8, 50 Lexham Gardens

Tomorrow's moving day. I walked past the outside of what's going to be home and it's beeeautiful! A wonderfully green garden (it's green at the moment) sits in the middle and the front of the apartment block looks out onto it. It feels like a very peaceful neightbourhood, and everything's so...pretty.

Back near Goodge St. the guys have gone to play football - about the only thing Junlinn does voluntarily is organise football +lol+ and I'm here, sitting by myself in a rapidly darkening room. My laptop screen is bigger than the t.v. and out of 80 channels there's nothing to watch, depressingly so. Even if there were anything worth paying attention to, the interest fades quickly after having to squint at the screen for five minutes. I think the purchase of a bigger one is somewhere in the works - I think someone cracked and finally agreed to fund the project. +grin+

So far on my schedule for the new term there's one item:

11.00am Introductory lecture to Year 2

At least they didn't start Monday at 9.00am.

Goodmorning

It’s cold and gloomy and I’m the only one up right now. Hsiang was supposed to wake up early too, but I guess him and Junlinn were having a rough Warcraft night. Meanwhile, spy sweeper is fighting what looks like a losing battle against browser hijack. I don’t know what’s going on but I wish that ‘my search bar’ would shrivel up and return to the recesses of internet hell from which it spawned. And take pop-up ads with it too.

Last night I met a friend of a friend of a friend, a wonderfully approachable person, and not once did the conversation turn to Warcraft, waistlines, or football. It was refreshing +lol+. I guess it’s mainly because she’s a girl, not to mention an Imperial Collegian and also from Miri. What a small world indeed – we have a lot of friends in common, and used to hang out at the same places back in Miri – okay fine, so it was quite ulu then and there weren’t all that many hang outs, but it’s funny how we should meet through a couple of UCLians. Pretty cool though.

Okay, I don’t know what else the demonic threads of internet chaos has managed to entangle in the privacy of my own ‘puter, but everything’s loading slower than dial-up, so I’m gonna go watch cartoons.

Wednesday? Huh? Whatday?

Another day draws to a close and everything administrative that I can possibly do so far has been done, thankfully. Just waiting for the keys on Friday to start settling into a place I can finally call my own. Weng's been my rock, and he's really made the past few days bearable.

Dinner was awful tonight. I'm not usually such a bad cook (I think). The pasta didn't come out so much 'al dente' as 'tres soggy', haha, the guys finished everything though. After about three days of living in a predominantly male household, I'm starting to miss being in the company of girls. +lol+

Other than that, absolutely exhausted and looking forward to spending tomorrow with absolutely nothing on the agenda. Probably some repacking in anticipation for Friday, but nothing too stressful. It's only 8.50pm ish but it feels about 1.00am, which would put me roughly on Middle Eastern time... getting there, slowly but surely, four more hour-shifts 'til I'm back on schedule.

Tishen's telling me how much nicer it is out at Weybridge. Haha, he likes his trees and squirrels I think - they're a lot less chaotic than about 15 million people crammed into 1,600 sq. miles. Sometimes it feels like those 15 million people are all on the same street to be honest. Some fresh air this weekend ought to do us a world of good when we go visit him. London smog makes your boogers turn black...er okay, pretend I didn't say that, and um, I don't know anything about boogers or smog. Really. Except that they turn black. Haha. Ew.

Flatmates

The neatfreak - is that dirt?!
The pig - I don't know, the vacuum disappeared last month.
The spender - look what I bought for us!
The BIG spender - okay guys, bring it right in here.
The TV/internet addict - I just need a room and a connection, so if we run the wire like this...
The chorevirgin - what's this? a broom, you say?
The whiner - but why's it my turn again?
The calculator - if we divide the grocery bill by the number of rice grains consumed, we get...
The inconsiderate - huh? so?
The prude - NO parties, NO dancing girls, and NO booze.
The partier - rock on, baby!
The lovebirds - ...

Who would you choose?

Life's like that

em·pa·thy n.
1. Identification with and understanding of another's situation, feelings, and motives.
2. The attribution of one's own feelings to an object.

I don't think people fully grasp the concept of empathy. Surely if we really were 'feeling for' someone, we'd actually make a move to alleviate their situation? Or is the degree of empathy only measured by the closeness to that person, and their motivation to help similarly proportionate?

How many times have you said "I understand" or "I know what you're going through" and actually meant it? If you really did understand and it was very serious situation, surely you'd do everything you can to help... but then again I suppose that extending any sort of help involves some personal calculation first - namely 'How much is it going to cost me?'. Sometimes this deeply inbred instinct of self-preservation stops people from realising that we're all in the same boat, and only a lunatic would drill a hole in it.

It's a dog-eat-dog world out there and my cynicism's running on high right now.

In London

Twentyfourish hours ago I was in KL. Now I'm freezing my butt off in London, with a bunch of monkeys who think they're all damn funny. +lol+ Hsiang and Junlinn's posh Ridgmount Gardens place has been turned into some kind of refuge camp: we've welcomed a Weybridge asylum seeker, and tomorrow we're rolling out the carpet for a zone 4 outcast. jkjk, it's just one big party, and I haven't lifted a finger in the kitchen so far, coz the guys are more than happy to cook. Weng and Hsiang tried bak kut teh tonight...it was...a good attempt. Hopefully it'll get better over the course of the year.

Anyhow, Weng and I are still on KL time so it's about twelve hrs past bedtime or something. I'm absolutely exhausted and I miss my family more than anyone can imagine. I wonder why I feel it so much this year. Having a good time so far though, it's also pretty good being back.

Leaving tonight

My suitcase is empty, scarily so. All my stuff's around it though, but nothing's actually in the suitcase. Theoretically it's just a case of putting it all in in a neat and orderly fashion...theoretically, it should only take be twenty minutes to pack 30kg of stuff...so I actually have plenty of time...theoretically.

Eastern and Oriental

The EnO


The foyer


Junlinn thinks hard for this one


Just chillin'


The EnO Waterfront


Flower gels

More (squinty) flower gels

Generation-X

Everyone has a computer nowadays. It's almost alien to not have one or know how to use one even at the most basic level. We recently bought a new computer; you know how it is, the specs get updated so quickly that it's just as hard keeping up with technology as it is keeping up with the latest fashion trends.

