ONCE UPON AN ALLEGORY...

Chapter Forty-one: Sitting on a Milestone

2011-12-22T01:48:00.001+08:00

I walked with a circle
A company of light
Who glowed in their mischief
And lit my boredom bright

Lightly shadows slip past
Enter and exeunt my head
To paint and daub the canvas
With colours they still shed

Whence my feet hath trodden
The hallway looms ahead
To walk straight up and take a left
Or take a right instead?

Tomorrow I leave to gain reprieve
From the odd world I understand
And till my return, may it yet burn
For a chapter of my loving hand.

Chapter Forty: Oddities of a Ramshackle Mind.

2011-07-18T04:56:00.003+08:00

One word of caution
A note to myself
Let thoughts not quicken
But creep by in stealth

For in my head they did race
And whirl me in a dream
Twisted me in an obscure embrace
Beyond my conscious stream

I step far from yon mirror;
It shows the demons within
Yet i needs must see them clearer;
Thus cycles re-begin

Perhaps i need to follow
The breadcrumbs along the way
Your strength perhaps i'll borrow
For sure, i'll wander astray

So i clutch your sleeve and hold on tight
Letting my eyelids close
And entreat you to adopt my fight
Perhaps you'll triumph, who knows?

Chapter Thirty-nine: The World inside One Fragment.

2011-04-27T00:28:00.011+08:00

i gazed into a painting, but then it cracked on me
it shattered into fragments, more than i could see
i looked then at the pieces that lay prone at my feet
and wondered why it seemed as though their edges wouldnt meet

picking one of them up, i was shocked to find
that each piece was a picture, a story of its kind
i put them back together, they wouldnt fit at all
for every single one of them was a different world made small

so i took the broken pigments and ran them through my eyes
travesty for honesty, i took the truth for lies
these to melt and splatter, on the canvas inside my head
till they seeped forth from the fabric, colours that slowly bled

i try to scrub them off the walls, scour with turpentine
to have instead a clean white slate, untainted by chimeric state
yet thoughts entice, cling like a vice, by nature serpentine
so how can i my art deny, my power to fabricate?

Intermission XVII: A (Rather) Strange Kind of Fascination. My Obsession for Paradoxes?

2011-04-19T03:21:00.004+08:00

i'm being haunted by a pair of slanting eyes.

till now, i have never truly understood the meaning of imperfect beauty. never in my experience of reading poetry and literature have i ever been able to understand how being imperfect can almost be necessary in order to be beautiful. (not even in those strange sculptures..? they're beautiful, but it simply is beauty in imperfection. the imperfection does not make the beauty.. hmmm...) after all, the greeks believed that beauty was found in perfection. and havent i been raised in a culture that appears to agree with that?

i could not understand what drew me to such a face. neither could i understand why i kept wanting to see what fascinated me so, why i could not get it out of my mind. why i kept wanting to look at those eyes.

slanted, of the asian variety. not slitted, but not wide-open. eyes that were intense, and striking.

i look a little closer, and i notice that the eyes are not proportionate: one is slightly narrower than the other. there. imperfection.

strangely, it does nothing to detach from the beauty of the face. that very imperfection fits into place perfectly, like jagged pieces of a puzzle that fit together to make a hauntingly striking picture. and i dont know what it is about those eyes that draw me. the drooping eyelid of one that hints at secrets forever hidden, and the cold composure of the other, no matter the expression on the face they belong to. the heavy-lidded gaze that studies the world around them, but never reveals what goes on behind them.

the masculinity that peeps out from behind features too feminine to be male. the aura of fragility that belies the toughness of a warrior.

a tantalizing illusion of delicacy...

what is it about androgynous characters that fascinate me so?

Chapter Thirty-eight: I.

2011-02-10T20:40:00.001+08:00

I ‘m floating on the horizon

A dot upon the sea

I don’t know where I’m going

Or who’ll be going with me

I’m as like a lost sheep

Baaing her way around

(So) I’m still a-meandering

Hoping I can be found

I hope in time I’ll discover

I’ll still like me, whatever that be

After searching the why;

But as it is, the one I resist

Is no one less than I.

Intermission XVI: Death, Doubt, and Divinity.

2010-12-12T02:28:00.011+08:00

Have finally finished off all seven volumes of happy rotter, and I must say, I enjoyed them more than i initially thought I would (here I sense the jester doing a peevesiesque whoop of glee).

So many deaths occur in there, with enough anguish and sense of loss written into the pages for it to hit me how fragile life is, both in and out of fiction. And then it struck me hard, all these thoughts of the brushes that my family's had with death and survived.

My earliest memory of such an incident was as a child of four, five, when I contracted a severe case of dengue. Those who know about it will remember that there isn't any surefire treatment for it. I remember my gran and my mum desperately making herbal (eeeuch) concoctions, forcing it down my throat daily. But that didn't help, if the doctor's gloomy warning to my dad was any indication.

I have been told, and I believe, that I survived solely by the grace of God's mercy. And I have often wondered, what made Him grant my father, then a non-believer's plea? Perhaps how my father put his faith in Him, despite not truly knowing Him? Acknowledging His might and will, in saying 'I beg you, give her back to me, but if it's Your will to take her, take her?'. In any case, after prayers were said over me, I passed the night of reckoning unscathed, the virus having disappeared from my blood completely by the next morning.

And so my survival became the pivotal point of change in my parents' attitude towards Christianity.

Thinking about all the times my mum's had brushes with death, it makes me shudder. Just recently, she's had a brush with another snake, only this time the idiot creature was hiding in the house. It doesn't come as any relief that it wasn't poisonous this time round; the last one she encountered was mildly venomous. And the time a top heavy branch crashed down onto the road right after her car passed, barely missing her boot?

Sometimes, thinking about my dad going on trips overseas, my mum being on her own at home with only Doong as companion... it shakes me up, thinking of what could possibly go wrong. And then I mutter a quick prayer to God to watch over them, remembering that He's kept us all safe all this while. I betcha my parents do the same thing, except perhaps my mum's prayers will be much longer.

But then the next time I hear news about a trip, the worry creeps back again, and I say another prayer, which calms my fears down for the meantime. Does that make me a person of little faith? Feeling fear and worry despite having known His protection and care all these years? Should I not worry, since I know He'll protect us anyway (that smacks of taking things for granted though)? Or is it only human frailness that makes us worry and doubt, despite everything He's done?

But I guess that's the very reason we run to Him. And hence, the very essence of our faith: leaning on Him because we are, essentially, very frail beings, and knowing His strength can and will support us all.

Chapter Thirty-seven: Knocking You Off Your Pedestals.

2010-12-02T00:15:00.005+08:00

Caught the end of a whiplash tongue

From one whose praises I might have sung

Why does it feel like stigma by association

Or is it merely just me imagination

I caught myself from sassing you back
And not just because I abide by tact
Or disdain to hit you with knowledge you lack
Now I'm just disgusted by your collective act

The words one gave, yesterday and today
Did all but give your sentiments away
Looks like you've indeed found your own kind
In my eyes tis fitting that like does like find

I poured enough of the bitterness that some did beget
The rash words I uttered in anger I do regret
Remain in there, as mere acquaintances met
Or perhaps as lessons I'll never forget.

Chapter Thirty-six: A Fire to Warm Your Bones.

2010-12-01T04:10:00.006+08:00

Once upon a curious world four wanderers lived, each in their own corner of the land.

Now then, in each of their own corners, these four had lived twenty moons or more, and indeed had felt joy, sorrow, and created their own share of havoc in their own day. And as the young are wont to do, they set out to travel down the twisty forest of living. And so they slung their weighty burdens over their shoulders and off they went away, trying to find their paths while steering free of the brambles that grew over and around the way.

Meandering and blundering through the tangles of the forest, two of these four came together, and in gladness they joined hands and walked forward together, yet going around in circles and losing their way.

And yet another one, chasing a rainbow that appeared bright in the sky, found himself tripping on vines that lay across his path. Still did the rainbow tantalize him, for it appeared before him in all its glory, only to disappear when he stretched his hands to grab hold of it.

And the fourth wanderer, who was carefully exploring his way, found a wounded fox that he took with him as he journeyed, gently nursing it back to health. But alas, as stronger it grew by the day, the fox did leave the wanderer, and ran away. And so he was left alone, in the darkness of the forest's gloom.

Tired of the shadows in the forest, the bramble-weary wanderers, while seeking shelter from the cold winds that blew their hearts cold, finally, wearily stumbled into a clearing.

And so sat they down to rest awhile, when they began to stoke a fire to warm themselves. Gently did the fire flicker, and grew stronger as the foursome fed it, till it became a warm glow that held them close.

And here this wanderer prays that they can keep the fire glowing, a fire not only of humans' making, that gives a warmth that will see them through the deepest chill.

May the Father grant this prayer. Amen.

Intermission XV: A Rueful Admission.

2010-11-23T03:57:00.004+08:00

It's sobering, when you take a good look at yourself through another's eyes, and find that you're not as good as you thought you were (or would like to be).

I have a tendency to ruminate, and repeat things all over and over again, which i am trying to not do. ick. jCe once told me that the way i view things can be too extreme, too black and white. Which kinda makes sense, i suppose, since i either veer sharply towards thinking highly of myself, or simply thinking i'm the most appalling creature on earth.

Where does the line cut in between good and bad? At this moment, i'm finding it very difficult to think of myself as a 'good' person, because i recognize that i've done something(s) bad. Sometimes i wonder if i'm simply some yucky creature hiding behind the shields of 'goodness', and that if i don't keep ahold of meself, that insistent fellow's going to pop out and rear its ugly head. and i fear that i'll one day lose control over it, and people're going to see me as the yucky creature i am and despise me for it.

And in thinking that, i begin to depise myself. in the process of depising myself, i trap myself in a circle where i simply end up repeating that behaviour, which causes me to despise myself even more. In the end, i simply get pessimistic, and all hung up about the idea of people disliking me, without having done anything about the whole issue in the first place.

Yet, yucky or not, there're those who would walk with me, and help me work on it. those who believe i can do something about it, and that i shouldn't simply ruminate and wallow in self-pity over it. those who give me the courage to do something about it.

And i'm grateful to you (all). More than i know how to express.

Thank you. It's way too short a phrase for all i'm wanting to say, but know that i mean it in all sincerity. *hugs*

Intermission XIV: Because That's What 'Love' Truly Means to Me.

2010-11-17T15:48:00.005+08:00

When i hear people talk about love, as that wonderful fantastic all encompassing answer-to-all never-ending entity, i wonder what love really means to them, what they really see it as, anyway. All those symbols for love, roses, hearts, cupids, chocolates and the like. Does that all really, and i mean really, adequately symbolize love?

I've always been more of a realist than a romantic. If someone asked me how it'd like being in love.... i think... i wouldn't know what to tell them, because... to me, love's so much more than just a bunch of pretty symbols and words, or some trumped up hollywood/kdrama cliche.

I like sternberg's triangle theory of love best. intimcy, passion, commitment. all important for a consummate, fulfilling relationship. but again, that's just one part. that's about... romantic love.

To me, love isnt just 'love', per se. Love isn't some mysterious, inexplicable entity that stands completely alone by itself, untouched and separate from all other feelings or emotions. I see it as a combination of many many things, the parts of which manifests themselves in different ways in relation to different people.

My father loves me, just as he loves my mother. But he loves us both in different ways. I love the jester, but in a different way from bosom friends, and even more differently from my parents. All forms have the elements of trust, emotional intimacy, friendship, commitment and care, but each form differs from the other. Love for my parents and friends doesn't include passion, and love for my friends and the jester doesn't include filial piety.

Love is my parents not giving up on me, even when everyone else thought me hopeless and couldn't care less.

Love is my mum staying up at night to bake me muffins, so that my dad can bring them to me the next day.

Love is the friendship between the jester and i, and his doing all sorts of little things for me, his having faith in us both.

Love is those friends of mine who would come to my aid should i ever need it, and who know that i'd do the same for them.

And last, but never least, love is God having given me all, despite me being imperfect.

Looking at it in such a way, how can i say that love is just one, single entity?

Intermission XIII: Howling for the Moon.

2010-11-15T01:47:00.011+08:00

Sometimes, i wonder what it truly means to be talented.

People throw the word talented around so lightly. They tell me i have a talent for writing, a talent for drawing or whatever, and sometimes, i really don't think i deserve the word. if i truly had talent, why am i only able to churn out half-baked stories, or repetitive, depressing poetry?

Ugh. Hardy-esque. And here i'm doing much the same as he is, with nary a slice of hope peeking through my verses.

Remembering what dr M (not that damn maverick; one a helluva lot more deserving of respect) said about competencies, i think i know myself well enough to accept that i have a competency for language and writing; the question is, how far does it go before it's really talent?

Nothing makes one feel more helpless than having hit rock bottom, and being trapped in a stretch of quicksilver. or worse, a bog. And once you've climbed out of it, you never want to go back there, even if it means you're gonna have to die trying to keep yourself away from there.

So many ways i could've gone wrong. Any one would've left the trail of broken hearts and hope behind, but why one that nearly broke my spirit? Why one that took so much from me only to have me struggle so hard to find it?

Perhaps... as i told the guys... perhaps one doesn't truly know who they are until they've broken themselves (over and over again) and tried to put the pieces back. and continue to look for others to cement the gaps.

Perhaps i'm just one idiot dog out there howling for the moon, all by its lonesome self.

Intermission XII: I'd Grind Your Bones to Make My Bread and Use Your Brains for Jam.

2010-11-09T22:27:00.006+08:00

For a long time, i haven't quite felt as furious as i did today, so much that my hands were shaking, and i had to draw deep breaths to calm myself down.

Whoever you are, you foolish clodhead(s) with mush for brains, your pure idiocy and selfishness cost the entire class our three final quizzes and any possible chance for everyone to redeem those lost marks.

Personally, if i ever catch who you are, i'd like to give you a sound thrashing, and a kick down the stairs, to boot.

I wouldnt at all be surprised if the rest of the class were devising all manners of horrific, vile tortures for you in their minds. Especially since miss W warned us multiple times that if you didnt give back her answer sheets, she'd punish everyone. And since you were blockheaded enough to not heed her warning, our wrath's well earned.

And oh, to another bloody hole in the buttocks, i hope you go to hell for the things you put him through. I've been told to pray for you, that you'll open your heart and not be the way you are, but for years, you've only gotten from bad to worse. And i wonder if our prayers seem like they're unanswered because even God doesn't want to bother with someone like you.

Chapter Thirty-five: Peas in a Pod.

2010-11-06T01:54:00.011+08:00

Once upon a time, there lived a single little pea in a pod.

Now then, this little pea grew up snuggled comfortably against mama-pod and papa-plant, who fed it and nourished it till round and full it grew. For many years, the little pod stayed close to mama-pod and papa-plant, and did not dare to venture out into the great wide world, for fear of being eaten.

Now then, the time came for the little pea to roll out of mama-pod's embrace and find it's own way in the world. And so tearfully mama-pod and papa-plant sent the little one on its way.

And so the little pea happily rolled along.

Along the way, the little pea met a pin lying across the path. Now then, the little pea took a fancy to the pin, and told it so. But alas, the pin liked not how the pea looked, and hopped up to prick it hard, causing the pea to bleed and shrink into a wrinkled little ball. Crying in dismay, the little pea stumbled away as best as it could, while the snail, centipede and spider watching nearby laughed at it.

And so it rolled on.

Now then, this time it rolled into a fresh garden patch, in which there were many other peas growing. Pleased to see a fellow pea, the others welcomed it cheerfully into their midst. Here the little pea was happy, for it'd made new friends, and life felt good. Fond it was of another pea, who took charge of it, and showed it around, taking it to visit the other pods and plants. And thus they grew to be close friends, for are not such friends as close as peas in a pod?

Intermission XI: Phonological Loop.

2010-11-04T21:28:00.016+08:00

For some strange reason, today i find myself repeatedly thinking about (psychspeak: ruminating) the conversation i had with Dr.A that day, when i went to return her hair slide to her.

Frankly speaking, i had no idea i'd end up having that conversation with her, considering i'd just meant to drop the slide off and pop off, but her asking about my birthday sort of opened the gates to conversation, and well, one thing led to another.

So i just sorta kind told her a little of what i (we) did, and mentioned that its no big deal, after all, seriously, what's the big deal about birthdays? especially since the 'special' ones're over and done with. and she said: don't la be so negative about birthdays.

Now that kinda knocked me off kilter, since i'd never thought about me being negative, but simply indifferent. But Dr.A being Dr.A, perhaps she picked up on something else that even i'm not aware of.

Cant say as how i havent have had good birthdays. the year before, they pulled a whopper on me (and me being the blurqueen, i didn't realise a surprise was being sprung on me till it slapped me in the face). last year, i had a simple celebration with mum and dad, then the jester and R, courtesy of the jester.

And then this year's the most wonderful of all. ethics, 306 midterms (oral somemore!) and counselling. COUNSELLING. on my birthday. Dr.A said i should've told her it was my birthday, but i laughed it off. and then she said i should've told my counsellor no sessions on my birthday. oh well.

An eventful birthday not withstanding, i think one of the most valuable things i gained that week was attending the talk J invited me to, and listening to Dr.N talk about those other religions, and our own. That gave me insight into things, and generated all manners of thoughts, some of which led me into a theological -sorta- argument/discussion with SR all the way to Ming Tian.

