-3: Holy Shit

I've never really understood why people say that. How is shit holy? I can understand holy cow, but holy shit? This blog post will be open the whole day and I will be typing in random things that I think of, amidst my frantic writing. I can't believe today's Thursday, tomorrow's Friday, then Saturday comes and I'm flying off! But yea, no time to really put up an insightful post full of witticisms as per my usual writing. Still crazy behind with my work. Still.

---

I'm representing for them gangsters all across the world
Still hitting them corners in them low low's girl
Still taking my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D-R-E

---

Just came back from a meeting with my co-supervisor, my safety net, my life raft, my bungy rope. My pillar of support, my oasis in the desert, my please-don't-leave-me-to-die. He seems ok with my progress although I'm not. He also seems to think that I'll be working on it in Europe although I'm not. But seeing that he's always right, I may be ok, and I'll have to put in some overtime in Europe... preferably Berlin when I'll still be having a roof over my head.

I am taking solace in a video that I saw the other day on Discovery News - this explorer guy said that there is only one essential thing to be an explorer. "Incompetence". Because if everything goes well according to (a good) plan, there would be no adventures or good stories to tell. I will think of his wise words when I am stranded somewhere with no roof over my head or after I am robbed by cute gypsy kids.

I saw my insurance guy yesterday to pay for my travel insurance and it was him who told me about the gypsy kids slashing backpacks and pickpocketing in Europe. "They go for single Asian women who look clumsy and lost," he said. "Erm. Isn't that me?" "Yup." "With a neon sign pointing at the top of my head?" "Yup." I think my insurance guy is honest to the point of being annoying, which is probably a good trait for any insurance guy to have.

---

This is my Island of Stuff, still under construction. I can't afford to procrastinate on packing this time, so I've delineated an area to dump stuff that need to be packed there whenever I remember to. This is incomplete of course, especially the stack of clothes, which I put in just for illustration purposes.

From the top left clockwise, that's my day bag cum cooler (it has this really cool lining that keeps your drinks cool inside), my newly acquired netbook, various chargers and adapters of gadgets, my sleeping bag, my 32 litre Deuter Act Trail, some medication and supplements my mum got me, clothes, toiletries, souvenirs from Malaysia for friends and friends I have yet to make, a folder of important documents, a notebook and my passport. Apart from the day bag and the sleeping bag which my dad and I figured out how to affix outside the pack, everything has to go in.

I'm also bringing this new t-shirt I bought yesterday:


---

When I was doing my last-minute shopping yesterday I saw two cute guys. One was a salesman in a shop selling designer bags made out of recycled things such as seatbelts, fire hoses, candy wrappers and soda can rings. He patiently explained everything to me and was very nice even though I didn't buy anything (or look like I could afford to). The other was when I was buying a book in Borders, and the cute cashier asked me if I needed a plastic bag. He was the only cashier who took the trouble to ask me that for the entire day. I asked him if he asked everybody, or if he just noticed that I had a huge shopping bag with me. He said he asked everybody. I thanked him for that =)

Environmentally conscious guys are hot. Actually no, the researcher in me can't make that causal conclusion - so it's either environmentally conscious guys are hot, or hot guys are environmentally conscious. No actually again - there are many methodological problems - the sample's too small, there's a high researcher bias, so I can't say that either. Fuck - They just are.

---

Shit it's evening already and I've only finished organizing all my references and have been thinking a lot but haven't actually written anything. Jen Hui believes in me. If Jen Hui believes in me I should believe in myself right? Right!!!

---

I was just sending an impulse email to Val and at almost the same instance that I was about to send it, I got his text! Freaky friendship telepathy ftw =D

---

OK I should close this post and get down to writing. Two hours of intense word-smithing, coming up!

-24: Hello World

Sometimes I wish that you and I would run parallel, in mutual indifference to each other.

I don't want to think about your worldly problems anymore. I don't want to defend you and your little people anymore. Your little people can continue to think that climate change is still debatable. Your little people can spill oil and destroy the little wildlife that you have. Your little people can use all the little plastic bottles and plastic everything that they want. Your little people can trade parts of you in, just for convenience or profit.

And then I realize that it is not you who I find fault with. It is your little people, and their little minds, and their little efforts to make me and my convictions look silly.

Hello world. I am tired but I will continue doing what I think is right.

-64: I'm on it.

My innards are semi-pickled with beer, umeshu and sake. Also my hair is still wet from the shower I just took, at 12:30am. I am sleepy, and I need to wake up tomorrow at 6:50am to make dragonboat training on Sunday at Kallang. Damn bersemangat.

I had an interesting conversation today when a straight guy (self-proclaimed anyway) told me that he regarded the male form as more beautiful aesthetically than the female form. As a self-proclaimed straight girl I actually think that the opposite is true. I mean, to me, the female form has more graceful curves and bents and seems to be more sensual in general. I just assumed that everyone thought the same as me, but when you think about it, so many ancient Greek or Roman sculptures are of men - so maybe people do regard the male form as more artistic. I can't remember the conclusion of our conversation. If I don't remember the conclusion, does it mean that we wasted twenty minutes talking in mute and shooting blanks?

