Pink Wombat's Hideout

The age of non-dreadlocks.

2009-09-28T19:05:00.003+08:00

I know I'm getting old when I see dreadlocks on an older man and think Eugh

Now I have wanted dreadlocks for the longest time. In fact, just last year (CNY 2008), I still thought dreadlocks was 'cool' (do people still say that?) and I wanted the same ones as Newton Faulkner's. Cool, hippie, bohemian VOLUME.

Today, being behind this (possibly) rocker uncle with VOLUMIOUS dreadlocks and some rastapasta accessories woven in, i just thought, 'wow what a hassle. must be a pain to wash. doesn't look too practical'. Yes, I sound like mum. I even tell the kids that I assess nowadays to make sure they wash their hands with soap when they go to the toilet, and make them use a towellete to ensure their hands are dry.

P keeps reminding us that we're not old. We're just 'refined'. We look down on torn tight bum-crack-baring jeans, short skirts, truckers caps, 'today's noisy bad music and R&B nonmusic', queueing up for the latest freebie/club etc...and prefer quieter places with live jazz, quality breakfasts, professional clothes and thinking films.

I do feel a little older, a little wiser. And even a little calmer (not longer the angsty emotional teenager who listened to Avril Lavigne and thought no one understood). But unfortunately, not more prepared for handling new tricky situations. Like work stress. Which is unlike self-induced academic work stress. Work stress has been a big boo boo in my life lately. Been tired, agitated/snappy and rather demotivated. Perpetually waiting for my next holiday (which incidentally is this Thursday, yippeee!). But is this normal? Or is it a case of work depression? Case in mind : I have a colleague who just recently went on long medical leave. We can only speculate that it's depression or anorexia. Or both. And from the comments she leaves on our msns, it's work-related. Is this what happens when you approach 30? Our badgered neurotransmitters give in and we pick up some mental conditions along the way? Is this why older folk sometimes seem Jaded?

What about other new, possibly equally stressful unforeseen life challenges? Like being bored, isolated and not being able to make friends easily as in school. Like figuring out what you really want and how to get it. Like prepping yourself to deal with the fact that your live-in boyfriend is going off to volunteer in Palestine for 2 months next year. I feel so unprepared and overwhelmed sometimes I can't even make a minor decision like where to eat. Or whether I want to go to Botanical Gardens or not. I just vegetate with my brainless magazines and eat loaves of Jap milk bread instead!

Growing up and getting old is not nice. Not at this juncture anyways. Somehow it seems to get uglier. Not so much physically (although i must say, my forehead seems to be less elastic-y and less dewy lately...), but mostly mentally. What happened to the ROCKING 20s that I looked forward to? Where you're young and free and you have the time of your life that you tell your bored grandchildren about? I always thought life would always be peachy and will turn out okay in the end (if it doesn't turn out the way I want it to). I hope I still believe that. I'm just not liking the transition phase before the peachiness. And I hope I still have it in me to cope with things if they don't turn out peachy in the end. Or not as peachy.

Note to self : Need to stop buying advert-loaded superficial fashion mags like Female and Bazaar. It's rubbish. Lots of pics, adverts and non articles (although i should've known better than to expect much from mags for rich housewives and LV-loving young executives). Maybe it's time to make Her World, Women's Weekly and Marie Claire magazines my staple instead. The older... *more refined* magazines. Or I could just opt to mature completely and appear intellectual by hiding behind brainy magazines.
Like The Economist. The Psychologist. Time. and Weekly Medical Reviews.

I think I have officially reached a loss-of-age-persona quarter life crisis.

The Maddening Silence

2009-07-12T21:23:00.003+08:00

And so I'm back in SG! Sitting on this sand-coloured couch. Yet again.

Got BFM radio streaming in through my laptop. I have to have some background sound. The quietness is driving me nuts! I dreaded coming back here. Just knowing that I'd be alone and have to face the quietness. And of course, that it's Sg. Routine Sg.

Baahhh... All I've had the past few days is quietness, pretty much! P left for the UK last monday. It's been a week. Out of which, four days I spent back in Penang, and the rest, I've been really ill. Down with high fever, a cough and the flu. Looks like the swine kind to me. (Although my Doctor says it's a 'borderline' case, whatever that means!) The virus was so resistant to the antibiotics my course had to be changed. So yes. It was a pretty miserable time for me. Me, the thermometer and the couch. And 3 cans of soup.

I guess I should be enjoying this now. This solitude. The calmness and living for myself. Not having to do anything, especially when I'd rather just relax. But really, having a whole week of staring at our sand-coloured couch is driving me mad! I'm even starting to have conversations with the fridge and its contents!

I think I form too great attachments to people and places. When I was back in Penang, I didn't want to leave. My wonderful room, the wonderful laidback life in the house, and my mom. It was so hard to leave. It's always hard to leave Penang. My island retreat. And now I'm reeling from P being gone. Just for a week. I miss preparing dinner for us for when he gets back from work! (Ask me this again though in 3 weeks). I guess I just miss his company. Just having him around as part of everyday life, and doing things together. OMG I fear long distance again!

Just feeling really lonely now. Just loneliness I guess. And it's only 2.5 days till I fly anyways. I can't wait! P's sister's wedding in the UK, followed by our time in Portugal. Am pretty much packed now (I was so excited I packed a whole week ago!), and the house has been cleaned and tidied. So it's just some small bits to sort out. I can deal with it. Just loneliness. And quietness. Only 2.5 days...

What summer 04 holds...

2009-06-25T20:16:00.011+08:00

My mind always takes me back to the summer of 2004. My last summer before any of the significant changes happened in my life. Good and bad. Almost like a final resting zone before I got sucked/plunged into the neverending moments and the whirl of life.

Sometimes I long to go back to that summer. I was 19. And I wore jeans. I wore jeans to the Psych Summer Beach Camp. The camp that defined that summer. I wore jeans when the others wore little board shorts and bikinis. I wore jeans through the 10 hour bus journey to the other side of the peninsular.

I wore my damn jeans, all the way over to the beautiful other side of Malaysia. With its untouched beaches and rural landscapes. It was so breezy, so warm, with its calming yet forceful waves. Leaving your skin with a layer of sea salt and sweat. You could always hear the sea. And at night, you could always see the stars. And there was that delta that could always be counted on to reach into the blue seas at different intervals every day. Exposing its different depths.

I don't know if I remember it so much because that was when I first started writing myself letters (few and far in between though, mind you), forcing an insight that was forever etched in paper, and therefore I have a memory of the time clearer than any other. Or if it is because it serves as my mind's refuge. Just in that moment, just before a turning point, the safety net for me, where it was all comfortable. And I was eager and full of hope for life and its promises. A simpleton. Just happy to be.

