The time is drawing near. The age of officialness.
Don't feel any different, though. Except that I feel a little grossed out suddenly when older guys talk about how hot girls younger than me are. To hear them ogle teen-aged girls seems to border on paedophilia now. Ick.
Quite excited for Friday, but I don't think I'm all prepared yet. I sure hope things turn out alright.
-----
I'm bothered by how I'll never get to use my beautiful purple room in Desapark City. It doesn't seem terribly likely that I'll be moving back to Malaysia anytime soon. And even if (a big if) I end up working and living here, that precious room would've rot by then. It depresses me that it's going to waste.
I am seriously considering moving there, or at least live there on weekends. I just have to adjust with not having my complete wardrobe of clothes. I can feel my OCD cropping up at the prospect of losing track of clothes; clothes left forgotten in the process of shifting.
2009 IS JUST AROUND THE CORNER.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Vietnam
I have returned!
Vietnam was fun. Not as a place but I enjoyed myself on holiday, although my sisters and I kinda breathed a collective sigh of relief today at the knowledge that we would be home soon. It was nice just being with the family, squashing the 3 of us on one queen sized bed (where I finally demanded that I not sleep in the middle again on the last night), sneaking Dad into the rooms (so we would meet the 2 pax per room without paying for another room), watching glorious TV on the big screen and waking up late.
What is it about watching TV in hotels, anyway? Everything about the experience seems so much better when you're sitting in your hotel room, making you wish you had double the time to go out and still laze around. By the way, we didn't even catch a glimpse of any of the hotel facilities, much less use them.
The MAJOR thing about Vietnam is the road rules. There are no road rules.
The motorcycles outnumber the cars the way cockroaches outnumber humans in this world. (That's kinda my own postulation.) The entire road is full of people riding on bikes, while cars are the poor minority. Bike-riding is totally the lifestyle there, with whole families (usually up to 4 people) on one vehicle, and everyone wears a helmet just because the law says so, so you see all kinds of cute non-safety regulation little hats.
It's so lawless that there are only so few traffic lights (which not everyone follows anyway) and there's absolutely no right of way at roundabouts and junctions. Just go with the flow and keep braking, swerve left and right to avoid people, and generally don't go above 40 km/h. People weave in and out and the poor cars are constantly braking jerkily.
As a pedestrian, do the exact opposite as you normally would. It's best to just walk blindly, regular slow pace, and wait for the least amount of bikes on the road. They're masters of avoidance and will predict your walking pace so they won't hit you. I guess you could still look left and right, for some wayward bikers. There was this Caucasian motorcyclist (probably a newbie) who just stopped (probably paralyzed in fear) when we crossed in front of him and caused a horn honking riot from all the Vietnamese behind him.
Other than that, we just did the regular touristy thing: went on the Mekong River boat ride, stopped and saw a bunch of traditional practices, and visited the Cu Chi (Koochee-koochee koo!) Tunnels where there was exceptional propaganda going on. Nothing much to say there, especially after Facebook's showing everyone else's identical photo albums of Vietnam.
Will write more when I think of more. Turrah!
Vietnam was fun. Not as a place but I enjoyed myself on holiday, although my sisters and I kinda breathed a collective sigh of relief today at the knowledge that we would be home soon. It was nice just being with the family, squashing the 3 of us on one queen sized bed (where I finally demanded that I not sleep in the middle again on the last night), sneaking Dad into the rooms (so we would meet the 2 pax per room without paying for another room), watching glorious TV on the big screen and waking up late.
What is it about watching TV in hotels, anyway? Everything about the experience seems so much better when you're sitting in your hotel room, making you wish you had double the time to go out and still laze around. By the way, we didn't even catch a glimpse of any of the hotel facilities, much less use them.
The MAJOR thing about Vietnam is the road rules. There are no road rules.
The motorcycles outnumber the cars the way cockroaches outnumber humans in this world. (That's kinda my own postulation.) The entire road is full of people riding on bikes, while cars are the poor minority. Bike-riding is totally the lifestyle there, with whole families (usually up to 4 people) on one vehicle, and everyone wears a helmet just because the law says so, so you see all kinds of cute non-safety regulation little hats.
It's so lawless that there are only so few traffic lights (which not everyone follows anyway) and there's absolutely no right of way at roundabouts and junctions. Just go with the flow and keep braking, swerve left and right to avoid people, and generally don't go above 40 km/h. People weave in and out and the poor cars are constantly braking jerkily.
As a pedestrian, do the exact opposite as you normally would. It's best to just walk blindly, regular slow pace, and wait for the least amount of bikes on the road. They're masters of avoidance and will predict your walking pace so they won't hit you. I guess you could still look left and right, for some wayward bikers. There was this Caucasian motorcyclist (probably a newbie) who just stopped (probably paralyzed in fear) when we crossed in front of him and caused a horn honking riot from all the Vietnamese behind him.
