My grand-aunt passed away on Tuesday morning. She was my paternal grandfather's younger sister, mother of two, widow from quite young but happy in her own way. I haven't seen her for many, many months, and I suppose I shan't ever see her again. I remember from my childhood a small, often sweet-faced woman, who with time, became delicate and fragile that you'd be afraid of crushing her slender bones with a hug, but sparkling with a quick mind and even quicker tongue when you did something she didn't approve of.
Her wake was held yesterday, in her house just behind my grandfather's. I can just imagine it, even though I was not there to say the final goodbye. The coffin was one of those with a glass panel at one end - I can picture the calm scene, perhaps just a simple, very ordinary wake of an old woman you could see lying there - could she still be sleeping?- over the bed of dry ice preserving her like magic against the sultry Malaysian heat she'd known all her life. Face and body clean after a long but unnoticed fight against liver cancer, her soft parchment skin and snowy hair blending into the cream or white or just plain beige of the pillow under her head. Bright dark eyes that sharpened in discontent as often as they flashed with laughter now forever unseeing under the closed, papery lids.
My memories hold scenes of a woman struggling to fill the blue echoes and shadows of a house too big and long empty of children and family. The faded red of kua chee seeds concealing a sliver of white crunchy flesh, the tantalising red of hong pau promising an addition to the piggy bank. I can hardly ever say I knew her, and her passing costs me no emotion; well, perhaps a little relief that she suffers no more, as they always say, and there is closure to her final months of just existing. For myself, I'll take a while to remember her from my days of innocence, back from where the spicy tang of family politics had yet to be discovered, when a kiss and hug for a slightly-smiling, delicate-featured woman were easy gifts in exchange for a cold juicy kam and the treasured envelope of red.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Update
Whiling away twenty minutes before Spanish class. Hmm... last week seems worth blogging about.
Monday was a bit annoying with all three seminars in a row. Had to scramble the day before to get all the work done (last minute, as usual hehe). Spanish was quite good - with only four of us bothering to turn up, the session was more intensive and satisfying than normal. I really have to buck up with memorising my vocab if I want to get anywhere with only 10 1.5 hour Spanish lessons under my belt.
Tuesday evening Yew Hoong and I went to the meet-and-greet session at Midlands Hotel. The guest of honour? PubSec for the Singaporean Minister of Defence. The event? Launching of the Singaporean Overseas Community for students. Quite amusing that the PS came and shook my hand, and started to make conversation. He was actually trying to seem interested in me and what I do, but the moment I told him I was Malaysian he said, "Oh!" and then somehow wandered away. Cheh. And there I was telling YH we're part of the "honourary delegates from across the causeway" while the S'porean PubSec himself didn't seem too eager to foster a dynamic relationship with us Malaysians hahaha... Anywayz, felt obliged to mingle and "network" a bit just to show I wasn't a freeloader who only turned up for the food (unlike some other M'sians who arrived totally overdressed and then headed straight for the food and hardly talk to anyone but themselves - no names! heehee). =D And speaking about food.. mmmmm not bad, not bad. Though I did expect something better from a 4-star hotel. Highlights were the white wine and chocolate dessert.. ohh man!! Really nice time talking to some of my S'porean friends and catching up with Yew Hoong over some good food.
Quite interesting comparing this event with any Malaysian parallels. When Nazri, member of Badawi's cabinet visited late last year, the gathering was held at Jati - venue was "Malaysian" but the space was way too small to accommodate the number of people who turned up. Indeed, it was mostly Malays present and the event was hardly publicised to us students. In fact, my group only turned up because we heard there was free food, not because we were aware some politician was here to visit. Nazri's speech itself was rambling, unfocused and very, very long. I have nothing against it being in Malay - after all it's our national language and the event was for Malaysians. What rubbed me the wrong was was that there was hardly any purpose to this courtesy call, hence no focus at all in his speech covering the hot news back then which was of course, Squatgate. The S'porean PS's speech was very articulate, precise, rightly patriotic and with just the right touch of informality. He stirred in me something quite close to a longing to be Singaporean... comparisons demonstrating how time and again, we Malaysians and our government always seem to miss the mark; Singapore seems a utopic paragon of how to do things efficiently, diplomatically, and just spot on. A gal just wants to be proud of her country for the right reasons, ya know? Sighhh...
Wednesday went to this Thai restaurant, Koi Samui with "The People" (Shyan - they're formerly known as as "The Party Animals" lah). Truckloads to eat, quite good, rich food but somehow not spicy enough. Damn the gwailoh palate!! Heard from QiLian & Kuan Ching that MAS is discontinuing the KL-MAN direct flights from May... damn damn damn!
Friday had a great time with Lizi at RNCM's Symphony Orchestra concert. Stravinsky's Fireworks got the programme off on an explosive start. Lulu Yang's applaudable rendition of Saint-Saens's 2nd Piano Concerto was both strident and delicate. Amazing how that small-sized girl can pull off that intensely physical piece with such virtuosic panache. Rachmaninov's highly Romantic 2nd Symphony was a wonderful counterpart to the earlier shorter pieces. Sublime music-making from the musicians and conductor Paul Daniel, though I didn't quite like his style of conducting. After that, St. Patrick's Day drinking with RNCM and Mgt chums! And, I even bothered to put on a green halterneck top, no less.
Remember, remember, the twenty-second of December... Haha just my own birthday take on V for Vendetta's cheesy but strangely haunting opening (it's actually meant to be the 5th of November, Guy Fawkes Day). Saturday late afternoon met up with Ainun, Shyan and Enn Yong. Finally saw that gal after so long! I swear she's spending more time in Liverpool than Manchester. The movie was not bad at all, pretty interesting in its own way, and admittedly a lot better that the Wachowski brothers last writing attempt - Matrix 2 & 3. I enjoyed the "look" of the film more than the ideas which weren't exactly revolutionary. That Britain's a totalitarian state was amusing, but the Chancellor's rather Hitler-esque figure and takeover was a bit disconcerting, if not insulting. V's ultimate reason for wanting to destroy the architectural symbol of a government was not quite clear in the end - did he do it because the goverment was stifling its people, or because he wanted to avenge what they did to the actress in the next cell? Natalie Portman, the so-called thinking man's sex symbol gave a very solid if not exactly Oscar-worthy performance; Hugo Weaving - ah, what can one say of the actor versatile enough to handle both Agent Smith and Lord Elrond with such incredible skill? Oh my, his projection of physicality and sheer persona from behind an all-enveloping costume of mask, coolass black outfit complete with cap and hat was simply stunning. Ya had to be there.
After the movie we headed to Pearl City - Enn Yong can really order food heeheeee... Had something similar to kangkung belacan, a claypot seafood dish, n pretty damn nice lamb with bamboo shoots and foo juk in a large claypot over our very own stove! The lamb came with a lovely sauce of fermented beancurd and rice wine (so they guys tell me) with fresh chopped chilli. Exciting stuff.
Sunday early afternoon met up with Shyan at Cornerhouse. We wanted to watch the very noirish Spanish/Cuban Homigas en la boca (Ants in the Mouth). Tickets were sold out so we went for Habana Blues instead, a Cuban take on the "musical film", relationships and opportunities. Interesting, seeing the slightly grittier side of life. S'been quite a while since I last got teary-eyed in the cinema; this time was when Ruy and band sang his farewell song - Arenas de Soledad - to his ex-wife before she and their two children illegally cross over to the USA in a "raft". Music was wonderful, very different fare from my usual Chopin et co - listen to three tracks including Arenas de Soledad under "Musica" on the website.
Monday was a bit annoying with all three seminars in a row. Had to scramble the day before to get all the work done (last minute, as usual hehe). Spanish was quite good - with only four of us bothering to turn up, the session was more intensive and satisfying than normal. I really have to buck up with memorising my vocab if I want to get anywhere with only 10 1.5 hour Spanish lessons under my belt.
Tuesday evening Yew Hoong and I went to the meet-and-greet session at Midlands Hotel. The guest of honour? PubSec for the Singaporean Minister of Defence. The event? Launching of the Singaporean Overseas Community for students. Quite amusing that the PS came and shook my hand, and started to make conversation. He was actually trying to seem interested in me and what I do, but the moment I told him I was Malaysian he said, "Oh!" and then somehow wandered away. Cheh. And there I was telling YH we're part of the "honourary delegates from across the causeway" while the S'porean PubSec himself didn't seem too eager to foster a dynamic relationship with us Malaysians hahaha... Anywayz, felt obliged to mingle and "network" a bit just to show I wasn't a freeloader who only turned up for the food (unlike some other M'sians who arrived totally overdressed and then headed straight for the food and hardly talk to anyone but themselves - no names! heehee). =D And speaking about food.. mmmmm not bad, not bad. Though I did expect something better from a 4-star hotel. Highlights were the white wine and chocolate dessert.. ohh man!! Really nice time talking to some of my S'porean friends and catching up with Yew Hoong over some good food.
Quite interesting comparing this event with any Malaysian parallels. When Nazri, member of Badawi's cabinet visited late last year, the gathering was held at Jati - venue was "Malaysian" but the space was way too small to accommodate the number of people who turned up. Indeed, it was mostly Malays present and the event was hardly publicised to us students. In fact, my group only turned up because we heard there was free food, not because we were aware some politician was here to visit. Nazri's speech itself was rambling, unfocused and very, very long. I have nothing against it being in Malay - after all it's our national language and the event was for Malaysians. What rubbed me the wrong was was that there was hardly any purpose to this courtesy call, hence no focus at all in his speech covering the hot news back then which was of course, Squatgate. The S'porean PS's speech was very articulate, precise, rightly patriotic and with just the right touch of informality. He stirred in me something quite close to a longing to be Singaporean... comparisons demonstrating how time and again, we Malaysians and our government always seem to miss the mark; Singapore seems a utopic paragon of how to do things efficiently, diplomatically, and just spot on. A gal just wants to be proud of her country for the right reasons, ya know? Sighhh...
Wednesday went to this Thai restaurant, Koi Samui with "The People" (Shyan - they're formerly known as as "The Party Animals" lah). Truckloads to eat, quite good, rich food but somehow not spicy enough. Damn the gwailoh palate!! Heard from QiLian & Kuan Ching that MAS is discontinuing the KL-MAN direct flights from May... damn damn damn!
Friday had a great time with Lizi at RNCM's Symphony Orchestra concert. Stravinsky's Fireworks got the programme off on an explosive start. Lulu Yang's applaudable rendition of Saint-Saens's 2nd Piano Concerto was both strident and delicate. Amazing how that small-sized girl can pull off that intensely physical piece with such virtuosic panache. Rachmaninov's highly Romantic 2nd Symphony was a wonderful counterpart to the earlier shorter pieces. Sublime music-making from the musicians and conductor Paul Daniel, though I didn't quite like his style of conducting. After that, St. Patrick's Day drinking with RNCM and Mgt chums! And, I even bothered to put on a green halterneck top, no less.