Team-building made new friends and we had fun. But we were alone too. We were alone some parts of the day. And at night, we were alone, even amongst friends, sprawled out on our backs on the beach to gaze up at the stars. We had plenty of time to go off and contemplate things. Little me-workshops, where you'd go away on your own, to find your own spot, and write...about things. Some people drew, some people talked. I did a bit of both. But most of the time, I tried 'finding my inner peace', gained insight and wrote lists.

I do that a lot. I write lists. It keeps the order. Or at least creates an order for the chaos that is my life. Maybe it helps me feel in control of something. Lists. My current list is a page full of scholarship deadlines. In addition to the usual lists for groceries to buy to try out a new recipe.

Does it really create order though? I don't know. Do I really need such an orderly system anyways? Maybe. I dunno. I went through a terribly upsetting time again just recently. Only this time, my body and mind reacted. Badly. But that incident has shown me that no matter how hard I worked at it or tried to control/prevent a situation, one can only do so much.

And since that episode, you could say I gained a little insight. A deeper one that is steeped more in practicality. You can only control so much. I only have so much energy, and two small hands. The rest is up to me to deal with when the time comes and if it does at all. And rest assured, that beyond dreams, my little beach refuge is tangible, and I can always reach it again, when I need it.

In the meantime, it sits behind the little trap door in my mind, ready to engulf me in its warmth and a vast blanket of endless stars amidst sounds of waves. When and if.

Currently listening to : Zee Avi
(very laidback acoustic jazz, reminds me of coconut trees and hammocks)

Demotivating Times

2009-05-16T14:09:00.006+08:00

I didn't want to get out of bed today.

I couldn't see what there was to get out of bed for.

I didn't want to get out of bed yesterday either. Couldn't bring myself to get to work. The one thing that spurred me on was the realisation that it was Friday. THE WEEKEND. Woohoo. Although in retrospect, I'm glad I did 'pounce' out of bed. Being in the right place at the right time combined with initiative on my part, lead to me taking the reins over two projects at work that I can more excited about. And that would hopefully facilitate the learning and stimulation I crave so much.

However, this mood worries me. I've had this cloud of demotivation hovering above me for a few weeks now. Less smiley and patient, more moody and easily agitated. Not enough to garner a depression diagnosis. But enough to disable my enthusiasm for life at the moment. Maybe all I need is coffee.

On the other hand, my best friend could be right, I have reached a burnout. She's always said this country's toxic to me. She also said that if I kept at the rate I was working at the relationship, I might suffer a breakdown and hate myself if it didn't work out. The relationship's rosy now though. It had hard times. About a year of what I call the Dark Ages, where it was almost as if I was with a stranger. A year's worth of trying so hard, and pushing away my needs and any hurt, to make myself work harder at it, all for that intermittent happiness, however bleak the outlook of a future seemed at the time. All while doing a lot of housework, cooking and meaningless chores in the process. I also didn't have a permanent connection to anything, not belonging in Singapore plus always having to be ready to fend for myself and start anew (e.g. room-hunting etc) if my pillar were to decide to uproot himself back 20,000km where he came from. 'Nothing's ever certain' became my motto. My career was looking bleak too. My friends were advancing but I was held back by lack of money and a job that was increasingly mundane and intellectually unstimulating. All this while knowing that I am very capable and able to reach higher heights if only I was given the opportunity. I felt helpless and alone.

It was the recipe of disaster. A classic case study I was used to reading in my psychology textbooks.

But the relationship's good now. Something clicked and we're back to normal (pre-LDR) now. My life and job is still quite routine and mundane now, but I can keep trying little things to spice it up. In this city, activities aren't particularly exciting, and relationships aren't entirely fulfilling/stimulating. And money's still depleted, with no hopes of escaping the country and its crowds. I suspect that having no escape is making me this moody, high-strung, angsty person. Who can potentially ruin what I've worked so hard for. And then not have the motivation to pick myself up again.

It happens everyday. To people who think it won't happen to them. I won't say I'm invincible to it, but I have awareness of it. The triggers, the symptoms, the prognosis and treatments. That comes with the field I'm in. And with awareness, I'll hopefully be able to avoid myself falling into the traps that will send me on a downward spiral and dependency on Prozac.

I have to be positive. Resilience is my middle name! First of all, I have to get through this Saturday...and try come out with a different perspective.

Pre-quarter Life Crisis?

2009-03-04T20:19:00.004+08:00

Is this all there is to life?

Something doesn't measure up. Life has not measured up to my expectations. Everything seems mediocre at the moment. I'm not developing, nor learning anything different, nor having too intelligent conversations (plausibly due to the lack of engaging people around me on a daily basis), working long hours and not seeing my savings budge, (rather I'm tired and broke a lot of the time with very little time to apply for scholarships). The same mundane routine every day, same mind-numbing commute, same boring city-scape and its bloody crowded malls. Is this a post-university-fresh-addition-to-the-workforce syndrome? Do I have too high expectations? Is there even SUCH a thing as 'too high' expectations?!

Maybe I'm too jaded now to count my blessings. There are people living in conditions of famine and poverty now, with barely enough clean water to drink, menopausal mothers who are forced to take on multiple jobs sweeping leaves in the early morning, work day-shifts at McDonalds and moonlighting at Geylang at night to pay for their sixth child, who perhaps has just become paraplegic from a recent spinal injury that left him suddenly in a lurch in a new world and a new kind of emotional depression to deal with. Broken hearts, broken lives, living in countries where beheadings are common and females are circumsised and stoned. Maybe worse things.

I should be thankful. Singapore is a clean, safe and efficient place. I have a job during the recession. I have Paul with me. We live in a cosy little flat in the heart of the best area in SG and have (barely) afforded two holidays already and a visit back to England coming up. My mom & best friend are not far away and healthy. Otis, despite his old-age cataract, still recognizes me. I'm healthy and happy enough most of the time. I have a couple of friends I can escape with for a cake/tea in the park. I guess I should be thankful. Just need reminders every now and again.

I thought I had it all sussed out as a kid. That I would miss my routine school life loads, but my teenage years would be fun, and I'd find more of me and figure things out more 'later'. In my teens, I found more of myself, lost some along the way, and was geared up to try out my 'stable' personality in university in a different continent, thinking that I'd have it all sussed out during uni. At uni, i complained of the weather and general racism i faced, and the lack of quality friendships, ploughed myself into producing quality academic work and actively engaged in co-curricular activities, met a terrific man along the way and found out what it really felt like to be in love. Life's settled then! I thought that with my holistic CV of a 1st class degree, achievements, accolades, support from the people I love and resilience from life experiences, I'd have the world at my feet. I had high hopes for the future. I knew tht when I reach the adult-y stages of work life, I'd have it all sussed out. But at 23 and paying income tax, I'll have to say, I haven't quite figured it out yet. I'm guessing that when I turn 24 this year, I'd STILL haven't found my answers nor a real direction in life yet. 25's probably not any less uncertain. Hopefully less empty though. *crosses fingers and toes*

Currently am crazy over :
- Glossy lip colours (Majolica range),
- Slumdog Millionaire the movie (I thought Jamal was the ultimate sweetie and the gentleman many femme fatale girls could start pinning their hopes on again. Until I watched an interview of the British guy who played the humble/determined Mumbai teen from the slums. Then realized that he reminded me of Z, my loud Asian Brit friend who used to date my friend. *note to teenage girls to crush hopes*)
- James Morrison
- sexy Jazz music (first inkling that I'm getting old. The young me swore never to like 'old man Jazz')

Being let down

2009-01-18T00:46:00.003+08:00

Being let down tires me. Being confused tires me too. Worse, being upset or angry - zaps the logic out of me. When it happens a bit often, it's tiring and I need happy again. Happy and happy, fast.
In the end, as cheesy and 14yr old it sounds : It's your friends who don't let you down.
Others around you, even the closest beings to your heart, and on a bigger scale, general humankind, bring forth disappointment, sadness at some points...but miraculously, your friends are there at all points. Somehow they are a constant feature.
They don't let you down.

Best of Bali 09

2009-01-02T12:00:00.005+08:00

Maybe

2009-01-02T12:00:00.004+08:00

A 'When push comes to shove' situation on New Year's morning made me re-evaluate my thinking processes and a complacency I've fallen into recently. The day before the eve of the New Year, I thought, Maybe I don't forgive and forget as easily as I thought.

This doubt nearly destroyed what I believed in and what I wanted to remember to strive for. In my tormented doubt then, of my abilities to forgive, to forget and just doing, I thought, Maybe it’s something more inherent. Some psychoanalytical pseudoscience I was always sceptical about - some regression, transference thingmabob.

So I did the Attachment Style questionnaire again just for assurance. Results came out Secure again. And I breathed a sigh of relief, albeit a wee bit doubtful. But it being the last of 2008, I need to eliminate doubt. Doubt in myself and doubt in all the things I believe in.

With the advent of the new year, I have decided to just believe and DO it. Forgiveness and trust are powerful things. They change things, make things happen and drive forth a growing process. And above it all, love is a powerful motivator in any process (Fear is too, haha, but love and fear share almost the same brain limbic circuits). So, in the spirit of the city I'm stuck in : 'Die die must try.'

Maybe it’s me,
What is to be,
Maybe lucky,
All I ask is where we’re supposed to be.

Maybe learning,
Always searching,
Am I asking things,
I’ll know too soon, I’ll know too soon.

excerpts i can relate my end of 2008 'crisis' to, from Maybe, by Stereophonics)

It was all in the words. But maybe now, the words need to be changed.

Happy new year.

3 days to Bali...WOOOWHEEE!

2008-12-03T09:24:00.004+08:00

THREE DAYS TO BALIIIIII :) :)

I'm so excited!!! I've been before, but it's so exciting nonetheless! And it'll be different this time! The white sands, clear blue seas, the smiley laidback friendly people, spas and sunsets and sea sports...I LOVEEEE... and best of all, with P! Boohaha. We're going for his birthday weekend, actually. I can't wait!

We had a lot of trouble getting flights, and THEN paying for it. But it was all finally confirmed Monday... Leaving us with 5 days to get excited. We've booked ourselves into a resort which is ON the tranquil Sanur beach. It's not as happening as Kuta nor Legian apparently. But we figured that's exactly what we need. Especially when all you get here are the crowded beaches of Sentosa anyways.

Ah quiet beaches...Lying on the quiet beach. Walking along the beach at night under the stars (oh please don't rain!). Yoga on the sand in the morning. Utter relaxation. And Surfing! We're gonna go surfing for the first time! And solo-sailing. And kayaking. And burning our floating bums snorkelling. EXHILARATING STUFF!

I bought a new bikini too yesterday. In my spout of excited giddiness. It's emerald green. I kinda forgot I've got another 2 bikinis at home already (my favourite white one, and a bright red/pink one). Call it acute airheadedness. But yayyy a-bikini-a-day! OOHHHhh it's amazing how excited one can get over a holiday. Putting aside all worries and stress from the rat race! But then, how can you not? It's Bali!

The Daffodils and Sunshine

2008-11-20T20:47:00.006+08:00

I used to dance a lot. To songs. And sing along. And pretend I was a disco diva. Sometimes a punk rocker chick. Or a broadway star! I was the burst-into-song Mamma Mia kind!

I used to skip along the road plugged into my favourite songs. Always carefree. Always in my own field of daffodils and sunshine. Of happy people. Of good memories.

I realize since I stepped into the rat race. That has somewhat fizzled out.

Taking over, someone who is constantly on the guard. Someone who needs to cope. I've stopped listening to songs. Songs of the moment don't define my life anymore, as they used to. Songs of the moment or moments passed that remind me of good times and a simple, but good life.

Don't get me wrong, I love the current job I'm in now. So far anyways. I am actually learning all the time, I've got an encouraging boss, genuinely nice colleagues, and children who come in are most of the time, amusing. And a lot of the time, I like the living-in bit, it's nice building our little hippy home.

I have also stopped writing. Hence the slow demise of this blog. Is it just the lack of time? Or the lack of drama now? I've got a stable job, I live not far from home, I like my job, and a pretty stable love life (We're almost 2 years now WheeEEeEee!).

So I'd like to think not. I hope not anyways. Lack of drama is not a bad thing!

Has my life become... ROUTINE?? NORMAL?? MUNDAAANNEEEEEEE??

I remember reading a post I wrote ages ago when I was still at uni. And my fear was of the mundane. Maybe I didn't quite define that right. Maybe it's stability. I fear mundanity (IS THERE SUCH A WORD??), but I crave stability. What a contradiction. Or maybe it isn't at all. Because they are not of the same entity to begin with anyways, as my 22 year old mind (and therefore less matured, obviously) led me to believe before. Maybe priorities changed. Maybe the priorities were based on misperceptions anyways. Stability isn't necessarily mundane.

Maybe I'm just growing up. Gaining insight. Or maybe I've sunk into the gray of the working world. We all seem like zombies in the city. With no time nor space for naivety.

But sometimes. Just sometimes, I see that goofy girl with flowers in her hair, see her wanting to sneak back out to the world of everything-has-a-happy-ending, skipping along the side of the busy city road, half a silly smile on her face, trusting everyone to have a good streak in them, humming "Just Can't Get Enough".

I've actually seen her prominently TWICE since I got to Singapore. Of late. It's a sudden thrill realizing that that person is you. Still you. While sitting among the zombies in the public city bus. In those moments, I've got myself have a sudden content smile on my face. Maybe that person never changed. Maybe never will.

Time to start collecting songs again.

First Child Assessed!

2008-10-20T21:00:00.003+08:00

WAhhh...HIDEOUT INDEED.

I have really been hiding out.

Thought about changing the name of the blog. To something spunkier. Had the greatest name for it the other day. Then I fell asleep. Dreaming of how much more MAGIC it will bring to my personal little page. Then. I forgot. I FORRGOOTTT my NEW SPUNKY BLOG NAMMEEEE... and lo and behold, it is still... Pink Wombat. *gua gua gua*

But anyhoo. The more significant things that have prevented me from blogging recently have been :
a) Quitting my brain scientist job
b) Starting a new job as a *pinkmarshmellows drumroll and fairy lights*
PSYCHOLOGIST!
Jeng jeng jeng!
c) A huge huge row with Mr.P, resulting from a very dramatic weekend I cannot soon forget (but one that will eventually perish into 'doesn't matter-ness' in due time I'm sure. And rest assured, we're gooder now)

But yes, on the topic of A : I quit the job that gave me kicks from saying I work in a cognitive neuroscience lab, doing 'neuropsych testing'. It was good stuff being brainy (ha ha ha) for about 10 months. Then I realized I didn't like the elderly brain much.

So I started work at the new place, dealing with children, about 5 weeks ago. It's been pretty intense training since. But I'm loving it! Because it's for a charity though, I'm own the classic overworked-underpaid syndrome. But it's all for a good cause, and I'm actually really interested in the stuff I'm doing. I don't think I've ever worked so much or worked so hard for work! Well. Considering this is only the second job I've held since graduation... But I ACTUALLY do work in my own time...and actually constantly read journals and texts for the job now. ACTUAL COMMITMENT.

Aha, science research is spot on when they showed that interest is the biggest motivator & contributor to SUCCESS! Or at least... success in the making. I hope I hope. For the sake of my Chevening application... OHH CHEVENING PLEASE LOOK AT ME THIS YEARRRRR

I'm also constantly thinking of various ways of spicing up assessments with the children and how to talk 'professionally' to parents... especially the kiasu-i-want-my-child-to-go-for-recommended-learning-difficulties-remedial-classes-on-top-of-her-10hours-a-week-and-3-hours-of-German-French-and-Kurbekistan-language-tuition-kinda parents.

Okay. Maybe I haven't encountered those yet. But they exist. I'm sure they do. I smell it in every child who has 50kg backpacks full of textbooks and other mock tests..and every other young child who do IQ tests with their friends on the MRT.

But yes, I had my first child case today! SO EXCITING! MILESTONE! LANDMARK! MONUMENTALLLLLLL

Was actually quite excited to get hands-on. Spoke to the mom, thought she was sweet, and supportive...in a hippie kinda way. And then the child came in. And after 2 hours of her dangling off the chair, bouncing off the walls, trying to break all my grown-up rules and grabbing every cognitive test tool I had in sight... I sent her back to her mom, with her sugary drink in hand. And BREATHED. That was my first kid. I won't forget her so easily. Sweet child though, she drew me a girl in a wedding gown carrying a flower-ice-cream bouquet (don't ask), with a little 'unhandsome' man-servant sat in her hair. Ah children.

I've got her again tomorrow. For the 2nd half of the tests. And then full-on into the parent disclosure discussion. So...plenty of sleep tonight I reckon!

Oola, Mr.P is on his way home... and I am off to make my butter-milk tuna casserole!

approaching marks never reached before.

2008-06-25T00:17:00.003+08:00

"How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?"

Where did you go?

Mixed feelings about this Thursday. Not sure what you are supposed to feel about landmarks in the year. What does it feel like to be 8 months into a job? 1 and a half years into a relationship? All so new. Yet not so. Need to feel something.

When Rain meets Cityscape.

2008-06-11T01:19:00.005+08:00

I laughed in the rain today.

It's not that picture I know you've got in your head of a deranged woman laughing gap-toothed in the rain, shaking her fist at the skies each time it thundered.

It was more like a good laugh. A chuckle. Like a release. Funny how some rain and drenched clothes puts things in perspective. Nothing really mattered. A realization that there is more to life out there. I have allowed myself to be so consumed by this petty, materialistic, robot-work-ethic-with-no-room-for-mistakes rat race. I haven't paused to breathe. Or walk in the rain.

I have almost forgotten how to be carefree. And this little moment, choosing to take the long unsheltered route home, under cloudy thundery skies (I hate clouds by the way, clouds in open night skies especially), in the rain, cold and wet, just made me remember again what it's like to be laidback and silly. I think Singapore has zapped it out of me. Transforming me into one of the thousand faces who board MRTs like uptight zombies 5 days a week. Just to live for the weekend. SURVIVE, more like. Survival in the city.

It's really not me. I just want to sit with my toes dipping into clear moving water. Or run on the beach with my now-geriatric pug. Or just, walk in the rain. With a big grin on my face. Nothing else really matters.

The Ball!

2007-06-03T22:31:00.001+08:00

And here are some pics from the End of the Year Ball last night.
We had a couple of good bands down at the mosh pit/stage area... the union was done up in the 007 Casino Royale theme, a jazz band in a marquee (big white tent precisely) where people sat around and ate their prom meal (sweet & sour chicken).. and... yes.. we had a fun fair.
It was okay. I just expect balls to be more grand. But I suppose it has to cater to the English and the international community, with our student nightclub and bars open as usual. A different experience though. The only big dissapointment of the night is that I didn't get enough pictures. But here are some anyways :)

Hours before the ball...

2007-06-03T22:30:00.000+08:00

You know… until now, it hasn’t sunk in that I’m living in the north hemisphere, miles and miles away from home.
I guess with time, you make whatever’s around you, home.

Or you get so caught up in the whirlwind of uni life that you forget to remind yourself to take a moment to float on that big island in between America and the rest of Europe.

The only telling tale that it’s not home is of course the miserable gray weather, as opposed to the much missed perpetually sunny skies back home.

And believe it or not, it’s the end of the year already. End of the academic year that is. I’ll be leaving this place I’ve called home for the past two years, in the next two months.

Projects handed in, essays, exams taken.
Graduation in over a month. The time to congregate at the Town Hall in the city centre, to throw our rented hats in the sky, clutching that rolled up piece of paper that is the passport to the working world. That one piece of paper my parents paid crazy money for and I worked my ass off for.

Only 7 hours until the end of the year ball. Those shopping hours downtown looking for the perfect gold (but not shiny BLING gold) accessories to match my emerald green dress will get their 15 minutes. In a couple of hours, we’ll all be on the funfair rides and in the casino. Taking lots of pictures. Pictures you know you will dig up and look through years down the road. Having a ball of a time, so to speak. Our one chance to dress up like crazy, even if it’s just on campus, in front of the union. The bars will be packed, the English and others will be drunk.

I can hear the sound systems being tested now… Heehee… *excited*

Celebrity lookalike konon

2007-05-15T02:17:00.000+08:00

Heheee... How lame.
An example of my procrastination when i'm SUPPOSED TO BE STUDYINNNGGG

I honestly don't know ANY of the girls here.

If only it was as simple

2007-05-13T07:23:00.000+08:00

I wish it was as simple as in our younger days..

Where stress to succeed was just trying to win Best Item/Dance/Sketch during camps... or playing as many sports as possible... Or getting good grades so you won't look dumb in your group of brainy friends...

I wish it was that simple.

Not the constant inner-nagging to keep motivation up after putting in ALL your effort and sacrificing sleep...essay after essay after project...the day to day struggle to keep reading like my life depended on it... violently snapping my roaming attention back into the cramped desk I've been at ALL day..staring at the laptop screen looking for countless journals...not knowing if I'm wasting time reading something not relevant... not knowing if the topic I've zoomed in on will even show up in the finals at all... feeling the stress of not being able to finish studying in time... Of being a failure.

I wish it was as simple as when we were younger...

Account of a student all-nighter

2007-05-03T05:56:00.000+08:00

Re-living a Student moment... Just something to remind us all of Uni. Definitely something to stay in my mind... I thought the all-niters days are over... It thought I was gonna do constant work and not succumb to last minute pressure again...haha, i thought wrong. This was when two of my major final essays were due - 2nd May.

9pm – FINALLY finished the attachment essay. Blurred eyes. Sent to Paul to proof-read. Opened Neuropsychology essay on laptop. Starred at white screen until the blurriness merged together to form what I will be staring at for the next 18 hours. If I don’t sleep and have less than 1 minute meals, I can hopefully get this one in for 2pm… then go downtown to shop it out!

9.30pm – Cut my toe while scrambling onto the kitchen counters, trying to reach a tube of Pringles in my topmost cupboard.

11pm – Am running on adrenalin. A desperation to make full use of every hour. 15 waking hours left. I can do this.

12midnight –Stomach grumbling. Boiled cheesy mushroom tortellinis. Ate raisins by the handfuls during the entire 2 minutes I waited for the pasta to boil. Shoved pasta down throat in 30 seconds. So creamy. MMm… Still awake and strong. Almost halfway through the essay I think… The more I write, the more I see structure and where I want to head… I think. Cut on toe is becoming a dripping bloody mess now. Eugh.

1am – Raisins are the best sugar rush! But am gonna need caffeine soon I think. Still trying to hold that out. Can feel it in my eyes… and backbone *crack*

2am – Apples are not the best sugar rush. (and they rot your teeth). But the night is still young! PUSH ON…

2.35am – Uh oh…first massive yawn. But I can’t afford to sleep..

3am – Getting hard to focus. Restless…sleepy... Feeling nostalgic. Looked through bunch of old familiar pictures. So close. So familiar.

4am – I am watching Russell Peters.

4.45am – Back to work. Gonna succumb to darn caffeine. And a couple of muesli bars. It’s amazing how much slower your body functions at night.
4.50am – Hold on. Am I seeing this right? The skies are turning….blue… ALREADY??

5.05am – Light gray now. I have succumbed to caffeine. Boy, it’s bitter. Reminds me of the type my granpa used to drink. The ones I used to dip breadsticks into and leave bits of crumbs in the coffee cup. No time to run out again for sugar.

7am – I can’t believe it’s morning. Hungry. Suffering from caffeine tics.

8am – Need…sleep… Zombie running on adrenalin and caffeine.

9.30am – One essay handed in. ANOTHER ONE TO GO. Giving myself 4 hours to scale this 7500 words draft into a 2500 words.

12noon – Oh right! Lunchtime!

1.10pm – Need to get this done… Had lunch, China housemate actually talked to me today. I think we're back to normal now. Also had a frapjack frm Paul ☺

3.30pm - Handed in Neuropsych. Still feeling anxious, like I missed out doing something.

5pm - Eyes heavy. Time to nap.

10pm - Back from Man U - AC Milan game. Sigh. Am starting to get absorbed into the team, with my Man U jersey and all, proudly worn, for better or for worse

12midnight - Have been awake far too long. Body is shutting down... Nite all. xxx

Bruce Almighty...again.

2007-04-29T22:00:00.000+08:00

I haven’t Bruce-blogged for a long time. Recap : This particular housemate is called Bruce due to my friends’ pointing out her uncanny resemblance to Bruce the shark from Finding Nemo.

So this evening. I was innocently dipping my tortilla into the hummous while waiting for my food in the oven.

Bruce sweeps in and talks about how she’s missed a party of a mutual friend of ours last night. So I told her I knocked on her door to give her the VIP passes but she wasn’t there. Then she started rattling the very words I knew she would, “It is because I was at another party for the successful elections last night that I won” *She pauses expectantly, cueing for me to congratulate her*

“Oh, that’s good, congrats.”
It kinda makes you NOT want to say congratulations. Not out of spite, but just because she is already blowing her own horn SO loudly, there is no need for another to assist her.

“Thank you for coming for the voting” Sarcasm dripped in her voice.
I told her about not having the society’s card therefore not being able to vote. Then she said she made me a member-complete-with-card, to vote in the elections and insisted matter-of-factly over and over that I could’ve gone, I should’ve gone etc etc…
It doesn’t matter, sheesh, YOU WON. Petty-nya. Though I’m keep trying to fight back thoughts of her threatening the entire greek community on campus to vote, with her greasy mousaka. *To Greeks out there, I love mousaka, just not HERS.. though I know today that some of us traumatized last year have sworn off Mousaka forever*

When she was done fitting her magnified head into the kitchen, she then stated, “By the way, you’re eating hummous wrong.”
“Really? Ah nevermind, it’s nice like that”
“You supposed to put in olive oil” She presses on, expecting me to do something.
“ Nah, I don’t like olive oil.”
She stared at me like I started growing bean sprouts from my head.
I can’t even being to describe how insulted she looked at my harmless comment.

Kinda made me want to laugh out loud. This is reminiscent of the nightmare from last year! I remember how Mel, Paul, me and others had to endure her telling us the ‘right’ way to cook (a.k.a. HER way). She’d haughtily claim the food was Mediterranean or Cypriot and IMPOSE her ways unto us, including shoving us aside and taking our pots off the hob while switching the temperature. “Eh, let me show you the way.”
This same person who FLOODS everything in oil and salt. Telling us the ‘right’ way to eat… UH-HUH.

It became such a dreadful kitchen experience ALL the time that we all started conceiving plans to avoid her in the kitchen. Eventually, we realized that we were all doing the same thing :
a) Open door, listen for Bruce-in-kitchen-sounds, if clear, breathe sigh of relief, go out, cook.
b) If not clear, hide away back in room, start chewing on books and/or bedsheets to avoid going into starvation mode.
c) If already cooking, and Bruce enters, quickly nuke food, make urgent excuse (of which we have a list), and dash into room with food/uncooked food.

It was THAT bad. We felt like prisoners.

Back to now. I shrugged and ignored her continuous staring. Letting my imagination go wild, I envisioned my big round tortilla wrap in front of me to be her face. And smothered it in hummous. WITHOUT olive oil. Just plain hummous.
And when I was done… I splotched on more. And rubbed it in with glee. HAH.

Don’t tell me how to eat my food, honey.

Be Afraid

2007-04-27T22:49:00.000+08:00

My housemate Mo noticed it today. My China housemate’s eerie silent hatred towards me. It seeps through each time she responds to my greetings to her everyday. Every “Hello!” and “Good morning!” is always greeted by a sullen curt ‘Hi.”… followed by a I-really-don’t-want-interaction-with-you-but-i-need-to-reply-to-your-greeting face.
Until now, I really can’t put a finger to why she treats me extra cold compared to everyone else. *NO, it is not because of her discovering this blog.*… That’s not what she does online anyways… She uses the computers in the library because there are others around “to make sure I won’t be out of control”. Hmm… suspicious.

Everytime me and Paul walk into the kitchen and start to engage in the lively banter with the rest of the housies, her face would drop, she’d go silent, whip her boiled vegetables off the hob, and slide out of the kitchen. I’d really like to know what goes on in her mind. It’s the silent ones you have to watch out for. Probably externalizing the blame unto me and plotting something. Must start moving my food around. So she never spots what’s mine…never ‘gets’ the pattern. I hope I don’t wake up 20 years down and find out I was being slowly poisoned with Uranium or something… PARANOIA BIG TIME.

It’s not normal. Through initial conversations, I’ve noticed that her perceptions towards the world is very different. Like it belongs in a different quiet world. Quietly dangerous. Then there are the moments when she’d stand at the kitchen window and cackle at car accidents, or when she was so excited to watch a documentary on how to kill George Bush, or made random comments during Property Tv shows that the prospective house buyers will die in a landslide… or better yet, “If they got murdered, no one will know”

I even remember the time she came into the kitchen and said she was so hungry, she could eat me, “You will be yummy as a baby…nyum nyum…”… Or the time my ex turned on the tap to wash dishes and she scowled at him, “Don’t waste water”.

Or that time me and Paul caught her with a deranged grin on her face, gleefully staring at my Cypriot housemate’s back while she walked into the kitchen. IT WAS SO SCARY I SWEAR.

The only time I had a proper conversation with her was at the beginning of the year, when she told me she hated Chinese people and they made her very nervous if they tried talking to her. That was after she openly berated the American people for being ‘too open, ignorant, rude and vulgar’…right in front of two Americans in a bus. Presumably Americans because
a) They wore ‘College of Nevada’ and ‘Ohio University’ shirts and
b) They were glaring at her through the whole journey.
Our last normal conversation was on love and finding the right one in the world, to which I gave her a hug at the end of, and left for London with Paul and Felicia for New Year’s.
Then it stopped.

The only two bits of communication with her after is just me going, “Oh, why are the curtains in the kitchen drawn? It’s so lovely outside!”, abruptly cut by “I don’t like sunlight.”

And that time I thought I was being helpful, “When you boil vegetables, that takes the nutrients out”. She hasn’t spoken to me since.

And until now, my stand on her being capable of something REALLY sinister still…stands (can’t find another word…my engerand is deteriorating). There’s just this dark aura lurking within. I am actually afraid of her now. Ever since the V-Tech tragedy. Especially when I’m alone in the kitchen with her and she’s yielding her vegetable knife.

Must make sure the doors are locked tonight before I go to sleep. With pepper spray under my pillow.

Garlic cloves around my neck.

wombat heart chocs

2007-04-26T08:03:00.000+08:00

I got chocolates yesterday ☺. Just because. And we just scorfed down another tub of sorbet (2nd tub of the month). This relationship sees me getting blissfully fat.

Got bits of the presentation poster laid out on the floor now. Such a clash of colours. But you gotta do what you gotta do to grab the attention. Two essays have not been touched today… and the dissertation is moving slowly but surely. Need more time and faster fingers. Need faster brain.

My colleagues are still looking for this blog as of now. Heheh. It’s a research office, so I’m just waiting for the moment they announce they’ve found it.
The barrage of prodding questions in the quest for it ranged WIDE the other day.
“So, what did you do yesterday? Oh. What about the weekend before?”
“Did you go anywhere interesting lately?”
“Are you writing as a bush kangaroo?”
“Your last name isn’t Steven is it?”
*All while furiously typing in every associated keyword they could think of into various search engines.*

Well, until thennn....hideaway i shall!

Of Trees and Taramasalata

2007-04-24T03:32:00.000+08:00

I love the smell of spring. When Hull’s not acting up of course, washing us over with the smell of Hull. A tantalizing combo of swamps, pig farms and sewers on a bad day. But today, due to the rain, it smelt… clean. Of freshly cut grass and the mountains on a cold dewy morning. (Note : Hull is flat. There are no mountains, not even a bump of higher land)

And it’s amazing how the little things you take for granted just SPRINGS up (excuse the pun) and makes you go, “Ooo…”. The little things like leaves. Leaves on trees. Something Malaysia is never short of. Here, after seeing 4 months of naked trees and depressing twigs, it’s just such a wonder to SEE nature spring back into life! (again, excuse the irresistible pun). Take the lively bunch of trees outside my hostel communal kitchen. All through winter and easter, I’ve glared at the stark naked ‘trees’, as if daring them to grow some green stuff so to qualify as an ACTUAL tree. Towards the end of Easter…things started to sprout. Little broccoli-like shoots started to push its way out of that ‘sorry excuse for a tree’. Every morning since I noticed the first green shrub, it’s been like a bonding experience. Sitting by the window every morning, scrutinizing their growth. Every few mornings, in the middle of breakfast, I’d grab a mouth-full-of-cereals Paul, push his face against the window and excitedly announce, “Look! More green! OHH They’re growing up!”.
A bit pathetic I know. But if you were here, it would’ve brought upon you the same “ooo” joy that a garden full of colourful spring flowers evoke in most people. It’s the little things.

Got the tickets to the End of Year Ball today. The queue started at about 1am the night before, with people camping outside the union (sleeping bags, mats, food and hot flasks galore!)… At 5.30am, my friends who got our tickets said it was in full swing and the queue snaked around the campus. We relieved them at 9.30am. There were about 1000 people ahead of us and another 1000 piling up behind us. At noon, deed was done and luckily, we have tickets!! It supposedly has a great line up, no food, no actual hotel venue, just a done up casino and a funfair with rides outside… 37 pounds. But heyy, it’s one of them things you DO cuz it’s the last year. Should get on to more work. The panic from the supermassive workload should hit by now. But am aching from hunching over my desk. I just wanna watch Sex in the City and curl up with more chocolates.

Had a strange dream a couple nights back. Quite haunting. I can still vividly see the outstretched hands of the countless children falling through a deep hollow tower housing people who lived under a tyrant government. I stood on the balcony that circled every floor, trying to grasp onto those little hands but couldn’t reach them. When I finally smuggled out some children I could save, the ship I was transporting them in did not leave according to schedule. It came under tense inspection by the scary secret police. Then I woke up. Quite unnerved.

Could it be a manifestation of the VTech psychopath shooting news I’ve been reading lots about? Or something more sinister… like the Taramasalata I had before going to bed. See, Taramasalata sounds really grand… like some ancient royal superfood..that can dance the salsa! The kinda dip you’d like your bag of celery to be friends with. All things good and sexy.

So during an eagerly-awaited tea break, I anxiously ripped apart the packaging and dunked my celery sticks in it and stuffed it into my face.
*munch munch munch… munch…munch…eugh*
It was rather...disappointing. Rather… Fishy.
*flip to back of box*… Ingredients : Cod Roe.
Hmm. FISH EGG. Mushed up fish eggs. Mushed up eggs of an almost-extinct fish. Dyed pink.
What a letdown. Ok, so I bought it because of the pretty colour.
IT HAD SO MUCH PROMISE… With a name like Taramasalata! It was supposed to make you.... DANCE!

Two other dreams in the past week triggered something in me. A severed memory that would not talk to me in what seemed like a familiar moment in a strange future. Memories of what you knew then confuses you because you know not what’s yet to come. There’s a blurry line in those dreams and reality. And more things just seem to be triggering more thoughts in me lately. When you revisit these still-images in your mind again, it transports you back to that moment stuck in time, where feelings and memories are as fresh as before. As much as you try to avoid it, it still comes back and hits you. Leaving you stunned for a while, trying to shake it off. No matter how happy you are in the current, there is always a past to mourn for. Problem is, I didn’t let the mourning take its full course. When a wound has not been healed properly, it is so susceptible to opening up and bleeding again. Whenever you’re caught in that triggered moment, it seems like time never passed and there are still tears to be shed. My memory of a façade that I could not bring myself to or feared to read. Like a bookmark in a closed book. Closed with a cause and intention. Put on the hold shelf. Never to be collected.

Wombat prays for VTech

2007-04-18T21:30:00.000+08:00

Go to any news website and you will be greeted by an image of a south korean lad. He could've been picked out from any school yearbook. This guy, as you will already know, massacred 33 people in U.S.'s deadliest shootings 2 days ago.

The more you read around it, the more you think, why wasn't more done to prevent it? With all the warning signs of a disturbed mind, cries for help/attention and fury towards the world contained in an eerie personality... Yet it was so easy for him to walk into a pawn shop a month before... shoot two... go for a stroll to collect his weapons and drop off his package of photos and incoherent anger at the post...come back and shoot a whole lot more... and take out his own depressed life. THIS IS GETTING TOO COMMON NOWADAYS... It makes you fear going into a university library nowadays knowing that a student with an intention to kill will try take out as many as he can, targetting hotspots like so.

GUN CONTROL people....gun control... I know it's an oversimplistic solution as even if there was gun control, the will of a person when he makes up his mind to kill will overcome any gun regulatory barrier. If you've set out to kill, pretty much nothing can stop you. But it probably will make a difference to a person who doesn't have enough guts or willpower to go through the hassle to end his own life or a handful of lives for that matter. The AVAILIBILITY of it, just having it around, the EASY ACCESIBILITY TO ONE alone can start you thinking. Knowing how easy it is to end your misery/inflict vengeance on others, increases the possibility of occurance.

Reading his two plays was kinda eerie. There was just so much anger in it. His own manifested into the characters coupled with his views on the world. It was quite twisted. You can kinda see the world inside his head. But not understand it. I could sense his intepretations of the world and other's actions and the way he perceives them fuels more anger. He was clearly disturbed. He wrote around topics like paedophilia, angry accusations and resorted to violence as a final relief.

As of this moment, new news say he was admitted to a mental ward, stalks women... He sent a package with his pictures etc to the news in between his shootings. A cry for attention? A shot at fame? To get the message in his mind out to the world? Perhaps his cry for attention wasn't attended to fast enough, and his later shootings were a manifestation of that anger?

This guy showed signs of psychotic behaviour long before. Why wasn't more done about it? How easy is it for someone with a record to obtain suspicious amounts of guns and ammo...no questions asked? So many questions whenever something like that happens. I'd dread when it happens again *touchwood*. More lives, different university, different statistics. Something has to be done. The world's supposed to be a safer place...

Honestly, one of my housemates worries me. She moved in this year and gives me the creeps. She shows signs of behaviour akin to him. She's not into interaction and doesn't heed to your greetings sometimes answering curtly to cut off any communication, she relishes in morbid ideas (when she DOES talk), has a somewhat strange perception of the world, and laughs and cheers whenever something bad (catastrophe, murder) happens on tv. Call me paranoid but I'm gonna make sure I lock the door every night now and skirt gingerly around her in the kitchen.