Other than that, we just did the regular touristy thing: went on the Mekong River boat ride, stopped and saw a bunch of traditional practices, and visited the Cu Chi (Koochee-koochee koo!) Tunnels where there was exceptional propaganda going on. Nothing much to say there, especially after Facebook's showing everyone else's identical photo albums of Vietnam.
Will write more when I think of more. Turrah!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
What A Night
Just after midnight on Thursday night/Friday morning, I was watching Sydney White when Adelia rushed down to me exclaiming, 'Touch, is my head hot? My nose just bled!'
In the wee hours of the morning last night, I was trying to sleep on my right when I felt a pop and a rush of fluid in my nose. Miraculously, I managed to prevent it staining my pillow with my hand. It's either because I'm not drinking enough water, or the aircon switches off at 3 a.m. every night making us suffer in heat and struggle to find the fan remote control (EVERY SINGLE NIGHT) or there's a nose bleeding bug going around. Obviously not.
And I just had the weirdest dream about my gang. Shang & Phyl, I remember you there because earlier Shang was trying to teach me a dance. We were leaving some camp by monorail but Stef's train carriage got separated from us. The train was cocoon or peanut shaped, by the way. We watched as she dangled precariously from the carriage in front of us, and kept gesturing to her to sit further inside. The whole ride was like a slow roller coaster and suddenly, when we reached one destination, Stef had vanished.
Just before that I had heard her say, 'Oh no, my hair isn't right.' And in her carriage we found a sheet of paper with a drawing of herself (and a drawing of me) that she'd haphazardly erased to correct. So it goes, you need to draw yourself to reemerge when the train stops but she didn't finish in time.
As the train headed on, I found myself trying to finish her drawing. The gang looked over my shoulder as I did my best to give her nice hair (looked like Akazukin Cha Cha) and nice lips. Plus write down a nice speech bubble (according to Phyllis: with good English so Stef would speak well when she appeared). Phyl even told me to erase all the Malay words Stef had wrote. Hmm. I remember writing, "Hello! I speak good English. I am good at art and animation', and drawing a speech bubble just in time for the train to stop.
Long story short, we screeched to a stop. I went, 'Where's Stef! Where's Stef!' and she was there, behind us, looking quite worn out. Phew.
It was a way longer dream branching into other weird stuff but it's getting boring.
In the wee hours of the morning last night, I was trying to sleep on my right when I felt a pop and a rush of fluid in my nose. Miraculously, I managed to prevent it staining my pillow with my hand. It's either because I'm not drinking enough water, or the aircon switches off at 3 a.m. every night making us suffer in heat and struggle to find the fan remote control (EVERY SINGLE NIGHT) or there's a nose bleeding bug going around. Obviously not.
And I just had the weirdest dream about my gang. Shang & Phyl, I remember you there because earlier Shang was trying to teach me a dance. We were leaving some camp by monorail but Stef's train carriage got separated from us. The train was cocoon or peanut shaped, by the way. We watched as she dangled precariously from the carriage in front of us, and kept gesturing to her to sit further inside. The whole ride was like a slow roller coaster and suddenly, when we reached one destination, Stef had vanished.
Just before that I had heard her say, 'Oh no, my hair isn't right.' And in her carriage we found a sheet of paper with a drawing of herself (and a drawing of me) that she'd haphazardly erased to correct. So it goes, you need to draw yourself to reemerge when the train stops but she didn't finish in time.
As the train headed on, I found myself trying to finish her drawing. The gang looked over my shoulder as I did my best to give her nice hair (looked like Akazukin Cha Cha) and nice lips. Plus write down a nice speech bubble (according to Phyllis: with good English so Stef would speak well when she appeared). Phyl even told me to erase all the Malay words Stef had wrote. Hmm. I remember writing, "Hello! I speak good English. I am good at art and animation', and drawing a speech bubble just in time for the train to stop.
Long story short, we screeched to a stop. I went, 'Where's Stef! Where's Stef!' and she was there, behind us, looking quite worn out. Phew.
It was a way longer dream branching into other weird stuff but it's getting boring.
Friday, December 19, 2008
I feel so much more complete as a person with perfect manicure and pedicure. The only downside is that I can't focus on any task that involves my hands. It's so distracting; I keep staring at the perfect dark blue/purple colour and the stark contrast with my skin.
Matthew who buffs his nails has the shiniest nails I've ever seen, and he too gets distracted by his hands in lectures. So it's not just me being a bimbo. =)
We're going to Vietnam tomorrow but Aggie & Dad may not get a flight ticket. Which would be pretty funny when the other 3 of us end up holidaying on our own. It's okay, I'm obviously going to take the camera with me.
The biggest battle now is picking up my notes and reading more than a page at one go, when the TV and stack of DVDs is calling for me. Plus I keep wanting to go out and just hang out.
Matthew who buffs his nails has the shiniest nails I've ever seen, and he too gets distracted by his hands in lectures. So it's not just me being a bimbo. =)
We're going to Vietnam tomorrow but Aggie & Dad may not get a flight ticket. Which would be pretty funny when the other 3 of us end up holidaying on our own. It's okay, I'm obviously going to take the camera with me.