So anyway, my sister and dad had a rough idea of what they needed in the new CPU (none of us are super techy or anything), but we had to work through my mum because her friend's son was the one who would be buying it for us. This posed many many problems, but they eventually got it done. Okay, my point to this is that when we had to send it back because of some software installation problems, I was listening to my mum try and talk computers with the salesperson, and it was awful. I got so irritated at how it was a really basic problem, but she was totally saying the wrong thing and confusing the guy even more.

I mean here was my mum, who knows even less than I do about IT, trying to explain what was wrong. I felt bad for getting annoyed because she does try really hard to make sense of it all and isn't deterred by the completely foreign topic of operating systems or hard disk space. (I'm actually really proud of my mummy.)

It's like having to figure out a whole new language, and because the dot-com explosion brought tech-talk to the masses in what was, quite literally, an explosion, we've isolated the older generations. Change so late in life is never easy, but even more so when it's absolutely necessary and you can't take your own sweet time to figure it out.

It must be terrible to grow up being in control of the situation around you, and suddenly this new-fangled computer stuff kicks in and you've gotta start from scratch just to be able to talk to your children. I think we all need a little more patience in teaching our parents, aunties, and uncles, and refrain from freaking out when they don't know what RAM is.

Malaysian Idol: The Last Four

I'm glad it'll become 'Malaysian Idol: The Last Three' by Sunday night because they aren't getting rid of them fast enough and the weeks just seem to drag as we are forced to listen to crappy song after crappy song because of bad Friday night programming.

The last four are lounge singers at best, with the two guys riding on nothing but the pocket money of adoring tweenie fans, coz they sure ain't got talent. As for the two girls, who have the worst stage makeup in history, they've also got the worst dress-sense to go with it.

Song choice in general: Horrific. Delivery: Traumatic. Just end the torture already, and bring on Norwegian Idol or something...they should vote everyone out this weekend.

On the boat (Penang 04)

The boat... well no, not really, but isn't it beautiful?


And he said, "Let all the little creatures of the sea come unto me..."

Three posers


Haha. Aaron.


Sunblock SPF 150

Nice n cosy below deck

Lone Pine

Lone Pine


Two monkeys


And then there were five...


I think they're looking for something.

The Lone Pine Sunset

Treee Daiz

It's three days to take off. I'm overjoyed that we've finally landed a place where everyone's happy. (Many many thanks to the diligent efforts of Hanwen, Darren, and Darren's otherhalf.) There were 15 weeks of being back in KL but I'm down to the last three days and it's a crazy rush to pack everything, buy everything, and weigh it all so that plane can actually lift off. The shopping list just seems to get longer! Groceries, toiletries, medicines, houseware, clothes...and when the end is in sight among the many, many receipts, another item's added with an "Oh, I almost forgot!"

Today's supposed to be dedicated to more grocery shopping, and tomorrow to finding a good pair of blades and a sweater. I had a choice between blades or a scooter, and opted for blades, even though I'd much rather have a pair of rollerskates, but apparently they aren't cool enough to be worth carrying there.

Oh well, gotta run, the dog's constipated and has been glaring at me for the past twenty mins, so I better walk her before she starts going cross-eyed.

PD2 Review

So I finally got round to watching Princess Diaries 2, and now my curiosity has been completely sated. I don't want to watch another sequel to this outfit. It was charming, and there were far more guys in this one, but if it wasn't for the agent-in-training dude, it wouldn't have been tolerable. I forgot to bring my bladder to this movie, but that's okay, I don't think I missed much, and as usual the trailer had all the best bits anyway. It gets a 3/10 because it dragged the first one down with it.

Next up: The Invincibles (hopefully)

Tooth and nail

Where's the line between getting stepped on and being a selfish bitch? How do you know how far to take 'putting your foot down' before you go from standing up for your rights to crushing everyone else's?

I've got no clue. I'll admit though, I'm of the doormat sort until it gets too much to handle, then I go straight from being an amiable doormat to shrew mode. Then comes the apologies, then comes the feeling of giving in too easily, and the vicious cycle starts again.

I'm having unbelieveable problems with finding a place to live next year. Mostly because I think my housemates and I have too high expectations and we all want different things, different priorities. Compromise is tough, someone's always going to get upset, and if everyone refuses to concede, then we're all going to be upset. So do you bow out with dignity? Or continue to fight until you get what you want, or most of what you want?

I'm so stressed out and my flu's not getting better either.

It's the simple things

Dandelion seeds and bubbles make me happy.
Two-fifteen traffic outside my condo does not.

Signals

Remember when we were little, and if you liked someone you did your utmost best to torment them? The harder a guy hit you, stepped on your toes, or made fun of you, the more he liked you. If he actually pushed you, it was a sure thing.

It seems that such displays of 'reversed' affection haven't changed much, except to whom it's directed at. Guys'll get rowdier and louder towards everybody in their general vicinity except the intended target, kinda like animals...baboons if you will, who flaunt their bright red rearends - the brighter, the louder the red, the more attractive he thinks it is.

I saw this happen today to someone I know. I don't know if he realised he was doing it, or if she realised she was responding to it. It was wonderfully entertaining. +grin+ I hope things work out.

Liverpoop

I can't believe we lost. Fine, I take that back...we were playing shitty, but I was so counting on Man Utd to play even shittier. Oh well, at least they were gracious enough to even save us the work of having to score a goal. Garcia's my man of the match, I don't care that he was on the losing side, he ran nonstop for 90 mins and singlehandedly harried the Man Utd midfield. United players also play cheap and dirty and the ref was a biased butt. Pbbbth.

This is YOUR country

After many years of having to fight our way back into this place every time we leave the country, we decided to begin a new fight with the Malaysian Immigration Authorities and apply for Permanent Residence.

I've lived in Malaysia for 18 years - 11 in East Malaysia, 7 in West Malaysia. Apparently, living in East Malaysia counts for about, oh...zero years, and you need a minimum of six years of residence here before you can apply in your seventh year. Oh, and you need to either have a job here or be married to a Malaysian. So after many many years, we finally qualify.