I lose, SR. I am simply not well equipped enough to debate and argue properly, much less convince anyone. lol. Lemme go arm myself, then i'll give it another go, kay? XD

I'm glad for you guys, who cheered me on while i was trying to swallow that burning hunk of sausage meat. I'm glad for A's getting us together with a bunch of his fellows, and for being thoughtful enough to plan in a way that allows people to be able to bond.

I thank God for having friends with whom i can sit down trade banter over cookies with ice cream(SR, bake more cookies and the jester and I'll bring the ice cream) , and who can talk from nineteen to the dozen and back again. (oh, and get pyromaniacal with matches, a cup and a sacrificial fly. gads, i can still remember the evil look of glee on you two's faces. seriously.) i'm grateful for friends who can tell awesomely disgusting jokes (its the joker that counts, not the joke. XD) and who can tell me, don't worry, just join for the fun. Most of all, i'm grateful for the jester, who's there to tell me when i'm wrong, when i'm doing what i shouldn't be, and who's there to lecture me when i need it.

And when my thoughts hit this spot, then i think, i no longer feel the need to write just to exorcise lingering shadows of the past. For perhaps, as someone told me, perhaps, it shouldn't be anger and betrayal i'm feeling, but resignation. And with it, more than just a wee bit of pity, for you'll not be someone i'll keep in my phonological loop.

Chapter Thirty-four: Vermillion Wash.

2010-11-02T01:11:00.003+08:00

My heart bled the colour of a painted sky
Fresh reds and golds of a marigold's eye
Work, my lips and tongue, to speak in flames
The gush of wild words that my mind tames

There on the hearth did the creature lie
Burnt, purified, dying with one final cry
Once, twice, thrice more did it haunt me
Have the shackles finally finally broken free

Brilliant vermillion, crimson in its heat
The colour draws me, hard does my heart beat
Red, the colour of life, the colour of blood
May you my life, my soul with vitality flood.

Intermission X: Post Tenebras, Lux.

2010-08-15T14:47:00.013+08:00

Today, You called me home.

i cried out in my despair, Kyrie, Kyrie eleison. Lord, dona nobis pacem.

You said to me

Come home, o sinner. ye who are weary, come home. I will wait with arms wide open

Your words came to me in the voice of an angel

You opened my ears to words that i've heard, but not listened to

You gave me tears to wash away the darkness and anger in my heart

You lifted a lost child on wings of an eagle

And now she lies, safe and at peace, in the palm of Your hand.

Thank You, Lord.

Chapter Thirty-three: The Malaysian 'Kitchen God'.

2010-08-12T22:55:00.010+08:00

Demme, but ‘tis the kitchen god who speaks! says he.

Speak he will to the numerous ones, on whose goodwill the fate of my regard runs.

Faith, I must sweeten him with honey, his wagging tongue tame, that he will speak kindly and cast no slur upon my illustrious name.

O god of the hearth most kind, take this gift and sing sweet praises of me and mine. Here is toffee to glue your lips, and smoke most fragrant, your eyes to eclipse.

And finally, most esteemed teller of tales, who reports for all, accept this; ‘tis but colourful scraps, that you may throw around, what your heart desires, ‘twill cost naught at all!

O wonderful deity, o benevolent one, remember to paint me in rays of the sun.

Speak well of me, and you I shall keep, well-fed in spirit, and your pockets full-deep.

For mine is the power, to tear down your shrine, with a whispered word here, and through influence of mine.

Chapter Thirty-two: Says the Reed to the Shell, and likewise.

2010-08-11T01:04:00.007+08:00

Said the reed to the shell
You look nothing like me

Get away for a spell

Till you’ve changed completely

Said the shell to the reed

What do you know of substance

When you won’t look inside

At my brains for instance

Said the reed to the duck

Why have you an appetite

For mollusks of the sort

It doesn’t look right

Said the duck to the reed

That you wouldn’t know

Cause you’re you anyway

With your opinions so low

Said the shell to the reed

Here I opened myself wide

But what did you do

You threw sand inside

Said the duck to the shell

It will be alright

Give it some time

And then together we’ll fight

Said the shell to the duck

Don’t know if I can

My shell is fragile

How much can it stand

Said the duck to the shell

You must try anyway

I’ll broaden my wings

And you sandpaper away

Said the shell to the duck

I’ll try for your sake

Let’s hope we won’t lose

Everything that’s at stake.

Intermission IX: Says the Reed to the (Conch) Shell Through the Duck.

2010-08-10T09:21:00.010+08:00

you there, born like a reed.

have you ever imagined how it would be like to be someone other than yourself? (or maybe you do, but not the way i'm thinking).

tell me, do you know what it's like to have a shell like mine?

you don't. i hoped that it'd be like what i've witnessed so often, and secretly dreamed to have. (but i forget, those people were reeds too. not conch shells).

you found it so easy to judge my shell as unworthy, when you haven't even sampled the contents.

so easily did you take to it a sledgehammer, not even thinking of what damage you may cause not to just the shell, but what the shell is part of (but you'd like that to happen, wouldn't you).

How do you think it'd feel like, if i were you, and you me? would you feel as you've made me feel?

but then, you know don't know the meaning of empathy, i don't doubt. (i simply wonder why it took you so long to blow your whistle. after all, you've seen me at least a dozen times, knowing what i am. but you let me believe it would be alright?)

i suppose i must say a bitter thank you for helping me to finalize a self-fulfilling prophesy, although i doubt i did anything to contribute to it's culmination, apart from growing my shell.

it pays to be a cynic, you know. because if you'd turned out another way, i would be an optimist for a while, and tell myself 'see, what were you worried for? things turned out all right' and maybe get shot at sometime in the future.

it hurts more when one isn't prepared to be pot-shot at.

so think about cynicism as a shield of sorts.

and now, when things turn out like this, being a pessimist, i can congratulate myself on being right all along, and tell myself, i told me so.

a (deep) cynic at 22, i feel faith in good things slipping out of my fingers, like flour through a sieve (everytime you shake it, a little more falls out).

because deep down inside, even as i prayed for it to be alright, somewhere inside, a little doubting Thomas whispered not to get hopes up, 'just in case'.

(and now i'm paying the price for that folly).

eli, eli, lama sabathani?

Father almighty, the ever-living God... is this a warning to the little thomas living inside me? (but Lord, you appeared to the other Thomas to dispel his doubts...)

Happy those do not see and yet believe. i guess this means i'm one of the 'unhappy'.

P.S to the other famous and wealthy reeds out there, if you complain another word about you having an extra millimetre somewhere on those cheese-pared stalks of yours, i'm going to pot-shoot your photos (that have been sandpapered anyway).

because you don't have the right to talk about your oh-so-imperfect reed stalks, or talk about how its all about inner-beauty (when people go crazy over your reed stalk and cares a whit about your inner-beauty... wait, i hear an echo somewhere... oops, reeds are hollow, right?), not when you don't know what it's like to be a conch shell.

P.S.S Once upon a time, a reed looked into a mirror and saw carrots for legs, a turnip for a belly, and wailed and moaned to the shell. Methinks that one ought to see Dr H, for such is a symptom of Bulimia Nervosa.

Intermission VIII: Another Week, Another Friend Gone. To Q, and the Memories of 2007.

2010-08-02T14:18:00.009+08:00

When I wrote the tribute to a schoolmate who'd passed away last week, I'd never in my wildest nightmare imagined that I'd be doing the same for you today, someone I'd been thinking of only last night. Life, how could you?

Some of my fondest memories from Form 6 were because of you, you know that? Like hearing you joke with Kulow, giggling over, well, you know who we caught in the room with her boyfriend, and you pole dancing on a dare. Or of you chasing the little kambing around threatening to bbq him. How can I hear the words 小羊 without thinking of you?

I didn't tell you how grateful I was to have your company during the convention, did I? Or that you'd covered me with your own blanket in the middle of the night?

I'll never forget how cheerfully you dismissed what would have sent other girls wailing, and simply said that you were grateful to even be how you were. Did you know I was thinking about you just last night, not knowing you were struggling for your life? and now I'll never get to see you again.

Rest in peace, Q. And know that we'll be missing you.

Intermission VII: To KS, Whom No One Thought Would Have Left So Soon.

2010-07-27T23:46:00.014+08:00

How many people that i personally know have passed from this world? People who attended school with me, people so young and vibrant in life that you'd never imagine they'd be gone so much earlier before myself.

'Out, out, brief candle.'

If someone'd told us, back when we were 13 and believed ourselves invincible, that you'd be be gone before you were even 30... do you suppose we'd have believed? No! We would have laughed it off as a terribly funny joke. Young, and full of promise; who'd ever have thought about death and dying?

Why oh why do we believe ourselves invincible? Infallible? Untouchable?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sun threaded through the lacy fronds of life, that slowly, slowly it's weaving.

Slowly it crept; sometimes it slept, backwards in time receding.

Often time stops, one's burden does drop, and there a soul goes leaving.

But for those who stay, weep as we may, soon, yea, we'll follow your leading.

Rest in peace. I only hope you enjoyed your short life in every way you could.

Intermission VI: 26.07.10. This is my Talent, I Will Wield It Like a Weapon.

2010-07-27T23:24:00.006+08:00

Fear is a cage

That traps me within

A new book, new chapter

I daren't turn the page.

CBT, come to me, purge my mind with thoughts of thee.

Time to sweep fear under the dirty carpet. (where it should belong).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There. Two done.

I realize as an editor, my name will never appear as a byline, and that some other person will take credit for my editing (at least that's how it is in the country of ones).

BUt then i guess... the satisfaction from making something *ahem* better is fulfillment enough for me.

Intermission V: Pausing the Poetry for Prose.

2010-06-30T00:23:00.003+08:00

i need to start writing in prose again. and heaven forbid, not in assignment format.

it does get rather irritating when i'm needing to do assignments, but only have paired words and rhymes floating in my head. i wonder if this's what dr M means by spontaneity? higher level cognitive processing? he may think it a competency (mind you, i do consider it a gift), but i dont suppose dr G'd find it amusing if i tried writing my finals essay in rhyme. not that i could *snort*.

sigh. i really dont know how to describe the tangled rush of emotions while hearing dr M lecture... fear, shock, interest, fascination, confusion? and the sense that time's running out, that i'm moving backwards even as i try to make my way up.

seriously, who after seeing pranaf's insane inventions can not feel woefully intimidated or like an intellectual ant? i do look forward to having one of those contraptions around my neck (since it practically makes any other contraption redundant), but well... i guess this's the first time i've ever seen that sort of mind in action. simply... mad.

aigoo (sorry, have been watching Personal Preference: sang jun/young seon's favourite exclamation)... tell me how to study for I/O, someone? bad enough its dr G, i have completely no idea how to incorporate dr M's stuff into the I/O mindset... and thanks to S, i've been watching Personal Preference, and thus, havent studied a bit. and now, character le jin ho keeps floating in my mind. =.=. sorry, jester. looking at it from the angle of a romance reader. characters're hard to resist, especially when packaged into such a nice parcel, but you know that already. (so dont you dare imply i'm a fangirl again or i'll conk your head. =.=)

am bloody tempted to watch another series, but i think i shall resist. will now return to crafting a timeline for the training, oops, talent management program. =.=

Chapter Thirty-one: Muddling in the Middling Crowd.

2010-06-24T02:46:00.010+08:00

I disdain to do usual
Desire to break the mould
And yet the damndest thing is
Can't do without being told

I've been taught to settle
Also yet to reflect
But methinks I dissemble
In displaying true intellect

Here I hear about sprinting ahead
But how does one apply?
Another talks about brilliance instead
But what does that signify?

I'll not call myself stupid
No need to go that far
BUt it eats at me like acid
'How much do you think you are...?'

O tell me why we talk so much
Of the best pick of the cream?
Why when they're so out of touch
High up on the extreme?

Where will the crop be
Those of the middling crowd
Who're neither brilliant nor silly
But not like the cream endowed?

Chapter Thirty: Untangling.

2010-06-24T02:04:00.008+08:00

Blinks an eye
Sitting on the horizon
By nothing but newness freshened
And at the panorama, widened

Listens the ear
A powerful tune resonate
From another's head donate
Breathlessly more await

Thinks the mind
Twisted pathways burning fire
Tangled thoughts aspire
Stoking up the need to rewire

Feels the heart
The strands of love inside
The fear that grips as time I bide
Courage, do you yet still hide?

Chapter Twenty-nine: Whited Sepulchre, Cast Not Your Stones.

2010-05-26T01:51:00.010+08:00

You preach with your front and judge with your back
For others' reputations, you cut them no slack
You condemn such actions, reacting posthaste
And yet to these others, you give the same taste

Oh Hypocrite should be thy name indeed
In intention, in mind and also in deed
Such airs you put on, all holier-than-thou
And nary a slip for others' conduct you allow

How different are you, from those you denounce?
For like them, on such hurtful things do you pounce
Such accurate labels, such delicious dirt
And such snide judgements of people do you assert

'Tis ashamed I am, of people like you
Who talk of God, while doing what you do
Walk the talk, if you're going to preach
Else can the moral lessons; you ain't fit to teach.

Chapter Twenty-eight: Prayer.

2010-05-23T23:09:00.008+08:00

Oh Lord, lead my feet
For i know not where to go
Where the ends will meet
Where rich green pastures grow

Oh Lord, fill my heart
For i am as yet weak
When i am torn apart
Your strength do i seek

Oh Lord, walk with me
For i am always afraid
Tremblings of a nature
That i for myself made

Lord, give me succour
When i cannot go on
In Your arms will i be secure
Fear and anxiety begone

Lord, hear me pray
As i now write this verse
My fears, will You allay
As with You i converse

Almighty Lord, be my light
As in the dark i grope
Through the dangers of the night
Towards Your immaculate ray of hope.

Chapter Twenty-seven: Do Tell.

2010-04-17T06:43:00.006+08:00

Tell me, is it truly over,
The ordeals of the day?
Tell me, is the night here
In harmony to stay?

Tell me why my heart beats
Fast and thus in pain
When a loss is no loss
And from that loss comes a gain

Tell me why I'm reluctant
To do what I feel I must
To give the cut direct
To lesions fouled with pus?

Tell me how I was swayed
After decisions were made
Why I think it might get better
When such a price is to be paid?

Tell me why I want to hold on
When I simply want to let go
Tell me about the contradiction
Tell me, why don't I know?

Chapter Twenty-six: A Cage of Conventions.

2010-04-17T06:23:00.008+08:00

Twine these together,
Weave a cloth of fallacies
That I needs must use a blade
To pick apart such intricacies

Curse the rope of propriety
Binding this appendage
Plain brass gilded by conventions
Trapping such violent rage

They say there must needs be fire
Wherein be the stench of smoke
But of these allegations I tire
Be they not heart-felt

Does such a paradox
In thine eyes appear
When sight is laid
Upon this soul here?

Give me leave
To live in the best of both
To straddle sane and mad
Without such misgivings as I loathe.

Chapter Twenty-five: Pledge.

2010-04-05T03:05:00.006+08:00

Here crash the waves
The undercurrent dark
Washes the rock at your feet
Carving its mark

Here the grim thoughts
That permeate your mind
Deep the web I fought
For you, solace I would find

Here are the tears
That seal our bonds
Crystalline dew
On eyelash fronds

Here is the time
That my mind met yours
In a dance, that swayed
Like a ballet of wars

And here is my cup
That I drink to thee
My pledge, my covenant
Far, yes, far, as far as we can see.

Chapter Twenty-four: On The Dearth of Judgment, Fortitude, and Fortune-a-leaky.

2010-03-30T02:56:00.007+08:00

Tens of times doth my battle-call low
With each call came sharp pricks
Tens of times doth my fortitude grow
And beat them back with sticks.

Where shall I reach in the cavern of time
To seek sound judgment back?
Where the sugar to drown the lime
That's eating at my tact?

I see I was mistaken
For methinks I saw a wonderland
But here float shadows misshapen
Lord, help me understand.

Found myself looking through the wall
Strangely, I saw beyond
It works not then as a dead end should
But to my fascination, doth respond.

Squat I among the relics
The cracked pot turned to dust
And now a figurine, moulding
Yea, that be a must.

Contemplations 2: Ancient City of Ayutthaya. Thursday, 17.01.2010.

2010-01-18T01:42:00.009+08:00

Weather: still mild.

Visited the ruins of Ayutthaya. I find it hard to reconcile the splendid city i saw in Sri Suriyothai with the poor, tumble-down houses now scattered in the formerly great city. Even sadder to know that Hongsa won the war in the end.

All i could think of, while wandering amidst broken towers of bricks, was 'Good, Lord, how on earth did they build these things?' and what sort of a war it must've been, for such a huge area to be torn down. here and there in the city you see a sudden bit of crumbling old wall labeled 'City Wall' and you know, once upon a time, these walls were the ones that kept the city's inhabitants safe within.

If modern man is great with all that he has, how much greater the man of old who made so much out of so little?

Tell me, how significant can a modern human being feel, standing next to these gargantuan edifices build by sweat and blood?

Some food for thought: the tour guide mentioned that monks (they're required to serve as monks for a certain period of time, all their men) enjoy watching sports, but arent allowed to watch ladies' gymnasticcs. too sexy. but if a monk's entire aim is to achieve the state where no earthly desires can bother him, what does it matter how sexy a woman is? why worry about temptation is you are beyond it?