The biggest battle now is picking up my notes and reading more than a page at one go, when the TV and stack of DVDs is calling for me. Plus I keep wanting to go out and just hang out.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
D' Gang
It's getting a bit expensive on my wallet to meet up with my friends so often. Especially when meek people like me don't complain although waiters bring the wrong (and more costly) orders. But if you think about how there's only about 3 weeks left to school, then it's quite normal to feel the urgency to do as many and as diverse things as possible while there's time.
I always take for granted how lucky I am to have a gang, a support group that I never have to figure how to behave around. A group of friends that have been with me longer than any other people (excluding family) have, that we've reached a mutual understanding on how to treat one another, and people I have the most fun with.
I've seen other people who go from one stage of life to another, changing groups of friends. I wonder how difficult it must be, to keep starting anew instead of picking up where you left off with the same people. And I realize just how secure my life is, to the point that my friends and I have become too lazy to socialize beyond our circle. As Stef put it, the gang is my priority and no matter what happens to other friends, I don't care because I know I have us.
How sappy. But I've no idea what I'd do without us.
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Barely half the gang (sorry, gang, but who asked you to go away?)
I always take for granted how lucky I am to have a gang, a support group that I never have to figure how to behave around. A group of friends that have been with me longer than any other people (excluding family) have, that we've reached a mutual understanding on how to treat one another, and people I have the most fun with.
I've seen other people who go from one stage of life to another, changing groups of friends. I wonder how difficult it must be, to keep starting anew instead of picking up where you left off with the same people. And I realize just how secure my life is, to the point that my friends and I have become too lazy to socialize beyond our circle. As Stef put it, the gang is my priority and no matter what happens to other friends, I don't care because I know I have us.
How sappy. But I've no idea what I'd do without us.
.jpg)
Barely half the gang (sorry, gang, but who asked you to go away?)Saturday, December 13, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
4-day camps are so much more draining than 3-day camps.
Here's my breakdown of events:
3-Day Camp
Day 1
You feel like crap and wonder why you joined camp in the first place.
Day 2
You feel crappier but elated that tonight is the last night and tomorrow you will be free!
Day 3
It was all worth it after all. And you're a little sad (OK, that was a lie). But definitely satisfied with what you've achieved.
4-Day Camp
Day 1
You feel like crap and wonder why you joined camp in the first place.
Day 2
You feel crappier and contemplate just bailing out of the whole thing. There's like 2 freaking more days to survive! How on earth will you do it?
Day 3
Oh wow, time really flew. You can't believe you'll be going home tomorrow!
Day 4
Finally. But what an accomplishment. And no, you're not sad.
Although I blanked out lots, intentionally put out of memory a lot of steps, and complained like the whiniest person on earth, I feel good about myself. I remembered the kinds of genre I love, reignited the passion to perform, and discovered I can be better than I thought. I've sort of recaptured that little fire to be the best I can be and the willingness to work hard to put up a good show. It's been awhile since I've felt like part of a dance troupe again.
Yayness.
But thank goodness it's over.
Here's my breakdown of events:
3-Day Camp
Day 1
You feel like crap and wonder why you joined camp in the first place.
Day 2
You feel crappier but elated that tonight is the last night and tomorrow you will be free!
Day 3
It was all worth it after all. And you're a little sad (OK, that was a lie). But definitely satisfied with what you've achieved.
4-Day Camp
Day 1
You feel like crap and wonder why you joined camp in the first place.
Day 2
You feel crappier and contemplate just bailing out of the whole thing. There's like 2 freaking more days to survive! How on earth will you do it?
Day 3
Oh wow, time really flew. You can't believe you'll be going home tomorrow!
Day 4
Finally. But what an accomplishment. And no, you're not sad.
Although I blanked out lots, intentionally put out of memory a lot of steps, and complained like the whiniest person on earth, I feel good about myself. I remembered the kinds of genre I love, reignited the passion to perform, and discovered I can be better than I thought. I've sort of recaptured that little fire to be the best I can be and the willingness to work hard to put up a good show. It's been awhile since I've felt like part of a dance troupe again.
Yayness.
But thank goodness it's over.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Mumble Jumble
Breaking Free on Flickr © Pink Sherbet PhotographyWhen I was younger, I prided myself on the ability to think. To think about things (to me) meant that you were smarter, that you were more aware of your surroundings, more mature than your counterparts. I thought that if you thought, one day great things would happen to you. That it would prepare you for life because you'd already thought about things beforehand, observed your world and were sure what you would and wouldn't do some day. That life would be smoother, trouble-free.
If only things were always as easy as in your mind.
Today, thinking has become synonymous with inactivity. Thinking and not doing eventually becomes a regret in retrospect.
Incidentally I've regressed to not thinking too much about other things. When you spend too much time mulling over an issue, you get trapped and can't remember which way is in or out. I never knew such a thing existed until a few years back, when my thinking habit finally turned around and bit me on my bum.
It's hard, sometimes a daily struggle, but there are worse things to endure in life.
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