I spent pretty much all of yesterday running around trying getting the application together, making sure that all of the required documents were there with their photocopies, and all the passport photographs. I really hate how the ease of the application depends on the every whim of a power-crazed official. Anyhow, this morning, my mum and I braved the rush hour traffic and headed into town to submit all of the paper work.

Official: Your children's application will be rejected.
Mum: But why?
Official: After you receive rejection letter, you write and appeal to the Ministry of Home Affairs.
Mum: But why will it get rejected?
Official: Not you, you isteri, tak reject. Only children will reject.
Mum: So after we appeal, then what happens?
Official: Then they will tell us to approve lah.
Mum: But why all the extra paperwork?
Official: They tell us to approve.
Mum: So when will the approval come?
Official: Sangat lama. Waiting list very long.
Mum: When will the rejection letter come?
Official: Guarantee within one month.

So basically Mum will get approved because she's Dad's wife, but us kids don't get approved because we're his children, and the official couldn't even tell us why. Either way, it'll be a long wait. I know that Aunty Eva's been waiting for six years.

And then, on the way home, the traffic report said, "There is a crawl in front of the Kelana Jaya LRT station due to an accident earlier today. It appears that the onlookers also created another accident in the opposite lane, and although both accidents have been cleared off the road, I don't know why, but there is still a crawl, and in both directions."

This is Malaysia, ladies and gentlemen.

When it's falling apart

Humans are demanding. We love the feeling of being socially included but we’re never completely happy with the situation. We want the excitement and the passion in relationships but like the thoughts in our heads, these don’t last very long. Once the rose-tinted glasses of infatuation crack, it’s time to come to grips with the real picture.

Sound familiar enough? I’ve lost track of the many times it’s happened to me; I’ve been there, read the script, bought the t-shirt, and outgrown it. But is this really what happens, even if there wasn’t a tangible spark in the first place? Then what’s there to even mellow out? It just gets…boring.

What seemed like a good idea at the time has seen its charm leak away like an old beanbag chair. Being the fickle-minded humans that we are, we grow tired of the same person and boredom creeps in like a disease. Soon we’re looking for reasons to fight, petty arguments that’ll hopefully blow up into something more serious and give us a way out. More often than not, it goes unnoticed, and suddenly “I don’t know why, but it’s just not working anymore”.

The arguments and cold-shoulders breed insecurity. Girls deal with it differently to guys. They tend to turn to other people, simply widening the chasm, and although they might not admit it, it’s the only way they know how to get their offending partner jealous. Toying with emotion usually backfires, but can you really blame them for trying? Guys can seem so thickheaded at times, not open enough, not obvious enough with their affection…

I suppose you have to think of whether it’s worth it. Look past the shrewish nagging bitches that you’ve both become and see if you really do love the person underneath. Working through viciousness like this takes a lot of willpower to swallow your pride and apologize or admit defeat. I won’t gloss it over and say it takes time, because there are some things that even time can’t fix. You just need to talk, minus the ego.

The Big One

Tonight is the biggest fixture yet, the mother of all match ups, the cherry on the fluffy whipped cream of a weekend of great football: Liverpool will travel north to kick some Man Utd backside. All is good in the world, and Liverpool will win. They will triumph over the evil that threatens to engulf us all! MWAHAhahaha! (ohshit, wrong post...)

Anyway, I'm confident that they'll win for the following reasons (I'm Singaporean, we must always do things in a nit and oderli fashion):

1. Playing against Man Utd is like lining up their entire team and asking them to take pot shots at their own goal.
2. The game plan is simple: pass to Wes Brown or Ferdinand then pressure them and they'll put it in for us.
3. Cristiano Ronaldo'll fall over his own feet - what comes around, goes around, and he's what, like one man against eleven?
4. Man Utd aren't good handling new players. They won't be able to mark them because they haven't watched 249 hours of footage of the said players to be able to figure them out (and we have THREE), and they're crap at marking anyway.
5. Liverpool have a superior team free of arthritis, osteoperosis, muscles strains, and oh right, stupidity.
6. I support Liverpool. Like noshit.
7. If I didn't say Liverpool would win, then I sure kena from Tish, and he's quite fierce about football.
8. The dog on Football Crazy's predictor chose Liverpool - I tell you, these animals know man. Let's put him on against Man Utd!

Okay, now Liverpool better win or else I lose face after making so much noise here...

In God We Trust

In today's message, a visiting pastor talked about being a missionary and working with tribal people around the world - ethnic minorities that live far from the prying eyes of modern civilisation. I've only ever had a rough idea of what being a missionary involves, so it was all new to me.

They trek for weeks into dense jungle or are air-dropped into a seemingly endless stretches of thick forest, then stay for up to five years at a time learning a whole new language from scratch and using it to share the Gospel. Most of us struggle in a foreign city or with a different language, but to dive right into the world of another culture so far removed from outside influences that it hasn't changed in over five hundred years, is truly inspiring.

They administer first aid to the physical needs of the people with only the most basic facilities, and give comfort to their emotional ones. This shows how powerful faith is - faith in the Lord and in the power of prayer.

Experiences like these are a far cry from the hopelessness of war-torn countries that have filled the news for most of the last decade; they describe the joy of people discovering religion for the first time, of people discovering themselves for the first time. Mankind can take hope in these selfless acts of kindness and be thankful that there are people out there with enough courage to answer His call and the call of humanity.

Discipline

I know that my brother's lazy and gets in trouble a lot, but I never thought that my mum would seriously make him write and sign a contract +lol+. This was signed on the condition that if he insisted on going to one particular party (even though he had a ton of homework due in the next day), he'd have to forgo the rest of the parties that fell in the first academic term. Then she tacked it to the fridge to remind him. He didn't go to the party, so it doesn't apply anymore, but it's still up there.

"Bryan will not go out for the rest of term 1."

Status: Single...no wait, attached

When you’re no longer on your own, when you belong to someone else, everything suddenly changes. It’s like you’ve joined a ‘couples only’ club. You start finding other couples to double date with because you might make your single friends feel uncomfortable with your mushy happiness; or all you want to do is spend time with each other. Then when you do hang out without your other half, you feel bad that they aren’t with you. Despite the many promises you make to yourself that you’ll spend just as much time with your other friends as before, things don’t always quite pan out.