Remember, remember, the twenty-second of December... Haha just my own birthday take on V for Vendetta's cheesy but strangely haunting opening (it's actually meant to be the 5th of November, Guy Fawkes Day). Saturday late afternoon met up with Ainun, Shyan and Enn Yong. Finally saw that gal after so long! I swear she's spending more time in Liverpool than Manchester. The movie was not bad at all, pretty interesting in its own way, and admittedly a lot better that the Wachowski brothers last writing attempt - Matrix 2 & 3. I enjoyed the "look" of the film more than the ideas which weren't exactly revolutionary. That Britain's a totalitarian state was amusing, but the Chancellor's rather Hitler-esque figure and takeover was a bit disconcerting, if not insulting. V's ultimate reason for wanting to destroy the architectural symbol of a government was not quite clear in the end - did he do it because the goverment was stifling its people, or because he wanted to avenge what they did to the actress in the next cell? Natalie Portman, the so-called thinking man's sex symbol gave a very solid if not exactly Oscar-worthy performance; Hugo Weaving - ah, what can one say of the actor versatile enough to handle both Agent Smith and Lord Elrond with such incredible skill? Oh my, his projection of physicality and sheer persona from behind an all-enveloping costume of mask, coolass black outfit complete with cap and hat was simply stunning. Ya had to be there.
After the movie we headed to Pearl City - Enn Yong can really order food heeheeee... Had something similar to kangkung belacan, a claypot seafood dish, n pretty damn nice lamb with bamboo shoots and foo juk in a large claypot over our very own stove! The lamb came with a lovely sauce of fermented beancurd and rice wine (so they guys tell me) with fresh chopped chilli. Exciting stuff.
Sunday early afternoon met up with Shyan at Cornerhouse. We wanted to watch the very noirish Spanish/Cuban Homigas en la boca (Ants in the Mouth). Tickets were sold out so we went for Habana Blues instead, a Cuban take on the "musical film", relationships and opportunities. Interesting, seeing the slightly grittier side of life. S'been quite a while since I last got teary-eyed in the cinema; this time was when Ruy and band sang his farewell song - Arenas de Soledad - to his ex-wife before she and their two children illegally cross over to the USA in a "raft". Music was wonderful, very different fare from my usual Chopin et co - listen to three tracks including Arenas de Soledad under "Musica" on the website.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Laws of the Universe
Another classic forwarded email from my Dad. Personal messages come via txts, postcards or snail mail heehee...
Law of Mechanical Repair: After your hands become coated with grease your nose will begin to itch or you'll have to urinate.
Law of the Workshop: Any tool, when dropped, will roll to the least accessible corner.
Law of Probability: The probability of being watched is directly proportional to the stupidity of your act.
Law of the Telephone: When you dial a wrong number, you never get a busy signal.
Law of the Alibi: If you tell the boss you were late for work because you had a flat tire, the very next morning you will have a flat tire.
Variation Law: If you change lines (or traffic lanes), the one you were in will start to move faster than the one you are in now. (Works every time!)
Bath Theorem: When the body is fully immersed in water, the telephone rings.
Law of Close Encounters: The probability of meeting someone you know increases when you are with someone you don't want to be seen with.
Law of the Result: When you try to prove to someone that a machine won't work, it will.
Law of Biomechanics: The severity of the itch is inversely proportional to the reach.
Theatre Rule: At any event, the people whose seats are furthest from the aisle arrive last.
Law of Coffee: As soon as you sit down to a cup of hot coffee, your boss will ask you to do something which will last until the coffee is cold.
Murphy's Law of Lockers: If there are only two people in a locker room, they will have adjacent lockers.
Law of Dirty Rugs/Carpets: The chances of an open-faced jelly sandwich of landing face down on a floor covering are directly correlated to the newness and cost of the carpet/rug.
Law of Location: No matter where you go, there you are.
Law of Logical Argument: Anything is possible if you don't know what you are talking about.
Brown's Law: If the shoe fits, it's ugly.
Oliver's Law: A closed mouth gathers no feet.
Wilson's Law: As soon as you find a product that you really like, they will stop making it.
Law of Reality: Murphy was an optimist.
Law of Mechanical Repair: After your hands become coated with grease your nose will begin to itch or you'll have to urinate.
Law of the Workshop: Any tool, when dropped, will roll to the least accessible corner.
Law of Probability: The probability of being watched is directly proportional to the stupidity of your act.
Law of the Telephone: When you dial a wrong number, you never get a busy signal.
Law of the Alibi: If you tell the boss you were late for work because you had a flat tire, the very next morning you will have a flat tire.
Variation Law: If you change lines (or traffic lanes), the one you were in will start to move faster than the one you are in now. (Works every time!)
Bath Theorem: When the body is fully immersed in water, the telephone rings.
Law of Close Encounters: The probability of meeting someone you know increases when you are with someone you don't want to be seen with.
Law of the Result: When you try to prove to someone that a machine won't work, it will.
Law of Biomechanics: The severity of the itch is inversely proportional to the reach.
Theatre Rule: At any event, the people whose seats are furthest from the aisle arrive last.
Law of Coffee: As soon as you sit down to a cup of hot coffee, your boss will ask you to do something which will last until the coffee is cold.
Murphy's Law of Lockers: If there are only two people in a locker room, they will have adjacent lockers.
Law of Dirty Rugs/Carpets: The chances of an open-faced jelly sandwich of landing face down on a floor covering are directly correlated to the newness and cost of the carpet/rug.
Law of Location: No matter where you go, there you are.
Law of Logical Argument: Anything is possible if you don't know what you are talking about.
Brown's Law: If the shoe fits, it's ugly.
Oliver's Law: A closed mouth gathers no feet.
Wilson's Law: As soon as you find a product that you really like, they will stop making it.
Law of Reality: Murphy was an optimist.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Joie
Haven't blogged in ages, but while chatting to Eleanor it struck me that today is Tuesday, March 14. Well, a month has flown since Tuesday, February 14 - if time flies when you're having fun, I guess I did find the strength to have fun. =) Le bonheur de vivre, n'est pas? All in all, I would like to say a big thank you for those who have helped me through this month in some way - you know who you are, love you lots.
Anyway, change of tune. Decided to give the blog a bit more purpose, a slightly more intellectual flavour apart from my usually incoherent ramblings, a better reflection of my life and passions.
Matisse's "epic" painting was completed between 1905 and 1906, the explosive start of the French movement now known as Fauvism. The work is not only a celebration of idyllic life and happiness, but also an ode to the artist's love of sheer colour and the lyricism that continued throughout his long career. Intense oranges, verdant greens, bloody reds and vibrant yellows result in a canvas that pulses with a tangible outpouring of exuberance and emotion. Very much like Edvard Munch's infamous The Scream (1893), it is in fact the background and colour that transmits the title - here, the intense happiness of life; in Munch's work it is the bloody-hued sky and tortured landscape that screams. Munch's iconic figure is soundless; Matisse's sensuous pairs are very calm, sweetly passive even, slowly writhing with a pleasure that is entirely separate from our world.
The scene opens into an Arcadian landscape of gentle woods and a paranomic ocean in the distance. What a furor the painting must have caused in its debut in the face of Parisian critics and public as a whole who, still recovering from the innovation of the Impressionists, almost keeled over in salons and galleries from the shock impact of Fauvist brilliance.
Simply gorgeous, isn't it? Makes you wanna just rip off your clothes and run to Alexandria Park, lift your face to the sun and sing your heart out. Well, that's how I feel anyway - could go on for ever raving about the painting, but ya won't catch me dead streaking along Oxford Road! Hehe... cheers to one of my favourite works ever.
Anyway, change of tune. Decided to give the blog a bit more purpose, a slightly more intellectual flavour apart from my usually incoherent ramblings, a better reflection of my life and passions.
Matisse's "epic" painting was completed between 1905 and 1906, the explosive start of the French movement now known as Fauvism. The work is not only a celebration of idyllic life and happiness, but also an ode to the artist's love of sheer colour and the lyricism that continued throughout his long career. Intense oranges, verdant greens, bloody reds and vibrant yellows result in a canvas that pulses with a tangible outpouring of exuberance and emotion. Very much like Edvard Munch's infamous The Scream (1893), it is in fact the background and colour that transmits the title - here, the intense happiness of life; in Munch's work it is the bloody-hued sky and tortured landscape that screams. Munch's iconic figure is soundless; Matisse's sensuous pairs are very calm, sweetly passive even, slowly writhing with a pleasure that is entirely separate from our world.The scene opens into an Arcadian landscape of gentle woods and a paranomic ocean in the distance. What a furor the painting must have caused in its debut in the face of Parisian critics and public as a whole who, still recovering from the innovation of the Impressionists, almost keeled over in salons and galleries from the shock impact of Fauvist brilliance.
Simply gorgeous, isn't it? Makes you wanna just rip off your clothes and run to Alexandria Park, lift your face to the sun and sing your heart out. Well, that's how I feel anyway - could go on for ever raving about the painting, but ya won't catch me dead streaking along Oxford Road! Hehe... cheers to one of my favourite works ever.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Coffee break
Whew one heck of an early post for me, huh? Havin a break now with the always wonderful Ipoh White Coffee, and a rather extended break I might add. Zis is me trying to be hardworking - submitting my portfolio on The Impact of National Culture on ExxonMobil (using Geert Hofstede's theorectical framework of cultural dimensions. Hmm that bugger relli got lots of time on his hands huh, analysing data from hundreds of IBM employees in 70 countries over 7 years, just to prove that Americans really are the most selfish people on earth. (See Individualism, of which USA scores the highest among the most relevant 50 countries in the world.)
Anyway, the portfolio's only meant to be 250-300 words (worth 10% of my total marks for Modern Corporation) but then I kinda panicked a bit - what I've written over the last week or so just doesn't seem to make sense!
Anyway, the portfolio's only meant to be 250-300 words (worth 10% of my total marks for Modern Corporation) but then I kinda panicked a bit - what I've written over the last week or so just doesn't seem to make sense!
Monday, March 06, 2006
Poem of the Week
Haha check this poem out, sent to me by none other than... my Daddy! (yar I know I hardly check my mail.)
Bloody Men
Bloody men are like bloody buses
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.
You look at them flashing their indicators,
Offering you a ride.
You're trying to read the destinations,
You haven't much time to decide.
If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.