[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] an array of shot blanks

Big mute yawn. Maybe sometime when I'm not in a drunken haze or sleepy stupor I will be able to recall the conclusion. It was probably something very intelligent and memorable. Good night.

Give me fat, not carbs.

I discovered yesterday that I instinctively do a double take when people say things that are stupid enough. Behold, a snippet of conversation that made my head jerk in disbelief, betraying the fact that I was eavesdropping (well they were loud!):

"I'm not worried about the fat. I'm more worried about the carbs. Because fat doesn't give you muscles, carbs give you muscles."

I think the lady who uttered it was too busy worrying about carbs to notice my visible wince. Or maybe she was just dim in general.

Dear dear Val,

Typing this as I am watching a drama series with my sister, right now we're waiting for it to load a little =)

Things have become much better since we last spoke, I hope that your migraine did not give you too much trouble. Headaches are no fun =( Was it the type that you got when you were in New Zealand, where you saw dark spots and stuff?

Well things have become better, largely because I bought a book about spirituality and am currently reading it. I feel that suddenly things have become so much clearer, I feel so much more at peace with myself, and it's a good preparation for me to approach my new bosses to explain my position and to figure out a solution that will work for me and for them.

The title of the book is "Conversations with God" - and I can see your eyes rolling right there, haha! Well firstly it's not bound within any religion, it does not endorse any religion, not Christianity, not Buddhism, not anything. As I had suspected long ago, it is possible to be spiritual without being religious (in a bigoted, exclusive sense) - and I feel that this book supports my beliefs that there can be a direct relationship between me and a supreme being (I hesitate to use the word God really, it just seems that some religions have caused so many non-believers to stigmatize the word), without any major religion being the middle man.

I don't really know how to explain my thoughts, they are very clear but they are also very complex, suddenly what I've been doing so far makes a lot of sense, and it's a relief to know that all my principles and way of life fit into a spiritual framework. I think I like the God in the book, he seems like a really cool bloke, and he supports everything that I've been doing, because he says that the purpose of our life is to rediscover experientially what we already know conceptually (i.e. your conscience, your sense of morality, the voice within you that tells you what is right and wrong, because your soul KNOWS)... and that aligns directly with my philosophy of life, which is "every experience is a learning experience".

In this book we are encouraged to be creative, to create the reality that we want, and have faith that things will turn out - and turns out that faith is the thing that I've been lacking, therefore I feel fear and confusion and chaos. And no thanks to all the messed up interpretations of religions which only can succeed in pushing us further and further away from a spiritual core, which I personally would like to have, but who can convince me to pray to an omnipotent, vindictive and fear-inducing God who only rewards those who think the same way that some religious leaders do?

It is when religion shuts your mind that it is dangerous. When religion opens your mind, encourages you to explore, encourages you to question everything (even God) and learn from every experience, but have faith that everything happens for the purpose of your discovering your true self and your purpose of life - that, I feel, is a religion that I can subscribe to. And it feels like, from how I was literally nodding to some lines in the book, it is indeed the religion that I have subscribed to so far, without even knowing it, and that itself is amazing.

I hope that I'm not sounding like an overzealous religious fanatic at this point, but trust me when I say that I feel that I am much more enlightened now than I was, a couple of days ago, when I talked to you. The uncertainty was engulfing me and I felt helpless - but now I feel that everything will be fine, I will have some earnest talks with my new bosses and explain to them the importance of travelling is to me and to my personal growth, and hope that they will understand and support me. If they don't, or if what I'm asking is in conflict with their professionalism, well, the next hope is that they will be cool enough not to obstruct me; but if they do, I will only be more determined to draw upon my creativity to blast the path to Europe.

This will be an interesting experiment, to see if I will get to Europe this summer, if I do believe wholeheartedly in what I'm doing and go all out in achieving it. If at the end I still fail, I will not be disheartened because I'd have learnt a whole lot anyway (of what you should not do in order to get to Europe =D), and I know that I will keep striving for it until I get it, maybe by the year after.

The book, titled "Conversations with God", is written by Neale Donald Walsch, and is a three-part series. Silver had told me about it in Singapore, and since I chanced upon the series the other day when I was wandering around a bookshop in KL I bought them. I am still reading Part One. I am still nodding (in agreement) to it. It is the most moving book of its genre that I have read so far, and that's not really saying very much because I don't really read books on religion and spirituality =P But it's good. If you come across it in any book stores in Germany I highly recommend that you give it a try.

I suddenly feel that I should put this on my blog. I wanted to blog about it but words wouldn't come out, but somehow it became so much easier when I was writing this email and speaking to you. So I will =) and I'll send you another reply on your last reply to me soon.

Big hugs and love,
Jun-E

I am surrounded by wise (and crazy) people.

Sometimes I get too wrapped up, too lost in my little world, too engrossed in the mess of things. These are the times when I pull my hair, with the tangled web of pros and cons in my perplexed face. The mix and match of solutions, weighing the probability of me dying a slow and thirsty (but frugal) death.... the usual stuff.