Is being single so bad? Or is being attached even worse? And how big is the divide?

It seems that those who don’t have someone special in their lives and want one often look through the fence and only see happy couples, people holding hands, people in love, someone who’ll go home with you at night. Those who are attached and find themselves going through the trials that any couple face will suddenly start thinking about how carefree and fun being single is – no ties, no curfews, no obligations, no hurting someone else. When the going gets tough, the grass is always so much greener on the other side.

(For the record, though I don't think being attached or not makes a difference, it's whether you're happy where you are.)

Hear me...ha.ha..roar

Why is it that whenever you're in a rush, all the traffic lights are red?
When you have five minutes to get there, it takes twenty.

There'll be people who cut you out, who road hog at 50km/h, park until the flow of traffic is constricted to a single-file crawl, jaywalk at a leisurely pace, or force you against the kerb, leaving scratch marks along your undercarriage...

Malaysians need a healthy dose of the Courtesy Lion! +grr+ and I need something to hit.

Princess Diaries 2

I can't wait for this movie to come out. I loved the first one. I'm a romantic comedy freak, I like my movies brainless, predictable, and about this deep. Knowing how much I wanted to watch this movie, Weng surprised me one morning:

W: I heard the cue-to-call for Princess Diaries 2 tickets, so I thought I'd try...
A: Oh really?! That's so sweet! How did it go?
W: A thirteen-year-old beat me to it.
A: Haha, okay, was she really excited?
W: It was a boy.

Kudos to the pre-teen male who had the balls to go live on national radio and win those tickets.

Damn I want them.

Time and time again

I usually find myself having to make excuses for my bad habits, like most of today. I'd say I expend more breath explaining to my mum why you can't see the surface of the table, why the soup got burnt, or why I have more freckles, than actually breathing.

They're habits, so they're hard to break - impossible I'd say. I'll only admit to three main ones though. There are a whole bunch of smaller ones which don't really count individually but seem to gang up on me all the time.

1. I'm absent-minded. This is purely genetic; it comes with the rest of the package: dyslexia, A.D.D., and forgetfulness. Concentrating all the time is really tiring. The words "You are exactly like your father!" ring in my ears quite frequently, so enough said really.
2. I pick my zits. I'll come out and admit this one, and I'd have to say that this habit gets quite violent reactions from several parties: my mum, my sister, my facial lady, my boyfriend. I'm trying really hard, but sometimes the stress and the hormones take over. Ah, there I go, using the age-old feminine excuse. It's true though.
3. I'm an organised mess. This strikes out at home a lot. My mum's constantly asking how a girl can live like a boy. No, I don't smell bad, I just like leaving everything where I can find it. There have been so many times that I've made an effort to tidy up, and everything turns out beautifully immaculate, but then I forget where I keep everything. I'm that good. Gimme my everyday mess though, and I can find that extra battery or that missing nail clipper.

Someone out there must know what I'm talking about. Habits are here to stay, I've worked them quite efficiently into my life, so why fight them? Okay, except for the obviously obviously bad ones, but really...

Road rage

I hate drivers who...

1. Give RM50 for a RM1.50 toll charge then ask for the change AND the receipt.
2. Think that the painted lines on the tarmac are purely decorative.
3. Triple park until a three-lane road becomes a half-lane squeeze.
4. Drive like they own the whole damn road.
5. Think that driving at the speed limit (80km/h) gives them the right to hog the middle lane and/or the outside lane.
6. Horn at you if you so much as take 0.06s to get off the line after the light changes.
7. Dart in and out of lanes like they're Knightrider or something.
8. Race you down the speedway.
9. Parallel park so close that you need about twenty direction changes to get a turning angle.
10. Can't parallel park.
11. Can't forward park either.
12. Cut you off a turn, in front of you in a toll queue, or onto the road shoulder.
13. Put blue chassis lights on a proton.

Liiii-ver-pool! Liiiii-ver-pool!

We won! I don't know why I support a football team to which I have absolutely no ties except for a shaky loyalty, but WE WON! And so what if it's the first match of the Champion's League season...

Liverpool totally owned Monaco – that is to say we played blindingly well for one half and let Monaco run the other while hanging on by the skin of our teeth. We had to wait for Baros to secure the game, who in turn waited for the entire Monaco defense to arrive before attempting a shot. If he hadn’t converted, I’m sure his two teammates who were in the clear would’ve shat on him.

We were extremely lucky that Monaco weren’t showing any of the form that got them into last season’s final. Their defense spent most of the time milling around in front of the box like confused sheep, and their midfield had more success with possession by running into Liverpool players and claiming free kicks.

The Spanish players looked good, although they did a bit of a Michael-Turncoat-I’m-Regretting-Like-Hell-Now-Owen and failed to capitalize on all the opportunities that came their way. The refereeing was a bit constipated with a few unfair yellow cards and offside calls, but at least we won.

Meanwhile Real got trounced by Levekusen (HAHAHAhaha) and Ferguson terrorized Man Utd into a comeback early in the second half after going 2-0 down to a hard working Lyon team. Too bad for Lyon, but it’s a promising start to the new season.

Penang 04

I've just got back from Penang (thanks again Tish!). There was so much to eat that I didn't feel a single hunger pang for 72 hours and the lining of oil in my digestive tract hasn't dissolved yet either. We were literally ingesting cups and cups of lard, but it was tasty lard, and I can feel it making its way to my thighs.

It was food every two or three hours, and we're not talking little plates of biscuits or a sandwich, it was an all out glut fest. It would be breakfast at the hotel, then a second breakfast downtown, then lunch, then tea, then dinner. The idea of supper was thrown around, but quickly slam-dunked into oblivion as we struggled with indigestion. Aaron seemed to have a separate stomach specifically for ice-kacang. The act of eating was exhausting.

Music tastes were disputed all the way up to Penang, with Tish rooting for swing, Aaron forcing eclectic mixes into the CD player, and Junlinn promoting Jay Chou. Jay Chou lasted all of two minutes before they threatened to throw the CD off the Penang Bridge.

