Monday, April 24, 2006

This weekend's theme must have been: Miscommunication.

Which is such a frustrating thing because it's essentially just unneccesary aggravation! I know I've said this so many times in the past 24 hours, but I can't help repeating myself because some neurone of mine thinks that if I keep repeating it, I'll stop feeling (aforementioned aggravation) it so much.

So, miscommunication yesterday and then, this morning as well! Whereby I turn up at Jurong library, quite frustrated at not being able to find Charmaine, having gone up and around the three levels, calling a handphone that refused to be picked up, only to find out that they were in fact, at the National Library at City Hall.

I spluttered massively in disbelief, and I'm telling you, I felt like crying.

Then I got caught in the rain.

I stood there in the rain, Coke in my hand, sipping it occasionally and thought: No. This cannot be happening.

Except that when I closed my eyes and opened them again, yup, still standing there, worrying whether Kate the Laptop will get wet in my bag, wondering why I never bring an umbrella with me even though it makes logical sense, wondering what I did to incur the wrath of God and the resulting smiting of uh, inconvenient rainfall, wondering if I should just turn around and head home, wondering why the rain was so early in the afternoon today.

I hate these hormone-induced mood swings!

Because you know what, despite all of the cruddy things that happened, I did actually have a nice weekend, more or less. Spent Saturday with my cousin, unexpectedly got a free ticket to see the SSO, was suitably and agreeably impressed by said concert, talked well with several people and and and.

Monday, April 17, 2006

Right, something I wrote:

Navigating along a familar route, it is rather odd how people can meander through paths, following a dotted line on a map that is seen only in the nanosecond moments when lids are pulled down over the eye in a blink. And as limbs and thought wander off on a different track, you see the many things that you see everyday. A part of the flattened image that wallpapers your perimeters: there, we have the dry grass and above, the bright and cloudless sky that from its great distance, is changing the green to brown. There, we have the red, silver, blue, black cars of generic make and there, the bus that rumbles along with flawed suspension, lopsided. There, we have the cracks on tarmac.

There, we have the lady who is waiting patiently for the temple to open its gates that are now speckled in pearly rust. Yesterday and like the many days before, she might have been sitting by the steps with crumbled edges, or by the roadside curb holding on to an old bag that in turn, hold on to its fruits and cakes. These items, asserted by our mortal tastes to be overripe and bland, will soon in an offering, be making their ascension to the heavens; the seams of the said bag meekly protest this, and slouch over the edge of the curb like a soft anchor.

Today, she is standing and stretching her arms, soft curves that arc into the sky and you wonder where her anchor is before realizing that it is already there. The gates are late today - the tending old man, who you suspect lives and sleeps in the temple, is still sweeping the grounds clear of the dust that sweeps in everyday.

You wonder what it is that she could be praying so hard for.


On another note, the death of a friendship is so awkward to navigate through.

So what do I do now: do I still politely smile and make inconsequential small talk or twitch my hand in a passing wave or even bother putting on the veneer of cordiality or ignore you because why bother right or just ignore it because on my part at least, I've always sort of known it was like that except that now, the horse has said its word.

What, in the world, do you do with a corpse?

Monday, April 10, 2006

Notably, I have recently lapsed from putting up rambly posts that are both, something and nothing. Which got me wondering -- is it because *cue: collective speech bubble rising above all JC students* being in jc is so wholly draining, and that I am so absorbed in it, that I have not noticed anything else outside of our small, but insanely numerous school-related trifles?

Also, I think I'm a) getting too serious, and b) take myself too seriously.

Which in itself is quite ironic because I have recently found myself telling people to stop over-intellectualizing certain issues because it's so unneccesary etc. etc.

Right, I'm going to shut up my Pensive Voice now!

Today, I consumed a humongous amount of food. Oh oh remember when I used to compulsively make lists!

What I Ate Today
i. For lunch, at an Indonesian buffet
- Gado-gado: A not-so-vegetable based salad (haha!) of fried tempeh pieces [compressed and fermented soya beans], chunks of ketupat [tightly compressed rice - a rice cake, if you will], sauted cabbage things drenched in rich peanust-coconut gravy!

- 9 large and wonderfully fresh prawns. (Dhaniah! Where were you!)

- Greasy, but zomg: oxtail soup. I suppose some would find it a tad too salty for their palates, but I thought they balanced the blend of spice and mutton incredibly well

- Some noodle and soup thing; see description of soup above. Different soup, prawn stock this time, I think, but just as good.

- Rendang! This being almost always the highlight for me at any foodie session at any Malay family (or in usual cases, far-off distant relatives to whose events we are still invited to). For the uninitiated, this is chunks of beef that have been marinated, then simmered in a large pot of thick, calorie-ridden gravy of coconut and spices. It's really rich and because of the massive amount of time spent stewing over the stove, the meat is so tender it easily parts along the grain into individual STRIPS.

The buffet didn't do it so great though, but good enough for me to have several chunks.

- Tea

ii. at The Coffee Club with Charmaine and Ching Hong (alliteration!)

- A handful of Chachos nacho chips with cheese dip

- A tiny bag of Jelly Tots; I like the purple ones best! Is it strange that I've tasted so many things blackcurrant-flavoured, but not the actual currants itself?

iii. At Cedele/Ya Kun Kaya with Matthew

- Two thick heavy bagels dipped into his spinach chicken soup, which was better than anticipated but was too lazy to buy my own. Cedele has a great way of making dodgy sounding soups taste great! Carrot-coriander soup, for example! Love, love, love. But for the love of all baked goods and wholesome soups, I'd NEVER try the pea soup that they had today. EW!

But then arh, Cedele also cheated my feelings today! Said bagels were stated on the laminated labels to be cranberry bagels, hence, the reason why I bought them -- but they turned out to be plain! Wah lau! So it was like eating a whole loaf of white bread that was compressed into donut shapes.

Somehow, I always turn to Singlish when it comes for whinging petty grievances.

Mel: Which Cedele are you working at?

- a cup of teh susu/milky tea

So all I'm thinking is, how in the world am I going to run my NAPFA 2.4km run tomorrow at my goal of under 15:00min! Poop. What bad timing, I feel like a bloated whale.

In retrospect, I suppose I didn't eat that much - but ALL THOSE CALORIES FROM THE BUFFET. *dies*

Ho hum, pig's bum! I have yet to complete my lit essay that was due Wednesday, nor have I sufficiently prepped for tomorrow's informal debate on globalization. I think it's kinda strange that I have very little interest in the two topics of said due work: globalization and existentialistic musings. Not that I don't think them very important, but my brain seems to dismiss said issues after giving them a 5 second cursory glance.

Why, in the name of all things literary, do writers feel the need to expound, extensively, on the various perspectives of existence? Granted, maybe it might be just my ignorance making itself heard but HULLO, a lot of it sounds like a load of indulgent bovine scatology to me. Brilliant man summed it up in a few syllables: "Cogito ergo sum; I think, therefore I am." No need to write, or make us write lengthy essays about it! Why do you torture me so, essay awaiting to be written and it's 2:18AM!

Recently, I've been pre-occupied with trying to determine in concrete terms how I sound like when I speak*. Various friends would know this, seeing that I've been prodding them for answers at a perhaps, vaguely annoying frequency. Started thinking about it again when Matthew got annoyed by a Caucasian man sitting at the next table who was talking with a really strong accent. Which of course, is really hilarious I thought because you know, Matthew is half-white, (okay granted, pink when he's sunburnt or laughing), and has a not-very-local accent too.

And he's spent all his life, localized in Singapore. Not that he's ugh, one of those obnoxious expat kids that hang around Wheelock's Burger King - but okay la, he is a good specimen of cultural assimilation - YAY YOU! I suppose I will never understand this peeve of his though, as much as he won't understand why I really, and sincerely, wanted a rock from Africa/Cambodia when he went there.

A rock, you say rather incredulously.


At first, it was just a funny idea but if you think about it right, it does make sense. Why should a rock be a stupid/silly/ridiculous souvenier? And I'm not making a logical justification for the sake of it here, but really! A rock, would quite literally have been a PIECE OF AFRICA. Is that not cool, or what? Sure, a made-in-Africa trinket would be a piece of Africa as well, but in my head, it just doesn't seem as authentic. It's a piece of tourism. But a rock, and a random one from the streets at that! That's real, it goes beyond the commerce, beyond society - it's GEOLOGICAL. Like, it's always been there, nobody made it, it's a part of that gigantic continent AND IT'S SITTING ON MY DESK.

And the fact that a rock that probably looks like ordinary junk, sitting on my crappy laminated plywood has actually travelled thousands of kilometers from where human life sprung, is pretty mind-blowing.

Please agree with me, because he doesn't BUT I KNOW I'M RIGHT SO WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M JUST BEING SILLY.

Good night all!

*Because once more, I am pensive over the fact that I don't sound malay at all, or so they say. Even Dhaniah, Hazri and Ili sound more malay than me!

If I don't sound malay, don't speak malay, don't hang around with many malay people outside my family, am not immersed in the traditional or urban malay mainstream culture, then HULLO the only malay thing about me is my skin colour.

Which is a pretty superficial reason to call myself a malay, I think. But then again, I suppose race as a concept in itself, is pretty superficial.

Saturday, April 08, 2006


I was actually meaning to keep this birthday rather low-key, and was not even intending to have the tiringly obligatory (and sometimes, trite) 18th Birthday post -- but you know, I have been having an awesome past few days so yeah, you guys really do deserve me saying that I appreciate it, and love you, individually and collectively, very very much.

*beams* The slushy tub of ice-cream with lit candles almost sinking into the depths of creamy Burnt Caramel is simply classic.

Right, this is the cue for me to hum a cheesy and chirpy showtune about close friendships that never, ever end! Eighteen's looking good.

zomguh GENNIE are boys in canada really like this? (click this, quickly people!)

Um, supreme hawtness. Also! Hazri, Jenn and other camwhore-philiacs, mark it! Brilliant photography, and somehow, all his friends would fit in an Abercrombie ad.

Now THAT'S successful eugenics.

Thursday, April 06, 2006



I had a good day.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006