Then I seek out LL and Asa because they are my mind-clones, minus the clutter, and they are able to tell me what I want. You want to go to the Burning Man, says LL. I go, really? You think so? Everyone else thinks it's a crazy idea! Follow your heart, she says. Thus a light shines through the dark clouds and I realize that it is the only thing that will make me happy - a week-long camping trip in a desert in Nevada, in a temporary city constructed by 50,000 people (of questionable sanity).

Then I realize that logistically, it is quite impossible for me to just buy a ticket and show up there. For one, I have never pitched a tent, in my life. I have yet to buy a tent, actually. Secondly, I don't think 35 litres of water will fall from the sky, unless it's one helluva climate change that we're talking about, and I have no feasible means to transport food and water (5l per day) into the desert. Unless I enrol myself into a tour group, and they will take care of food, water and transport. And presumably help me with my tent. Which will take USD520 out of my Miniscule Student Budget (MSB), sans tent expenses.

I sink into deep and dark depression again.

Thus I knock on Asa's MSN door. Asaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, I go. Yo! she answers. Tell me to spend USD520 on the desert trip! I implore her. After running through some details, with me pulling anguished faces at my laptop, she calmly asks me, In your lifetime, how often will you get to camp in the desert for a week? I reflect for a second and decide, not often i guess. Then she says, how many USD350 (difference between taking a tour and not taking a tour) can you earn in your lifetime?"

I am struck by a bolt of simple logic and wonder how much permanent damage the PhD has done to my head. Damn you, institutions of higher learning!

So after sending an email to the tour agency, I cross my fingers that they still have availability, and regain my peace of mind, somewhat. A call from my mum comes in. We talk about mundane stuff (swine flu and random mother-daughter gossip) and I bring up my decision to take a tour to the desert. A little pensively. I agree fully with Xin Fu (she calls Asa that)! She goes. This is a good chance for you! Don't worry about the money, just go!

Sometimes I do think my mum is the coolest mum on earth.

Also, that I am surrounded by wise (and crazy) people.

---

Another random snippet of conversation

ling says:
ahahha like popeye
ahaha
the sailor man
pi pi!!
*Jun-E says:
ei is pi pi meh
not pu pu?
ling says:
ahaha
i thought is pi pi mar
*Jun-E says:
ahaahahahahha
ling says:
ahaha is pu pu arr~~??
ahaha paiseh paiseh
*Jun-E says:
our conversation damn funny lah hahahaha
i have to blog about this

---

Was it "pi pi" or "pu pu"?

Random Saturday Episode 32175436

Today I ventured into the realm of Desperate Singledom. I have been in singledom for a while (two years actually) but this is the dark little corner where lonely souls succumb to their biological clocks and physiological needs and decide to cast all caution to the winds, all pride to the elements, and hence - all courting to the public.

This, is the world of singles events. I figured that it was an event where everybody was single. Note that no dating is mentioned - everything is very tactfully implied - you're here to widen your social circle and to network and to learn how to make a pizza - until they bring out the superbly cheesy icebreaker games, complete with the alternate guy-girl standing arrangements. Ah. Puberty revisited. Everyone trying to inconspicuously check everyone out, failing miserably, because the underlying motive of the event lies thickly in the atmosphere. We are here to make friends and eventually make babies. Make no mistake about it.

I was there to make pizzas. Sesat sikit.

After the awkward and rather ineffective ice-breaking session, they divided us into groups of four, forced cute aprons on us and sent us to the pizzeria just downstairs where we would learn how to make pizzas. Ingredients were supplied, all readily measured. We poured the yeast and sugar into the cup of water. Because there was no time we didn't wait for it to germinate (hope that's the right word). Salt, garlic powder and oil were added. Stir stir stir. Then we poured it onto the flour. Knead knead knead. Because there was no time to wait for it to rise, ready pizza bases magically materialized out of nowhere and we were given ingredients to spread onto the base.

With the facade of a healthy group activity out of the way into the oven, the guys and girls were sat down and rotated periodically. Essentially like a speed dating kind of thing. I don't think I like it very much. I don't think it brings out the best in people. I was bored and repeating my pitch (NTU, communications, Internet and trust, travelling) and I was judging and objectifying all the men that I saw. At any other circumstances I might meet any of these people and actually make friends with them. But in this dating framework there's only two categories - the yes-I-might-date-him or hell-no. Being in a state of constant disuse the first category has pretty much shrunk into nothingness. The number of hell-nos is dispiriting, I tell you.

At the end of the event, we were given feedback forms and we were to write down the names of the people that caught our interest, the yes-I-might-date-hims. The organizer would pair the matching ones up.

I drew a smiley on my people of interest list, folded it neatly and slotted it into the feedback box. I don't want to waste anybody's time. I'm happy the way I am now. Unattached, uncommitted, free as a bird =) Funny how a singles event affirmed that.

Random conversation snippet:
You speak really good English, where are you from?
Oh I'm from Malaysia.
You don't have a Malaysian accent! Must be because you've been in Singapore for long.
Well fuck you I've only been here for a year.
Oh.