The second day was spent being grilled to a crisp onboard a yacht as we surveyed a reclamation site. It was an interesting excursion. The guys tried tanning and I counted jellyfish. About two hours later, on the verge of lobster-hood, we decided to hang out in the cabin and watch a movie. We only got about fifteen minutes into Collateral Damage before we had to disembark.

We hit the pasar malam on Batu Ferringhi on both nights. While the first night was spent buying lots of DVDs (we only managed to watch one in the end), the second night hosted a massive shopping spree. Aaron and Evan's most noted buys were matching 'Drunken Monkey" t-shirts and decorative samurai swords. Tish, as per usual, only bought things for friends; but why is it that haggling with store keepers, who are probably all part of a cartel anyway, makes you feel like you've been ripped-off? Is it something about their beady eyes and shark-like grins that shouldn't really be there if you were successfully ripping them off? It made me feel like a tourist in my own country.

Anyhow, I actually managed to control my urge to buy everything, mostly because I felt too tired to do much, was too busy concentrating on not being knocked over by the speeding cars and motorbikes as we squeezed along the narrow pathway in front of the stalls.

I had a wonderful time, even though I spent all of five minutes on the beach and only about an hour freezing my ass off in the pool. I wish the other half of our group had come too though, that would've made it perfect.

Tony +Argh+wards

He danced, he sung, he even played the piano.

He did the can-can.

Then he tried the Lambada.

Hugh Jackman and SJP courtesy of tonyawards.com

One year

Our first anniversary dinner was at The Third Floor. I'd have to be perfectly honest and say that it was the first time I've ever been taken out somewhere nice for dinner by a boyfriend, and it absolutely rocked. It felt like prom all over again but not quite.

The threeish course meal was pretty posh. We spent a lot of time discussing dinner etiquette and improvising when we weren't sure how to eat things - there were a couple of spills and plenty of laughing. The only thing I was totally sure about how to eat was dessert. Warm chocolate cake with a melted chocolate sauce centre and vanilla ice cream... I died and went to heaven - twice - Weng didn't want his.

We've been seven years in the making. I've known him since year 7 and it was quite sudden when the on-again-off-again crush saw a window of opportunity and seized it at 4.00am a year ago today, so our first anniversary sort of came with a similar shock.

It doesn't feel like a year, too fast and too slow all at the same time. It's hard to explain. We haven't been very good at remembering dates; Tish usually helps us count the months because he's much better at it. +lol+ I'm glad our friends and family have been so supportive, and I'm so thankful for everything I have. It's been an amazing journey so far, I look forward to the year ahead.

In the fast lane

My days are completely filled with potential appointments – usually involving driving people or things around. It always starts with an “I need you to take me to this place at this time”, and with my family “this time” means “in ten minutes” if you’re lucky, otherwise it’s usually now. At which point I have to drop everything I’m doing and fetch or send someone to someplace.

My limo service doesn’t just apply to my mum, brother, sister, and dog, but my mum’s friends’ children or my sister’s friends as well, back and forth from their social appointments and tuition classes; and not just people, but anything from borrowed Tupperware to mattresses.

On good days, only about two or three demands will coincide with each other, other days I’m expected to be in five or six places at the same time. My family thinks that it takes between five and two minutes to go anywhere. I’ve tried to point out so many times that it already takes ten minutes to get them all out of the door.

I don’t need a car, I need a teleportation unit.

Scheduling

At 0730, my day was like this:
1300 Send Mum to mahjong
1330 Meet cobbler
1600 Send Bryan to tuition
1750 Pick up Bryan, pick up Mum, go home

But it turned out like this:
0810 “Ash! Get the CAR! I’m late for badminton!” (Mum)
0930 Power cut
1000 Dog needed hair cut
1040 Power came back on
1042 “Ash, the Astro doesn’t work! Fix it!” (Mum)
1045 “Ash, the Astro STILL doesn’t work! Fiiiix it! I want to watch my show!” (Mum)
1300 Send Mum to bank, then to mahjong. Buy newspaper, cut Perdy’s hair.
1330 Meet cobbler
1415 “Ash, can you give me a lift to school for my 2.30pm class?” (Cheryl)
1417 “I’m here to pick up the mattresses, I’ll be waiting downstairs.” (Aunty Rubez)
1420 “Cheryl! Where are you?! Why at GIS?! Get your ass back here and help me with the mattresses!” (Me)
1445 Dropped Cheryl at school
1447 “Um, is Bryan in? I’m his saxophone teacher.” (Bryan’s sax teacher)
1500 “Bryan! Where the hell are you?!” (Me)
1520 Bryan gets home
1555 Bryan finishes sax and hits the shower
1610 Dropped Bryan off at tuition
1620 Chocolate sundae +sigh+
1630 Dog steals chocolate sundae – she tricks me into looking out the window.
1635 “Cheryl! Where are you? I’m frickin double parked outside McD’s!” (Me)
1645 Walk dog
1655 “Ash! Pick Bryan up, send him for facial, and then pick me up! No dinner plans, we’re eating together!” (Mum)
1700 Get home – dog has had half a hair cut. She’s wandering around the house with a fluffy head and one skinny leg, there’s dog hair everywhere; mum's going to kill me.
1723 Blogging – supposed to have left (see 1655)

Sunway pics

Young keeps an eye on Hsiang

The next supporting cast of Disney on Ice.

Aaron and Evan play squashy faces.


Backward bowling.


Archery: Aaron sought to stamp his dominance over Evan and JL.


Me and Weng.

Sunway

It's been absolutely ages since I spent a day out with my friends with a specific plan that involved doing nothing but goofing off at Sunway. It started with ice skating. There were one or two reluctant voices, but they were quickly drowned out as everyone was herded towards the ticketing counter. Skates were more or less quickly fitted and laced up, and we were soon stumbling awkwardly towards the rink.

There was plenty of apprehension, no one really wanted to get on the ice first, but it soon gave way to plenty of shaky knees and a rush for something to cling onto. I'm so proud of Aaron and Hsiang, who aren't the most gifted on ice, because managed to inch their way bambi-like around the rink without holding on by the end of the first hour. +lol+ Evan spent most of the two hours attempting to dance and sing on the ice at the same time; Aaron tried to talk everyone into train races when he had figured out how to stay more or less upright; Weng was trying to figure out how to stop; Tish was happily cruising on his own; and Hsiang held onto Young for dear life.