Really random but so true horr... Dad gets these stuff off weekly internal ExxonMobil emails or somethin like that complete with Poem of the Week, Jokes of the Week etc. LOL. He's off to Brisbane until Friday, and I'm missing him already. Awww... At least Mum gets the TV all to herself haha, but I bet she'll kinda miss not havin anyone to fight over the remote with =P Knowing him, he'll prolly get her some totally unwanted stuff like beef jerky n Auzzie chocolates... perfect for the waistline huh?
Bloody Men
Bloody men are like bloody buses
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.
You look at them flashing their indicators,
Offering you a ride.
You're trying to read the destinations,
You haven't much time to decide.
If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.
Really random but so true horr... Dad gets these stuff off weekly internal ExxonMobil emails or somethin like that complete with Poem of the Week, Jokes of the Week etc. LOL. He's off to Brisbane until Friday, and I'm missing him already. Awww... At least Mum gets the TV all to herself haha, but I bet she'll kinda miss not havin anyone to fight over the remote with =P Knowing him, he'll prolly get her some totally unwanted stuff like beef jerky n Auzzie chocolates... perfect for the waistline huh?
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Maafkan, je ne parle pas chinese
I'm beginning to slightly question my decision to take up weekly Spanish lessons this term. Why? you ask. Now, yours truly is Chinese, born in Malaysia, brought up by parents who went to missionary schools in KL. That makes me fluent in English, with seven years' worth of Malay and Mandarin lessons complete with tuition, Cantonese picked up in late in primary school and from HK friends, and French GCSE on a piece of paper.
Couple o' facts and figures:
- there are more than 500 million native English-speaking people;
- 2 billion people will speak English as a second language with a decade;
- currently 1.1 billion Mandarin speakers
- employers are increasingly looking for bi- and even trilingual candidates - the continuing trend of "global languages" are English, Chinese, Spanish and Japanese.
Arrrghhh I don't wanna become a "jack of all trades, master of none"!! Dammit.. so how, so how? Spreading myself too thin la :S
Couple o' facts and figures:
- there are more than 500 million native English-speaking people;
- 2 billion people will speak English as a second language with a decade;
- currently 1.1 billion Mandarin speakers
- employers are increasingly looking for bi- and even trilingual candidates - the continuing trend of "global languages" are English, Chinese, Spanish and Japanese.
Arrrghhh I don't wanna become a "jack of all trades, master of none"!! Dammit.. so how, so how? Spreading myself too thin la :S
Skimming through several sites and blogs, this link caught my eye:
Girl Weds Stray Dog
Seriously, go check it out. This clearly illustrates the need for education, education, education. Yeah? Despite the numerous attacks etc on how the Malaysian/British/anywhere else education is completely pointless yadda yadda yawwnnn utterly absurd things like this happening in countries where the literate aren't the minority. Female circumcision vs canine marriage consummation, anyone? We're ridiculous.
Girl Weds Stray Dog
Seriously, go check it out. This clearly illustrates the need for education, education, education. Yeah? Despite the numerous attacks etc on how the Malaysian/British/anywhere else education is completely pointless yadda yadda yawwnnn utterly absurd things like this happening in countries where the literate aren't the minority. Female circumcision vs canine marriage consummation, anyone? We're ridiculous.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Brrr....
Gaaahh the weather's been very British the past few days. Well, only in Britain does the weather have personality attributes. And of the alarmingly schizophrenic mood swing type. Well let's see, just a few days ago it was sunny, crisp and dry. So dazzlingly bright that shades made a mini-comeback along Oxford Road. And then, without as much as a farewell, liquid depression descended upon us. The damp is rheumatism-inducing, wind so bitingly horrible even the coat and scarf don't wanna go out and be seen, sleet so nasty I've almost forgotten what it felt like to live in darling Malaysia. Woe on those whose heaters mysteriously switch off during a cold spell. You have my sympathy, really. Suddenly the kitchen seems warm and welcoming - overflowing bin, fried onion smell and all.
But anyway, food supplies are diminishing with worrying aclarity. Something about the cold that makes me eat more hehe.. Out to face the weather, then.
Anyways I'm back and it's like, 5am in the morning. Jasley walked Phing n I back from Hulme Hall and he's sooo totally all over her! *chortle* Can't believe I'm blogging instead of sleeping the alcohol off! But I just had to shower, wash off all the encrusted vodka from my arms and clean my smoke-permeated hair, so gotta wait until said hair is dry or else I'll wake up looking like a peacock in heat bloomed all around my face. So I have nothing better to do than blog - eyes too tired to continue Season Two of the O.C. and I can touch type anyway, even with my eyes close. Honestly, test me haha.
Went into town Friday afternoon to help Dara find an outfit for her performance in Sunday's Student PopIdol - she's gonna be singing some Whitney Houston - but no luck especially with the search narrowed down to something dark aquamarine-green. Stopped for a latte at the cafe next to Arndale's Starbucks and a generous sample of carrot & something muffin! Mmm... Dara looks simply fabulous this term with her huge blue contacts, longer hair and that luvved-up glow =P
Anyways happy 19th birthday JJ! Went to Lidl & Tesco yesterday, got the stuff for my cannellini fusilli salad that I planned to make for the potluck dinner cos I was too lazy to do any full-scale cooking. Of course, silly me, totally forgot to get the cannellini beans which kind of made the salad just a plain, boring ole.. well, salad with fusilli. Cheated on the dressing cos I used the remainder of the white rice vinegar used for cleaning the CNY jellyfish (the unused vinegar, i mean) instead of balsamic vinegar. Maybe some coarse black pepper and crushed garlic might have given it more oomph too. Never mind, always next time. Ainun did some scarily good sweet & sour chicken with mix veg and pineapple; wanphing some wonderful creamy spaghetti cabonara; JJ the fried egg rice he did for Shahril's birthday ages ago.
All in all, the dinner gathering was pretty good. The M&S cakes were seriously tho out of shape haha.. Doesnt matter what the thing looks like just how it tastes horr... Headed down to Fallowfield and in the end chose Orange Grove bar (or watever it's called) as our get-JJ-drunk-birthday-rendevous. Watched with fascination this totally wow (in my experiences anyway) Korean drinking stunt. 19 small beer glasses lined up perfectly, 18 shot glasses of vodka balancing precariously in between. And voila, a brilliant demonstration of the domino effect and beer never tasted so good than with a shot of vodka. Pity we never got to use Shu Mei's tongue-twister drinking cards, but I suppose that was probably more cerebral than most people were game for on a night out...
Got back bout 5am ish after spending a few seriously random hours in Jung Hann's room. Showered, and surprisingly got myself out of bed 2pm ish. Went to see Munich with Wan Phing. Damn good movie! Intense like a typical Spielberg but have to say it was the highlight of my week. Arggh gonna go to classes in my duvet if it doesn't start getting warmer soon...
But anyway, food supplies are diminishing with worrying aclarity. Something about the cold that makes me eat more hehe.. Out to face the weather, then.
Anyways I'm back and it's like, 5am in the morning. Jasley walked Phing n I back from Hulme Hall and he's sooo totally all over her! *chortle* Can't believe I'm blogging instead of sleeping the alcohol off! But I just had to shower, wash off all the encrusted vodka from my arms and clean my smoke-permeated hair, so gotta wait until said hair is dry or else I'll wake up looking like a peacock in heat bloomed all around my face. So I have nothing better to do than blog - eyes too tired to continue Season Two of the O.C. and I can touch type anyway, even with my eyes close. Honestly, test me haha.
Went into town Friday afternoon to help Dara find an outfit for her performance in Sunday's Student PopIdol - she's gonna be singing some Whitney Houston - but no luck especially with the search narrowed down to something dark aquamarine-green. Stopped for a latte at the cafe next to Arndale's Starbucks and a generous sample of carrot & something muffin! Mmm... Dara looks simply fabulous this term with her huge blue contacts, longer hair and that luvved-up glow =P
Anyways happy 19th birthday JJ! Went to Lidl & Tesco yesterday, got the stuff for my cannellini fusilli salad that I planned to make for the potluck dinner cos I was too lazy to do any full-scale cooking. Of course, silly me, totally forgot to get the cannellini beans which kind of made the salad just a plain, boring ole.. well, salad with fusilli. Cheated on the dressing cos I used the remainder of the white rice vinegar used for cleaning the CNY jellyfish (the unused vinegar, i mean) instead of balsamic vinegar. Maybe some coarse black pepper and crushed garlic might have given it more oomph too. Never mind, always next time. Ainun did some scarily good sweet & sour chicken with mix veg and pineapple; wanphing some wonderful creamy spaghetti cabonara; JJ the fried egg rice he did for Shahril's birthday ages ago.
All in all, the dinner gathering was pretty good. The M&S cakes were seriously tho out of shape haha.. Doesnt matter what the thing looks like just how it tastes horr... Headed down to Fallowfield and in the end chose Orange Grove bar (or watever it's called) as our get-JJ-drunk-birthday-rendevous. Watched with fascination this totally wow (in my experiences anyway) Korean drinking stunt. 19 small beer glasses lined up perfectly, 18 shot glasses of vodka balancing precariously in between. And voila, a brilliant demonstration of the domino effect and beer never tasted so good than with a shot of vodka. Pity we never got to use Shu Mei's tongue-twister drinking cards, but I suppose that was probably more cerebral than most people were game for on a night out...
Got back bout 5am ish after spending a few seriously random hours in Jung Hann's room. Showered, and surprisingly got myself out of bed 2pm ish. Went to see Munich with Wan Phing. Damn good movie! Intense like a typical Spielberg but have to say it was the highlight of my week. Arggh gonna go to classes in my duvet if it doesn't start getting warmer soon...
Friday, February 17, 2006
Here's one of the best posts I've ever read, courtesy of Wan Phing again. Really got to me, deep inside at the right moment. Thanks girl you somehow always sum up not just your own feelings in your writings but mine too. =)
Thursday, February 16, 2006
To:
Ladies and gorgeous gents, I've finally got it. And no, it ain't sex.
At last, I've been through the catharsis I've been needing for so long.
And oh, before I forget, Happy St Valentine's.. hope you all have a truly lovely day with loved ones. Even though I do wish that this Catholic feast day in honour of the rather ambiguous Saint Valentinus had never been mingled with the concept of courtly love from the High Middle Ages and transformed into the contrived, commercialised so-called celebration we know today.
All this while there have been so many things I've witheld from blogging about, mainly because blogs are public spaces, and for fear of hurting/offending people. Oh well, this time I think I do owe it to myself to write unfearingly about my life, and perhaps you might finally have enough guts to read this post in its entirety, unlike how you couldn't even find the balls to sort us out when you should have.
But don't get me wrong. I promise this post won't degenerate into some mindless vitriolic righteous ranting about how I want to feed you your own testicles and slowly scoop out your heart with a blunt knife. You of all people should know I'm not the vindictive hateful angry type. Then why, oh why didn't you say all those weeks, months ago when you had so many chances that you just weren't that into me anymore? What were you so afraid of?