It was decided within 10 mins

[...random fei hua]

*Jun-E... It's about how much you can learn, not how much you know. says:
hahaha... actually, india seems doable
asa@small small master student says:
ooo
*Jun-E... It's about how much you can learn, not how much you know. says:
*go check tickets*
*Jun-E... It's about how much you can learn, not how much you know. says:
whaahahaha

[...random fei hua]

*Jun-E... It's about how much you can learn, not how much you know. says:
hmm hmm... flilght to india via airasia is abt 800 return...
asa@small small master student says:
walao eh~
asa@small small master student says:
go lo

[...random fei hua]

*Jun-E... It's about how much you can learn, not how much you know. says:
so so so
asa@small small master student says:
sososo
*Jun-E... It's about how much you can learn, not how much you know. says:
u up for like a week thing in india onot
asa@small small master student says:
up

[super long bunch of India-related random fei hua]

Kesimpulannya - We are going to India! =D =D =D

Death was on Dr. W's mind today.

"Do you realize how long it hasn't been raining? I haven't seen rain for at least two weeks. This climate change is horrible! We're all going to die!!"

"Then you may wonder, what's the use of learning statistics if we're going to die anyway. But let's enjoy statistics before we die!"

"So, for regression analysis, it's like, you have one bowl of rice, you gain a kg, you have two bowls, you gain two kgs, you have 100 bowls, you gain 100kgs. Then you die."

So I was reading.

I was in a current of words, which brushed against me, I could almost feel the friction on my skin, the slight resistance, stronger than wind, weaker than warm sea water, somewhere in between. I didn't always understand what the words meant, although I understood what the words meant. It's like listening and hearing. Sometimes you hear, but you don't listen. Or was it the other way around?

When there was comprehension, I was carried in a whirlwind of emotions the words afforded me, I saw what he wanted me to see, I was in his body, I became one with him. I cried, I laughed, I heard his voice accompanying the current of words. Sometimes it was heavy, like thunder - not loud, startling crackles, but slow, uneasy rumbles in the distance. Sometimes it was light, like tinkles of bells, like children laughing, and I was happy.

Sometimes I lost track of the words, they were rushing at me in torrents, so I contented myself with skipping through the pages like bouncing on rocks in a stream, absently looking at the meaning trickling in between the words, consciously taking care not to pay too much attention, in case I got ahead of myself and discovered too much of what was in store. It was like being a fortune teller. Sometimes I glimpsed good parts coming up, at times bad. When I saw bad parts I would read extremely slowly, trying to prolong the inevitable downfall, while hoping endlessly that I had misread the crystal ball and it would be good after all.

Never, never would I skip to the end. That would be sacrilege. It would render The Book meaningless, everything from the page that I'd stopped halfway till the last page might as well be blank because they didn't matter anymore. The end had happened in spite of all the expanse of pages in the blank. And I love The Book, I never want to finish it. I love how it makes me feel, parts of my soul that I had forgotten that I had. I want to prolong this open window of looking at precious little corners with some childhood left in it.

Like a lingering scent that you want to smell for ever and ever although you know you have to stop breathing in at some point or your lungs would burst, and then the scent would be lost. For a while you might remember how it smelt like, how beautiful it was, till it fades away, even in your memory, and there is only one line of words left in your head - "It was a beautiful smell, a little like cinnamon, a little like freshly laundered bedsheets dried by the sun, a little like him." Then even that line would shrink, slowly becoming "I smelt a smell. It was good." to "Singapore sucks, I hate my life."

Then and there the window would be closed, and you have to wait till another time when you get a whiff again, and remember how beautiful it was, how lovely your soul can actually be, and the amazing things you could do if you held on to this moment and continued to dream like how you did, before the world came into the picture and messed you up.

Friday is Blood Donation Day

And today's Friday. Hence I am going to donate blood today. Haha crap title and crap first paragraph.

Let's start over. I'm feeling restless today - the good kind though. Like my mind's racing 100kms per hour and my body's just sitting in front of the computer, letting my mind be, knowing full well that it will come back when it's exhausted from all the racing. But in the meanwhile the mind's just darting in circles, dabbling a bit here and there, jumping from topic to topic in leaps and bounds.

OK there's this thing about learning a new language. Some time within the week I decided that I will take up an European language. I don't know where it came from but it came and it stuck and then I figured that I would do something about it. So I googled it and found out, to my utmost joy, that NTU actually has a language school that teaches some languages. I could choose from French, German or Spanish. So then I shot an email to the German coordinator, just for the heck of it, to ask if I could participate as a postgrad student. Turns out that NTU DISCRIMINATES POSTGRADUATE STUDENTS ACTIVELY. Yes you can quote me on that, in all its capitalized glory. We have no buses after 9pm though our classes end at 9:30 (so we have to walk), postgrad students are excepted from exchange programmes, we have to pay to use sports facilities while staff and undergrads don't, the list goes on.

So anyway. I have to get private lessons or join a group class. Private classes cost about $70 per hour, which is something I obviously can't afford - and group classes are held extremely far away so the commuting will be a killer (like 3 hours to and fro). I don't know. After taking into account Val's suggestions (and he doesn't have one ounce of national pride in him) maybe I'll take French instead and commute every Saturday afternoon. Kristy thinks I am nuts. Maybe I am but I am a cheerful and happy nut.