There were a couple of incidents - Aaron tried to superman across the ice, and Evan collided with the barriers butt first before hitting the ice in spectacular fashion. I could barely hold myself up against the wall from laughing so hard.

The two hours flew by, but it was sheer relief when we took off our skates. Hsiang said it felt like he had tortured himself for no reason. It was pretty accurate because ankles were sore, feet were cramped, and it took a while to remember not to try and glide across the rubber mat.

Lunch was KFC - there were more protests there, but only from the guys because they were extremely conscious about the fat content in fried chicken.

Bowling was hilarious. The competition was fierce and frame for frame - plenty of strikes, spares, and gutter balls. There was even some backward bowling, which actually resulted in higher scores than the previous tries for some. I wasn't sure what 'Eediot Cheah' was trying a few frames later but he ended up flat on his stomach across the waxed lane. It seems he did a lot of falling down today. 'Cousin Lee' even managed to clip his ankle with the bowling ball (not clever) - it was that intense. 'AL' was trying to hook all the way through both games when he wasn't bowling backwards, so he averaged about 60, and it was generally agreed that 'Mr Lee' was fluking all the way and that his street shoes looked a lot liked bowling shoes which are um, gay.

An archery competition later between Aaron, Evan, and JL (they feel the need to compete all the time) and it was finally going home time. I’m really getting old, I'm absolutely exhausted.

Keep rollin'

Ever since being home, I've been thrown back into driving my sister, brother, mother, and dog around. My mum relinquished the duty with a huge smile on her face. I'm not complaining yet, but I had forgotten how stressful it is chasing everybody to move to my schedule because I'm supposed to be in like three places all at the same time. The only one who's ready to go whenever I scream is my dog, everyone else is still lazing around ten minutes after we were supposed to have left. Anyhow, today started very very early.

My sister was still in bed at 7.15am and class started at 8.00am. I woke up at 7.10am in a panic and had to chase her out of bed. Weng arrived shortly after dropping Joel off at school. It started out with what was intended to be a free and easy breakfast, but an impromptu shopping trip and a bowl of prawn mee later, we were rushing to make the 11.15am screening of Collateral. Then it was a dash back for lunch, and Cheryl was clamouring to be picked up at 3.30pm. Bryan and Cheryl both had to be in different places for tuitions at 4.00pm, and the dude wasn't even back from school yet. I was freaking out because if they aren't there on time, mum come's down on me like a ton of bricks - time is a lot of money when it comes to tuition.

Today I was lucky though, because everything got canceled in the end - Cheryl's teacher is ill, and Bryan didn't get home til his Malay class was virtually over, which has left me watching cartoons all afternoon. Cheryl's now yapping in my ear, trying to get me to be on her team for GB coz no one else wants to play with her. +lol+

Gunbound

Gunbound plays host to one of the most varied range of personalities ever. It’s a place where you can bury your every day, socially-accepted lives and run around in Herculean armour, screaming obscenities, and shooting everyone on sight.

You get the hard-core addicts who have permanently buried their ordinary personas and adopted their alter egos – whole armies of ‘Krull Grub Slayers’ on a full time basis. They’re easily recognized by their rank, which were probably recently invented by the game creators because no one else has 12,000,000GP, or they’re the noobs (newbies) in disguise who could drop a Boomer hook shot on a pin head under any conditions. Either way, they can swear in 46 different languages and will not hesitate to do so if you’re taking unnecessarily long to finish your turn.

Then there are the room-master addicts who love nothing more than controlling a room and selecting their team. They run their own little dictatorships by ordering other players to switch sides or change mobiles or to leave the room. If cooperation is not forthcoming, the offending player will be kicked out. It usually takes a good half hour to start the game, in oppose to the fifteen minutes to actually finish one.

As in any society, there are the nutcases. These can range from suicidal newbies who play in server 12 (free zone) or the dumb asses who run around killing their teammates, causing much confusion and irritation. In both cases, it’s not uncommon for teammates to turn and gang up on the ‘fukin noob’ and blast his heiny to hell.

Server chat can be quite psychologically damaging, especially when you’re new to Gunbound. Aside from trying not to shoot yourself in the foot, you have to deal with all kinds of harassment and insults. If you’re a girl, you tend to get a lot of ‘you’re cute’ and ‘I love you’, despite all rationale pointing out that you play with avatars - a girl avatar could well be a three-chinned couch potato suffering a midlife crisis. Play the attention properly though and you could be on the receiving end of several expensive cyber gifts, especially pretty clothes for your avatar.

At the moment, Gunbound’s growing fan base constitutes largely of (psychologically suppressed?) Singaporeans, but Malaysian and South American players are also starting to make their presence felt. What’s not to like? You kill people and earn money; it’s colourful and entertaining, and it’s a free and easy way to give your subjugated soul some measure of relief.

Five weeks of my life

This is where I was working. It would've been way more fun if I actually worked in this department:

but it was actually more like here:

And I really really don't miss it one bit.

Thoughts in briefs

On the Disney channel...

I was watching an episode where Kim Possible was hit by a truth-gun which makes her go around blabbing truths. Word vomit. Like how toddlers who haven't been soaked long enough in the waters of tact will quite happily say "My mum said that..." to an unsuspecting adult, much to the mortification of the child's parents. Aren't kids great? Especially when they're old enough to talk but not old enough to know what not to say.

In the news...

The Malaysian Transport Ministry has approved an RM40mil, 127,000 acre port facility to be built on Pulau Tioman, invoking the ire of the Malaysian Natural Resources and Environmental Ministry along with, what I imagine, the wrath of avid divers and environmental agencies worldwide. Apparently the best place to put an expensive facility such as this is on an island far far away from any major commercial centres and right smack in the middle of a marine reserve. It's supposed to be a reserve for crying out loud!

Then again, it's one less thing to do for Vision 2020 and their pursuit of becoming a developed nation: destroy all natural things remotely beautiful - if it ain't artificial, it ain't moh-denn, brudda.