My Valentine's Day started at midnight, with an immediate V Day wish and kiss from Lynn. Some general best wishes for and from other friends. Then you came online and it emerged that something's been on your mind for a while. You mentioned the "JD period" and I thought, whoaa isn't this all in the distant past?
You didn't realise that sometimes I acted, or said things that gave the impression that somethings did not matter as much to me, merely to make you feel less bad, even if I hurt myself saying them. The talk in the park? When I said I wasn't ready for a serious relationship and didn't want anything else to interrupt my first year? Only because you were feeling rotten and said you weren't ready. My own willing lies turned bittersweet in memory. And as if there was no end to what I had to go through, you left me agonising for a few hours that I had totally ruined any chances of "us" ever happening because of those words.
I remember sitting here, heartrate going right up, shocked numb and literally shaking. In the end, you didn't even know why you said that. And that was cruel, as if you hadn't hurt me enough.
You were callous and inconsiderate to the extent of being a total arsehole. But now I say, thank you. Thank you, for forcing it out into the open. Thank you, for trying to explain, in your own way, why you did what you did. So after months of being messed up and totally un-myself, I can now move on. Stop apologising (as you always do) for everything that happened - don't. I'm not sorry that any of it happened, and I'm the one who went through far more than you did. I have to believe that what I've stood for, lived for in the last few months meant something, and I can't believe that if I ever felt sorry it was such a waste. That would mean my life's been a waste during that period and I don't ever want to think that way. You see, sometimes it is the pain as well as the joy that reminds us we're still alive. Not to long ago, you said that when I was happy, I made people around me happy. However true that comment is, it's not things like new clothes or footwear that made me truly happy, but you. A smile, a light compliment, how we somehow always manage to text or call each other at the same time - these things made me happy.
So - there were some feelings on your part after all. It's ok, I can accept that whatever feelings that existed were just... not enough.
I can't find it in myself to hate you. Or at least throw my old moulding slipper at you or put in a half-hearted attempt at throttling. Hence I suppose this last go of digging at a wound that's starting to scab over, last chance to write some things that I couldn't say before I hold my peace forever.
Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet was a simple gift. That's all. The two reasons why I gave it to you the previous Wednesday: I didn't know how you'd react if it was a Valentine's present, and you were feeling down the previous evening. I'd been meaning to give it to you for sometime. It's just one of those books that can change a person's outlook on life - I know it changed mine, at any rate. Go read wtih an open mind; learn to accept and love yourself, faults with the goodness, and then perhaps you'll be more aware of the consequences of your actions on others and not screw up the next time.
Another wonderful person told me, broken hearts are what gives us strength and understanding and compassion - a heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
And despite all that had happened, I had a Valentine's dinner with a lovely guy who appreciates me for who I am and tells I'm wonderful. I've been given three things. A CD of Steven Isserlis playing Boccherini ("because you're allowed to give friends things on Valentine's Day", remember?) which I have yet to listen to, though I'm sure it'll be some fantastic music. A gorgeous, long-stemmed rose, the perfect lush red with broad green leaves and no thorns. And best of all, the gift of unfailing friendship.
In the end, I did manage to stay smiling throughout Valentine's Day. Had a good, dreamless sleep probably because I was completely knackered. Met up with Junie for lunch at Cafe Muse, and from there headed into town. There is a good reason why it's called retail therapy. Got some stuff from MNG and Boots, indulged in another favourite girly thing-to-do - perfume sniffing and critique. Cooed over soft toys at the Disney store and resolutely walked pass HMV. A cushion because I think I'll need something to hug over the next few nights. Also some clothes from Primark, because I realised that in life and love, what truly matters is not the name or image on the outside but that it fits.
Called it a day after some fries and Coke at Burger King. Thankfully there were no kissing cuddling couples on the bus. Had a long, hot shower and sloughed off the old dead skin. My right eye's developed a double eyelid from a little crying and serious sleep deprivation, though the left eye's stayed single. The irony of the situation is, of course, that you're the only one I know with one double and one "sepet" eye. I'm now fixing Junie's MNG scarf while listening to some Wagner, and I realise I'd stopped knitting after that black and silver scarf. There's a sense of peace and calm, the heart rate gradually coming down to normal, a feeling of lightness as if some burden has been lifted from me. This weekend, I'll take out my cello to play, and feel my heart singing again.
At last, I've been through the catharsis I've been needing for so long.
And oh, before I forget, Happy St Valentine's.. hope you all have a truly lovely day with loved ones. Even though I do wish that this Catholic feast day in honour of the rather ambiguous Saint Valentinus had never been mingled with the concept of courtly love from the High Middle Ages and transformed into the contrived, commercialised so-called celebration we know today.
All this while there have been so many things I've witheld from blogging about, mainly because blogs are public spaces, and for fear of hurting/offending people. Oh well, this time I think I do owe it to myself to write unfearingly about my life, and perhaps you might finally have enough guts to read this post in its entirety, unlike how you couldn't even find the balls to sort us out when you should have.
But don't get me wrong. I promise this post won't degenerate into some mindless vitriolic righteous ranting about how I want to feed you your own testicles and slowly scoop out your heart with a blunt knife. You of all people should know I'm not the vindictive hateful angry type. Then why, oh why didn't you say all those weeks, months ago when you had so many chances that you just weren't that into me anymore? What were you so afraid of?
My Valentine's Day started at midnight, with an immediate V Day wish and kiss from Lynn. Some general best wishes for and from other friends. Then you came online and it emerged that something's been on your mind for a while. You mentioned the "JD period" and I thought, whoaa isn't this all in the distant past?
You didn't realise that sometimes I acted, or said things that gave the impression that somethings did not matter as much to me, merely to make you feel less bad, even if I hurt myself saying them. The talk in the park? When I said I wasn't ready for a serious relationship and didn't want anything else to interrupt my first year? Only because you were feeling rotten and said you weren't ready. My own willing lies turned bittersweet in memory. And as if there was no end to what I had to go through, you left me agonising for a few hours that I had totally ruined any chances of "us" ever happening because of those words.
I remember sitting here, heartrate going right up, shocked numb and literally shaking. In the end, you didn't even know why you said that. And that was cruel, as if you hadn't hurt me enough.
You were callous and inconsiderate to the extent of being a total arsehole. But now I say, thank you. Thank you, for forcing it out into the open. Thank you, for trying to explain, in your own way, why you did what you did. So after months of being messed up and totally un-myself, I can now move on. Stop apologising (as you always do) for everything that happened - don't. I'm not sorry that any of it happened, and I'm the one who went through far more than you did. I have to believe that what I've stood for, lived for in the last few months meant something, and I can't believe that if I ever felt sorry it was such a waste. That would mean my life's been a waste during that period and I don't ever want to think that way. You see, sometimes it is the pain as well as the joy that reminds us we're still alive. Not to long ago, you said that when I was happy, I made people around me happy. However true that comment is, it's not things like new clothes or footwear that made me truly happy, but you. A smile, a light compliment, how we somehow always manage to text or call each other at the same time - these things made me happy.
So - there were some feelings on your part after all. It's ok, I can accept that whatever feelings that existed were just... not enough.
I can't find it in myself to hate you. Or at least throw my old moulding slipper at you or put in a half-hearted attempt at throttling. Hence I suppose this last go of digging at a wound that's starting to scab over, last chance to write some things that I couldn't say before I hold my peace forever.
Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet was a simple gift. That's all. The two reasons why I gave it to you the previous Wednesday: I didn't know how you'd react if it was a Valentine's present, and you were feeling down the previous evening. I'd been meaning to give it to you for sometime. It's just one of those books that can change a person's outlook on life - I know it changed mine, at any rate. Go read wtih an open mind; learn to accept and love yourself, faults with the goodness, and then perhaps you'll be more aware of the consequences of your actions on others and not screw up the next time.
Another wonderful person told me, broken hearts are what gives us strength and understanding and compassion - a heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
And despite all that had happened, I had a Valentine's dinner with a lovely guy who appreciates me for who I am and tells I'm wonderful. I've been given three things. A CD of Steven Isserlis playing Boccherini ("because you're allowed to give friends things on Valentine's Day", remember?) which I have yet to listen to, though I'm sure it'll be some fantastic music. A gorgeous, long-stemmed rose, the perfect lush red with broad green leaves and no thorns. And best of all, the gift of unfailing friendship.
In the end, I did manage to stay smiling throughout Valentine's Day. Had a good, dreamless sleep probably because I was completely knackered. Met up with Junie for lunch at Cafe Muse, and from there headed into town. There is a good reason why it's called retail therapy. Got some stuff from MNG and Boots, indulged in another favourite girly thing-to-do - perfume sniffing and critique. Cooed over soft toys at the Disney store and resolutely walked pass HMV. A cushion because I think I'll need something to hug over the next few nights. Also some clothes from Primark, because I realised that in life and love, what truly matters is not the name or image on the outside but that it fits.
Called it a day after some fries and Coke at Burger King. Thankfully there were no kissing cuddling couples on the bus. Had a long, hot shower and sloughed off the old dead skin. My right eye's developed a double eyelid from a little crying and serious sleep deprivation, though the left eye's stayed single. The irony of the situation is, of course, that you're the only one I know with one double and one "sepet" eye. I'm now fixing Junie's MNG scarf while listening to some Wagner, and I realise I'd stopped knitting after that black and silver scarf. There's a sense of peace and calm, the heart rate gradually coming down to normal, a feeling of lightness as if some burden has been lifted from me. This weekend, I'll take out my cello to play, and feel my heart singing again.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Blue Blood
It was a sizeable shock.
There I was, curled up in my chair with legs propped on table, reading Mammon Inc., the hilarious 2nd book by Singaporean novelist Hwee Hwee Tan, about a Singapore-born, Oxford-educated woman training to become an CorpS Adapter in a world rife with mcCola, mcBurger, mcMac, and mostly run by Mammon Inc. Chiah Deng's role as anAdapter is to teach executives how to cross cultures. Her second Test in the pursuit of THE fabulous job is to turn her very-Singaporean sister into someone Brit enough to mix effortlessly in the JCR of Oxford's Christ Church College. Now, Chiah Chen is the epitome of the stereotyped Singaporean girl complete with mandatory kiasu-ness and perfectly atrocious Singlish. Hence Chiah Deng writes up a Guide to Being an Oxford It Girl:
"Here are the Top 10 questions that people might ask you at social functions.
Memorize these answers so that they'll think you're a posh socialite.