*break for a while to check through some group work*

I don't like it when people change my stuff. Fine if you're some editor who's good at what you do. But - oi - "confidential" is not equal to "confident" ok. And a series of other idiotic mistakes that I don't want to reproduce here. Thanks for doing something completely counterproductive, wasting more than 30 minutes of my time, weeding the questionnaire of spelling, grammatical and logical errors, basically restoring the whole thing to its original form except that yours is in Excel and mine is in Word, and yours has pretty little boxes that people put ticks in and mine didn't. Appearance does not surpass substance. Fuck you. RAGERAGERAGE.

I hate group work. Did I ever mention that I hate group work? I hate it with all my guts and intestines and - well, my entire digestive system. Anyway I sent him an email which was quite blunt and curt, i.e. "I hope you shrivel up and die" or something to that effect. Actually nothing to that effect lah. I'm too nice =_= . But blunt and curt nonetheless.

*back from the Blood Donation Drive*

So. After lunch I realized that I didn't bring my passport and hence would not be able to donate my blood. But since today's Friday and Friday's Blood Donation Day I decided to go back to the hostel to get my passport. Hence began my arduous journey of waiting for the bus for 20 minutes, getting my passport, waiting for the bus for 20 minutes again, getting on the bus, getting lost in the labyrinth of North Spine, finally finding the Blood Donation Drive place, realizing that the process would take "one hour plus plus plus", walking back to my office, getting some reading material, going back to the station again, and finally registering myself.

Then I waited. Then I queued. Then I waited. Then I queued again. Finally I got to the last station where the nurse would mark your vein. The nurse tried my left arm. Then my right. Then she took off the blood pressure thingy and told me that they. couldn't. take. my. blood.

......

I was like, wha..?

My veins were too soft, both the left and the right. If they took my blood, my vein would collapse half way and I'd be just wasting my blood. Maybe next year.

I walked out of the place feeling totally and utterly dejected. When I got back to the office Yuen and Kristy couldn't understand my utmost disappointment and proceeded to laugh at me. I was like, "I don't understand why you don't understand me," and they were like "it's just blood" and I was like "it's not just blood, it's my blood! Good AB positive blood!" And then they got tired talking about blood and talked about university applications instead.

It's just that... I really wanted to make a small difference somehow, outside my daily routine, that would help someone somewhere out there. And all the effort I put in - just wasted. I felt quite inconsolable. You get what I mean? OK fine noone understands me.

I shall stop here.

Note to self.

Never announce a hiatus when you're going to break it two days later. Honestly I'm embarrassed with such inconsistent behaviour. But I'm happy today and feel like blogging so I shall.

I've made good progress in my work, although each paragraph takes me one man hour to write, I'm nonetheless proud that I have made quite a few paragraphs. I've been absolutely high these few days on my research, reading and writing feverishly, in my office and in the lounge room back at the hostel. Yuen, my incredibly sweet officemate is hooking me up with a prof from another faculty as a potential co-supervisor. Dr. C. asked me to get one because what I'm doing is not his area of specialty. I've also found a new thesis on the subject! Happy happy happy =D

---
Kristy (my other incredibly sweet officemate) and My Wronged Bundaberg Ginger Beer.

"It's non-alcoholic!" I told her, pointing to the clearly printed "NON-ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE".
She shook her head and didn't seem to be convinced.
"Look - take a sip and try."
She obliged, albeit reluctantly.
"See? There's no alcohol in it!" I said, triumphantly.
"So... it's just soda?"
"No! It's not just soda, it's the best ginger beer in the whole wide world!"
She persisted on calling it "just soda" for the rest of the day. How dare she.

---

For those who are following my Half-Marathon of Death - I found this site the other day. *click*

Apparently I was doing Route 2 (click on the tabs above) twice each jogging session before this week. Route 2 is 2.5km once, so twice would be 5km. I normally jog 2-3 times a week.

Funny thing though is that I've only been able to do Route 2 once, ever since I found this site. It is as good as a curse. Sunday I did 2.5kms, Monday I did 2.5kms. I think it has something to do with my mental endurance. Maybe it's too much concentration during the day on my research? Or maybe the idea of the race is intimidating me? Or maybe I ate too much during the weekend. I really have no idea.

Now that I know my mileage, any training tips from you guys?

The race is on December 7th, so I have about 3 months to train. I am doing my running at night now, so I should probably run during the day later on to be accustomed to the heat. My goal is simple - I just want to finish the race, without killing myself.

---

Quick nip back KL this Friday =D

---

OK - here comes the awkward part - I guess I am going to be extremely busy with work, blog posts will be few and far between, unless I decide otherwise two days later.

Good morning.

I'm a sweaty mess, emanating heat from every pore. Why, at 10:45am in the morning, when I should be flipping through academic papers idly, poised and perfect in my office?

Because at 10:15am, after waiting for the shuttle bus for 20 minutes, I decided, fuck it I'm gonna walk. So I bade my friends goodbye (patience being their virtue, they decided to wait) and embarked on a 25min brisk-walk.