Outside my window...

The haze has descended on KL like a vengeful whore. It is making my dog sneeze.

Oh, and there is a storm coming.

From last last weekend

They're having trouble deciding where the camera is.


Only Aaron figures it out, so he graciously smiles for us.


These guys would make any dentist proud.


Adrian found himself falling for Evan's charms

Tash studies the menu intently trying to ignore the camera.

We're wonderfully colour coordinated.

*Most of the above shots contain Evan because he was the only one alive enough to be able to work the camera after the night before...I oso dunno what they didlah, most of them walked in looking quite shacked *ahem*. Even Adrian had to bail early and go home to rest.

So much food!

If I see another slice of salmon sashimi, whether on a bed of artfully arranged lettuce or not, I'm going to hurl.

It was a no-holds-barred contest as Weng, Cheryl, and I attacked the Japanese buffet at the Hilton. The lunch time crowd was truly vicious and it was all grabbing of serving tongs, diving for the last plate of sushi or tempura, and much elbowing and edging in the queue for the teppanyaki service. Okay, so it wasn't that dramatic, but the survival instinct was definitely there as people took the 'first come, first served' adage very seriously, and several dirty looks were exchanged up and down the buffet line.

The clamour for salmon sashimi eventually got the better of the chef, and he was slicing and serving up portions as fast as they were being grabbed off the counter. Soon he gave up on arranging the slices of raw fish attractively on romaine lettuce - no one cared for artistry, their greed was all-encompassing. There was one particularly initiative tai-tai who waltzed away with a dinner plate loaded with salmon slices; she had obviously put her feminine wiles to good use there.

Chocolate ice-cream ran out and then the ice for the cendol maker, and the posh little pastry cups of chocolate mousse and custard were disappearing quickly too - the kitchen helpers couldn't refresh food stocks fast enough. I doubt anyone touched the friend noodles or soba, because everyone had their game plan, and just like their ultra-kiasu counterparts across the causeway, it was apparently to eat as much of the expensive stuff as possible (to get real value for moneylah).

It was quite a slack afternoon though, with plenty of sitting still, trying to ease the digestion a little. I think I sat around too much though, because I suffered a severe back cramp later on in the evening which was the source of much hilarity. It really hurt to laugh (Joel and Jonathan!) but they wouldn't stop and neither could I.

Oh well, tomorrow it's back to school for the ickle kiddies, and back to driving them around. Here comes Monday.

Family trees

I spent Friday night at my grandma’s with my aunt and her small family. My two year old cousin was being, well, a toddler, and it was a relief when he was finally asleep. While the US Open was on, my aunt and I talked. She told me stories of my uncles, their lives as they growing up – funny anecdotes that made them seem less intimidating than they are now. Other stories stretched a little further back, slowly filling in the gaps of my antecendents.

As I flicked through old photographs, she told me about my maternal grandmother’s parents: how my great-grandfather was a magistrate in China, a very strict man, such that when he died, my grandmother was overjoyed and skipped rope in the courtyard only to be beaten in admonition; and that my great-great-grandmother had bound feet and was addicted to opium. It must have been so hard for my grandmother to leave her family and fly to Singapore to join my grandfather in an arranged marriage.

My aunt told me how they had flown over my grandmother’s brother for a reunion after forty years, but he was not of worthy character – completely obsessed with money. He didn’t want to go back to China either, and my grandfather and my uncles had to physically drag him to the airport. My grandmother was very disappointed and severed all ties after that visit. It turns out that my maternal family have enough stories to write a book, but while some are fondly recalled, many others are gladly forgotten.

All these seemingly trivial details opened small but significant windows to the past, helping me put faces to the people who made my life possible. Maybe it’s because I’ve been so heavily influenced by Western culture that I place so much importance on being able to trace back family trees, or maybe I’m just fascinated by the personal stories of people who saw the world around them change so much in the last century – people who I can call family, but every little thing I learn about my heritage only increases my desire to know more.

Sojourn 04 The morning after

Visual Stimuli

This is my dog.



This is my two-year-old cousin



This is the Esplanade

Enough for one day

I thought life was getting incredibly routine, but I spoke too soon.

I’ve had the most traumatic day today. My suitcase was so heavy I could barely lift it and I was dreading dragging it through customs. The bus was more than half an hour late, but we got upgraded to the double-decker. It was luxuriously comfortable, the seats ergonomically designed to every slouched curve of your body, but the comfort stopped very soon after departure.

Singapore customs came off without a hitch, but at the Malaysian side, I suffered a panic attack. The immigration official at the counter I chose was completely anal. He wanted to know why I had been to and fro from Malaysia to Singapore five or six times over the last three and a half months, I tried explaining, but he didn’t buy it and kept asking, ‘Why you must holiday so much in Malaysia?!’. I must look more like an illegal immigrant than I thought – like I would much rather stay in Malaysia and find low-paid work just to run on the wrong side of the law. Anyhow, I was redirected to his senior officer. I’d have to admit, he was much nicer and far more understanding about my situation, but unfortunately, like so many people in this country, was wonderfully laid back and definitely took his own sweet time to process my passport. As I was waiting there, nervously counting away the minutes, I prayed hard that the bus wouldn’t leave without me – as late as we were running already.

Grabbed my passport with a profusion of thanks and rushed through the x-ray machine. I had one foot out the door before the customs officer grabbed my backpack, pulling me towards the counter. Imagine my utter and complete dismay. Not only do I look like an illegal immigrant, I’m obviously in a capacity to traffic drugs as well. She searched everything – my massively heavy suitcase and my deadweight of a backpack. I wasn’t praying for the bus anymore, I was begging.

As soon as she had memorized the contents of my belongings, I careened out of the doors and along the bus terminal, searching in vain, amongst the seven or eight coaches for mine. The further I ran, the lower my heart dropped. By the end of the line, I was in tears. My dad couldn’t understand me when I called on the verge of hysterics and it took me two or three tries to explain. I don’t usually overreact so badly but I had spent the last week desperately homesick and I could see the chances of me getting home as soon as I could fading fast. I was stranded at the Second Link, in the middle of no where amid a bunch of leering bus drivers and staring Chinese tour groups.