On to the entertainments of the night.

Remember watching the dances of the previous night (of course you dont)?

On stage, all we see is a well prepared tale, narrated beautifully in a cultured voice, with all necessary characters and settings in place, rehearsed to run on time like a well wound clock.

This night, however, i watched not the dances, but was drawn into them; feeling the gentle rocking of a traditional barge, dancers twirling their fingers in the midst of the guests, simply adds on to the heady feeling that i'd felt as though i'd stepped a little bit back into time when royals enjoyed such entertainments. was it a little rush of excitement at watching hanuman chase after sita? while on stage, i felt a sort of detachment, as an audience watching a play, but to have hanuman prance before me, waving his, pardon me, ugly head about...

I watched those dancers slip into their costumes in a corner of the barge, simply because the barge was small and there was nowhere else for them to do so. an ordinary man and woman quickly throw on and tie different lengths of cloth, pin on trinkets, put on a mask. and behold, no longer mortal they be, but mythical princess and mighty deva.

How easy it is to switch personas. you simply step out of one into another, discarding each layer so easily. Such is the way of the stage.

But we do that in our lives, all the time, don't we?

Small wonder that we cry and laugh over what we see on stages and screens... do we recognize ourselves in art, even as it imitates life?

Or is it instead as Wilde would have it, the idea of life imitating art?

Contemplations 1: Bangkok, Wednesday, 16.01.2010.

2010-01-13T01:34:00.013+08:00

Weather: mild, cloudy (to match a genial mood)

If ever i were amazed by art, this would most certainly be it.

Think: walls and ceilings covered in rich gilt (the guide assures me that its real gold), delicately set with tiny and tinier squares of glass, painstakingly carved wooden pillars etc, all handpainted in vibrant, glorious colour. (and lets not forget the brilliant wall canvas of scenes from the Ramayana painted onto, was it a 100 rooms of the Grand Palace? i forget. but breathtaking, nonetheless)

You see, they honour their king by building him marvelous palaces to represent his sovereignity (also having his portrait displayed in every conceivable place), because he is a symbol of the country they love, and in doing him homage they honour the country he stands for.

If ever i were awed by the love a people have for their country, this country would be a shining example of it.

I can feel the love of the people pouring out of the shining walls of their palaces, their temples, out of every soft 'sawatdee', and mostly, how sincerly polite and helpful they are to everyone, not just those who have yellow hair and white skin.

I watched a simple tour guide stoop down to pick up a milk box that a careless tourist'd tossed onto the palace grounds and put it in the bin. such a simple thing, really, but so profound.

With that, i can only conclude that the thai love their country very, very much. through the peoples' actions a country is reflected, and i can safely say that they have managed to honour their country in the highest degree, simply by showing courtesy and respect to others and therefore giving a good impression of themselves, and anything associated with them. something, unfortunately, that my own countrymen and women (never say i am sexist) lacks the ability to do.

It's only been my first day in Bangkok, but as you see, i've already found so many things malaysians could do well to learn from.

First of ALL: i would like to emphasize on the astonishment i felt on stepping out of the sky train (their version of our LRTs) to be greeted with a sea of people, neatly arranged in lines, all waiting for their turn to enter the big worm. no pushing, no shoving, no queue-jumping.

I am in awe. and in absolute disgust for my country people, who cannot so much as enter a doorway without some degree of pushing or squeezing.

Second: POLITE cab drivers! an absolute rarity in the bloody mess of roads that is kay elle, but seemingly common in bangkok. you definitely do not get any cabbies in kay elle deigning to open car doors for you.

Having said all that, i shall move on.

Visited a gem factory today, and by all accounts, it is under royal patronage. i watched several of the workmen at their craft, and i have to marvel that their rough, big fingers and primitive tools could create such delicate work. there was this craftsman moulding a flower on a stub of wood, slowly hammering away till he'd gotten the perfect shape, then hammering pinpricks into the surface, and painstakingly lay gold dots into them.

But how many of these craftsmen were there? three? four? precious few to continue what seems to be a dying art. while i am infinitely grateful for mass-produced costume jewelry (otherwise how would we all afford any?), it breaks my heart to think of how technology robs us of many traditional ways.

Still, while danger of repeating a cliche, i can only say, such is life, i suppose.

Intermission IV: postcountdown: hail, 2010.

2010-01-01T01:33:00.014+08:00

a private joke to share with a certain lecturer's students: does the wording of my post title sound familiar? XD

y'all know who she is.

just yesterday afternoon someone i know well (and who probably knows me better than i like) told me, 'you're still young, go enjoy!' when i made a face and said i aint a big fan of clubbing.

'fun'=clubbing? maybe in your glitzy world, not mine. (so said from yours truly's own personal experience last new year's countdown after getting splashed with beer and squeezed off a dance floor by a grind-happy couple =.=)

a bit silly to ask, but i'm wondering what i'll be getting out of this year?

nice lecturers, definitely (especially after that fiasco last semester). and nice team mates (also after several fiascos last semester). and nice assignments (still from that fiasco last semester). and more good books. more new discoveries, more...

heck, when did this turn into a wishlist?

i wonder how many roadblocks there'll be this time? the beginning of this year signifies several endings for me; endings that're coming all too soon. unfortunately also, my head's swimming with ideas and sort-of plans i'd dearly love to carry out, except for the buts... never mind. i'm rambling.

for once, i dont have much to say, anymore. just that, at this moment, i'm only aware of a strangely positively, optimistic bent in my demeanor, something sweet and warm, something full of hope and lightness, and right now, its lifting me up high, higher than i should be for someone who'd liken facing the unknown to standing on the edge of a precipice on tippytoes (and who'd view the ravine with trepidation).

oh, and that warm, sweet feeling? its called Faith.

Intermission III: there you go, 2oo9.

2009-12-31T22:52:00.017+08:00

its with a warm feeling that i remember the night before of the last new year, so ripe with expectations, so full of promise.

has it truly been a good year?

looking back at a day a year from now, scattered pieces have been glued back, some preserved like the treasures they are, more've been broken, or are cracked and close to breaking. will those be able to tahan till next year? we'll see.

these last months, there've been days where life was so bleak i simply wanted to curl up and shrink into the walls, melt into the floor, times when fury nearly got the better of me and turned me into a monster, and had lots of pebbles i tripped over and felt like taking a sledgehammer to, or shrews i'd have happily have tossed into a cellar and locked away.

having said that, it can be quite sharp a jolt, looking into and around yourself, and finding you dont like what you see. and quite a wake up call it was.

still, i'll take the bad with the good. as far as vision goes, its definitely clearer than its been in the entire 21 years of my living. Not just that, found lots of new fun to indulge in, gone through some pretty whacky and bizzare episodes, all of which total up to some very satisfying moments; had more files and stuff chucked into my long term memory, and i hope they're there to stay, even if i cant manage to lug them back up front. its enough knowing its stored somewhere in those folds of neurons.

for better or for worse, its also taken this year for me to finally comprende that certain fears're simply unfounded, and that sometimes the easiest way to beat a demon is just to close my eyes, have faith in the Father above and take a nice big leap. and for that, i thank Him, for the little bites of insight He's given me, for all the peace of mind that He filled my heart with, for every prayer He granted, for the strength He's given me through those genuine companions He's given me.

also, there're someone elses i would thank, for all the patience shown me, all the short tempers put up with, all the trouble i've given. you, you and you, you mean just about the world to this child who's still finding her footing in this world.

yes. i've grown up, and not just only a little bit more. wish me luck in growing up another bit more.

oh, one final thing... isnt it funny how a grown-up still needs to have grown up in order to be considered grown up? sorry, i couldnt resist one last bit of wordplay. ;)

Happy New Year, everybody!

P.S to all those who've left this world, i pray that you may find peace and solace in the world you're in now, whichever one you believe in. May God be with you always.

Chapter Twenty Three: Deep, Deep, Deep As A Pavement Puddle.

2009-12-30T19:13:00.006+08:00

Deep are the thoughts you have in your head
To buy, to spend, to splurge on that dress?

Deeper are they up in your mind
Should I, should I not, oh, I digress!

Deep they are in the back of your brain
Can I wear it once, or twice, or thrice?

Again you think, in the recess of your head
I was so close to buying it, to be precise

Here and there, its right in your mind
If I wear it once, can I do it again and again?

Such deep thoughts flit all over your brain
They torture, they flutter, they drive me insane

(Ah, i see.)

(If these are the thoughts that you call deep,)

*shakes head*

(I guess intellect just isn't something you bother to keep.)

Chapter Twenty Two: The Quack Crow of Teachin'.

2009-12-30T00:29:00.019+08:00

This one is based on the song 'Phony King of England' from Disney's Robin Hood, played on the blog. Sing along, if you want.

O the world would sing
Of an ancient queen
In all the years from now
And all because she made her law
Whilst acting like a crow
While bonny good Sir Galahad yon
He leads the fight along
For her we've had to slave away
With naught to show but yawns
The Incredible that she is: inept
Thus in memories she will be kept
And so we call her the quack old crow of teachin'

A POX on the quack old crow of teachin'!

Too late to be known as one of the first
We sure do know her as top of the worst
A POX on the quack old crow of teachin'!

While she tires us to pieces
And she robs of of our wits
Her name and fame
Are further maimed
And puddle at her feet, aha!
But while she makes some merry men
In the world of limp wee minds
We'll find a way to shake her away
And peace of mind to find

She may come to hear of this..............................

Hah! Its a chance I hope not to miss!

I apologize to the writer of the original lyrics for mangling his well written words. But you see, yours were so well done that i felt compelled to use them as a template for my own rant against a tyrant.

Chapter Twenty One: le Pompadous.

2009-12-22T00:35:00.006+08:00

Once upon a nose up high
There was a little man
He fancied himself a giant
As much as a hot air balloon can

Airs he effects to distraction
Diverting from his uncouth pride
To Arum maculatum he grovels
And pushes the Calotropis aside

Look about him the glitter
He sees not honest steel
Only shiny shimmery estincele
Fie! He sees not what is real

What goes up, will soon roll down
At the end of its glorified days
And I hope ‘twill be, that he’ll come to see
The end of such erroneous ways.

Chapter Twenty One: Birds Flock Together, Not Of A Feather.

2009-11-29T05:08:00.002+08:00

I sat there watching
Bright hope, shining stars
And I feel so empty
I haven’t gone that far

And I watch your talents
I know, I have none
And I feel so empty
Only doing things for fun

Why is there a chasm
Over which I stand
Never only on either bank
One foot in both lands

Fiery words all
I’ve heard them before
Set fire on dry kindling
To inspire us more

Where, where
Is the recognition
That strong sense of pride
Why, why only confusion?

Where should I be
In this vast space on earth
Fit into a pigeon hole
Prepared from my birth?

Tell me why I feel lost then
When flocking a-feather
Why I am separated
Even as I stand together

Where are my roots
Neither here nor there
Please, someone tell me
Someone, just tell me where...

Chapter Twenty: That's All It Takes.

2009-11-26T03:15:00.009+08:00

What nuances, so subtle
Teaches us to presume
That a visage affixed will stay in place
The intensity daily resume

That one look, one glance
And so ever more
Enough, to mesmerize
A thousand times more than before
Just then, how it struck me
Such beauty on a profile
I have seen so often
That to me it was hidden for a little while
III

Look you there, blind as a mole
You could not see beyond your tunnel
Or the world as a whole
And when it whispered to me
I replied gladly
And from there
Does my story unfold.

Chapter Nineteen: It's Ashamed I Am of You.

2009-11-03T01:04:00.006+08:00

It's ashamed, ashamed
Ashamed I am of you
That you could do such a thing
And to your comrade too
Tis sad, just sad
Sad I am to see
Such conduct from a child
Who shares a race with me
It's despair, despair
Despair I feel to think
That at your tender age
You've tied unsavoury links
It's time, nigh time
Many do agree
What monsters are we creating;
Open your eyes and see!

Chapter Eighteen: It All Died With You.

2009-11-02T23:23:00.013+08:00

It all died with you
The sun and hills and all
When you went so suddenly
Their world did crash and fall

So much joy you brought
And sorrow in your wake
The floods of tears we wept
No less than for your sake

Once upon your lifetime
The stage was at your feet
While you played with melodies
Made wide margins meet

Now that you have gone
Leaving us mere memories
A legend in your time
And in future legacies

May you live on forever
In the bright star of your name
Revered for your raison d'etre,
The true reason for your fame.

Rest in peace, Michael, King of Pop. The world laments for you.

Chapter Seventeen: From Hence and Before

2009-10-31T04:31:00.004+08:00

A thousand years ago
I believed in forevermore
Where one thought not of endings
Or aught farewells ever before

A hundred years ago
Still the world was sweet
Vast, wide, a playground
Never did bleakness meet

A century ago
A child no longer small
Whence came the crippling things
That force me still to crawl?

A century from now
Will I yet be crawling
Tied together, my steps
Will shields withstand mauling

A hundred years later
If rosy it no longer be
Whence has it changed
What doth yon innocent see?

A thousand years hence
Will I be yet alive
Gone, or living
In spirit or in life?

Chapter Sixteen: Cuckoos in the Nest.

2009-09-27T04:17:00.007+08:00

Once upon a time, there lived a little robin in a village right in the heart of the country.

Now then, this little robin lived happily in her nest with her mate, and they were content, for they had a brood of little ones to feed and care for.

Day and night, the robins toiled hard, feeding their hungry chicks with the healthiest worms they could find. The little mother groomed them carefully, often singing to them, teaching them to keep their feathers straight, their beaks polished, and taught them to keep the little nest neat and respectable.

By and by, the chicks all grew into adult robins and left the nest to find their own mates, leaving the two old ones to a quiet life.

Ah, how quiet it was, the little robin thought! Once, she'd had her little ones to keep her on her wings, but now they'd gone, and so she decided to use her spare time to fly about the village, exploring places she'd never been before and searching for pretty flower petals to cheer her little home up.

And so she lived on in her nest, with only her mate as companion.

Ah, but what is this? One fine day, she opened her eyes to a little brown chick sitting in her nest! She who had a tender heart, she took it upon herself to care for the little one, although old age had made her feeble, and searching for food was twice as difficult as before.

But what is this again? The next day she found yet another brown chick crying in her nest, its little beak open, waiting to be fed. Again, she took the little one into her heart, and cared for both as though they were her own.

And when one day she found a little brown speckled egg in the nest, nestled between the two chicks, the little robin sighed, wondering what mother was heartless enough to throw her own little ones away, and sat her tired little body upon it to hatch it.

Ah, but then, she found these little ones unruly and unmannered (unlike her own brood), for they often coughed out the worms she brought them, and liked to peck at the nest, pulling out twigs, quite ruining it.

What is a robin to do?

Intermission II: somehow, i had a feeling this was coming.

2009-09-26T03:45:00.019+08:00

when i'd decided that i'd dedicate this blog to entirely poetry and prose, i think somehow deep down inside i knew i'd end up changing my mind, and start chunking conversational bits in. after all, i got bored with switching blog colours once a month, so who's to say i wont get bored writing P and P all the time?

yesss... it does get very tiring and mind-crashing writing stories and poetry all the time (or turning incidents and thoughts into them anyway. its easiest when the words fall together themselves); having said that, when i was with BP, i found it infinitely easier to churn out the above, rather than a piece of hard news.

i'm glad i went. i really am, because that one month pointed out my path clearer than any course counselor could. you see, a doubting thomas like me has to experience things for myself (when i can work up the guts to) or else forever i'll be wondering if i could handle it, and end up not doing anything at all.

with the intention to digress, i've suddenly gotten a sudden urge to dissect my behaviour in relation to the doubting thomas infliction: i used to refuse to eat eggplant until once i had it, and found it incredibly delicious, and have been enjoying it ever since then. oh, black mushrooms too. and multiple other vegetables, bitter ones excluded.

good God, why am i rambling about vegetables? i must've had my brain addled with all the research terms miss W was tossing at us just now. i will NOT want to do anything with research, ever. i can barely even catch up with that machine brain of hers; Lord knows, not being able to catch on quickly's pretty damaging to the pride of someone who considers herself relatively quick.

the jester often laughs at me for saying 'if only' (if only Dr M'd chosen a better successor), but now all i can think about are the so many 'if onlys' that've been bothering me in the recnt weeks.
if only we'd followed our instincts when we first met PD.Q, if only Dr N would still be teaching us, if only i'd known that Group Processes was under Dr A, if only we didnt have to get separated for PSY208, if only DKF hadnt been such a stubborn fool, if only he'd thought to use his brain, if only L didnt behave like that, if only i knew how to help them, if only she didnt have to suffer and go through all this, if only, if only, if only.

i hope this semester isnt going to turn out rainy. by the looks of it, i'm sensing dark clouds ahead already.

if only, if only.

P.S you see? rhymes come to me when i least need them. =.=

Chapter Fifteen: Friday's Child.

