminist? Of course not.

And it’s infuriating and frankly ridiculous that that is what is has come down to. Especially from female celebrities who otherwise seem so empowering. Lady Gaga has been on record as saying “I’m not a feminist! I love men!” Shailene Woodley was asked if she considered herself a feminist and she said “No. Because I love men.”

Brain. Cannot. Compute. What?!?!?!?! That is literally the equivalent of someone asking me if I am a Death Cab for Cutie fan, and me answering “No. Because my feet start to hurt after I wear high heels all day.” IT MAKES NO SENSE. THE TWO ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND YOU ARE SPEAKING THE NONSENSE.

Am I, person who is coincidentally a feminist, going to hate you if you’re a sexist asshole who happens to be a man? Yes. I will. But that is because you are a sexist asshole, not because you are a man. Get it right.

Why do people tend not to call themselves feminists, and why do I care about it?

Because, like Lady Gaga and Shailene Woodley, people tend to equate feminism with man-hatin’. It’s wildly inaccurate, and like I said earlier, infuriating. But I’ve been trying not to be flabbergasted when people who seem to espouse feminist ideals and live by feminist principles tell me that they’re not feminists. Everyone has epiphanies on their own time; everyone has the right to identify with whatever –ism they want. It is unfair to put labels on people who don’t want to be labelled.

I will say though, that I do wish more people would embrace the term. It’s okay, people. It doesn’t mean you have to burn your bra and become a lesbian who doesn't wear makeup, it doesn’t mean you want women to run the world, it doesn’t mean you hate men. It just means you think women deserve the same rights and choices and options as men. That’s literally it. The same freedoms. You can be a feminist who is a housewife, who is supported solely by her husband. You can be a feminist who is a CEO of a Fortune 500 company. There’s no right way to make choices. But what is important is that women will be able to have that choice in the first place. 

I really like something that Ellen Page has said. It's so true.

“I don’t know why people are so reluctant to say they’re feminists. Maybe some women just don’t care. But how could it be any more obvious that we still live in a patriarchal world when feminism is a bad word?”

And, also, I like more stuff that my favourite comedienne Caitlin Moran has written. Also true.

“We need to reclaim the word 'feminism'. We need the word 'feminism' back real bad. When statistics come in saying that only 29% of American women would describe themselves as feminist - and only 42% of British women - I used to think, What do you think feminism IS, ladies? What part of 'liberation for women' is not for you? Is it freedom to vote? The right not to be owned by the man you marry? The campaign for equal pay? 'Vogue' by Madonna? Jeans? Did all that good shit GET ON YOUR NERVES? Or were you just DRUNK AT THE TIME OF THE SURVEY?”  

“These days, however, I am much calmer - since I realised that it’s technically impossible for a woman to argue against feminism. Without feminism, you wouldn’t be allowed to have a debate on women’s place in society. You’d be too busy giving birth on the kitchen floor - biting down on a wooden spoon, so as not to disturb the men’s card game - before going back to quick-liming the dunny. This is why those female columnists in the Daily Mail - giving daily wail against feminism - amuse me. They paid you £1,600 for that, dear, I think. And I bet it’s going in your bank account, and not your husband’s. The more women argue loudly, against feminism, the more they both prove it exists and that they enjoy its hard-won privileges.”

“What is feminism? Simply the belief that women should be as free as men, however nuts, dim, deluded, badly dressed, fat, receding, lazy and smug they might be. Are you a feminist? Hahaha. Of course you are.”