It had just rained in the morning. The air was cool, the grass wet, the birds chirping. I wonder why birds walk with that Indian head bob. Is it because anatomically they can't move their feet without moving their heads? Or does it enable them to see where they're going better? Or do they do it because it's fashionable in Birdsville?

So I walked and walked with the breeze in my hair and a skip in my feet. I said hi to the gardener and he grinned pleasantly back. Cars and bicycles whizzed by as I contemplated hitchhiking as a possible means of transportation in times of need, within the campus. I always let crazy ideas like this simmer for a bit in my head and eventually I carry them out. I have yet to execute the plan of hijacking a passing bicycle. (Nicely. Like, are you in a rush? Could I borrow your bike for a while? Wait here, I'll just go for a round and I'll be back in a jiffy.)

Then there was this dialogue between the left side of my body with my right. Seems that my right arm, butt and thigh were protesting to the left that they didn't do any work during Saturday's badminton session. Since only the right side of my body is aching and the left side is alright. The left side's contention was that they were fitter therefore they didn't hurt as much. The right side then insulted the left side that they were "dangling limply" during the game.

And so they went on and on. Somehow my bodily conversations sound very much like Marten and Val squabbling. ("You suck!" "Your mother!") As a rule I try to keep out of those.

I reached the school in 25 minutes, dripping with perspiration. Shuttle Bus C arrived at the stop, bringing my friends along with it. I was 30 seconds faster than the bus. In your face! muahahaha.

I'm in a good mood. It is a good morning.

Some new friends.

So I stayed in the hostel today and didn't go anywhere. In the morning I had an insightful chat with the cleaner lady who happened to be in the pantry while I was making oats for breakfast with the hot water dispenser. She started telling me horror stories about how some girls throw their soiled sanitary napkins into the dustbins just like that. Very inconsiderate to the people who are doing the cleaning up.

"Last time there was an auntie, who took the sanitary napkins, and burnt them." What happens when you burn them? I asked, wide-eyed. "It's not good. Not good for the girl," she said solemnly and impressively, and refused to elaborate. So here you are, girls. Do yourselves and others a favour, wrap your monthly blood up before you dispose of them. Unless if you want to get yourself cursed. Then by all means.

Being friendly with the resident cleaner lady also has other benefits. For instance I now have the intelligence that a certain microwave oven in Lobby 2 was once used by a girl to microwave her underwear. She decided to microwave not one, not two, but four of her panties because they weren't dry. Using an iron did not occur to her. No, she would microwave them instead, in a bowl.

The cleaner ladies noticed the unorthodox objects spinning merrily in the lighted oven, ambushed the girl and told her off. The kind lady never used any of the ovens ever again. I think that's a wise decision. I shall do the same, and continue to smile widely at cleaner ladies who come my way.

I stink. I shall go shower first and continue blogging when I get back.

Back.

The whole day I spent alternating my position from on the bed (sleeping and reading) to in front of my laptop (reading this really funny blog of a Guatemalan (El Guapo in DC), it has been discontinued since a year ago but the archives are priceless!). Thus passed a pretty uneventful day until I kicked my ass out of the room at 9pm to go jogging. The things boredom make you do!

So I jogged a bit, and brisk-walked most of the way because I'm really no jogger, and passed by the NIE (Nanyang Institute of Education) basketball courts. Yesterday when I was depressed I thought I would join in some games the next time. Well, no time better than now, nowhere better than here, noone better than me! So I approached two guys at the court and asked them nicely if I could join. So I did. Then I shot some hoops with the guys, both Singaporeans, for about half an hour. I have forgotten how nice it feels to hold a basketball. It's been such a long while! They weren't playing in teams though because there were only two of them. So endurance wasn't an issue and I just enjoyed shooting.

They were having an inter-block basketball tournament tomorrow and they weren't sure if anyone would turn up... naturally I asked why. Apparently everyone's busy studying. And it's like, one week into the semester. And naturally I pointed that out. "It's only 12 weeks till the exams! We're Singaporeans!" was the answer. You're joking right? "No, there really are people who have started to study." Then what are you guys doing here playing basketball? "Oh we've finished studying. We're the most kiasu ones." I hope they were joking. I really do.

Basketball back into my life! Even the customary casualty of my specs as a result of ball on face. Ah the nostalgia.

At the end I exchanged numbers with one of the guys. And One Of The Guys is kinda cute too. I should've let him walk me back to my hostel. Maybe next time. When I feel less like a cradle robber. Both guys are undergrad freshmen. Ah to be young and carefree and cramming for an exam which happens 12 weeks later!

One last thing. I think I may get Carpal Tunnel Syndrome from using my Sony Ericsson w910i to text. The keys are infuriatingly shallow. Otherwise I've got no complaints, only that I need to somehow transfer my coo-coo ringtone from my old phone to my new. My phone won't be my phone till I do that. But so far trying to send an MMS has not worked, I don't have a cable, there's no bluetooth and the new phone does not have infrared for me to transfer. Any ideas?

Moment of Truth

知己。Literally translated - "know yourself". Meaning of word - best friend who knows you better than you. It really takes a best friend (I am lucky to have a few best friends, so "best" not as in superlative) to knock some sense into you.