I didn’t call my dad just for help, but more for assurance that I would get home. I knew I’d have to take whatever bus I could to get there, but my dad arranged someone to drive out from Singapore to take me to Senai airport where I was booked on the 4 o’clock flight to KL. He did all that in the space of fifteen minutes, in the car, on the way back from the golf course. My dad’s a hero.

Thankfully, I didn’t have resort to that, and at 3 o’clock, hailed the next Nice bus that was on the way through customs. My stomach was doing flips as the driver carefully scrutinized the remnants of my incredibly crumpled ticket. When he had ascertained that everything was in order, I shoved my suitcase into the luggage hold and sank into the spare seat, sheer relief washing my tears away.

Onomatopoeia

T: I hear they put you next to a photocopier.
A: PRINTER. More radiation.
T: Haha
A: viiiiieeeewwww....psheewww...clicklicksheeeew...all day, A LOT of print outs.
T: Lots of people running back and forth?
A: Yea, lots of people running back and forth. Oh wait there it goes again.
T: Haha
A: sorry, it goes eeeeeeeEEEEEE...viewview...psheeeew, clickclick...EEEeeee...*winding down*
T: Good printer noises.
A: I know.

Okay, it's T minus ninety minutes to freedom. I'm spending the afternoon talking to my friend who says his lips feel like Angelina Jolie's (he's just had a tooth pulled out, I bet he's drooling like an idiot, but he won't admit it)...Right tish?

I'm not sad for setting a record number of posts in one afternoon, I'm just bored. You would understand if you spent five weeks breathing recycled air all day. I think it's getting into my system. Tish isn't helping much, the anesthetic has gone to his brain coz we're struggling to think of intelligent things to talk about. He's listening to Hakuna Matata, I'm listening to...The printer. Again. I'm also trying to eat my lukewarm yogurt. I almost forgot a spoon this morning, but luckily I grabbed it last minute, as entertaining as eating yogurt without a spoon can be...I think I blog so much because my sister's incessant chatter at home for the past 16 years has suppressed my own need to communicate. There it goes. That damn printer. Again.

50-50

Do dating agencies really work? How do you trust them to hook you up with a 'decent guy'? I've never been on a blind date, and I actually don't know many people who have. It's the stuff that only happens in movies, books, or America apparently.

Nowadays almost every website I go to, there's at least one advert telling you that they can find your true love. Others go on to promise that your true love won't be a married man in a midlife crisis. Do these things really work?

Personally I wouldn't be able to go on a date with a friend of a friend if I didn't meet that friend with the other friend in attendance. It would just feel too creepy, but then again I'm damn chicken. I know that The Star newspaper of Malaysia runs plenty of get togethers for single people, forcing them to take a day out to mingle with the opposite sex, and apparently the response is always overwhelming, but how many success stories are there, or do you go just to vie for the attention of a hundred other equally desperate men?

I don't know. I'm quite confused. The gender ratios are supposed to be equal, and they more or less are, although a one percent difference could mean an excess of 100,000 people or so, but what about the other 99%?

I know plenty of guys who haven't had a girlfriend or a long term one, but all of them actually want a girlfriend - someone to look after and share their life with. So where do all the stories about men being commitment phobes come from? Or is it the women who are scared of relationships? Or are people just aiming too high? I have no idea, but the numbers don't add up!

Three hours and counting

There are exactly three hours before my five weeks here will be pretty much over. It's flown by quite fast actually, but I'm looking so forward to going home.

Had lunch with the head of my department and a couple of other colleagues at the nearby marina. It was a nice change from sandwiches. I've been eating ham and bread (no mustard, butter, or mayo) everyday for the past five weeks.

All ready to go though, I've had enough of being in Singapore. Going home to tidy up and make sure that I haven't forgotten everything. Mum called yesterday to drill it in, because they aren't going to come back here just to rescue whatever stuff I've left behind. Tonight'll be at Grandma's and then the next day I'll be on the bus at 1.00pm, bound for KL. Yay!

When will it stop?

Human beings are probably the most destructive force the planet has ever seen. Not only do we go around killing everything else, but we also kill each other.

It starts with a taunt, then maybe a few blows are exchanged, and suddenly everyone's falling under gunfire. Internationally, it'll be a politically incorrect statement or a country moving to strengthen its military force and other countries are "forced to retaliate". The rest of the world, for all its social and economic divisions, finds themselves in an "us against them" situation.

All it takes is one person to ignite the catalyst of human pride, to give people a cause to fight for and twist it to fit into their own malicious powergames. Soon people forget what they're fighting for - if it wasn't for that one person airing their sentiments every half hour, drilling their masterplan into the putty-like brains of their followers, and even though the fighting wouldn't stop, in the lulls, they'd find themselves staring at the ground, shuffling their feet, with a sheepish look on their face.

The "War on Terror" is a tragedy in the making. It started out because someone didn't like the US, and proceeded to kill thousands of civilians to make that point - that's what I think, the real reason has probably been long lost in the annals of media coverage and political spitfire. Then suddenly religion came into play - the very essence of what makes us human, humanity's only good contribution to our ailing planet. Suddenly it's wrong to practice what you believe in, religion has become the scapegoat, just like so many times before, and the delicate ties of goodwill and tolerance are completely severed.

Naturally it becomes another cause to fight for, though I know of no religion that promotes fighting, that they should "convert everyone under threat to life, and shoot everyone else that doesn't". Then again, no sane dictatorial leader will face the might of the US army head on, so innocent people get pulled into the bloodshed. They become the bargaining chips, the pawns in a ruthless game - the US army cannot protect every single civilian, they even have trouble protecting themselves.

It's not a wonder that extra-terrestrials haven't made contact. We're too busy destroying ourselves to be of any use to them. Lives seem to get cheaper and cheaper with each passing day. There's no such thing as good and bad in a war, no such thing as honour or martyrdom, each person is just as guilty of the atrocities committed as the next, and the violence only serves to bring an unending shame to humanity.

The Looney Saga

There once was a not-so-goodlooking boy, but he play football not badlah. Then Man Utd signed him for a fee large enough to pull three African nations out of poverty. Unfortunately, