The fake double eyelids

It might've happened in China.

Shortly after I returned, my mother asked me if I'd gone under the scalpel. Of course not! I'd retorted. It's just drooping eyelids! Drooping eyelids! (Repeated so as to banish those doubts.)

I like to tell people I've aged, living in China. See, I used to be mistaken for a secondary school student. Post-China, I get mistaken for a university student.

Drooping upper eyelids, known as ptosis, are caused when the eyelid's "lifting" muscles begin to sag. It's a condition you can be born with, or it can develop from aging, after cataract surgery or from an injury. Although I found that on a completely random website, I'm sure, as mentioned, it's aging that's causing my fake double eyelids.

I've never really linked eyelids to anything, so imagine my confusion when people link it to beauty, for example. Double eyelids prettier than single eyelids - what's that about?

I was speaking to a stranger at a wedding last week, and I was told I didn't look like a local. When I mentioned this to a friend, she blindsided me by bringing up my fake double eyelids. Nationality is linked to eyelids - what's that about?

Well, I'm not expecting my droopy eyelids to get worse any time soon. But when they do, I apparently have a couple of options (that don't involve any loss of blood).

I can either tape them up using see-through, hypo-allergenic bandage tape (apparently conveniently available at pharmacies). I can also wear custom-made spectacles. My optometrist or optician can apparently solder a padded wire on the inside frames of my eyeglasses to hold up a fold of skin. And it's s'posedly even flexible enough to move when blinking! I'd like to see how that works!

Look what else the website threw up! The most common type of under-eye circles are usually an inherited trait like varicose veins and have nothing to do with underlying disease or how much sleep you get. O-HO-HO-HO. O-HO-HO-HO.

The entitled

The owner of Cirque du Soleil has blasted off into space. It's news because the billionaire is only the seventh space tourist - and the first clown - to visit the International Space Station. And why not, if he's willing to fork over the US$35 million.

But the interesting bits come after the red noses and Rocket Man sing-along.

Poetic Social Mission countdown begins as Guy Laliberte prepares for launch of Expedition 21 aboard Soyuz-TMA 16 spacecraft

BAIKONUR COSMODROME, Kazakhstan, Sept. 29 /PRNewswire/ - Guy Laliberte announces confirmed participation of additional world-renowned celebrities and musicians in his Poetic Social Mission, as he prepares for the Expedition 21 launch. A 120-minute global event featuring musical performances by major international artists and the reading of a poetic tale by well-known celebrities, the Poetic Social Mission seeks to raise awareness through artistic illustration of the humanitarian struggles and solutions associated with water.

Huh? It's to spread awareness of the growing shortage of clean water, then? How did that come about? Hmm, I have everything money can buy, I've travelled across the globe, where shall I go on my next vacation? Wait - I haven't been to space! And it'll only cost 35 million! But what if the news hounds find out? I don't want to look like just another bored rich person. I know! I'll read poetry while I'm up there and have a bunch of other rich people back on earth read along, put a Good Cause on it, and I'm all set!

I'm all for artistic endeavours, but somehow I think those millions could be better spent. In 2004, for example, the US city of Brownsville built a desalination plant at the cost of US$21.1 million. It has a capacity of 7.5 million gallons of potable water per day.

Here at home, a Newater plant in Changi that will be able to supply 15% of Singapore's current water needs at full capacity costs S$150 million to build. If I'm not mistaken, it churns out more than 15 million gallons per day.

And over in water-starved Africa, the Makivenzi Water Project in Kenya cost some US$$14,000 to build. The 60-foot deep well and 100,000 litre water tank benefits over 2,000 people in the community.

Of course, that's just number crunching - it'll take more than one entry to discuss the environmental impact of desalination and water renewal. My point is, who knows how many affected by the lack of clean water can benefit if those funds were well spent. But I s'pose if the idea is just to make sure people know that clean water is running out, you wouldn't want to be building new water sources. You'd want to deprive them of it. Maybe it'll be a reading of parched poetry. But that's really only based on the misguided belief that people who know will do something about it, not continue to soak in the jacuzzi and build swimming pools in their backyards and indulge in other water-wasting habits.

Opps, not politically correct to criticise rich folks who need to justify their expensive hobbies by promoting Good Causes, is it?

But heck, they don't even have any qualms supporting Bad Causes.

Polanski faces harsher U.S. justice system than 1977
By Alex Dobuzinskis

LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - If Los Angeles prosecutors succeed in extraditing Roman Polanski from Switzerland to face sentencing for having unlawful sex with a 13-year-old girl, the film director will find that U.S. courts treat his crime more severely than 30 years ago.

If he did do the crime (he did plead guilty, afterall), why should he be let off? Because he won an Oscar? Because he's now "too old" to go to jail? He only managed to become "too old" because he skipped bail and fled to France in 1977 and has been living the high life since then. Why should he enjoy such privileges? If he didn't win an Oscar and have rich and famous friends, would we still be having this discussion?

So his victim has forgiven him. Imagine how much tax payers' money can be saved if perpetrators can get a free pass out of jail if they manage to get their victim(s) to forgive them!