Questions about your:
1) Name
Your name: Sophie
Names of your best friends: Sophie, Tara, Sara, Cosmina, George, Robert, Prince William, Tom
2) Childhood and education
You were raised in Egypt. You could see the pyramids from your mansion terrace. Unfortunately, your family had to flee after Daddy's warehouse was burned down by ungrateful natives. When you returned home, you were shipped off to the Sherborne School for Girls."
And there it was, without so much as a by-your-leave ma'am, the jolt of my exotic past hitting me in the face. Sherborne School for Girls. Posh socialite. Was I really that blue-blooded, then?
But then I had a little epiphany. Years in posh Brit boarding schools notwithstanding, I guess all that really matters is the person I've turned out to be, not the names on my education certs nor my accent or my familiarity with old hymns due to long hours in freezing cathedrals/abbeys. Yes I ain't your average 19-year-old Malaysian gal, and I can't claim to mix with people from all walks of society, but you definitely won't catch me dead sniffing at anyone for being too nouveau riche. All I ask are things like not putting your feet on the table while eating, and I really couldn't care less if you knew which is the salad knife or the dessert spoon. So, off to the mamak it is!
There I was, curled up in my chair with legs propped on table, reading Mammon Inc., the hilarious 2nd book by Singaporean novelist Hwee Hwee Tan, about a Singapore-born, Oxford-educated woman training to become an CorpS Adapter in a world rife with mcCola, mcBurger, mcMac, and mostly run by Mammon Inc. Chiah Deng's role as anAdapter is to teach executives how to cross cultures. Her second Test in the pursuit of THE fabulous job is to turn her very-Singaporean sister into someone Brit enough to mix effortlessly in the JCR of Oxford's Christ Church College. Now, Chiah Chen is the epitome of the stereotyped Singaporean girl complete with mandatory kiasu-ness and perfectly atrocious Singlish. Hence Chiah Deng writes up a Guide to Being an Oxford It Girl:
"Here are the Top 10 questions that people might ask you at social functions.
Memorize these answers so that they'll think you're a posh socialite.
Questions about your:
1) Name
Your name: Sophie
Names of your best friends: Sophie, Tara, Sara, Cosmina, George, Robert, Prince William, Tom
2) Childhood and education
You were raised in Egypt. You could see the pyramids from your mansion terrace. Unfortunately, your family had to flee after Daddy's warehouse was burned down by ungrateful natives. When you returned home, you were shipped off to the Sherborne School for Girls."
And there it was, without so much as a by-your-leave ma'am, the jolt of my exotic past hitting me in the face. Sherborne School for Girls. Posh socialite. Was I really that blue-blooded, then?
But then I had a little epiphany. Years in posh Brit boarding schools notwithstanding, I guess all that really matters is the person I've turned out to be, not the names on my education certs nor my accent or my familiarity with old hymns due to long hours in freezing cathedrals/abbeys. Yes I ain't your average 19-year-old Malaysian gal, and I can't claim to mix with people from all walks of society, but you definitely won't catch me dead sniffing at anyone for being too nouveau riche. All I ask are things like not putting your feet on the table while eating, and I really couldn't care less if you knew which is the salad knife or the dessert spoon. So, off to the mamak it is!
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Half-hearted bitchiness
Ooh I've never used this dark purple font before. Now tell me, just how mo liu can a girl get?
Gawd, how I miss my camera. In a trigger-happy mood these few days, but my one obstacle to photographic bliss is the untimely death of that ickle Litium-ion battery in the trusty ole Sony P10. I WANT A NEW CAMERA!!! But oh well, lemme make my ngan-jee first, so says the parents. Anyway, went to the Sony shop in Arndale the other day, hoping to bring some life back to the poor thing and a smile back on my face. Arriving there after wandering about ressembling a lost Japanese tourist, I proceeded to flash a dazzling smile at the guy-behind-the-counter. Now, these so-called sales representatives/executives are never just out to inform the occasional lost Japanese tourist about the wonders of modern Japanese photographic equiment, but out to get said Japanese tourist's hard-earned cash. That's why said sales rep isn't ever just the cute Sony guy or the fugly Sony guy, but always the Sony guy-behind-the-counter, reason being they can quickly duck behind said counter when the customer gets pissed off mah. (Hey, it's 1am okay, lemme have my daily ramble will ya?)
Well, back to the story. This supposedly lost Japanese tourist wasn't in fact Japanese, a tourist, or even lost in the first place. That's the one helluva annoying thing some Brits assume when some yellow-skinned person wanders about Manchester's Arndale clutching a camera case. Look, I'm a student, okay? I live here, okay? I was wandering about window-shopping, okay? I take photographs as a means of expression, okay? Okay. Anyway, the very sneaky salesguy tried to foist off a 54.99 pound sterling purchase on me, but, sorry mate, ya just ain't fast enough. Bugger told me he hadn't got any cameras still using that battery, then told me a brand-new battery was 54.99 quid, then as fast as lighting took up a pair of scissors and was about to happily snip open the pack when - whoaaaaa, hang on dude. Wait, if you open the pack to let me try the battery, I have to pay for it? Yeah, that a problem? Well, actually it is. I haven't agreed to pay for it.
Having my end-of-chinese-new-year cum Chap Goh Mei dinner bash later today. Hmmm gonna be an interesting combination of Malaysians and Singaporeans. I actually quite like orgnising these get-togethers, but when people remember that I'm doing management, it's like I end up doing all the donkey work. Gaaah. I've even developed an allergy to delegation, delegation, delegation. Why can't people try and take the initiative for once? "Yi-Wen, how to get to Whitworth ah? Yi-Wen, how to get into Whitworth ah? Yi-Wen, I dunno what to cook lehh! Yi-Wen, do I really have to bring something??" And then when I take charge and tell people what to do, I've become: "aunty. Okayla, an aunty wannabe". Lol. No win situation huh...
Wow what a bitchy mood I'm in. Can't seem to make up my mind today. Tchaikovsky or Faye Wong? Isabel Allende or Hwee Hwee Tan? The Times or The Independant? thestar.com.my or nst.com.my? Maggi Mee curry or Shin Cup? =P
I have decided to regain my literacy. As in, have a huge list of non-textbook-books-I've-meant-to-read-but-never-had-the-time-to to plough through. Which means far less blogging, chatting and hea-ing, because these take up precious reading time.
Cute building huh? Kinda reminds of the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix in that eponymous Harry Potter book. You know, when Harry recites the address from memory and Sirius' house just squeezes itself into existence from between its neighbours? Feels like it's from a different era, this little one just off Albert Square. Guess that's the magic of this city.
Gawd, how I miss my camera. In a trigger-happy mood these few days, but my one obstacle to photographic bliss is the untimely death of that ickle Litium-ion battery in the trusty ole Sony P10. I WANT A NEW CAMERA!!! But oh well, lemme make my ngan-jee first, so says the parents. Anyway, went to the Sony shop in Arndale the other day, hoping to bring some life back to the poor thing and a smile back on my face. Arriving there after wandering about ressembling a lost Japanese tourist, I proceeded to flash a dazzling smile at the guy-behind-the-counter. Now, these so-called sales representatives/executives are never just out to inform the occasional lost Japanese tourist about the wonders of modern Japanese photographic equiment, but out to get said Japanese tourist's hard-earned cash. That's why said sales rep isn't ever just the cute Sony guy or the fugly Sony guy, but always the Sony guy-behind-the-counter, reason being they can quickly duck behind said counter when the customer gets pissed off mah. (Hey, it's 1am okay, lemme have my daily ramble will ya?)
Well, back to the story. This supposedly lost Japanese tourist wasn't in fact Japanese, a tourist, or even lost in the first place. That's the one helluva annoying thing some Brits assume when some yellow-skinned person wanders about Manchester's Arndale clutching a camera case. Look, I'm a student, okay? I live here, okay? I was wandering about window-shopping, okay? I take photographs as a means of expression, okay? Okay. Anyway, the very sneaky salesguy tried to foist off a 54.99 pound sterling purchase on me, but, sorry mate, ya just ain't fast enough. Bugger told me he hadn't got any cameras still using that battery, then told me a brand-new battery was 54.99 quid, then as fast as lighting took up a pair of scissors and was about to happily snip open the pack when - whoaaaaa, hang on dude. Wait, if you open the pack to let me try the battery, I have to pay for it? Yeah, that a problem? Well, actually it is. I haven't agreed to pay for it.
Having my end-of-chinese-new-year cum Chap Goh Mei dinner bash later today. Hmmm gonna be an interesting combination of Malaysians and Singaporeans. I actually quite like orgnising these get-togethers, but when people remember that I'm doing management, it's like I end up doing all the donkey work. Gaaah. I've even developed an allergy to delegation, delegation, delegation. Why can't people try and take the initiative for once? "Yi-Wen, how to get to Whitworth ah? Yi-Wen, how to get into Whitworth ah? Yi-Wen, I dunno what to cook lehh! Yi-Wen, do I really have to bring something??" And then when I take charge and tell people what to do, I've become: "aunty. Okayla, an aunty wannabe". Lol. No win situation huh...
Wow what a bitchy mood I'm in. Can't seem to make up my mind today. Tchaikovsky or Faye Wong? Isabel Allende or Hwee Hwee Tan? The Times or The Independant? thestar.com.my or nst.com.my? Maggi Mee curry or Shin Cup? =P
I have decided to regain my literacy. As in, have a huge list of non-textbook-books-I've-meant-to-read-but-never-had-the-time-to to plough through. Which means far less blogging, chatting and hea-ing, because these take up precious reading time.
Cute building huh? Kinda reminds of the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix in that eponymous Harry Potter book. You know, when Harry recites the address from memory and Sirius' house just squeezes itself into existence from between its neighbours? Feels like it's from a different era, this little one just off Albert Square. Guess that's the magic of this city.
How Will You Die?
Quiz I got off Meryl's bloggy. You are seriously weird girl!! But we love you all the same.
You scored as Natural Causes. Your death will be by natural causes, though not by any diseaese, because that is another option on this test. You will probably just silently pass away in the night from old age, and people you love won't realize until the next morning, when you are all purple and cold and icky. So be happy, you won't be murdered.
How Will You Die?? created with QuizFarm.com |
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Sexual (dis)orientation; Love
(Ohh haven't properly blogged in quite a while... Warning: this is one seriously drawn-out, long overdue, aggregated post, so forgive the disjointedness of thought. But anyway.)
What makes us truly human and unique from all other animals is, contrary to popular belief, not our intelligence but rather our capacity to imagine. Escapism - something to be taken seriously? Only us humans can creates worlds and scenarios and dreams to free ourselves from this life; chimpanzees will always be focused on their current habitat, their next meal, their next mate.