2009-09-24T23:09:00.028+08:00

Once upon a Friday, there lived a bonny child.
She was fair of face, and full of grace,
Loving and giving, and mild.
This little lassie, she ran to the woods to play
And guess what she found, no trees around,
For they all had been chopped away.
With tears of snow, full of sorrow,
Down the paths she wandered.
And there she saw, a woodcutter braw
Chopping an old gnarled oak.
Gentle words to him she spoke;
Her entreaties were made in vain
And still it groaned in pain.
Poor heart of gold, sweet tender soul,
She knew not what to do.
But her eyes lit up
For in that instant, she knew!
Off ran she, to her pretty house
And brought from hence her favourite blouse,
To and fro, bending down low
She gathered acorns dear
High and low, far and near
Many a seed she found.
Back to the deeper woods she went
Full of good intentions bound
Finding a spot, planting the seeds she'd got
She watered them with spring water clear
At that the gruff woodcutter,
To himself did mutter, 'That was useless, to be sure!'

'And pray dear sir, why should that be,
'For will a seed not soon grow into a tree?'

‘I tell ye lass, ye plant in vain,
For time will come, when nothin' remains.
Them trees'll all be taken down and chopped,
'Tis how life is, it canna be stopped.'

'I say, dear sir, so may it be,
But yet from each seed will grow a tree
And new acorns then I shall have
To plant and water, to grow as needs be
That the wood may yet grow lush as before
And that will make
All the difference or more.
So pray dear sir, now do you see
Why we must not
Lose faith entirely?'

And the braw woodcutter,He nodded his head,
For he knew the truth of what she'd said,
And he gruffly conceded to agree.

Chapter Fourteen: What Salt Makes a Good Soup?

2009-09-17T17:03:00.023+08:00

Once upon a world of quarrels, there was a grand old dame.

She lived in a world far beyond her years, and yet she carried much weight with her name.

Now then, while walking pass a shady old tree, this old dame overheard several youngsters who were sitting under the tree arguing over salt, and so she took it upon herself to teach them, for was she not was advanced in her years? Had she not eaten enough salt in her years, enough to be able to tell them how it tasted like?

And so she marched up to them, clambering onto one of the stubbly roots on the ground, and opened her mouth to speak to them.

'Salt is good, but it is only good when you put the in right amount. If you put too much into your soup, then it tastes bad, and you will be thirsty.'

A boy amongst them opened his mouth to speak, 'But grandmother, we are not arguing about how salt tastes, we are arguing about what makes it....'

'Ah, but you see, there are many many ways of solving it. You can choose to put in less salt, or you can choose not to put salt. Ah, then would you no longer be thirsty?'

The children tried to tell her that it was the composition of salt, and what made salt salty that they were discussing.

She heard them not.

'You must argue the problem as Socrates did. Oh, do you know who Socrates is? He was a great philosopher and you must learn from him. So how do you resolve the problem of whether too much salt will make you thirsty?'

And she spoke on and on, not realizing that the youngsters were all shaking their heads and slowly slinking away.

'You must think more. You must think of more ways to solve the problem. Then, your soup will taste better. Now do you know how to make your soup better?'

But when she looked down from, nary a child was there sitting at her feet. Instead, all she saw were the soft grasses slowly shaking their heads at her.

And so she said to herself. 'Ah, that is what happens when you eat too much salt. Too much salt makes you thirsty. No wonder the children went home.'

And so pleased that she had taught the children a new strain of thought, she began to make her way home, whistling merrily on her way.

Chapter Thirteen: Know Ye?

2009-09-08T02:58:00.012+08:00

Know ye what a story be?
As sung by bards of old
Words oft spoken
Taken and woven
Into a web unfold

Know ye what history be?
As told by auld grandmother dear
When words fly past
Still time will last
And olden times seem so near

Where is the past
A legacy cast
That made a mould of me?
Would ye take
Hide away and break
The truth, my heritage
From me?

Chapter Twelve: Long Time Away.

2009-08-20T16:42:00.009+08:00

Long has it been
Since I last saw you
Aches, the memory
Do you feel it too?

Long has it been
Since I heard your voice
Rich notes ringing
Proclaiming your joys

Long has it been
Since I felt your strength
Warm, secure
A haven at length

Long will it be
Before time thus ends
Till then, sit I here, waiting
Solitary figure, just beyond the bend.

Chapter Eleven: If This Be A Land of Ones

2009-08-17T13:51:00.011+08:00

If this land be a land of Ones
Why am I a Two?
If this be where equality runs
Why then, sit I under you?

You call out yet for your people's rights
Where are mine own then?
You accuse us oft of picking fights
But when have you shared, when?

If my tongue be one of ours
Why should it be silenced?
Who are you to misuse your powers
Yet condemn us of violence?

One of name yet not one in truth
For you bind me at your feet
You with lies and propaganda sooth
Are we curs to be given rotten meat?

Hark ye then you prideful men, one day you shall see
Angry dogs shall not be soothed with promises empty
Call me then, ungracious cur who loves not my country
Yet again, my question remains

How much does my country love me?

Chapter Ten: The Homesick Elf.

2009-07-31T15:44:00.011+08:00

Once upon a time, there lived a little elf in the land of Gatto.

Now then, this little elf grew up in a sheltered little glade, where she was surrounded by her family, and never had to worry about having enough to eat or a roof over her head. She had too a little carriage that would bring her to where she wished to go, so as not to tire her little feet. And so she grew up as a sheltered child who knew nothing about the world.

As the days passed, the little elf grew bigger, and soon it came to a time where she was told that she had to leave home and travel to the city of Fango, for that city was the biggest city in the country, and there she could learn a trade in which she could make herself useful. And so, after her 19th birthday, she set out for Fango, riding on the back of a dragonfly who had promised to bring her there.

Poor creature, who had never lived away from her family for long , she was filled with a peculiar mixture of dread and wonder as she contemplated the thought of having to live on her own, in a strange city, and among strange people. But there was nothing that had to be done about it; she had to go.

Ah, but then, she discovered, the city of Fango was not such a cruel, frightening world as stories would have her believe. She made new friends with whom spent time daily. Her new-found friends taught her to ride on the buzzing beetles that scuttled about the city carrying their tiny passengers where they wanted to go for a penny or two. Here also did she see for the first time the great centipedes whom the city's people had tamed to be ridden to far off distances,. Good it was, and she began to enjoy living in the city and settled to learning her trade. Not long after, she met and made a dear friend, Canard, and they often played together, learning their trade, and going about the city together.

Now then, after living a year and a half in Fango, the little elf was told by the teaching master of her school that she would have to go to another city, for learning at a desk in school was not enough. Ah, woeful was she, for she had wanted to go home and stay with her family for a spell, and play with her pet white rat. Still, she consented to go, and packed her things into a neat little bundle.

And so, she was sent to the city of Montagna, where she was put to recording down the things that happened around her, so that the people in the city could read it, and know what happened amongst them.

Strangely, contented was she, for she had a little room above the shop where she worked, and was allowed to leave early, for the work was not heavy. Yet, oftimes she felt as though time hung heavy on her hands, for she missed her family, her pet white rat and her dear friend dreadfully.

Shall the weeks be long, or pass by in a flash? Ahh. Woe is me, for how time flies, and yet oft it sits heavy upon one's brow when there is naught to do.

Chapter Nine: The Shield, the Sword, and the Dagger.

2009-07-11T18:19:00.024+08:00

Once upon a time, there was a little soldier in the army.

Now this little soldier owned a fine sword, and a shield. He was immensely proud of them, and often spent his time polishing the sword carefully, making sure it stayed shiny. He did the same for the shield, carefully cleaning it, making sure no dirt stayed on it. These things he did everyday, for what better friend hath a soldier than his trusty sword and shield?

Now then, there was man in the army, who used neither sword nor shield, but a dagger. Hated was he by the little soldier, for he thought the dagger a sign of stealth, and he did not consider stealthy battle to be honourable. And so the little soldier shunned him, believing him to be a creature of the shadows, for the man hid his face in his cloak oft, that others could not see his true visage. Yet, deadly was his dagger, and many feared him for it.

One fine day, the little soldier wandered a little farther from camp, for the weather was hot, and he wanted to search for a cool little spot to rest in. Taking the path winding neatly through the forest, he came to a little glen, where the trees' bended limbs formed a little shelter in which he could rest. Sweet flowers grew profusely, and pretty butterflies flitted gaily about. Here the little soldier chose to stop, for a sweet breeze blew through the wood and cooled the sweat upon his brow. Using his shield as a pillow, the little soldier lay down his head; very soon, he fell fast asleep, his trusty sword tucked safely against him.

Ah, but did he know? In the sweet bower where he slept so peacefully, a viper lived. Now then the little soldier had placed his shield right above the burrow of the creature, and it hissed upon finding its nest covered by a strange metal thing, and began to slide its way out from beneath it.

Upon hearing a strange hissing sound, the little soldier awoke in time to see the viper slide out from under the shield. With a great yell, he leapt up, whereupon the creature began to coil upon his shield, its eyes glittering dangerously. And so he called upon his trusty sword to defend him, for a shield lying useless upon the ground could not protect him.

Ah, woe is me! Try as he might, he was not able to pull his sword out of its scabbard! The sword refused to budge even an inch, and in despair, he threw it down onto the grass, and resolved to face his death, thinking bitterly how unhelpful his fine sword and shield were, for they had failed to defend him in his hour of need. And so, he closed his eyes, waiting for the fatal blow, for the creature was poised to strike, and death seemed inevitable.

Ah, but then, the creature bit him not! Upon hearing a hiss, the little soldier opened one eye, and lo, behold, the snake was no longer poised on its shield, but pinned neatly against a nearby tree, the glittering hilt of dagger quivering from its head. Turning in shock, the little soldier observed a cloaked figure standing quietly behind him, a hand outstretched, for it was he who had thrown the dagger. And the little soldier knew not what to say, for no other was he but his most hated nemesis.

Yet, it was he who saved his life, while his own trusty sword and shield had not.

Chapter Eight: The Peacock and The Snake.

2009-06-09T20:47:00.015+08:00

Once upon a time, there lived a peacock in the forest of Rimouthoud.

Now, deep in the forest stood a tree, with many branches growing from it. Upon each branch grew nine twigs; for many years, many a weary one had stopped by this old tree to rest, or hide from the sun in the delighful shade under the swinging boughs.

One day, the peacock chanced upon the tree, and stopped to rest in its shade. Finding the spot pleasant, the peacock decided that the tree should belong to it, for most comfortable a place it was to rest and listen to the little sparrows chatter high in the branches. Happily, it declared to itself, 'This shall be my tree, it shall!' and spread out its bright tail feathers, strutting by the tree importantly.

Day after day, the peacock would come to sun itself by the tree, enjoying itself immensely. However, the peacock would not allow the other animals of the forest near it, chasing them all away with piercing shrieks. Ah, but then, one fine day, the peacock strutted happily to the tree as it was wont to do, only to find a snake coiled around it, blithely sunning itself. Its tail shaking with indignance, the peacock left in a huff, returning home in a very bad mood indeed, for it did not want to share the tree with anyone else.

Ah, but then, back at its own nest, the peacock could not rest at all, for the thought of the snake enjoying itself on the peacock's very own tree angered it to no end, and it decided to return to the tree and chase the snake away. So return it did.

By now, the snake had uncoiled itself and draped itself comfortably along the roots of the tree, taking a nap. Huffing its way up to the snake, the peacock flapped its wings and shook its tail hard, hoping to scare it away. Upon hearing the noise, the snake opened one eye. Finding the noise a nuisance and unable to fall asleep again, the snake decided to return to its burrow, and slithered unhurriedly away. Triumphantly, the peacock shrieked in delight and spread its tail in celebration of its victory, before settling down once again to listen to the sparrows gossiping above, now and then adding a shriek or two of its own.

Days passed quietly, and the peacock continued to visit the tree. Now then, one day, the peacock went down to the tree rather late, for a neighbour had come a-visiting, and the peacock had stopped to chat, before setting out to visit the tree. Imagine its anger at finding someone else there before it!

Ah, never has the forest seen such a furious peacock!

No other was it but the snake, lithely coiled around the tree trunk. Shrieking in a piercing voice, the peacock rushed up to the snake, and quite forgetting its manners, rudely pecked the snake as hard as it could. In anger, the snake raised its head to gaze upon the peacock with unblinking eyes, hissing dangerously. All the animals of the forest hid behind the bushes, gazing at the snake in shock, for none before it had dared to rebuff the peacock. Oblivious to the anger radiating from the snake, the peacock went on shrieking and flapping its wings. O, what a shock it was for the peacock when the snake spat back at it, sending a glob of venom its way. Alarmed, it finally ceased shrieking, at which the snake gave a final hiss before gliding away.

Shaken, the peacock returned to its nest to arrange its feathers, for the glob of venom had quite ruined it.

Ah, but the next day, when the sun rose over the sky, the peacock once again spread its feathers, making its way to the forest clearing. There, in piercing shrieks, it loudly called for justice against the snake. But did anyone heed it?

I know not. or all I heard,

'There it is yet, still calling away,

Never to stop, till its dying day.'

Chapter Seven: The Apple Tree.

2009-05-25T14:30:00.020+08:00

Once upon a time, a girl planted an apple tree in her yard.

The girl took good care of her tree carefully, with help from her mother and her father; they helped her water the seed carefully, and it grew into a small, healthy shoot.

As the years passed, the little shoot grew into a strong and healthy little tree. The girl continued tend to her tree lovingly; the tree's leaves grew shiny, as though the girl had waxed them, and it often bore beautiful white blossoms, which everyone admired prettily. When the girl grew older, her father and mother told her that she was growing up, and she must learn to care for the tree herself.

As the years passed, the tree bore its first small crop of apples. The girl was quite disappointed, because she had looked forward to seeing a treeful of apples, but she cheered up, for the taste of the first harvest is always sweet. She picked all the apples she could find, and gave them away; the children whom she longed to play with let her join them, for she had given them some apples.

Ah, but then, as she grew older she began to pay less attention to the tree. Often she would forget to water it, or to feed it with fertilizer. The poor tree began to look rather tired and miserable; the leaves were no longer shiny and fewer and fewer blossoms appeared. Soon, the tree stopped flowering altogether. It was a sad sight. Meanwhile, little girl spent all her time playing games with her new friends, and in no time at all the poor tree began to look dry and withered. She had forgotten all about it.

One day, the girl's father felt like eating some apples, and so he asked his daughter for an apple from her tree. The girl ran out to pick one for him, but to her dismay, she found the tree withered and dying, and not a single apple to be seen. Seeing how she had neglected her tree, her father spanked her soundly, whilst her mother cried bitterly, for she had not imagined her child to be so irresponsible.

Angry at her parents, the girl went back to her friends, but alas, they began to shun her, as she had no more apples to give them. How lonely she felt! She crept back home, still weeping, and her parents wept with her. Together, they tried to save the tree by tending it with the care that they had neglected to give it earlier.

Soon, the tree began to grow healthy again. The leaves were once again shiny and plump, and in no time at all the little yard smelled sweet, for the tree began to flower again. The seasons passed, and glossy red apples sprouted abundantly; happily, the little family set to picking them, and had a merry feast to celebrate the harvest.

Sadly, the little tree had to face yet another trial, for weeds sprouted madly about it, and stole its water. Try as she might, the girl was not able to pull any of the weeds out, for she was not strong enough, and neither was she able to heft enough water for both the weeds and the tree. The tree began to bear less and less fruit, and the apples grew smaller, and less sweet.

What is she to do? If apples are no longer sweet, what can make them sweet again?

Intermission I: The Ruffian Coach Driver.

2009-05-24T03:29:00.010+08:00

What shall one do, when one crosses the road, only to have a ruffian of a driver force his way through the crowd, and continue driving, heedless of the safety of the pedestrians?

What should one do, when said vehicle knocks into you?

Has he not broken the law?

Would you not say that a kick on said vehicle was well deserved?

Think on it.

What should one do then, if the ruffian parks his vehicle and chases after oneself, dragging one out of the line one is standing in, shouting and cursing one for kicking his vehicle (conveniently forgetting his own fault in causing this sorry mess), loudly proclaming one as being insolent?

And what ought one do, if he continually tries to goad one into a fight, though one attempts to ignore him?

And what when he still strikes one on the face, although one has apologized?

Should one strike back?

But someone did not. Someone walked away, instead of demeaning himself to the level of such lowlife ruffians, for he knew, understood that to talk common sense and righteousness to a blockhead was akin to preaching morals to a cow.

And so, he lowered down the fist poised to strike back, allowing the guard to lead the blockhead away.

Never has this author been prouder of him than then; fortunate I am, parce que j'ai trouvé ont un véritable gentilhomm.

Chapter Six: The Humble Gift.

2009-05-06T23:22:00.016+08:00

Once upon a time, there lived a little girl who wanted to give her mother a present. Now one fine day, this little girl ran out to the fields, thinking hard about what to give her mother, and what her mother would like. So she walked by the stream, pondering. Suddenly, she saw a beautiful stone lying in the stream, so wonderful that she wanted at once to get it for her mother. Ah, but then, try as she might, she could not wade to the stone, as the stream was too deep, and neither could she haul it in to the bank, for it was too far away.

And so, with a big sigh, she walked on sadly, trying not to think about the beautiful stone. She walked and walked, and finally stopped to rest under a big tree. Now suddenly the little girl looked up, and saw some shiny delicious looking fruit hanging on the tree. She thought to herself, 'I'll pick some for mother; she'll like to eat these, they look sweet. And so she tried to climb the tree. but try as she might, she could not climb the tree, for the trunk was too smooth, and she was too short to reach the branches. The little girl sat down to think, and thought to use a stick to poke the fruit down, but in the end she gave up, for still she was too short to reach the fruit. And so she walked on.