Or maybe his rich supporters are operating on the belief that people with talent, people who can contribute to society, shouldn't be treated the same as other criminal low-lives. That's why those bankers, those people who triggered the global financial crisis are still, somehow, safely ensconced in their nice offices in their nice buildings, right?

The mega non-leap

Well, I failed to step off.

It was at Sentosa's new MegaZip Adventure Park on its Open Day and I had free entry to try out its rope course, parachute simulation and megazip.

But I failed, utterly and completely, to step off the parajump platform. That's even after watching two girls do it and survive the ordeal.

I didn't get that vertigo feeling looking down at the square of gravel, which serves as the landing point, three storeys down. My heart wasn't racing. I didn't feel like I would pee in my pants, or throw up. I know I wouldn't like to bungee jump or skydive, but I'm pretty sure I can make this mere 15-metre leap.

Still, I didn't step off. It's just not a natural act, stepping into thin air. It didn't help that the chap manning that station had a less-than-reassuring platform-side manner - you could feel the impatience emanating from him in the way he spoke.

Maybe I just didn't feel any pressure to perform. Maybe I just need more time to enjoy the view. Prob'ly I just needed to be shoved.

Still, the rope course was fun - except for the nefarious swinging steps, which left a series of bruises on the underside of my upper arms. Of course, going climbing the night before didn't help.

As for the top draw, the MegaZip from the top of Imbian Hill all the way down to Siloso Beach, the best way to enjoy it is to have the right weight. Too light and you'll either get stuck towards the end where the line levels out, or you'll be strung together with someone else. Too heavy and you'll get whipped by the trees on the way down, and after that, you'll still get stuck towards the end cause all that whipping you received has slowed you down. Either way, as you wait for a rescue line to pull you in, you'll just have to hang like ripe fruit - not really the best position if you have sensitive reproductive organs or a bad back.

You've been warned.

Prejudices

This afternoon, at the bus-stop ...

I am standing behind a pair of girls. The black-clad one is obese. She is eating an ice cream as they chat - Wall's Solero, the green one I like. A pang of disgust and envy. She has unwrapped the thing such that she's holding on to the stick using the wrapper. Helps to keep your fingers cream free.

I look up at several buses that've pulled up. None are mine. But the girls up and board one of them. The buses pull away.

A man arrives at the bus stop. He takes the now-vacant bench in front of me.

What time is it? I try to sneak a peek at the man's watch, but can't make out the hands thanks to the complicated watch face. Stupid watch. I look away, and catch sight of the ice cream wrapper.

The obese girl left it on the bench! More feelings of disgust.

For all the endless articles, letters and forum posts touting graciousness and consideration, it's a losing battle. All those words - I highly doubt they are reading (or listening). And even among the readers and forum trawlers, there are those who remain resolutely unapologetic and self-righteous. Change them? Hah! Pigs will fly and I'll start using a mobile telephone.

Finally, the bus arrives. How nice, I was afraid it'd be crowded with dull morning session students refusing to move to the back of the bus. There's even a loverly kingfisher along Bukit Timah road adding colour to the passing scenery.

Tapping out of the bus, the time displayed is 14:57. Wahay, right on time!

The fight with the tooth

It's perhaps best described as a backroom operation (not quite seedy).

A small clinic tucked in a row of shops, it has one tiny backroom, in the middle of which is one dentist's chair.

I wasn't the least bit bothered by the lack of space. My regular dentist also operates out a tiny little room on premises shared with a regular GP. Don't ask why I didn't go to my regular dentist for this, though, I'm not quite sure. I got the impression she didn't do that procedure but after giving it some thought, I wouldn't bet on that impression being accurate.

Anyhow, what was weird was how the Chinese dentist and the Indian dental assistant were so ... loud. Do aunties like them generally occur at the dentist's? Those I've been to tend to be rather quiet and clinical. The dental assistant even persisted in engaging me in conversation after the procedure - when I couldn't feel the lower left half of my face, and was apparently bleeding from a gaping hole in my mouth caused by the unceremonious exit of a fairly large tooth.

The longest needle that's ever been stuck in my very conscious flesh appeared without much fanfare. It struck (3 times) without much fanfare either. The problem with long needles, I reckon, is that it's easy to let it stray off the straight and narrow on the way out. When that happens, the tip scrapes against the flesh, causing more pain on the way out than in. Woe is me.

After that, I lose all feeling in my lower left jaw (including half of my lips). A metal spade-like implement is produced and the dentist digs in, complete with scraping sounds echoing in my head. When that's done, a pair of pliers is used in what seemed like a tug of war with a stubborn nail. The dental assistant's daughter had even been recruited to hold my head down. Can't really complain about the lack of pain, but the labourous pulling caused my tongue to pushed back into my throat, thereby impeding the breathing process. Fortunately, the tooth gave up the fight before I suffocated.

That night, I swallowed a painkiller and applied ice to my jaw when all feeling returned.

The next three days, I have trouble swallowing as I've apparently sprained my tongue in the Fight with the Tooth. Even had trouble yawning - they tend to be extinguished by pain halfway through. How thoroughly unsatisfying. But I can swallow much better now, so no doubt the yawns will be back in force.