So as I trooped down town with Wan Phing and Shyan to watch Ang Lee's Brokeback Mountain a couple of Saturdays ago, I wondered - was Ang Lee living out his heart's secret desires by directing this highly controversial "gay-cowboy-movie"? How about the lovely-eyed Jack Gyllenhaal and craggy Heath Ledger for that matter? But heck, fantasy or reality, within the first hour I was moved. God, watching the hunger in the way they almost ate each other, first with eyes and then mouths, the force of Ennis del Mar slamming his hips into Jack Twist, and how they wrestled with the tearing and intensity of secret love... it was like a punch to the solar plexus. Literally took the wind out of my sails. To quote Wan Phing: "How do stories that aren't even your own change you?"
I'm not afraid to admit, I do envy those who have found somebody. They have guts. Of all the seven billion people in the big blue world, to meet a single person by chance and deciding hey, this could be the one - that is one helluva thought. To imagine spending the rest of your life with this one, single person, loving someone other than our own selfish selves. Sometimes I think - could I ever be constant like this? But I've never been one to embrace making decisions in life. Honestly, a gal really can break her own heart over choices - Matthieu Kassovitz, Eric Bana, River Phoenix (unfortunately deceased, but his brother Joaquin will do just fine thank you sir), Matt Damon, James Franco, Orlando Bloom, Alec Newman, Sean Bean... Sigh, there really is such thing as too much of any good thing huh.
(But don't let me get too distracted.) As I walked out of AMC, I realised that even more than I envy those who have found their supposed other half, I envy those who have found someone, and had the strength to move on. Just finished watching another movie, Wong Kar Wai's classic In the Mood for Love. Oh my, what satisfying masochism, sitting through two hours of indecision and unspoken fantasies. In the end, the exquisitely fragile and fabulously-dressed Maggie Cheung stays with her unfaithful husband and has his son, and ever-charming Leung Chiu Wai ends up in a cello-haunted Angkor Wat. It really got me thinking, How on earth do they do that? Yes, they vowed never to be like their unfaithful spouses, but when you have this special connection with another person that feels so right, why walk away? I guess for most of us, we meet someone we kinda like, and they kinda seem to like us as a fellow homo sapiens too - well, we go for it.
What really got to me in Brokeback Mountain was that it was an uncomplicated story, a story about love. Incidentally the two people in love where both men. But what did it matter? Love is the fuel of existence, the Mobil or Shell to our jaded, tired lives. Ennis del Mar and Jack Twist found the capacity within themselves just to love another, regardless of gender or social constraints. Oh yes, there was plenty of sex, but it was the person that truly mattered. After that brief, glorious season together, the two men part. Ennis, the more constrained of the two, collects his wages and then breaks down behind a wall. In fact, he wallopes himself against said wall. Ouch. But then again, a physical expression and release of what's within him. Ever felt so strongly about someone or something that you literally, physically felt that exquisite pain of feeling?
I noticed a trend running through most of the movies I've watched recently. Aeon Flux, Brokeback Mountain, Walk the Line, In the Mood for Love... entertainment in their own right, some of it darn good, but they all lacked a certain climax, that building of tension until it's all over and you sigh and only then realise the movie had you holding your breath. So I decided to go listen to the music department's Sinfonietta play Beethoven, Hindemith and Sibelius on Saturday night. Don't take me for a snob - it was all pretty good especially the Pelleas and Melisande suite, but again, I left feeling a little let down. Then I realised I need some catharsis - Aristotle's way of being clever by showing he understood Greek tragedy and its effect on the human condition. I guess all this tension has been building up inside from so many little things: first having to leave Malaysia after a rather sad and unsatisfactory holiday, then the hell of exams over two weeks, stress, indecision, confusion. So I listened to our Sherborne recording of Sibelius' 2nd Symphony, loud. Read the newspaper. Had a very long-winded but freaking amusing msn conversation about Amsterdam and miscellaneous "hum sup" stuff with Lynn, Shyan and JJ. Cooked an ugly yummy dinner. Banged head against wall a la Heath Ledger (metaphorically of course - I love myself too much to do that). Read The Prophet and at last felt much better.
But then.. I discovered that endorphins and peace don't last very long in my world. So here's a chopped quote:
"Though his ways are hard and steep,
though the sword hidden among your pinions may wound you,
though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden...
So shall he crucify you."
Apology to those who know where this comes from - I'm in a pessimistic mood right now. And I wish I could open myself with words, so confident in the face of both lovers and strangers, very much like the way Stephanie Klein does. Someone please tear my heart out and force me to walk away, and then I will be fine.
What makes us truly human and unique from all other animals is, contrary to popular belief, not our intelligence but rather our capacity to imagine. Escapism - something to be taken seriously? Only us humans can creates worlds and scenarios and dreams to free ourselves from this life; chimpanzees will always be focused on their current habitat, their next meal, their next mate.
So as I trooped down town with Wan Phing and Shyan to watch Ang Lee's Brokeback Mountain a couple of Saturdays ago, I wondered - was Ang Lee living out his heart's secret desires by directing this highly controversial "gay-cowboy-movie"? How about the lovely-eyed Jack Gyllenhaal and craggy Heath Ledger for that matter? But heck, fantasy or reality, within the first hour I was moved. God, watching the hunger in the way they almost ate each other, first with eyes and then mouths, the force of Ennis del Mar slamming his hips into Jack Twist, and how they wrestled with the tearing and intensity of secret love... it was like a punch to the solar plexus. Literally took the wind out of my sails. To quote Wan Phing: "How do stories that aren't even your own change you?"
I'm not afraid to admit, I do envy those who have found somebody. They have guts. Of all the seven billion people in the big blue world, to meet a single person by chance and deciding hey, this could be the one - that is one helluva thought. To imagine spending the rest of your life with this one, single person, loving someone other than our own selfish selves. Sometimes I think - could I ever be constant like this? But I've never been one to embrace making decisions in life. Honestly, a gal really can break her own heart over choices - Matthieu Kassovitz, Eric Bana, River Phoenix (unfortunately deceased, but his brother Joaquin will do just fine thank you sir), Matt Damon, James Franco, Orlando Bloom, Alec Newman, Sean Bean... Sigh, there really is such thing as too much of any good thing huh.
(But don't let me get too distracted.) As I walked out of AMC, I realised that even more than I envy those who have found their supposed other half, I envy those who have found someone, and had the strength to move on. Just finished watching another movie, Wong Kar Wai's classic In the Mood for Love. Oh my, what satisfying masochism, sitting through two hours of indecision and unspoken fantasies. In the end, the exquisitely fragile and fabulously-dressed Maggie Cheung stays with her unfaithful husband and has his son, and ever-charming Leung Chiu Wai ends up in a cello-haunted Angkor Wat. It really got me thinking, How on earth do they do that? Yes, they vowed never to be like their unfaithful spouses, but when you have this special connection with another person that feels so right, why walk away? I guess for most of us, we meet someone we kinda like, and they kinda seem to like us as a fellow homo sapiens too - well, we go for it.
What really got to me in Brokeback Mountain was that it was an uncomplicated story, a story about love. Incidentally the two people in love where both men. But what did it matter? Love is the fuel of existence, the Mobil or Shell to our jaded, tired lives. Ennis del Mar and Jack Twist found the capacity within themselves just to love another, regardless of gender or social constraints. Oh yes, there was plenty of sex, but it was the person that truly mattered. After that brief, glorious season together, the two men part. Ennis, the more constrained of the two, collects his wages and then breaks down behind a wall. In fact, he wallopes himself against said wall. Ouch. But then again, a physical expression and release of what's within him. Ever felt so strongly about someone or something that you literally, physically felt that exquisite pain of feeling?
I noticed a trend running through most of the movies I've watched recently. Aeon Flux, Brokeback Mountain, Walk the Line, In the Mood for Love... entertainment in their own right, some of it darn good, but they all lacked a certain climax, that building of tension until it's all over and you sigh and only then realise the movie had you holding your breath. So I decided to go listen to the music department's Sinfonietta play Beethoven, Hindemith and Sibelius on Saturday night. Don't take me for a snob - it was all pretty good especially the Pelleas and Melisande suite, but again, I left feeling a little let down. Then I realised I need some catharsis - Aristotle's way of being clever by showing he understood Greek tragedy and its effect on the human condition. I guess all this tension has been building up inside from so many little things: first having to leave Malaysia after a rather sad and unsatisfactory holiday, then the hell of exams over two weeks, stress, indecision, confusion. So I listened to our Sherborne recording of Sibelius' 2nd Symphony, loud. Read the newspaper. Had a very long-winded but freaking amusing msn conversation about Amsterdam and miscellaneous "hum sup" stuff with Lynn, Shyan and JJ. Cooked an ugly yummy dinner. Banged head against wall a la Heath Ledger (metaphorically of course - I love myself too much to do that). Read The Prophet and at last felt much better.
But then.. I discovered that endorphins and peace don't last very long in my world. So here's a chopped quote:
"Though his ways are hard and steep,
though the sword hidden among your pinions may wound you,
though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden...
So shall he crucify you."
Apology to those who know where this comes from - I'm in a pessimistic mood right now. And I wish I could open myself with words, so confident in the face of both lovers and strangers, very much like the way Stephanie Klein does. Someone please tear my heart out and force me to walk away, and then I will be fine.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Bored...
Hmm... kinda addicted to BlogThings at the mo.. somehow really bored and restless. FINALLY submitted out application for Wilmslow Park! High time.. got woken up by Enn Yong this morning - apparently the direct debit form does not apply for the deposit and we had to go there in person. Gaaah they couldn've easily told us yesterday, missed my rare gym slot. Oh well, anyway we've got an appartment facing Hathersage Road, thankfully away from Oxford Road and the construction going on facing Rusholme. I'm Room D, sandwiched between Wan Phing and JJ. Gonna be interesting, at any rate. Enn Swan listens to R'nB and ballads, Enn Yong hip hop and rap, JJ indie rock and classical, Wan Phing rock I suppose. =) Anyway another random BlogThing, one marginally more interesting than How Scary Are You or What's Your Porn Star Name (heh)...
Your Five Factor Personality Profile |
 Extroversion: You have high extroversion. You are outgoing and engaging, with both strangers and friends. You truly enjoy being with people and bring energy into any situation. Enthusiastic and fun, you're the first to say "let's go!" Conscientiousness: You have medium conscientiousness. You're generally good at balancing work and play. When you need to buckle down, you can usually get tasks done. But you've been known to goof off when you know you can get away with it. Agreeableness: You have high agreeableness. You are easy to get along with, and you value harmony highly. Helpful and generous, you are willing to compromise with almost anyone. You give people the benefit of the doubt and don't mind giving someone a second chance. Neuroticism: You have low neuroticism. You are very emotionally stable and mentally together. Only the greatest setbacks upset you, and you bounce back quickly. Overall, you are typically calm and relaxed - making others feel secure. Openness to experience: Your openness to new experiences is high. In life, you tend to be an early adopter of all new things and ideas. You'll try almost anything interesting, and you're constantly pushing your own limits. A great connoisseir of art and beauty, you can find the positive side of almost anything. |
Sunday, January 29, 2006
What Age Do You Act?
Random quiz from BlogThings. Revealing?
| You Are 22 Years Old |
 Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax. |
What Age Do You Act?
Hmm apparently, I behave like a 22-year-old. Which makes me.. "excited about what's to come... love, work and new experiences." Now, I suppose that is very true to a certain extent. And considering I am turning 20 at the end of this year, the quiz can't really be that far off the mark. But... 22?? Arggh this just brings to mind something else. Went into Ted Baker on Sunday with JJ. The Colombian quantum-physics graduate salesman thought I was 22 and JJ 23. Fancy that! Short little me of the red-pink-magenta scarf, n JJ of the boyish clean-cut looks! Aw man.. couldn't decide whether to feel insulted or flattered in a way. I suppose that makes me someone who no longer questions authority and have more or less found my place in the world..?
Now, what age do you act?
Now, what age do you act?
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Manchesta
If you had just finished four exams within five days, felt too bored to be sleepy, and lived in a student city, what would you do? At least I own some decent boots and warm clothes to fend off the wind. Need to get out a bit more. Weekly bus pass expiring today - might as well make the most out of my two quid. (RM13.40!)
So it was People and Organisations done with, and a sadly limited budget considering I'd just blew 35.05 quid (after discounts and more discounts) in HMV. Chilly windy day, so I was wearing my black wool-mix trousers with the buttons and a long sleeved top, looking rather more formal than usual in the cream coat. Headed down to AMC to catch Memoirs of a Geisha, managed to squeeze in a trip to the public library before meeting Joo Hwee et al in St Peter's Square.
You could just fall in love with central Manchester from the top of a bus, never getting off the same draughty 142/3, just ride round and round and watch the world go by. Always faces waiting at bus stops, faces hovering on the edge of familiarity so you often reach out to smile at the stranger in the street, faces relaxing in the warmth of Europe's cafe culture, faces etched with the tension of unending bills and deadlines.
Down town, the girls seem a slightly different breed that those you encounter along the uni stretch of Oxford Road. Primark puffy jackets and glitzy bags aside, there is still that general trend of scatty clothes, too little or too much makeup, thin girls' pot bellies peeking from over hipsters. They chatter fast and high, proud Mancunian accents slightly generic, hair scraped back with Superdrug hairbands, smug from within their security groups.
Enter a different territory the moment you cross the Precinct and head towards the Curry Mile. Girls here are sleek and slim, covertable. Size Fours or Sixes that you could love and hate at the same time, brains in the top 5% of any country's population. Hair here is generally worn long and loose; natural is in, sexy. Large stylish totes hold stationary and lecture notes anchored with lip gloss, and one is left with the impression that these girls really do have it all.
So, does Sayuri have it all by the end of Memoirs? Costumes and sets were fantastic, but I found the movie a tad shallow overall, though admitedly I've not read Arthur Golden's bestselling novel or Geisha of Gion by the woman Golden's Sayuri was based upon. Had a long relaxing walk back from AMC to Jati, getting to know Joo Hwee's 2nd yr A&F bunch. Yes, there really was free food at Jati (apparently bucket-loads of ayam rendang or something like that), but the place was chock-full of people and big-shot Nazri's speech was so long-winded and disjointed (so I gathered from JJ's loose translation, me being too lazy to make the effort and dig out my rusty BM) that we trickled out early and went to have Chinese instead. Discovered a fabulous restaurant thanks to Shyan - Red Chili, tucked away at the side of Chinatown, serving the HOTTEST Szechuan chinese ever. A few beers and some tears later, I was on the bus again, riding through Mancunian darkness and streetlights to my home away from home.
P.S. yes the skin and layout's changed - inspired by dear ole Kams. Was kinda fed-up with the blue dots Blogger skin (especially since Shahril's using the same one hehe), and so here it is, my newly-revamped blog. Apologies to those who visited when it was going through about three hideous stages, but as you can see, it's all sorted now. Love the texture of the reed mat, though the main body isn't exactly the easiest to read from. Spacing and font of previous posts has been screwed up, but on the other hand not really expecting people to go back and read history. Kinda like the nostalgia of the lonely bench under the leaves after a rain - anyone fancy joining me there?
So it was People and Organisations done with, and a sadly limited budget considering I'd just blew 35.05 quid (after discounts and more discounts) in HMV. Chilly windy day, so I was wearing my black wool-mix trousers with the buttons and a long sleeved top, looking rather more formal than usual in the cream coat. Headed down to AMC to catch Memoirs of a Geisha, managed to squeeze in a trip to the public library before meeting Joo Hwee et al in St Peter's Square.
You could just fall in love with central Manchester from the top of a bus, never getting off the same draughty 142/3, just ride round and round and watch the world go by. Always faces waiting at bus stops, faces hovering on the edge of familiarity so you often reach out to smile at the stranger in the street, faces relaxing in the warmth of Europe's cafe culture, faces etched with the tension of unending bills and deadlines.
Down town, the girls seem a slightly different breed that those you encounter along the uni stretch of Oxford Road. Primark puffy jackets and glitzy bags aside, there is still that general trend of scatty clothes, too little or too much makeup, thin girls' pot bellies peeking from over hipsters. They chatter fast and high, proud Mancunian accents slightly generic, hair scraped back with Superdrug hairbands, smug from within their security groups.
Enter a different territory the moment you cross the Precinct and head towards the Curry Mile. Girls here are sleek and slim, covertable. Size Fours or Sixes that you could love and hate at the same time, brains in the top 5% of any country's population. Hair here is generally worn long and loose; natural is in, sexy. Large stylish totes hold stationary and lecture notes anchored with lip gloss, and one is left with the impression that these girls really do have it all.
So, does Sayuri have it all by the end of Memoirs? Costumes and sets were fantastic, but I found the movie a tad shallow overall, though admitedly I've not read Arthur Golden's bestselling novel or Geisha of Gion by the woman Golden's Sayuri was based upon. Had a long relaxing walk back from AMC to Jati, getting to know Joo Hwee's 2nd yr A&F bunch. Yes, there really was free food at Jati (apparently bucket-loads of ayam rendang or something like that), but the place was chock-full of people and big-shot Nazri's speech was so long-winded and disjointed (so I gathered from JJ's loose translation, me being too lazy to make the effort and dig out my rusty BM) that we trickled out early and went to have Chinese instead. Discovered a fabulous restaurant thanks to Shyan - Red Chili, tucked away at the side of Chinatown, serving the HOTTEST Szechuan chinese ever. A few beers and some tears later, I was on the bus again, riding through Mancunian darkness and streetlights to my home away from home.
P.S. yes the skin and layout's changed - inspired by dear ole Kams. Was kinda fed-up with the blue dots Blogger skin (especially since Shahril's using the same one hehe), and so here it is, my newly-revamped blog. Apologies to those who visited when it was going through about three hideous stages, but as you can see, it's all sorted now. Love the texture of the reed mat, though the main body isn't exactly the easiest to read from. Spacing and font of previous posts has been screwed up, but on the other hand not really expecting people to go back and read history. Kinda like the nostalgia of the lonely bench under the leaves after a rain - anyone fancy joining me there?Sunday, January 15, 2006
And so once more we begin, anew
I would just like to start this post with some unabashed heartfelt cheesyness. After all, isn't all the time I can get away with being soppy and truthful, right? =D We've seen the first five years of this millenium come and go - the sparkle and glamour of the 21st century has started to fade and we settle into routine. (Who here really remembers what the y2k fuss was all about?) I could say, everyday is one day less you have to live (gee, thanks sean!), or - everyday is one day more you've survived to live. What more can I write? Just that may this 2006 be a year of more discovery, within and without, a year for growth and containment, a year for living.
Sitting here at my desk in Manchester, first morning of my second term as a science student (hah!) in management, it's time to take stock of the year that has passed so quickly. For my part, I'd say 2005 really is a year I'll remember as THE year of extraordinary peaks and troughs. Just bear with me, and I'll give ya the highlights chronologically.
January saw AS retakes and A Level mocks come and go, with varied results. Thank goodness we had another 5 months to up the grade where required. The Mulliner International Fair was a veritable success; we exceeded our target of 1,000 pounds in net profit. My, that really was a hectic but satisfying time. Never folded so many origami bunnies and cranes in my life. Salesgirl and manager at full pitch.
Left for home slightly earlier at the end of March, missing out on Mulliner Revue (no major regrets there). Decision time was finalising my firm and insurance choices for university, seeing that I'd finally received my rejection from Warwick late January (not that I wanted to go there anyway huh). History of Art thesis on pre- and post-Independance classicism in Malaysian architecture was a tough cookie but all that hard work hanging out of moving cars taking photographs was well worth the A. Business Studies coursework and final revision towards exams spelled STRESS; certainly didn't study as hard as I could (should?) have, but s'ppose that was enough huh?
The end of secondary education in July was a bit of a downer for me. Made a short trip to my previous alma mater - Wells Cathedral School - one last time. Two lots of goodbyes for me. French composer Hector Berlioz (of the 5-movement Symphonie Fantastique fame) once said, "Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its students". Upon return to Sherbs there was preparation for our Leavers' Ball, but before that news finally broke to me that my maternal grandmother had lung (and later bone) cancer. I still remember sitting by the public phone wrapped in only a towel, trying desperately to stay calm, and later breaking down in the shower. They said she had only six months. Sat next to Tamara during our "Night of Eastern Promise" - turns out she and her mother were arrested that evening for alleged links with the Russian mafia...
Concerts throughout the year at Sherborne was preparation for the Madrigals and Chamber Orchestra trip to Perigueux, France. Many thanks to my music teachers Martin "Mr W" Walker and Philippa Stevens for 2 wonderful years of music-making, as well as others like Tony "Sherburnchick" Urbainczyk and John "JJ" Jenkins. France was a tough time for me, what with general burn-out, cancer at home, and blazing hot weather, as well as the constant pressure to perform well. But it was a brilliant trip, with good food, good friends, and far more ups than downs. Nothing quite beats lots of music, friendship, wine, food and travel all at once... At around the same time, my paternal grandfather was finally admitted to hospital with long-term bleeding from an ulcer in his ileum. Arriving in KLIA mid-July was a huge, huge relief.
Summer holidays wasn't exactly the ideal, martini-sipping getaway I'd imagined. Spent time with family, gradually coming to terms with the reality of time and age. Realised what it really means to love another, the whole package of pain and pleasure. Learnt dependance after so many years of being self-sufficient; learnt patience; learnt to let go. Unpleasant incident with the plant-fanatic neighbour which doesn't quite seem to have resolved itself... August 18, the day of reckoning. Brilliant news of A Level results from careers teacher Polly English, and off to Manchester it was! I'd only just scraped an A in Business Studies - but what did that matter? =P
Preparation and settling in to uni life went off without a glitch. The shit started later when I had to juggle assignment and uni commitments, traveling/shopping for a wonderful new cello, a headache-inducing love life, ups and downs at home, and finally anaemia. But other than that Manchester's been simply fabulous as they say - new friends, flexible challenging studying, autonomy, beautiful weather, plenty of distractions for a girl in UK's greatest student city.
Comin' Up in 2006
1) 6 exams until end of January. Can't quite say I'll do brilliantly, but the best I can.
2) Chinese New Year - 5th one away from home, but it'll be pretty exciting this year I'm sure. Bring on the cookies and yee sang! Oh yeah not to forget the hong pau but then there's hardly anyone married in Manchester n'est pas? =P
3) Complete my TEFL. All that stands between me and a diploma at 19 years old is the grammar awareness module to supplement the intensive weekend training.
4) Spanish beginner's lessons. Decided since I can still communicate in French, might as well try out something different, widely-used and relatively easy...
4) Pulling my weight in 2nd sem.
5) Amsterdam in April? Rembrandt's 400th birthday, the perfect time for an amateur photographer to go capture the tulips and tourists. Turkey's out of the question with increasing numbers of bird flu cases. ...Prague?
6) Sean - baby cousin bro coming to Manchester for the remainder of my April break, ostensibly to check out UK and college/uni life. Want him pretty near if/when he comes for his diploma in performing arts. Heck, in fact I need to keep in touch with the rest of my cousins a bit more...
7) 2nd sem exams and end of 1st year - May/June
8) 3 months summer holiday in which I will (or rather, hope to): work for 2 months, get in lots of music practice, shop! maybe join Ben R in Borneo
9) 2nd year uni, will be staying in Wilmslow Park! wahey... private's more expensive but less shitty than uni accommodation. Double bed means I can have lots of ppl come visit and stay over, plus far more space to practice cello, better maintainance of facilities and better security.
10) Finally, play hard, but gotta work harder this year...
For those who don't know, we've just found out a few days ago from my grandmother's latest CT scan that it's spread to her brain. In the middle of a radiotherapy course now; hopefully it'll be effective. Have learnt to say goodbye this hols - radiotherapy'll affect her memory, cause her hair to fall out. Whatever happens, whether or not she'll be there when I go home in the summer, she'll never be the same. Finding out about this was nearly as big a shock as hearing about her cancer for the first time in July.
One of my favourite photos, the best "accidental" shot I've ever taken. (Moat around Bishop's Palace, Wells) Such fleeting beauty only serves as a reminder of life's impermanence. Lynn once said it's better than having my grandmother drop dead from a heartattack - s'ppose it's better to have a bit more time to resolve matters, give family and friends a chance to come to terms with it. But prolonged illness and pain ain't the best way to go either. Told JJ (Juan Jin, not John Jenkins!) I wanna go like his grandfather, peacefully with family all around me. I know, I know - morbid, can't help thinking about it so young, but don't we all wish for the same? She used to call me "ugly duckling", with the hope that I'd grow into a beautiful swan...
Sitting here at my desk in Manchester, first morning of my second term as a science student (hah!) in management, it's time to take stock of the year that has passed so quickly. For my part, I'd say 2005 really is a year I'll remember as THE year of extraordinary peaks and troughs. Just bear with me, and I'll give ya the highlights chronologically.
January saw AS retakes and A Level mocks come and go, with varied results. Thank goodness we had another 5 months to up the grade where required. The Mulliner International Fair was a veritable success; we exceeded our target of 1,000 pounds in net profit. My, that really was a hectic but satisfying time. Never folded so many origami bunnies and cranes in my life. Salesgirl and manager at full pitch.
Left for home slightly earlier at the end of March, missing out on Mulliner Revue (no major regrets there). Decision time was finalising my firm and insurance choices for university, seeing that I'd finally received my rejection from Warwick late January (not that I wanted to go there anyway huh). History of Art thesis on pre- and post-Independance classicism in Malaysian architecture was a tough cookie but all that hard work hanging out of moving cars taking photographs was well worth the A. Business Studies coursework and final revision towards exams spelled STRESS; certainly didn't study as hard as I could (should?) have, but s'ppose that was enough huh?
The end of secondary education in July was a bit of a downer for me. Made a short trip to my previous alma mater - Wells Cathedral School - one last time. Two lots of goodbyes for me. French composer Hector Berlioz (of the 5-movement Symphonie Fantastique fame) once said, "Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its students". Upon return to Sherbs there was preparation for our Leavers' Ball, but before that news finally broke to me that my maternal grandmother had lung (and later bone) cancer. I still remember sitting by the public phone wrapped in only a towel, trying desperately to stay calm, and later breaking down in the shower. They said she had only six months. Sat next to Tamara during our "Night of Eastern Promise" - turns out she and her mother were arrested that evening for alleged links with the Russian mafia...
Concerts throughout the year at Sherborne was preparation for the Madrigals and Chamber Orchestra trip to Perigueux, France. Many thanks to my music teachers Martin "Mr W" Walker and Philippa Stevens for 2 wonderful years of music-making, as well as others like Tony "Sherburnchick" Urbainczyk and John "JJ" Jenkins. France was a tough time for me, what with general burn-out, cancer at home, and blazing hot weather, as well as the constant pressure to perform well. But it was a brilliant trip, with good food, good friends, and far more ups than downs. Nothing quite beats lots of music, friendship, wine, food and travel all at once... At around the same time, my paternal grandfather was finally admitted to hospital with long-term bleeding from an ulcer in his ileum. Arriving in KLIA mid-July was a huge, huge relief.
Summer holidays wasn't exactly the ideal, martini-sipping getaway I'd imagined. Spent time with family, gradually coming to terms with the reality of time and age. Realised what it really means to love another, the whole package of pain and pleasure. Learnt dependance after so many years of being self-sufficient; learnt patience; learnt to let go. Unpleasant incident with the plant-fanatic neighbour which doesn't quite seem to have resolved itself... August 18, the day of reckoning. Brilliant news of A Level results from careers teacher Polly English, and off to Manchester it was! I'd only just scraped an A in Business Studies - but what did that matter? =P
Preparation and settling in to uni life went off without a glitch. The shit started later when I had to juggle assignment and uni commitments, traveling/shopping for a wonderful new cello, a headache-inducing love life, ups and downs at home, and finally anaemia. But other than that Manchester's been simply fabulous as they say - new friends, flexible challenging studying, autonomy, beautiful weather, plenty of distractions for a girl in UK's greatest student city.
Comin' Up in 2006
1) 6 exams until end of January. Can't quite say I'll do brilliantly, but the best I can.
2) Chinese New Year - 5th one away from home, but it'll be pretty exciting this year I'm sure. Bring on the cookies and yee sang! Oh yeah not to forget the hong pau but then there's hardly anyone married in Manchester n'est pas? =P
3) Complete my TEFL. All that stands between me and a diploma at 19 years old is the grammar awareness module to supplement the intensive weekend training.
4) Spanish beginner's lessons. Decided since I can still communicate in French, might as well try out something different, widely-used and relatively easy...
4) Pulling my weight in 2nd sem.
5) Amsterdam in April? Rembrandt's 400th birthday, the perfect time for an amateur photographer to go capture the tulips and tourists. Turkey's out of the question with increasing numbers of bird flu cases. ...Prague?
6) Sean - baby cousin bro coming to Manchester for the remainder of my April break, ostensibly to check out UK and college/uni life. Want him pretty near if/when he comes for his diploma in performing arts. Heck, in fact I need to keep in touch with the rest of my cousins a bit more...
7) 2nd sem exams and end of 1st year - May/June
8) 3 months summer holiday in which I will (or rather, hope to): work for 2 months, get in lots of music practice, shop! maybe join Ben R in Borneo
9) 2nd year uni, will be staying in Wilmslow Park! wahey... private's more expensive but less shitty than uni accommodation. Double bed means I can have lots of ppl come visit and stay over, plus far more space to practice cello, better maintainance of facilities and better security.
10) Finally, play hard, but gotta work harder this year...
For those who don't know, we've just found out a few days ago from my grandmother's latest CT scan that it's spread to her brain. In the middle of a radiotherapy course now; hopefully it'll be effective. Have learnt to say goodbye this hols - radiotherapy'll affect her memory, cause her hair to fall out. Whatever happens, whether or not she'll be there when I go home in the summer, she'll never be the same. Finding out about this was nearly as big a shock as hearing about her cancer for the first time in July.
One of my favourite photos, the best "accidental" shot I've ever taken. (Moat around Bishop's Palace, Wells) Such fleeting beauty only serves as a reminder of life's impermanence. Lynn once said it's better than having my grandmother drop dead from a heartattack - s'ppose it's better to have a bit more time to resolve matters, give family and friends a chance to come to terms with it. But prolonged illness and pain ain't the best way to go either. Told JJ (Juan Jin, not John Jenkins!) I wanna go like his grandfather, peacefully with family all around me. I know, I know - morbid, can't help thinking about it so young, but don't we all wish for the same? She used to call me "ugly duckling", with the hope that I'd grow into a beautiful swan...
Friday, December 16, 2005
Meum cerebrum nocet
It's some unearthly hour on the last day of term, and I'm blogging again because my sleep was interrupted by a text message (cue creepy sense of deja vu). Almost unreal, this feeling that I'll be home withing 36 hours. Back in the sticky warmth I was born into, the familiar-forgotten smiles through airport glass, the security of my parents' arms around me, the hour-long drive home when my inner world slowly unwinds on the road to rest, the collapse of barriers when the door closes behind me and I am surrounded by the spaces and objects that define me.
There is a part of us that will always remain the child who once fell asleep in its mother's lap, the child who saw eternity in the thrilling moments of being swung from a pair of strong arms, the child who yearned to grow up so fast. I suppose it's this need of security and care-lessness that gives rise to religions and systems of belief that places accountability on powers beyond ourselves. But we all grow, and the once-small glass that was so easy to fill takes more and more effort to be fulfilled. In life, one can only hope to segue from dawn to dusk.
There is a part of us that will always remain the child who once fell asleep in its mother's lap, the child who saw eternity in the thrilling moments of being swung from a pair of strong arms, the child who yearned to grow up so fast. I suppose it's this need of security and care-lessness that gives rise to religions and systems of belief that places accountability on powers beyond ourselves. But we all grow, and the once-small glass that was so easy to fill takes more and more effort to be fulfilled. In life, one can only hope to segue from dawn to dusk.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)