On and on she walked. By and by, she stopped by a clear pool. In it she saw many colourful fishes swimming gaily, lovely to look at. And so she thought, 'Aha, I shall catch one of these for mother instead, and put it in a bowl, it will soothe her eyes.' Ah, but then, try as she might, she could not catch any of the fish, for they were clever, and swam to hide deep in the weeds as she tried to grab them with her small hands. And so the little girl climbed out the pool wet, disappointed, and even sadder still.

And so she walked on. After a long while, the little girl turned to go home, as she had been out for a long time, and the sky was growing dark. Suddenly, she threw her her head up to look at the sky, and saw many beautiful jewels embedded in the velvet clouds, shining, twinkling in the dark. She reached out her hand to grasp them, but try as she might, she could not reach a single one of them, for they were too high up, far out of her reach. In despair, she sat down to cry, for she really wanted to bring back a wonderful present for her mother, yet all her efforts had been in vain, and she had not been able to get the stone, or the fruit, or the fish.

And so the little girl went home, and lay down to sleep sadly in her little bed.

The next morning, the little girl woke up feeling a little happier, and she went out to play with her ducklings. Suddenly, her eye fell upon some wildflowers that grew by the path, and reaching out to pick them, she saw more daisies and dandelions and bluebells further down the path. Excitedly, she ran along the path, gathering as many flowers as she could, tying them into a pretty bundle, saying to herself, 'There. I hope mother will like these, but they are so simple'. And so, she ran back to the house to give them to her mother.

And how did her mother react? Dear Reader, you shall decide the ending yourself. Good night.

Chapter Five: Soured Wine.

2009-04-25T02:02:00.008+08:00

A wine that is aged
Beyond two and a score
Should it not be mellowed
More matured than before?

Yet this wine, alack
Is sour, tart of taste
And methinks that no honey
Could such unpleasantness replace

It seeks to prove its splendor
By raiment rich and fair
But appearance deceives not
Ye gentle folk, beware

And so avoid it if you may
With all your earthly might
For such a wine is apt
To spoil the appetite
And ruin a lovely day.

Chapter Four: Sing a Song of...

2009-04-23T00:53:00.010+08:00

Sing a song of sixth sense
And a bucket full of sighs
Four and plenty absurds
Falsehoods, bluffs and lies

When the eyes were opened
The truth began to stink
Wasn’t that a dainty way
To break the way I think?

I was in the counting house
Counting all the funnies
You were in the parlour
Bright cheer and sunny

Wasn’t it you in the garden
Doing goodness knows
Then came crawling a centipede
And bit you on your toes

There was such a doodle
That this poor wretched wren
Had to come and labour
To soothe them back again

And for all my soulful efforts
She gave me with her hand
Nothing but a heavy bag
In which was only sand

So I thought to pull her nose off
And run away with it
But in the end my conscience won
For all the good it did.

Chapter Three: The Faithful Minister.

2009-04-19T00:52:00.012+08:00

Hark, listen to me, for I have a story to tell.

Once upon a time, in a Kingdom not far away, there lived a faithful Minister.

Now this Minister was very hard working; day and night she toiled for the sake of the people of the country and beyond, teaching them to hoe the soil of their fields. Now then, this Minister kept some wonderful seeds in a golden bag; these she gave away generously. With tender care and love, she nurtured the seeds till they grew into big strong trees that sheltered the people against the harsh rays of the yellow sun. Wonderful was her work, for although she planted the same seeds in the same soil, often beautiful flowers would spring forth from her seeds to please the eyes of the people, or yield forth sweet thick grasses that for the people to stuff their pillows to rest their weary heads. And the people loved her in return for the love she gave to them. Ah, but then, even as she tried to teach all the people to love the wonderful trees and flowers and grasses that she grew, there were many lazy people who did not like her because she made them work with her to hoe the soil in which she grew the wonderful trees, flowers and grasses.

Now then, one day these lazy people went to the King of the land, and spoke against the faithful Minister, for they were powerful with their words, and sought to twist the King's goodwill against the faithful Minister. So strong were their words that the King got angry, and called to the faithful Minister and sternly told her not to work for the people, and not give them harvest from the lands, for they paid very little tithes, and so he thought that they should not have so much given to them.The poor Minister was very sad, for she could not understand why the King could not see how beautiful were her wonderful trees and flowers and grasses, and how happy they made the faces of the people who enjoyed them. She wept bitterly at the rebuke she had received, and the people who loved her cried along with her.

Yet, still again she took up her hoe to till the soil.

Ah, but then, no longer was she happy, for her heart was heavy. The King had again listened to the lazy people, and had taken her fields from her, and she could no longer plant as many wonderful trees and flowers and grasses as before. She watched in great sadness as the King's men built a wall around the fields, and she could no longer plant in them, for she could not climb the wall. And so, she went back to the fields she had left with a broken heart.

The people who loved her tried to make her happy again by bringing her water for her trees and flowers and grasses to drink, but she no longer had the heart to plant the fields. Ah, but then, the seeds in the soil of her mind began to grow, and she thought and thought hard of how she should make the best of things. One fine day, she decided to pack her things and leave the Kingdom to wander the great wide world, in search for a new patch to grow. But she did not forget the people who loved her, and sought to teach them one last thing before she left. The people who loved her were very grateful, and tried not to weep as they sent her on her way. Ah, even then, they watched sadly as she walked towards her new life with a spring in her step and a smile on her face, and silently promised to themselves that they would follow in her footsteps someday.

As for the old King, whose unjust anger had driven the faithful Minister away, he saw now that there was nobody left to tend the fields, for the other people had all run away. The last I saw him, he was forced to till the soil himself, and so, here to myself I say, 'Alack, good man, had he not sent the faithful Minister away, here he would not be toiling by himself today'.

And that is the end of my story.

Chapter Two: The King of Fools.

2009-04-13T23:49:00.013+08:00

Disclaimer: i know the blog name says no poetry. but i'm gonna break the rules anyway. maybe even change the blog name.
Once a upon a Century
There was a King of Fools
Who sat on upon yon Throne of velvet red
And cleverly (he thinks) he rules

His Crown perched upon a lofty brow
Mighty Pen he waves
Still as yet I cannot fathom how
Nor why so attentive are his Slaves

Oft he struts past the troubled lot
In robes of Righteousness
But methinks one thing he forgot
That he in Invisible robes did dress

He issues Edict and Decree
On a Web of fragile thread
Yet still all who read and agree
Are Goons set under his stead

He sits oft at his Table of Truth
And speaks Law to his Fools
With wonderful words to sway and soothe
Enchants them as his Tools

O Fools of the highest degree
By virtue of face white and fair
With his Majesty they mindlessly agree
With nary thought nor care

O King who owns a booming voice
And stands nose-high with magnanimous poise
He who waves hands with deceptive grace
And speaks his Law with a vivacious face

Point not your Scepter-Pen at me nor mine
For only knit wits a-plenty shall ever be thine
For methinks ever the King of Fools are you
And all the more Fool you are, for thinking us as foolish too.

Chapter One: A Comedy of Pies

2009-04-07T02:50:00.027+08:00

Prologue: The Malaysian Affliction.

Isnt perpetualpracticalunpunctualitis syndrome just one of the worst diseases in malaysia ever? imagine: a a board of commitees setting a 12 to 4 pm time for rehearsal; therefore an undiseased individual spends ten ringgit on cab fare just to reach on time, and is subjected to an hour's wait, while the afflicted parties simply waltz in and joke around, poke around, mess around half an hour late. still later, two chronically diseased specimens lightly call out: 'those who wanna practice, just practice yeah? we've got to go somewhere for a bit.' ......aaaand everything's put on hold for them.

so yeah. w'all waited fer a whole daymmmm hour, ya know.

scratch that. how bout a top-notch quality control system that filters out the acceptable ones, but leaks the rotten bit through? in which case it's the filter itself playing unfair. it was hardly sporting of it to do so. hardly sporting at all.

Chapter One: A Comedy Of Pies

Once upon a time, not far in the land of helpful Busybodies, a Body of Busy Bodies held a pie baking competition. Now, A-Body was the in the Helping Body of the Kitchen Body and so he asked Somebody, whom he knew was good at baking pies, to come along and join Everybody. So Somebody went, and there he decided to prepare a big three-piece-pie, which was duly approved by Everybody. So happy was Somebody (and This-Body, of course) that he spent days practicing until his hands were sore.

Suddenly, on the day before the Great Baking Day (the Warm-The-Kitchen-Day), One-Certain-Body told Somebody that Another-Body would be taking over the baking of the first piece from his three-piece-pie, which meant that Somebody then had with a two-piece-pie left (ah, but then Another-body thought Somebody would be preparing that piece of pie, while Somebody thought that Another-body was going to do it, so neither of them prepared anything and in the end nobody made that piece).

Then, One-Other-Body told Somebody that A-Body (who could not come for Warm-The-Kitchen-Day) was not such a good baker and was not there in body, and so would perhaps not be allowed to join in the Great Baking Day, but Somebody and This-Body pleaded for A-Body and so it was not truly decided that A-Body would not be joining. Somebody was then happy that A-Body would still be able to join the Great Baking Day.

Ah, but then you see, on the Great Baking Day itself, just an hour before the baking, to Somebody's dismay (and This-Body's) he found out that A-Body would not be allowed to join the baking, and that his second piece of pie (which was to to be made together with A-Body), had been taken out and eaten by the Filter. And so he was left with only one last piece of pie.

And here, This-Body is very very unhappy, because the piece that the Filter ate is one of This-Body's favourite pieces ever and This-Body had looked looked looked forward to it being baked together by Somebody and A-Body. This-Body had also helped them knead the dough to prepare for the baking, and isnt it just a pity the Filter ate it before it could be cooked? (Ah, but then, the Filter's pie came out horribly burnt and lumpy, it was stuffed with no fillings and was so very badly baked, that This-Body didnt even want to smell it at all, it hurt This-Body's nose so)

And so Somebody baked his one final piece of pie very very well (even though a tiny bit burnt on the top) so that This-Body enjoyed it very very much, and This-Body thinks Everybody who got a whiff of the smell liked it lots and lots too. Too bad about the first and second piece; its alright, we'll get another oven sometime.

geniuses have talent, but talents dont make a genius.

2009-03-29T04:31:00.016+08:00

here i am, tapping away at these keys again in the wee hours of dawn, high up in a box not my own.

i wonder if students're put in university just to be tortured? with the amount of assignments they heap onto us, you'd think they believe we need less than our purported 8 hours of sleep. not that many of us do, but yeah, still. apart from that, an impeccable internet connection is indispensable to us students (for the explicit purposes of searching for silly journals and contacting your groupmates), but you think the smartasses in TM realise that? damn right they dont.

these days, sometimes i find myself wondering what the heck i'm doing here, instead of tucking myself away in some antique university slogging my way through shakespeare, jonson, and the rest of the literati. strangely though, i feel a violent disinclination at any thought of giving up with tail tucked and going elsewhere. i refuse to give up. even if i have to kill myself (i havent tried yet, really) to at least get stats down my throat, i will.

the jester once said he thinks my passion isnt for psychology, and right he is. Z too, said he felt that i'm more of a liberal arts person, whilst S tells me that i really should study literature. i like pysch well enough though; have pretty much found myself through its windows, and had some questions answered. just last week, we discovered an interesting theory talking about different types of intelligence. in which case, i'd think i possess linguistic intelligence, but am sorely lacking in analytical, logical intelligence. that very same day, miss Y'd brought us through the chapter on arts... i guess i kinda underestimated how much i missed literature, and the arts.

all these thoughts've been flying around my head for the semester, and i answer a resolute no, whenever the idea of quitting rears its ugly head. reason? i may not be doing brilliantly where i am now, but i've learnt lessons and patterns of thinking that i appreciate and value very very much. i dont think i could've learned these elsewhere; it just has to be that perfect combination of circumstances. also, though i've been blessed with some little talent here and there, is it enough? no. never enough. talent isnt genius. so here, i refuse to take up any of the arts i love but cannot excel in, and risk being mediocre. i'd rather be ordinary, but have my little talents, than attempt to shine my poor little torch at the sun and have its brilliant rays overpower me and mine till i cant be seen anymore.

sigh. i'll honestly admit that my despondent mood comes from the monday deadline for 106 (the worst subject ever), and add the fact that ebsco's giving me trouble as usual... never mind, i'll write off for now.

a woman's curse...

2009-03-24T04:10:00.011+08:00

one of the biggest curses in a woman's life (in my opinion, entirely) is the time of the month, when her hormones run amok and disrupt her emotional processes. true, i have yet to experience such emotional upheaval as often described in chic lit by the letters PMS (vastly overrated, if i may say so) but still, it's bloody (excuse the pun) inconvenient, and definitely something i'd wish away, if only i could. in our world of no fairy godmothers however, that would mean no motherhood, cuz no menstruation means no ovulation and no ovulation means no children.

which puts into mind this thought, why were we made this way? why not like amoebas, making use of asexual reproduction? (hemm... i wonder how that would work, perhaps hydras'd be a better example) then no more pangs of childbirth, no more children who lost their mums through childbirth, and yes, no more menstruation too. still, i guess there's always a dark cloud to be found behind every silver lining, since there'd hardly be any emotional bond between mother and child during those 9 months of pregnancy. would you care as much for a child who simply grew out of your arm or something, or one you went through hell to deliver? i think... for me... i think it'd be the latter. dont ask me why, i'm no mother, and have no intention of being one anytime soon; its just a gut feeling.

anyway, as a female, this's to be expected and i might as well look forward to it. miss Y asked us all about gender roles and why women should be the ones given the motherly roles; would it have something to do with carrying the baby beneath your heart for all those months? perhaps its not merely a tool of society to box the woman into doing what it thinks she ought to, but another way for her to manifest her affection towards her offspring. the greatest beast turns into a gentle giant when caring for her cubs and all that raw strength and energy's replaced by an inborn tenderness for the little ones.

so yeah, the next time i groan about being a poor unfortunate female, i'll try to remember that maybe one day the blessing of a new life'll spring from this blasted curse, and do my best to be happy about it.

blogthings says i am...

2009-03-22T03:31:00.024+08:00

okay, i can just imagine S's or the jester's faces when either of them read this, and that alone is already too much of a temptation to pass up. lemme get this clear though, as a psych student, i dont put stock into these things. they're fun, they kill time, they have cool avatars pictures, and thats how they stay. here goes...

You Can Be Deeply Passionate Sometimes

You like people, but you're careful about who you get close to. Friendship is important to you... so important that you aren't just friends with anyone.You have cold feet when it comes to love. You have a lot of uncertainty until you convince yourself to dive right in.You are deeply passionate about several things in your life. You're not passionate about much... and the few passions you have are truly obsessions.Your sense of humor is intellectual and obscure. Only really well educated people get your jokes.

hmmm... i like this one. its the beach test, i think? i agree with the friendship bit, the passionate bit. the rest? i wonder.

Your Bed Says You Have Your Head in the Clouds

Outward appearances are a concern of yours, but not your primary concern. You try to take care of yourself and your home, but it's not an obsession.You try to be an organized person, but you often fall behind. Certain parts of your life tend to fall into chaos.You are not very high maintenance in general, but you are high maintenance about a few things.In relationships, you tend to kick back and let the other person be in charge.You tend to be a dreamy, head in the clouds type of person. You think in terms of possibilities.You are a bit of a homebody, but you can also make yourself at home anywhere.

agreed. i'm definitely not the most organized person in this side of the world, but i try (though not hard enough). agreed too, the let-the-other-person-take-charge thing. high maintenance huh? what few things would those be? lol, dreams're good. keeps me floating in the air. XD

Your Face Says You're Energetic

At first glance, people see you as warm and well-balanced.Overall, your true self is reserved and logical.With friends, you seem dramatic, lively, and quick to react.In love, you seem mysterious and interesting.In stressful situations, you seem sad and helpless.

ouch. the last sentence hits a bulls eye straight on a bingo. the jester can testify to that. he's had to dig me out of panic more than once when things go wrong.

You Are 52% Real

You're pretty real with people, but you can't help hiding a good part of yourself.You're not truly happy with who you are at times... and believe it or not, it shows.Try not to hide parts of your life from the people who matter to you.Your friends and family are probably a lot more accepting than you realize!

hmm. no comments on this one. hiding? says who eh, eh?

You Are Riding Boots

You are very sophisticated. You have refined tastes, and you don't fall for cheesy trends.You are naturally chic and stylish. You can pull together a great look in no time flat.You don't need a lot of flash or bling in your life. You prefer the glamour of the understated.You treasure wisdom. You are attracted to ideas and things that have stood the test of time.

hmmm... i wouldnt mind being sophisticated, but i think i'm a little too lackadaisy for that. and yes, i have discriminating tastes and YES i dont fall for cheesy trends, thank you. not so sure bout the next few lines but Yes i treasure wisdom and yes to the last point too.

You Are a Chocolate Shake

You are a total hedonist. You are drawn to pleasure.You are an expressive, over the top person. You're naturally dramatic.You're the type of person who always chooses quality over quantity.Life's too short to not have optimal experiences. You're proud of being picky.

ehh, anytime i'm on par with chocolate i'm happy, though i dont think 'total hedonist's' quite correct. yes i enjoy pleasures but i set limits. dramatic? smacks of JM... quality over quantity, YES!

You Are Fruit Flavored Gum

You are quirky and independent. You don't tend to follow any one style or rule book. You are a mix and match type of person, and you draw inspiration from many sources. While you're definitely a bit unusual, you get along well with other people. You're eager to welcome anyone into your world. You are not judgmental at all.You form close bonds with your friends, and your relationships tend to be very secure.You hold firm to your beliefs and values, and you don't let anyone talk you into compromising them.

what does fruit flavoured gum have to do with all this?? hmmm.. lines 2 and 3, agreed. lines 7, 8, definitely agreed.

pooh. add that all up, and i'll soon be the paragon of womanhood, eh? grow up, girlie. its time to be a lady.

girlfriend or girlfiend?

2009-03-21T18:59:00.013+08:00

hmmm. i'm not quite sure how the topic came up, but y'all probably know how my mind can wonder from east to easter; bad habit, but its useful.

talked with S during lunch today, swapping snippets of talk on money and how painful it is to watch them fly out of our wallets into someone elses's eager hands. somehow, lying on my bunk now (the mattress feels so wooden it doesnt deserve to be called a bed), another story occured to me, about someone whose spending habits were so bad her huge allowance wasnt enough to cover all her expenses. one thought led to another, and i found myself recalling another horrifying (to me, at least) anecdote of a brand-blinded baby who acquires brand-new (excuse the pun) haute couture bags just about every month, courtesy of her beau.

the poor bugger.

i wouldnt feel so sorry for him if he were dirty rich and easily able to afford the digs, but when he has to work his ass off for the extra cash, and resort to borrowing money just so she can flaunt the latest contraptions, i cannot help but wonder if the colour of his glasses're tinted a little tooooo rosy for his own good. were i him i'd be seeing red, simply cuz if he were to marry the lady in question, he'd have to bear the cross of a heck of a lot more of her expenses rather than just her shopping frenzies and taste for expensive cuisine. and what an unworthy cross that would be.

shudder. such mentalities are beyond me. i do not lambast buying such branded gizmos, because i'm as much a lover of beautiful things as anyone else. rather, i condemn those who cannot afford them, and who therefore coerce their partners into spending on their behalf. the guilt trick's a hard ploy to gainsay; who wouldnt want their partner to be happy? although perhaps we ought to think about how shallow that puddle of happiness seems, especially if it dries up the moment the rays of a new bag sitting behind immaculate glass cases shine upon it.

so... girlfriend or girlfiend? you decide.

men want to claim the woman in them too.

2009-03-20T07:48:00.010+08:00

aha. so apparently men want to claim their feminity as well.

this, ah, weird thought came about yesterday while poking around the men's underwear section in metro; dont ask me how i ended up there (the fact that i was with the jester and M ought to be the best i-dont-know-how-i-got-there excuse ever, lol). i suppose the huge poster of the buff-boy in briefs with leg holes cut high up all the way to the waistband caught our attention first, since it looked rather odd. curiosity leads to trouble; thats what made them start digging and eyeing the boxes to try and identify that 'weird' pair of underpants.

(i had no idea men wore such a thing called bikini briefs. bikinis're for women, arent they? so what're men doing wearing underwear labeled 'bikinis'?? okay. like i said, i guess men wanna claim that little twinkle bit of feminity in themselves... nothing so very wrong with that, eh? we women claimed trousers for our own use after all anyway.)

still, dr G's bit on operant conditioning has me paying a lot more attention to ads and posters these days and i quite surprised myself by actually remembering what he taught while alternatively choking and trying not to be embarrased by the jester and M's, ah, outrageous comments. so thats why men's underwear boxes always have pictures of designer (over)buff muscles and as of yesterday's examples, an appearing-to-be-overly-endowed physique. i wouldnt know for sure, but the other two were comparing boxes and commenting on, ah, authenticity and speculating on whether the men'd stuffed anything down the front of their underwear.

shocking revelation, indeed.

still, marley and his goofs put the whole fiasco out of my mind till now, but hey, who'd remember underwear snippets after watching marley crash through screen doors and pooping on dog beach? he's really one pooch straight out of Insane Land; what dog eats sofas like he does??? i near bawled my eyes out watching him die; i just cant watch another dog die without remembering how my own did. (the bluidy bugger who poisoned them, i hope ye pay for it in hell.)

dogs're worth their weight in gold, well, most of them, anyway. as much as doongie drives me half up the ceiling sometimes, he more than makes up for it with the loyal affection and joy he's given the family. who wouldnt love him after watching him wrestle with his poor rubber chicken? awwwww.

jANwk1-10? or 11? and another bunch for my counselling class too.

2009-03-17T00:14:00.011+08:00

ohhhhh dear. i knew i ought to have done em journals every week instead of crashing.

sigh. beggin' pardon, miss Y, but i do suppose i kaint really see the significance of studying paleo-era-logies, or primates; homo erectus/aferensis/hominids/ homonoids/hominins... my head's swimming. give me culture or language anyday. that, is what i call pure fun.

better buck up a bit, i say. i havent done exactly brilliantly for 106; blasted statistics, how the hell am i gonna live through advanced research and undergrad thesis??? (jCe, HELP!!!!) did just fairly well for 111 too. still, 111's a general psych paper, albeit there was some heavy duty bio, but how bad can it get? and the lab report... gotta get the journals from JM *bang head*

What'll dr G'll shoot us with for our finals? perhaps something on conditioning? as for anthropology, the jester predicts that the structure essay ought to pop out from the forum discussions currently running limp and dead through elearning; quote S: the horror.

pity. the first forum was such fun, and for pete's sake we churned out real opinions and discussions. just look at all the vapid posts you get now, alongside whiny brats who complain about dirty railings in buses when confronted with the question of how an anthropologist'd handle environmental issues. is that a foreshadowing of your future? how gruesome. still, it's with pride and satisfaction that i note how miss Y considers us her favourite class. i wonder if its anything to do with miss M singing our praises throughout the ADP dept, but hey, we love her back. i hope she's out of hospital already. might pop into her office for a bit these days just to tease her. (^^)

crap. feeling hungry. i know i should've eaten more, but i guess my tummy was still upset with me just now. oh well. cracker time.

well, whaddaya know? jeez.

2009-03-16T01:42:00.012+08:00

i've just about given up scouring the damned country for my last baby's model. apparently this particular model's fallen off the ends of the earth; if you cant find the blasted model in kay elle (the biggest and most updated city in oh-so-outdated malaysia) or even on ebay, where else in the big bad world can you find it? in an obscure corner store? un-blasted-likely.

i curse my own stupidity and carelessness in forgetting it. i curse the bloody fool who stole it. i hope he tripped and fell into a big wide smelly rotten drain while using it, or was paid a whole wad of fake money, if he sold it. (such childishness. but wishful thinking holds an awful degree of satisfaction.)

in a world of ever changing trends and whims, why did i ever expect a model that came out years ago to be still lying around in cabinets waiting for desperate sillies like me to buy? heavens know i sound like a whiny brat crying for the comet, but damn, i loved that model. i dont have anyone else to blame (besides the damned thief) but myself for being careless... but hey, i guess after holding on to hope for almost half a year... i guess its rather sad to realize its futile, after all.

sigh. been digging around the net for an acceptable replacement, and so far i've seen about one thats remotely interesting. have to ask Z about it, it may be unavailable, since apparently it was released two years ago as well. the other catchy ones're way outta my budget: omnia costs over a grand. ouch. mum'd murder me, even if dad okayed it. (ought i to brave the storm and try ask anyway? nah. not worth the ear blistering i'll get)

i wonder why i'm so attached to that particular model. does one's phone selection habit indicate any bit of their personality? might make for an interesting thesis. juuuuust joking. not my type of fun, that. still... i guess it's proven others right about my being rather dogmatic and/or inflexible (i'd like to think of it as being loyal but hey, my opinion's probably skewed =/). true? you tell me. and while you're at it, go ahead and recommend me a phone or two.

P.S S says to get a cbox. where do i get one??

i'm bored.

2009-03-09T00:25:00.012+08:00

i swore i wouldnt ever allow these graceless, cliché, over-used two words to grace my pages ever, but i guess boredom gets the better of anyone.

i've read almost all the ebooks i have twice over, the actual paper books more than thrice over, and i can't get into msn/ebuddy. so there. stuck in the box with next-to-nothing to do... i need a new book, or something like that. add that to the grievance of being badly mosquito bitten (the rainy season, you see).

never mind. (''.)

at least friday was rather amusing. after consultation, the four headed to midvalley for a movie, only to see that the place'd been fully parked... after which, we'd ended in cineleiure (is that how you spell it?) we lunched at the curve, some american/italian pannini/pizza place. the mushroom pizza on a thin crust was good. how did they think of using cream cheese to imitate feta cubes? i must try that someday.

i commend Z on his choice of movie... although not something i'd have chosen, it was rightly amusing. i wont spoil your fun, especially if S's reading this and she hasnt watched it (she'll kill me, you see. XD); but yeah... clever humour, tears, pain, and sheer irony apart, look carefully and you'll find some very painful but honest messages: sex isnt love, a marauding moth'll get burned someday, so...... watch it yourself...

and now... i intend to compile a shopping list for things that i simply must get, no more delays; top of my list.... MOSQUITO BUSTER!!!!!

P.S i nearly forgot, the quilt linen too. XD

the mysterious case of the unknown character. XD

2009-03-08T01:11:00.009+08:00

i asked her, i did, i did! (i sound like that tweety creature: i thought i thaw a putty tat! i did! i did! i did thaw a putty tat!)

i dont know what made us dread the consultation session with her so much,
but the jester and i were heads over heels trying to come up with material to cover every aspect in case she decides to question us on so-and-so... we worried for naught.

miss Y in class and miss Y out of class're two very different people: in class she strikes everyone as the intimidating, omnipotent type of character... probably the (sad) fact that she can easily hold her own against the entire class's contributed to that overall impression, but i guess i'd gotten it wrong. who knew she had such a happy laugh? it sure was something, watching her break into peals of laughter at er, something we did. *grin*

our 'consultation' was done in about ten minutes, wasnt it? i think so, because i remember glancing at my watch and realizing i had about 5 minutes left; reason enough to make me gulp and work up the guts to ask her about my name. i confess, had she not been in such a genial mood, or had we not managed to please her with what we'd come up with (for our paper) so far, i wouldnt have dared to ask.

in any case, she hasnt seen the word before, and she finds it interesting that my granda named us all 'Qiu' (autumn) for our middle name, regardless of gender. she did mention something about asking some colleages of hers *fingers crossed quickly*... i'm to email her to set an appointment to see her next week, which, i am ashamed to admit, i havent done. tomorrow, i promise.

oh, would that these people hold a sliver of hope for me... why didnt i ask grandfather when he was still alive?

P.S long weekends're never fun for me. i end up hiding in my box for days on end, just like a damned hermit. gah.

who, who? why???

2009-03-05T02:00:00.023+08:00

and whoopee-dee-doo! i seem to have recovered my aptitude for writing prose and poetry... thought i'd lost the touch for it, heh. imagine. just in the span of less than an hour, i wrote two poems. and yesterday, i plied myself into remaking one of the jester's stories, and boy, i missed the fun...

ye who want to have a peek: www.adelandria.multiply.com.

i refuse to post any poetry here; the name of this blog should be indication enough. it's to be strictly journalistic, whilst the other one's purely for the sake of the art.

as for the short story... its a bit of a game-ish, riddle-ish kind of mystery piece... i left enough clues to lead to the answer... check it out at www.thejestersayshehe.wordpress.com.

try figure it out before you ask me for the answer. XD

enough about prose and poetry. i thoroughly enjoyed myself this morning in both AN101 and PSY111, particularly in the former. i had not envisioned how rich my own culture is, or how simply membership in the clans can signify so much. miss Y described all about her family lineage, tracing all the way to a mandarin officer, was it in the sung dynasty? neither had i known that having your name painted in gold on your gran/granda's tombstone meant you were a direct descendant responsible for carrying the line on (essentially meaning only sons get that), and we girls get red. not very fair, is it?

all this... its just gotten me all fired up wanting to know more about my lineage. i know little else about my great-grandmother, except that she was of the priviledged class, having tiny bound feet, and the rich-man's luxury of being an opium addict. my great-great-grandfather was no ordinary man, it seems. who was he? i hear tales of said lady leaving her grand home with the vast courtyards and endless passages running through the different quarters of the house. who was the first Lim to step onto borneo land and establish such a lineage? who was the man from whom my grandfather's, my father's, mine and my cousins' name sprung? who are you? were you a mandarin? a pirate? unlikely, given the clues from my great-granda's station. who were you?

imagine my shock when i asked my dad if he belonged to the clan of our namesake, and he replied in the affirmative. i had no inkling at all of his involvement, albeit probably as an inactive member in such associations whatsoever. it bodes well for me though, a lovely chance to actually be able to find out what i want to know. i must admit, my embracing the christian faith does not allow me to participate in the deity and ancestral worship so much a part of the clan rituals. but i will not give my faith up. i merely want answers, that's all.

and all that makes me wonder... why did my grandfather choose for me this name i bear? what does it mean? i cannot find it in any dictionary; no one has ever seen nor heard of it. i myself can only deduce the pronounciation based on the romanization of my name my grandfather has given me. for years i've been trying to find out, asking numerous people, and fending off curious questions pertaining to the meaning of the word which i'm ashamed to admit, i dont know. it's so very tempting, the urge to seek out miss Y and ask her help, to see if any of her fellow intellectualists can trace this word for me, except i dont know how to word my request. would she be offended? would i be imposing upon her? or would she welcome it as a challenge? i want to know, so very badly...

hey-ho cheerio, la-di-da-di-dum.

2009-02-26T01:42:00.009+08:00

whoops... i hadnt realised it's been more than a week since i last posted... not till M and S reminded me that my poor blog/journal's been lying stagnant and untouched for these past days...
first off, if anyone's waiting for an account of a particular day in february (i assume you know what i'm referring to XD)... sorry ladies, sorry gents... my lips're sealed. nyeh. XD

and aahhhhhh... numbers (and them blasted formulas) are simply the bane of my existence. however much biopysch drives me up the wall and kills my brain cells, nothing, absolutely nothing shakes me up as much as the though of math. especially when it comes in statistical forms that make no sense to me whatsoever. so this time round, if i can pass, wonderful. if otherwise, i'll just have to work my bottom off just so i can at least pass, or die trying. i refuse to entertain any thoughts of failing. 'tis simply unacceptable.

the sum of it all's that i spent the past week either slogging through textbooks and slides for the midterms, or dragging myself through a litany of assignments. i'm exaggerating, mind you, but hell, it was draining. time apart from that, i spent reading mushy romance novels that do nothing to nourish the mind, but offers me some respite from brain-cell-murdering words and theories and formulas and whatnot. have i ever thought about why i enjoy romance so much? its just the whole mass of variation i can find in there. not so much the plots; they always start with either intense attraction or intense dislike between the characters. things happen, problems arise, la-di-da-di-da, problem solved, and happily ever after. where's the variation then, you say? oh, there is, to be sure. its all in the dialogue. i love the banter between the characters, witty, clever sayings that tease the mind. i happen to have a strong liking for puns and word play; subterfuge in a conversation adds some spice. hence, my fascination.

gosh, if it isnt nearly 2am. if i'm keeping erratic hours, i blame my internet connection. i havent signed online chat in ages, and these days i dont even bother to try anymore. instead, i've been trying to turn in early these days, i do. goodness knows, it isnt quite the thing to fall asleep during dr G and miss Y's classes. and deuce take it, the panda rings around my poor sorely abused eyes're starting to get to me, if my poor pale ravaged face is any indication to the lack of sleep. good morning, everyone. i'll see you in 12 hours or so.

recovery from the infernal virus. cough

2009-02-12T02:16:00.009+08:00

been coughing my lungs out for the past few days... it aint fun having fever, sore throat, cough and flu all at the same time, i tell ya. near had me bedridden, and the aircon didnt do me no good at all... the first day, thank goodness the jester was around... i'd probably have not recovered as quickly, were it not for him... the second day was spent mostly in bed too, nursing the horrid temperature. (i'm sorry we had to miss red cliff... (><) ... its times like these that i miss mum awfully... the other two'd gone home, so i had to eat in... since i didnt feel like eating noodles, i made myself instant porridge... and was promptly reminded of mum's beautifully cooked porridges from home... sigh... when was the last time i actually had a proper bowl of real, home cooked soup?

in any case, saturday night, i joined my aunt's family for dinner. it was pretty fun to be among kin again, with the usual healthy dose of good natured bickering and friendly pot shots we were shooting at each other. especially with the little girl on the threshold of teenagehood... to hear her stories is to reminisce our own, and i noticed everyone smiling knowingly when she professed extreme disgust for a certain goony classmate. ahh, the times.

speaking of food... this year, i got to partake of the yee sang tradition thrice... first time in Chyna with dad and his friend, second time during our gang lunch get-together (was it on friday? yes, it was), and the third time with my aunt's family. there was supposed to be a fourth round in one of our homes, but it went forgotten, since we were too full to bother. just in case anyone doesnt know what yee sang is, its a lucky dish for CNY, with a an assortment of pickled and dry condiments that the whole table mixes up together, for good luck. you'll find sesame seeds, pomelo pips, pickled ginger, colourful crispy coloured strands (red and green), jellyfish strands, cracker bits, and raw salmon slices seasoned in lemon juice. add sesame oil and plum sauce; voila, ready to lou (mix)!

i noticed one other thing... gambling seems to be a favourite past time for CNY here... as far as i know, my circles back home dont indulge in such a fashion... we favour conversation and small talk more... but here, my gang got into their games at one of our homes right after our luncheon, and i believe someone did walk away a few ringgit richer at the end of the session. lol.

our sunday home-hopping was punctuated with a few sessions too; the first two homes were untouched, merely good clean bluff and heart attack. the real action started in a certain someone's den of iniquity, where alchohol showed up, and money started creeping out of wallets... hahahaha... we ended the day at the jester's, with four of the gang playing rounds of texas poker.

i must confess i dont understand card games, apart from simple ones for the express purpose of merriment. it probably has to do with my nature of not liking to take risks; many games require a cool head and sharp intuition, as well as the daring to take calculated risks. none of these attributes have i. it's a good thing i find neither amusement nor solace in gambling then, or i'd be as poor as could be, indeed.

raindrops were falling on my head...

2009-02-02T23:41:00.007+08:00

...but that doesnt mean my eyes will soon be turning red, nor my nose runny, nor my throat sore... (i know of someone who'll be giving me his =.= look if he sees this. heehee. XD)

after a tiring new year, (no, that was no holiday) i'm back here in my box, high up in the heart of kay elle city. just after disembarking from the plane, i was remarking how different the weather was from kuching; its been raining daily since way before CNY back over there. so after a few days of deliriously cool and chilly weather there you can imagine my dismay when i stepped out the plane just to encounter the burning rays of the sun piercing through my jacket.

strangely though, the weather took a complete turnabout at about 5-ish. first, i heard thunder rolling, not too far a distance away, but i dismissed it as the rumblings of a false promise, so two of us blithely strolled to mcd for dinner and took our sweet time grocery digging at giant's. however, at 8-ish, two of us noticed with dismay that the rains'd started pouring heavily. neither of us were inclined to run in the rain, so we decided to head back to mcd's for a round of coke and ice cream to wait it out. and so, back we went. ice cream ordered, coke ordered. talk, talk, talk. finished coke, finished ice cream. the heavens poured on. in the end we made our minds to make a dash for it, and were giggling and laughing like mad while running helter skelter through the rain. i quote my companion: 'let this be one of those stupid things you do in university.' i agree. XD. amidst complaints about how the rain'd ruined our hair and clothes (R-lliteration) we reached the boxes, and that was the end of that little night adventure. hahaa...

i miss my dog. i cant put the pitiful expression on his face when i walked out the front door and he knew he couldnt follow out of my mind. i recall the heartbreaking sound of his whining and whimpering; i cant help but feel a little tug on my heart when my mum tells me of how he searches for me in my room, in the study, then climbs up back into my room to mope when he cant find me. i want to experience again the joy of having him greet me at the doorstep when i come home, with his wildly wagging tail tickling my feet, his body wriggling all over me, excited yips of happiness and lots of licking to tell me how much he missed me; the helpless laughter and feeling of not knowing whether to laugh or cry when i open the toilet door to see his two front paws wet and hopelessly dirtied right after i've given him a bath. or falling asleep in my own bed with him curled up into a warm furry ball against my back. sigh. poor boy. i'll be back soon, okay? it's just a few more months.

what sweet irony. when i'm here, i miss the little guy back home, that wriggly mischiveous little ball of fur that i cant stop talking about when i'm here. yet, when i'm back there, all i want to do is come back here, for the sound of another voice, the sight of another face. either way, wherever i am, i'll be missing someone hard (and vice versa). what's a girl to do? double sigh.

what i used to do on friendster. XD

2009-01-29T17:24:00.006+08:00

remember when friendster was still the craze and no one knew what facebook was all about? those were the days mann... when i was still answering surveys to kill time when i was bored... here's a random one i copied off the bulletin board for a lack of something better to do... XD

1.Does anyone know your password to your friendster besides yourself? ~ the jester, i think.
2. What was the last thing you ordered at McDonalds? ~ sausage mcmuffin

3. where were you yesterday? ~ home, all day long. my parents had a luncheon party.

4. Do you like your name? ~ its good. =)

5. Do you believe in love at first sight? ~ a lot less than the belief that love comes gradually.

6. Ever felt jealous of your friend? ~ envy, perhaps. not so much jealousy.

7. What was the last thing you did? ~ check my phone.
8. Who is right next to you? ~ doongie.

9. Who were the last persons you ate with? ~ mum, dad, doongie.

10. What song are you listening to right now? ~ Ishtar - horchai hai caliptus

11. Hows the weather right now ? ~ rainy. cold.

12. Last person who called you today? ~ no call. just texts, from the jester.

13. Last song you sang? ~ i was humming CNY classics. does that count?

14.where is your phone? ~ right here.
15. Do you like anyone? ~ oh, yes. very much.
16. Lost a friendship over something stupid? ~ *snort*. they lost me, not i them.
17. Last beverage you drank? ~ tea.

18. Last food you ate? ~ cake.
19. What did you do last night? ~ watched a movie with mum.

20. Faked being sick to miss school? ~ sure did. ;)

21. What time did you wake up today? ~ late.

22. Last person you talked to? ~ mum.

23. Last person you made fun of? ~ doongie.

24. Last message you sent on your phone? ~ 'monday. u?'

25. Are you too quiet to ask anyone out? ~ ask out meaning?

26.what is your fav song? ~ i have tooooo many to choose from.

27.Where are you right now? ~ in the study.
28. What date and day is it? ~ 29th Jan 2009, thursday.

29. Did you go anywhere today? ~ the furthest i made was to the patio. XD
30. What did you do there? ~ eat.

31. Where else are you going today? ~ nowhere.

32. Are you watching TV? ~ not at all.
33. Are you mature or immature? ~ that, is contingent upon the situation. XD

34. Are you closer to your mom or dad? ~ mum.

35. When was your last kiss? ~ you ask but i no tell.

36. What school do you go to? ~ a school for people who need HELP.

37. Whats the most annoying thing people say to you? ~ i'll tell you when i hear it.
38. Do you like music? ~ i cannot live without music.

39. Do you want to get married? ~ probably. but ask me again a couple of years down the line.

40. To whom? ~ hehe. XD

there you go. just silly stuff. i cant believe i used to spend hours filling these things in. XD

sssss... popopopopopopopop crackle crackle crackle crackle... hisssss...

2009-01-26T14:59:00.006+08:00

all hail the year of the ox... in case anyone hasnt figured out what the title means, i was just trying to imitate the sound of firecrackers going off. the big long chinese ones that go off like gunshots and makes the place smoky and leaves red confetti everywhere. no big chinese (chinese new year in particular) celebration'd ever be complete without that. funny thing is, my area's more of a bumi/malay rather than chinese area, yet with the amount of fireworks going off, you'd think only chinese lived here. guess our comrades arent averse to having a little of their own fun, eh? who cares what the police says?

i spent last night watching reruns of cctv's past CNY spring festival gala... although i've seen some of the performances before, its just simply impossible not be awestruck at the quality of their performing artists. the thousand armed buddha dance, puppet dance, peacock dance (she was silhoutted against a white 'moon'. you could easily imagine her as a peacock coming to life and transforming into a maiden), and a very lively adorable dance by a group of little girls and sprightly elderly ladies. its amazing how limber they are; they were hopping about just as actively as the little ones. and they looked so happy too. brilliant.

ahhh... the light rain's done wonders for the weather; the place's slightly chilly now... doesnt it just feel like spring? i walk around the house, allowing my ears to be serenaded with classical chinese folk songs, admiring our handiwork around the house. tastefully decorated house, if i may say so myself. no tonnes of faux gold nor overabundance of reds everywhere. my home's a mix of antique and nouveau... neo classical? lol.

whatever it is, these pieces of furniture and vases and paintings and whatnot were painstakingly hunted and lovingly collected. people may say we're crazy/fussy/have too much time on our hands, cuz we change our home interior arrangements every few months, but they dont see the effort and pride we place in our home. after all, life's all about variety. who says homes have to stay the same way for years on end? XD

ouch.

2009-01-25T01:41:00.008+08:00

yes, i'm bummed. bummed from the cramped flight which gave me a damned crick in my neck and sore shoulders (hunching two days in a row making cookies day in and night out didnt help). never mind that, i'm tired to boot.

hard work pays off though. we now have quite an arsenal of cookies to be served to the multitude of guests, in addition to several cakes. good thing mum's done most of her cooking already; it'd be heavy work getting in on it now. nostalgia... speaking of all this, i'm reminded of past years when we started cooking late, and would have to cook into the night all the way to chu yi just to finish everything up. i remember dropping off the on the kitchen couch while drying the plates, or rolling myself into a ball on the ground to catch a few minutes of snooze whenever i could. and the year we painted the whole house over? that was super duper tiring too. i remember too when hugo (my first dog) was still alive, how he'd always freak out and go ballistic when the firecrackers popped. once, he even squirmed his way into the house and went to hide in a corner. it took all three of us to drag him out.

i miss those days. *smile* now, we have a brave little fella who doesnt so much as blink went the pop pop pops go off. that just goes to say that not all small dogs're timid, and neither are all huge dogs brave. *chuckle*

today, or yesterday to be exact, i spent the day downloading chinese folk pieces for mum (while doing chores) to play when her expat friends come over. i know how much they like traditional tunes. still, i cant find much without being able to type chinese; when am i ever gonna be able to type in chinese??? its driving me crazy seeing all these silly doodles instead of proper characters in my music player. gah.

in any case, technically its nian san shi wan (chinese new year eve; see why i hate not being able to type in chinese??) now. i heard on the news we'll have 13 months on the lunar calendar this year, so an extra 30/31 days for anyone who's gonna be born this year. lucky lucky bovines. which also means... next year's chinese new year'll come after valentines... hmmm... (dont ask me, the newscaster said so).. XP

happy new year anyway, everybody. i cant believe i'm gonna be 22 (according to the lunar calendar). dont anybody not enjoy their reunion dinner yeah?

the price to pay...

2009-01-22T23:37:00.016+08:00

... for yummy cookies's to bake them yourself (assuming you've a good hand with them). never mind, more about that later.

this morning's flight home was uneventful, though for once they took off early rather than late. i was groggy with sleep throughout the entire flight, having had about two, three hours of sleepy-weepy the night before, so much so that i had to drag my eyelids open when the plane finally touched down at the terminal.

i remember now... while at the lcct, i thought to grab a sandwich in case i got hungry, so i peeked into the store called Buy and Fly to have a look at the ones there and can you guess how much they cost? TEN freaking ringgit for two limp looking sandwiches that look as fresh as day old bread. and the filling isnt even that enticing. i recoiled with horror and resolved to never buy anything from there, even if i'm pretty much bored with mcd. at least with mcd i can be sure it's not day old stuff. so when i arrived, and had time to spare while waiting for my ride home, i snagged a piping hot mcmuffin. definitely beats limp bread. lol.while in the plane, i was entertaining dreams of going home and sinking into my soft bed to make up for lost sleep, but... my mum had other ideas. i was dragged into the kitchen and recruited into helping her with her cookies. that was tiring. after lunch, we both took a rest and she went out to feed the rotties while i continued. making pineapple tarts's fun though. the first tray i messed with, i made shapes: stars, and mei hua (plum blossom, you see the motif everywhere for CNY; they look rather like sakuras), but it took so long to make them and used up sooo much pastry i eventually gave up and made buttons instead. those were pretty fun too. wrapping the filling and then turning them to buttons while watching Ip Man on my laptop. XDi like that movie. awesomely inspiring and one heckuva great example of leadership. he doesnt even profess to be a leader; his actions and behaviour proclaim him as one and the townfolk revere him for that. i found his loyalty to his countrymen, his motherland, and his integrity very moving; he was willing to trade his life for the honour and morale of his people. i watched how ordinary unarmed people rallied and forced back the ranks of the japanese soldiers in order to aid him when he was shot, and all i could think was all it needs for people to unite is someone who's willing to stand out and make a difference. if only china had had more leaders like him. she wouldnt have been cut up and served to the greedy ones like a melon then. china.. she sure's gone a long way from the rotten days of the cultural revolution, and i salute her for the great leap's she's made. though i wasnt born there, i feel a keen sense of kinship with her; how can i not, when my ancestors hailed from that very country?

without heaven, there wouldnt have been earth
without earth, there wouldnt have been home
without home, there wouldnt have been you
without you, there wouldnt have been me.

probably no words can describe how i felt when i stepped on the great stones of the forbidden palace and marveled to be walking over the unseen footprints of emperors, princes, princesses. i could see in my mind the maids and eunuchs scurrying about their duties, feet wearing the stones down to the smoothness seen today. who can stand atop a watch tower on the great wall and not feel a sense of wonder at how they managed to built it? the beijing olympics brought great pride to chinese all around the world. we're rooting for you, our dragon. no one can do it like you do, because there isnt any other in the world like you.

ohhhhhhh... how wonderful.

2009-01-19T00:48:00.023+08:00

as far as movies go, Four Christmases's quite the hilarious story, except i question how it is possible for such a string of crazy happenings, and coincidences and mishaps to occur all in a single day, and how such momentous decisions happen in such a short space of time. never mind, do watch the movie, its worth a bucket of laughter. i didnt approve of the church scene though. guess i'm used to catholic masses which're more solemn, and upbeat festivities're reserved for gatherings and praise and worship sessions. and the fact that the movie congregation found the horribly parodied nativity play inspiring doesnt speak much for it. while i understand that it is merely for fun, as a staunch catholic christian i found myself Not amused at all. forget that. to God be the glory, and may He continue to watch over me. Amen.

movie done, we just strolled around flipping through the boutiques, making one of our party try on an assortment of styles, and generally (for me, at least) polishing up 'skills' at picking the right clothes for the right person and the penchant for mixing and matching colours, accesories, and goodness knows what else. wouldnt it be fun to choose clothes for someone who had unlimited access to cash? i could help her/him mix and match to my heart's (and their's) content and not have to worry about budgets or the price of this necklace or that belt. pure fantasy, unless i decide to go professional and end up waiting on one of them pampered, polished creatures for whom money exists just to be thrown away.

sigh. up for t-e-a anyone? who knew shopping could be tiring.

the highlight of the day however, was waiting for the public transport back to the box. dear me, how very efficient our system is. instead of ruining the scenery with an unsightly directory post, we're advised to be eco-friendly by asking passersby and random people on the street for directions. and malaysians being the wonderfully friendly people they are, they will not hesitate to give you directions even if they dont know where the place is in the first place. and oh, the bus system works like clockwork too; it is perpetually off time.

there. that about sums up my adventures for saturday. today might promise to be another interesting day, who knows? for one who lives in a hodge podge of a country with rojaks in and out of your life everywhere, no day's ever the same, and at the moment, i wouldnt exchange it for all i'm worth.

we fight, we fight, we fight fight fight...

2009-01-13T21:23:00.016+08:00

...for? lol... nothing less than tutorial slots. half an hour before the sign up was due, already a whopping 100 and 7 people were waiting patiently (or should i say impatiently?) for the precise strike of the digital numbers at 9 pm, when we could finally sign into our tutorial of choice and heave a sigh of relief.

that was yesterday, where the three musketeers ice creamed at mcd while waiting for time to pass. tonight, again we dock, this time at kfc to await the hour with bated breath. i will admit to being one of those who frantically clicked 'submit' or refresh, chanting to myself 'pleaseletmegetit pleaseletmegetit' in my head... while simultaneously checking to see if my friends'd gotten the same tutorial. within a few minutes two out of three slots were fully packed and we were left awed(aghast) at how everyone fought for as simple a thing as tutorial slots as though it were some grand prize.

ahhh... this semester promises to be a hectic one, and i just had to choose two heavy duty subjects for my electives: anthropology and counseling skills. never mind 106 alone would give me a whopper of a migraine when it comes to calculations and such; thank the Lord i have math whizzes around me who can guide me.

these two mornings' classes with dr H (amazingly i stayed awake throughout without falling asleep at all... XD) left me wondering how on earth med students can survive slogging through the tiny tiny details over human anatomy. its funny listening to someone lecture on how the eye moves, even as your eyes're poring over your notes and roaming the screen. good thing i dropped my childish yearning to be a vet. i couldnt possibly have survived all the headaches that comes along with anatomy, no matter how much i love animals. XD

P.S aaaand, i didnt get my slot tonight. damn.

le pig. grin

2009-01-10T12:46:00.019+08:00

so el cerdo means the pig, eh? dad was asking what it meant so i texted jCe for reference. lol.

lunched with dad and his business people in a restaurant off... was it jalan raja laut? not sure. anyone who knows deusche haus, its just right opposite. i was greeted with an atrocious parody of the mona lisa emblazoned on the door handles: a pig's grinning face and trotters were photoshopped in place of lisa's delicate visage. yikes.

however, the food was phenomenal. deep fried pork skin crisps as appetizers, an entree of caesar salad, and assorted sausages accompanied by mashed potatoes and sauerkraut. then piggy trotters (by now you ought to have guessed by the restaurant name that everything's pork, and strictly pork), wrapped in bacon, also with sides of sauerkraut and a salad. very well done indeed. who knew i'd actually like sauerkraut? not that delectable eaten alone but eaten with the meat it is quite delicious. oh, i forgot. we had ribs too. not bad, not bad, but the best's yet to come.

next came the suckling pig, half of it, served with the ears and tail intact. delightfully tender, the likes of juicy succulent roasted pork (and the crisp skin) you seldom get to taste (Mr Ho loses hands down). before we could partake however, a (hmm, spanish? german?) girl came out with two plates and asked who would like the honour of breaking the plates, as is the tradition. being frugal chinese, naturally everyone declined. i remember her expression taking on an odd look and she asked dad (to whom everyone had pushed the 'honour' of plate breaking): 'you chinese?'

is it just me or did she sound a tad bit condescending/patronising? meaning:

A) you cheap chinese who're nitpicking about a silly plate, who cares how much the plate costs??

B) or perhaps, you superstitious chinese, whats the big deal about breaking a plate??

C) or was it just plain and simple disappointment that we werent sporting enough to join in the fun?

guess we'll never know. apparently we were supposed to use the edges of the broken halves to cut the meat. i simply cant imagine how they'd manage that. in any case, if its either choice A) or B) from up there, then her prejudice's gone barking up the wrong tree since it was neither. in truth, the adults were concerned about unseen shards of broken pottery that might crumble into the meat, and enter your tummy via the food. and then, you'll suffer when it starts cutting you up inside. neither did they see the logic in breaking a plate for just such a reason. wasteful. ahhh... there comes the frugal nature of my race, generally speaking. so much for being indignant about her reaction. *chuckle*

dessert was decadent, raspberry/blackberry sherbet. it teases the palate nicely, since the sherbet owes its slightly tart flavour to the fresh berries mixed in, followed by sweet vanilla ice cream, and then a taste of bittersweet chocolate mousse to round off. beautiful combination. i wonder if i could try making that when i get home? lol... will have to dig around in mum's recipe books then.

chuckle chuckle

2009-01-08T01:01:00.009+08:00

ahh, finally something i think i'll like. anthropology. its just too bad i cant take east asian civilization, since it clashes with one of my core subjects. crazy as i am about the east asian culture, i bet i'd enjoy that very very much.

the lecturer's a very likeable person indeed. i'd say its in the way she speaks? firm, wit, humour in equal doses. seldom have i paid such complete attention in class (the only other lecturer who's been able to elicit such a response from me's dr N). i think i'd do well to emulate the way she speaks, she being a cultured intellectual (she owns a degree in literature and philosophy) and person of quality. a refreshing change indeed after having to tolerate a disgustingly uncouth personage for marketing last semester. not that he isnt a well educated man; he hails from quite prestigious a college, albeit one that shares its initials with the water closet. have fun guessing. (clue: its a liberal arts college). it matters not, the man's a cynic to boot, and while i may respect him for his sharp insight, i admire him not a bit. his penchant for inappropriate jokes and crude humour, well, its just not to my taste. plus if he tries saying again that psychology's just common sense, i hope someone quotes dr hera's words to him to shut him up.

an interesting day it was, 'struth. was somehow pulled into the arcade at midvalley, and persuaded to join in a strange game that includes a running bride who has to toss cream pies at the people in the church. i watched my companions shoot virtual enemies, snipe goodness-knows-who, whack some rock remix machine's buttons randomly and machine-gun down horrid looking spiders and other insects. lol. all very well in a simulated world viewed on a screen, but i sure wouldnt want to be facing those creatures in real life. *chuckle*

i hate to admit it, but i'm feeling sleepy, and it's not even 1 yet. gah.

2009-01-06T23:20:00.012+08:00

i wonder where the fun is in randomly adding people you dont know in msn... this's the third time i've gotten such an add, and i gotta say, i'm getting fed up.

first one was of a freaking pervert who asked me intimate questions i wouldnt even dream of telling close friends, never mind a virtual (excuse the pun) stranger. and when he told me to look at his profile picture... you dont wanna know what he put up.

the second was an emo junior who threatened to commit suicide if i didnt agree with him about a certain something.

and now, another one. wheesh.

so classes've started, and we're blessed with psy106 at 10 in the morning... gah. i managed to stay awake, though i cant guarantee it'll stay that way for the rest of the semester. biopsych will prove to be a headache, i believe... but let's not cast stones yet, shall we? before long, we'll see.

tomorrow, or later, rather, i'm about to find out what all the fuss's about on anthropology. i badly wanted to do east asian civilization, but it clashes with another subject, so it wont wash. mypride's giving me problems, the silly thing. oh, never mind. if this's gonna be a short post, so be it, cuz i'm already sleepy anyway, though i caught a nap this afternoon. lol.

an example of denial.

2009-01-05T00:07:00.018+08:00

what do you call vegetarian food that's consisted of fish, char siu, or even crab???

you call that (psych term): denial.

you want to eat meat, but on the other hand you want to be vegetarian, so you take tauhu and press it into chunks and stick seaweed on it and called it 'steamed fish'. or you colour more tauhu lumps red and barbeque it and call it char siu. what about the soy bean 'belacan' that doesnt remotely taste like belacan? if that isnt denial, what is?

the point about being vegetarian is, you eat vegetables. end of story. where's the fun of being vegetarian and then eating vegetarian meat??? (oxymoron, oxymoron) i can tell you for sure the entire dinner table (minus yourself and your spouse) either found it ridiculous or amusing. in fact, i positively remember a particular someone grinning while eating the 'char siu' and it definitely wasnt because the char siu was well grilled. where's the health in eating a lump of food-coloured, flavouring-added floury tauhu-based stuff, i ask? you tell me that. lol. my apologies to the regular vegetarians out there, but as someone who believes in a balanced diet (excluding those who eat for proper health reasons or who really go vegetarian for religious purposes), i dont see why you should eat fake meat when real meat's healthier, or if you want to be vegetarian, why you should be eating meat in the first place, even if its fake.

and oh. vegetarian reminds me of a friend who refused to help us buy quiches from the pastry lady cuz it contained meat. never mind the quiche was in a plastic baggie and wouldnt even touch his fingers. never mind that we werent asking him to eat it, just to help us buy and and then pass them to us. no, no... he's vegetarian and vegetarians cant touch meat, even through a plastic bag.

my apologies again if i've offended anyone's sensibilities or honour, for the matter. perhaps you could proffer an explanation or rationale to combat my potshots and i'll finally understand the fuss over soybean meat and gelatine shrimp.

of lousy airlines and (good) chinatown food.

2009-01-04T12:57:00.011+08:00

from this compact box high on the 19th floor of the bigger box in the middle of Kay Elle city once again i'm writing...

lol... forget that first sentence... i arrived yesterday, and is it a coincidence or have all the flights i've been on recently gotten some major turbulence problems? first, it was my flight back home, then the flight to jakarta and even yesterday's. yesterday's pilot didnt take his sweet time landing; he went down so fast the pressure built a striking pain in my left eye (not to mention the horrid headache and nausea it gave me, which lasted throughout the day, all the way until nighttime) heck, that was some horrid experience... it felt like my eyeball was gonna pop out or burst any second, and i couldnt open it. i could only press my palm against it and pray for it to end, and when i finally took my palm away it was entirely wet, covered with tears. it hurt that much.

and oh, i say this, MAS's getting from bad to worse. now you dont even use trays for in-flight meals but paper boxes??? thats way too cut-cost for the exhorbitant prices you're charging. never mind the packaging, the food wasnt anything to be excited about either. it may sound like an insult to you (as intended) but even mcd or kfc's scrambled eggs taste better than yours and they sure as hell dont cost as much. lemme list out the full menu again, shall i? a splat of messy looking baked beans (about a spoonful), a single (cheap) hot-dog (it doesnt deserve to be called a sausage), a lump of tasteless scrambled eggs, a packet of KERK Kraker Coklat deluxe chocolate sandwich biscuits, a croissant, the usual anchor's butter packet and of orange juice. no wonder we all prefer air asia (though the delays and lousy timing drive us crazy). i think about less than half the seats of yesterday's flight were taken, and first class all empty. i remember my gran remarking how few people there were. so if you think you've lost your customers to air asia, well, no one's surprised, to say the least.

in any case, i went to KL's chinatown (chi cheong kai?? how would you spell it?)with the jester after chilling out in my box for a bit. sayangnye, i couldnt really enjoy the experience since the dizzyness and nausea hadnt completely gone away; had to go back after just a bowl of tau fu fa, and a bite of mochi. i simply couldnt get my appetite running, despite all the good food around. on the contrary, just the smell of the food made me feel like throwing up. so we went back to my box, and rested a bit, before the jester went home. too bad. we'll go again someday yeah? i'm sorry the trip had to be cut short cuz of me.

aaaand... anyoung, year o9.

2009-01-01T02:31:00.014+08:00

ahhhh... the new year... quite a blast, it was... i spent yesterday night (when it was still year 2008, 31st december, around 9pm, XD) with a close friend, first in the cinema, then on to soho... i recommend adam sandler's bed time stories... complete cracker-jack funny, and nothing crude in it... pure warmth and family loving goodness.

funny things happen when people're high on the prowl for fun. while heading to mcd before the movie, two caucasian men, one young, one old happened to be standing next to my friend's car, and the younger one smiled at her. we went hysterical with laughter, for no particular reason at all. and later half a metre up the road they somehow crossed the road in front of us and this time, the old one smiled and waved. needless to say, we near laughed the roof of the car off.

enter soho. about half an hour before the countdown, we squeezed our way through an undulating mass of bodies, music pounding and lights flashing. (here, research methodology comes into play: participant as observer; dont you just love psychology? *grin*) although i initially said i wouldnt bother to dance, i would've felt very silly if i were to stand on a sardin can of a dance floor and stay stiff and ramrod straight. so i joined in. it was exhilirating at first, your heart pouding to the music beats and you feeling your adrenaline run higher. then, the peak of the song comes and you close your eyes and work your way through the trance... aaand just at that moment......... my phone rang. lol... dad called asking if i needed a ride home, since they were on their way home from church. i chose to stay on till about 1:30, when it was starting to get boring, so we popped to a coffee shop to buy drinks, and they dropped me home.

the girls will be continuing to par-tay their night out though, even as i type. happy new year again, girls, you've given me a night to remember, despite the idiots spraying beer over us and the grinding-happy couple who kept taking up our floor space. good luck for the new year! XD

au revoir, year of two~thousand~eight.

2008-12-31T12:08:00.025+08:00

this past year's been good... from getting my stpm results to visiting beijing to entering HUC to my surprise birthday bash, and S's kidnap and my trip to jakarta plus other things... whew... so much's happened in just a year, and it dont feel like a year's gone by at all, actually...

could probably say this year was a turning point... several interesting incidents took place, met lots of new people, lost some others... i hope this bond we have among ourselves now'll last longer than the last clique i was in... it was heartbreaking watching it falling apart, and i couldnt bear for it to happen to this particular gang...

the ladies played some britney spears classics that birthday night, and somehow, recalling them last night made me think about our generation's teenage years... remember how cassette tapes and walkmans were all the rage? i remember buying scores of tapes (garnering mum's wrath) and recording all those pop songs (britney, nsync, bsb, A*teens, then later linkin park, lol) with my cd/cassette player... then came the discman fad, and i was crazy burning cds instead...

strange how all the discmans disappeared (mine's still stashed in my drawer somewhere, and my walkman dysfucntional already) once the mp3 players and ipods came onto the scene... and ever since i got into downloading music, i barely touch my cd player anymore, since i play all my music on the computer...lol... ahhh... nostalgic.

speaking of all these electronic toys.. last night i popped off to saberkas to see if the phone model i'd lost could be found... sadly, no, not a sign of it to be seen anywhere.. it isnt produced anymore, and what made things even sadder is that this style seems to be completely out of fashion too. bar phones and slide phones're all the in thing now, and their designs blocky and clumsy to boot. i dislike broad, wide chunky phones, since my hands're pretty small and its hard for me to carry them around. so imagine my dismay when i glanced at the display case and saw only a wide array of those big wide things. no more small compact clamshells, the way i like them. sad, sad, sad. dad berated me saying i was making a big fuss when i chose not to buy a single one of those things. i mean, why buy it if you dont really like it? i'd probably regret it later when i chance upon a model i do like, if i simply pick a run-of-the-mill one now. makes sense? lol.

a rather disorganized entry, if i might say so... lol... i'm supposed to go out with mum now. doubt i'll be able to post tonight, since i promised to go watch a movie with someone and head to SoHo's for the countdown. so yeaaah. the next entry you'll be seeing'll come in 09. good bye again, y2k8. i'm gonna miss you.

P.S i finally added the reds into my hair yesterday. a tribute to Die-san, the gorgeous redhead guitarist of dir en grey.. it was his flaming red locks that first caught my fancy anyway. ;)

a case of women gone wild... laugh

2008-12-29T16:18:00.021+08:00

if you think ladies over the ages of 40 with children all grown up dont know how to enjoy themselves and go wild, you're sadly mistaken... as i witnessed last night, they definitely do know how to footloose. lol.

it was a birthday party, down at the junk. aptly named (or decorated, in the sense)place; the room was strung with a myriad of junk: a disco ball, a collection of old kerosene lamps, old texas license plate hung here, old toy bicycle there, woodwork everywhere; just a veritable assortment of junk. (i hear say the place's haunted: 1. the shop block itself's old old old; 2. you fill an old old place with old old old antiques and junk, what do you expect?) but i digress.

my mum and i + our neighbour were fashionably late, and i tried my best to stroll in like i knew everyone (actually i only knew two or three). of the old mahjong club gang, only these three i know, since the others've all left malaysia, probably back in their own respective countries. i miss you, pia, you all the way back in italy. and oddly i miss marion too, and all her tart (but well meaning) remarks. .. oops... i digress again.

if anything, last night was surely one of the most internationally inclined affairs i've ever seen. one long table, all expats except for my mum and myself. a few british, including the birthday lady (one fun lady if i do say so... which 49 year old has a tongue piercing???), new zealanders, irish... as for the asians... two koreans, one japanese, one indonesian, three singaporeans (one of which has turned australian), and mum and myself.

the night started out pretty tame, with light party games. dinner was a casual affair, and i sat right at the end of the table. the company was good too. spent most of my time conversing with the korean lady on my right, swapping polite conversation. it was later when the karaoke machine was turned on that the wild-ness arose... ABBA took off with some of their choice hits, and then a whole slew of other oldies, to which the ladies ooohed and ahhhed in satisfaction. the madness really began with 'wake me up before you go-go'; a long line of young hearted women dancing and yelling out the lyrics and laughing for all they were worth. pity i didnt catch that on video. it was real funny watching the ladies trying singing along to fergie belting out my humps too... risque stuff, tsk tsk.

in any case, it was a fun night. at least i wasnt the youngest; the youngest two were the teenage daughters of the birthday lady. happy birthday to angela again, even though its a day after.

aha. just a little time off. XD

2008-12-26T11:56:00.009+08:00

ahhh... a post from jakarta itself... if i were to use a word to describe the place, i'd use the term 'patchwork'. the entire city feels like a quilt, with different patches tacked on to it haphazardly... to get to the housing estate i'm staying at, you first have to pass a very dilapidated area with crumbling shops and dirt everywhere... right past that, you get awesome italian-styled homes, definitely for the extremely wealthy. i must say they have so much more taste compared to *ahem* some malaysians. beautiful porticos and graceful columns, sweeping steps... see that back home? hardly... lol...

as it usually is with air asia, the flight was delayed by an hour. bad air asia.. the winds were so strong right before landing the plane was shaking violently... turbulent affairs... i remember closing my eyes and feeling the weightless sensation of being tossed around... scary and exhilarating at the same time. lol.

spent the first day strolling one of the most exclusive shopping centres around town: grand indonesia shopping town; inside those walls, no one is poor. everyone has money to spend and they're happily spending it, as it seems. outside's a different story, however. children beg for money in between the cars on the streets, standing next to your car and playing a violin hoping for just a little bit of that money. big difference, no? though one interesting character was a 'lady' sitting next to the road, very heavily made up, with flying eyebrows... lol... i guess you know what that means? pondan laa... haha... too bad i didnt manage to snap a photo of her; she was waving at us... lol...

i spent christmas in lembang. before that, we were in bandung. where we had dinner, Valley, the view was quite spectacular, in addition to a warm ambience. the food's another matter, though... it gave two of our party tummy aches. as for my tenderloin, it was badly cooked. cost quite a good bit. the next stop at lembang was awesome though. sangria resort has a breathtaking view of the mountains and valley, plus the way the place's decorated simply enhances the feeling of being in nature. well placed dim lights, a bamboo huts on stilts... i'll probably toss the photos up on my poetry in motion blog. the climate there resembles spring or autumn in some far-away country... celebrating christmas mass in that weather was beautiful; the slight chill makes a difference, somehow.

two more days till i go home. i miss my dog awfully and i wonder how he is. probably miserably lying in a corner of the cage waiting for days to pass and for us to come collect him. come january 3rd, i'll be back in kl, and seeing everybody.