*POW*

Haha I've been such an ass for the past few days. Been painfully oblivious to so many obvious things, been self-indulgent to the point of terrorism, been immature bordering on childishness. In true Taurean spirit I went for it, with tunnel vision, insisting that I could fix it, I could make it better, everything will be alright if I am determined to make it better. At a point there was even a flowchart in my head. If, then, else. Loop.

*BANG*

When what I should have done was to leave the problem alone. But the time pressure blinded me. I still have time! I can fix it! Please let me fix it! It's so simple!

*BOOM*

So what I did was to screw things up to the point of no return, when my intention was to salvage what I could. Irony irony irony. So is life. And I would've continued with the downward spiral if it weren't for you. My best friend, my mirror.

Pain. Pain because I see how stupid and simplistic I'd been. Pain because I can see it so clearly in theory but it's not within my practical control. Pain! Why the hell am I trying to explain my pain just pain lah damnit raw stinging teeth-gritting pain. Fuck.

Tomorrow I'll wake up into strong mode again, a useful self-defense mechanism. But still have to go through tonight. Tomorrow my new shell will withstand the stinging humiliation. But tonight still have to pack. Tomorrow I will move on. Tomorrow quickly come. Now have to quickly pack.

I'm sorry. I'm rarely like that. You just caught me at the worst possible moment. I'm sorry.

And Ying Jian, thanks. I love you mate.

I love you.

I love you all.

Who would get you a perfect parting present - an idea book which has the inscription "What would life be if you have no courage to attempt anything?" Jen Hui you have no idea how much I love the book. Very, very much.

Who would delight in enthusing about the best pen in the world - the formidable 5566? Ah Boon who's going to give birth to a beautiful and feisty baby girl in 7 weeks time, I think you will be a brilliant and cool mum, and I will love your kid too.

Who would spend hours with me spurting adrenaline planning other people's travel routes, while assuming our face-to-face-fetal-position on my bed? Asa my ultimate travel partner, we shall travel again. And again and again.

Who would beg plaintively on the phone "Don't forget poor me in Sabah"? Guang Hong who was on call in the hospital in KK when we called him to demand why he didn't reply my text, you bet I'll get my ass over to KK within two years just to leech on your hospitality. (And to point at your hospital saying "My friend's a doctor in there".)

Who would bring us for foosball and drinks and say "No dice, no signature" to the stupid waiter who insisted that there were no more dice but brought some right after? Sze Yee whom I will always refrain from addressing as "Steven", thanks for loving Jen Hui. I love you for that =D

Who would eat steamboat with me? YKent, we will continue supporting the Malaysian steamboat industry. Jen Hui asked me if there's any steamboat to be eaten in Singapore. I replied, yes but noone to eat it with.

Who would walk right past our table, decide that he was in the wrong gathering place, return to the car and almost drive away if we did not call him to tell him to get his ass back in there? Wiun, getting more and more blur by the day, I wish you a successful career and a lifetime of happiness with Pei Shyuan the gorgeous copywriter. (Pei Shyuan has the. most. beautiful. handwriting. ever.)

Who would give me a text "if u had anything to share no matter what even climb knife mountain swim in sizzling oil pot i'll also be there ok?" Ying Jian whose text is dated 18 months ago I still keep , hugs hugs hugs hugs hugs! I'll see you tomorrow!

Special cameos for the gathering yesterday Kang Wei and Lee Chih Feng - told you my house was easy to reach. Kan?

And those abroad. I miss you all very very much.

Ling I'm happy for your you-know-what and worried about the you-know-what and I hope everything will work out perfectly for you and you would be the happiest you-know-what ever!

Yen Yi hahahhahaa you sa po congrats for being one of the most beautiful Asian girls in NZ! Muaks! (Ooo I just kissed one of the most beautiful Asian girls in NZ)

Woei don't worry I'll be a good girl and study hard in Singapore and I shall love with the passion of a child! I really miss our long chats - the next time you come back to KL I shall come back from Singapore and we'll talk.

Long post! No mean feat for still vaguely hungover little me. What did I do to deserve such wonderful lifelong friends? Bear hugs all around.

A Certain Little Boy.

Jamie Cullum in the background. I'm bringing him to Bangkok. My backpack's still hanging behind my door, urging me to stuff it full. I am ignoring it. As I blog, Asa's on the plane flying towards South East Asia right now.

I'm sleepy. But I kinda like blogging with my mind half conscious. Less inhibitions. The guards are down. Wisps of thoughts escape.

I'm thinking of a Certain Little Boy. He's sweet and cute like little boys from boy schools should be. I like the Certain Little Boy. I am not sure how much but it's comfortable being with him. I have a sneaking suspicion that the Certain Little Boy likes me too. But I can't be sure, since his signals are weak and my radar has never been very good.

I just wonder. Time is running out. On one hand there's no foreseeable future. On the other hand I really, really want to know. Did I imagine you, Certain Little Boy? I don't like playing games. I'm too shy to ask. I just want to know that I'm not alone in this. And if I am, I want to know also. I won't bite. I just want to know. No strings attached.

I'm going to be away till next Thursday. No posts till then. And I will wake up, tomorrow morning, with my full senses, tough like a nut, cursing myself of yesterday for shirking packing till last minute for some weird ass blog post that noone understands.

Would be good to know though.

Mum says the darndest things.

Conversation in the car between me and my mum today.

Mum: "Do you know if people can have babies without a husband?"
Me: "Like a test tube baby?"
Mum: "Yeah, how do they do it? Where do they get the sperm from?"
Me: "From the sperm bank lah... I've heard that you can even choose the profile of the sperm donor and stuff like that. I can google for you to see how it happens in Malaysia. Why, which of your friends is interested?"
Mum: "For you lah!"

Erm.

OK.

Never ceasing to surprise me, my mum, from a previous suggestion to "adopt when you're forty and don't have a partner yet", has overwritten that idea with a test tube baby "because we don't want to waste your good genes". In other words, my mum seems to have given up on me going through the conventional path of dating, getting a good husband, conceiving a baby like everybody else - and decided that I should just waltz to the end process of getting a baby.

And I love her for that =D

Repository of Drafts

I've been so busy that all my posts are half-done and I don't want to throw them away so I'll just put them up in a single post. 4am now, my sleeping hours are so screwed up.

***

Another one bites the dust, I thought, as he told me that he had a boyfriend. The good men are either gay, or taken, or gay and taken.

Later we went to a gay club. I've never felt safer clubbing and dancing in a sea of men. For starters, Gay Friend #1 took my hand and led me through the crowd. Gay Friend #2 assured me that if anyone groped my ass it would be him, and subsequently initiated my very first Gay Sandwich. There was significant body contact and hell, groin contact too. (Times Two.) It was as sexual as watching whales hump each other (Not very.).

I was exhilarated.

Before we left the club, Gay Friend of Gay Friend #1 engaged me in light conversation.

"Are you a lesbian?" I shook my head.

"Please continue to populate the world ya," he said, in all seriousness. I nodded, with the weight of the entire human existence upon my shoulders.

***

It doesn't take a genius to see what's wrong with the country lah. I'm just quite mad at people who seem to get a kick out of spreading doomsday stories, just so that when doomsday happens, they can say "Told you so, SUCKER!" Yeah. Genius. So great is your foresight. I salam.

There's a difference between rants because you're genuinely upset in the state of affairs, and deriving perverse pleasure in bearing bad news. It shows. And it's sick, while you yap yap yap with the pretense of caring, when you don't, and all you want to do is to get out of the country and then bask in the glory of having the foresight to flee before others did. And where would you be if the country progresses, and you fled for nothing? Hence I have reasons to believe that you secretly want the country to go down. 'Else it'd be so pointless, right?

Please observe my third finger.

***

Raja Nazrin gave me my scroll today =D I was the only graduand from INPUMA, thus was expecting to be rather lonesome, but then I met Liew Chin Tong in the hall! Apparently he was my fellow graduand, and as luck had it, sat only a couple of places away from me. We took pictures outside the hall later.

Special thanks to my most supportive parents, and Melissa Sim and Melissa Tan who beat all odds to come to my convocation. *hugs and kisses around*

***

I am thinking of going for the Flute Festival performance at KLPAC this Saturday. Anyone interested?

***

I am starting to count the days left in KL before I leave for Auckland. There are 16 more days. Two more weekends. 32 meals (lunch and dinner) to meet up with friends and relatives.

Books to read, things to buy, room to pack, amendments to make, farewells to bid, people to hug, food to guzzle....

I know it's only 6 months. But it's a Big Deal for me ok, as the longest that I've been away from home was for three months when I went to UK with my god grandmother. And I was three, so that doesn't count.

***

5am already. I should go to bed.

Dear Malaysia,

Happy Independence, I feel inclined to say to you, just 50 minutes past 12am and we're officially into 31st August 2007, 50th Anniversary of our Independence.

I feel like saying it wistfully, tenderly and softly. I'm all for yelling Merdeka! Merdeka! Merdeka! but now does not seem to be the time to do it; instead I would just like to quietly reflect upon my 24 years of existence in an independent state. I'd like to say thank you for a change. Heartfelt gratitude, none of those cynical crap like Yeah, thanks a lot for nothing.

Firstly, I'm thankful to have a decent place to live in, a roof over my head, food on my plate, and broadband that provides me endless entertainment. Thank you also, for being a country of few natural disasters and for having warm weather all year around. Thanks for bringing together our brothers and sisters of different ethnicity, and teaching us to live and love together. Thanks for providing me the basic education to be built upon, to shape me into what I am today.

Sometimes it's easy to take for granted what you have given us, but I am always jolted back to counting my blessings when I witness hardships of others in other countries, of poverty, of war, of natural disasters.

I realize that we still have a long way to go. I realize that you're not perfect, but so is every other country. I realize that in order to make you better, I need to have a better understanding of why you became what you are today, and how we can make you better tomorrow. The heartache in me will fuel my endeavours to make you a better place for many more generations to live in, to love you for who you are, and not hate you for who some people want to shape you to be.

Happy Merdeka =)

Love,
A Malaysian Citizen