Am buried in too much work and no direction really. Need to get more motivated and speed things up. Paul's been away at his place for two days. We're trying to strike more of a balance with our workload. It's kinda weird after having him around almost all the time during Easter break. I miss him already.

My nose is bleeding and I've got a headache. I hardly get headaches. Must be stress and lack of sleep. Could also be 'heaty' food and not enough fruits. Dehydration probably contributes to it too (am not a water gulper). Or a combo of all... ACE.

Broody Herr... It's almost 2am... got work in like 7 hours...Time to sleep then...

Wombat in Whitby

2007-04-16T01:03:00.000+08:00

So we went to Whitby for a daytrip last weekend. A good change from the dull Hull scenery. We left Hull bright and early 7am, after a hearty breakfast. Packed sandwiches for the journey the night before. Among other things packed away for the journey the next morning – Courage.

Arrived 9am in Scarborough. Seeing his campus grounds so soon still jolted at me. It felt strange somewhat to be back again. So familiar and fond once. Walking down that road, seeing it as it was many months back. It was still the same place. But different. From the way it was in the stills of my head, that dark early winter morning, bitter wind on my face, dead trees hovering and mud on the ground. Spring felt different from that detached winter numb. The sunlight seemed to coat its new paint job unto everything. Knowing underneath that nothing really changed. With the help of Alvin and Mo, dropped off what I came to drop off at the security office and left. He must hate me. Caught sight of a gray jumper with a red line in the familiar window. Knowing well there’s nothing left I could do.

As we made a turn along the coast towards Whitby, I felt like I’ve left another part of my life behind. Saw it linger in the roaring waves before it got swept out into the sea.

Whitby started at 11am. We drove right to the top of Whitby Abbey, didn’t do the 199 steps climb. So couldn't buy the magnet that said, "I climbed the 199 steps to Whitby Abbey" *disappointed*. The place was quite large and ANCIENT. The ruins of the abbey looked gorgeous in the bright sunlight. Got in, opted for the audio tour while wandering around the outside among the ruins. We kept rolling our eyes and snorted with laughter each time the person on the audio tape overdid the ‘medieval drama’. AND OVERDRAMATIZED THEY DID.

"Oh my lovely abbey...How dare the King!...How delightful!" Aiyoh, too much.

We took plenty of good pictures though. Then walked the market area in the town looking for Fish & Chips and ‘smelly fish’ called kippers (Coastal towns like Whitby are famous for their fresh fish and…erm….not so fresh chips.. actually, the place we ate at had them both. Could actually taste the freshness if I could get past the grease. Same goes for the fried Mars bar Al and Mo had)… Watched families fishing at the canals…Snapped pics with Captain Cook’s ship…Bought a Fat Rascal for a pound (a sturdy cross between a giant scone and a rock bun)…Got seaside ice-cream…walked up to their Whalebone arch… take pics of Captain Cook’s statue with a bird on its head… Drove to Robin Hood’s Bay, realized it’s just another coastal view…and left for home feeling totally knackered.

Today was LURVELY. So warm. Could wear a sundress out with flip-flops and eat ice cream and all. It was even too warm to have curry for lunch! So rare but true. Sunny weather forecasts until Thursday, when we’ll be plunged into cloudiness and depressing gray and near zero night temperatures again. Ah well, at least it lasted a couple of days this time.

Found Oatcakes in Sainbrys today. It’s been almost 2 yearssss… I’ve been trying to convince the whole world that I wasn't imagining Giant flat oatcake things.. but everyone thinks I’m talking about pancakes, or capati, or pfftt... TORTILLA. I know my oat products, people. We also bought this MASSIVE 700g frozen herby salmon. Which Paul thinks is actually less cuz “frozen meat weighs more than when fresh”, launching off a long debate on size, isipadu, molecules and weight of water loss and retained in meat. Could’ve had a Eureka kodak-moment there.

Radiohead are actually good. Better-er than I thought.

Time to sleep. Another unproductive day. Stuffed with too much food and chocolate (74% cocoa chocolate to be exact). I CAN”T BELIEVE EASTER BREAK IS OVER. Classes start again tomorrow, and it’s another deadline week nearer to project, poster, essays and exams. No stress no stress no stress…

I close my eyes and I see you there
I know I’ll see your face again

Things scientists come up with...

2007-04-10T07:01:00.000+08:00

Finding of the day :
Apparently, some researchers from a university here have found the secret of making the perfect bacon butty (bacon sandwich). They’ve even got a MATHS formula for it! Fry it for so and so minutes in so and so temperature/pressure…IN WHAT KIND OF BREAD...HOW THICK...

I cant imagine it going into a publication or journal... Journal of The Sandwich...BreaDing News...The Social Sarnie...Butty Hall of Fame..

More than 1000 hours was spent testing varieties of it. "They tried different types and cuts of bacon, cooking techniques, types of oil and a range of cooking times at different temperatures...Fifty volunteers also judged each sandwich according to its taste, texture and flavour." (BBC, 2007).

And now ladies and gentleman... the ultimate formula : N = C + {fb (cm) . fb (tc)} + fb (Ts) + fc

For a sandwich, people. Meat in between two slices of toast/bun/other pastry. WHHYYYYY LAAAAaaa….

Pah, so THAT’s where the money went… to perfecting a sarnie some of us DON”T EVEN EAT! I think bacon smells of pig too.

They should channel the research funds to a developing nation or a charity or something...devote their cause to something more...filling (pun intended. ha.ha.).. More...cause-ful. Like finding a cure for perenial rhynititis. This sinus that Paul has. It's like perpetual hay fever, gets you sniffly. He gets really bunged up especially during prolonged periods in my room. I'm starting to think he's allergic to ME... Maybe I'm like a giant allergen or something...giant dustmite in disguise...

I miss my gran’s place in downtown penang…an old-town charm with balconies of bougainvilleas housing 6 of her 10 children…knocking on adjacent walls to wake everyone up on Sunday for breakfast at the market…lazy Sunday mornings watching Chinese serials in my gran’s living room. And imposing my little self unto my aunts every night in their rooms listening to Chinese music and watching them knit and read magazines with Chinese characters I couldn’t read… and sniffing the Guiness my granma downs every night as it ‘helps her sleep’…and insisting on singing good night songs to the entire household before being carried upstairs half asleep.

Song of the Mo : The Drugs Don’t Work – The Verve (a song for his gf dying of cancer… you can sense the sadness and helplessness in it… I miss my granpa)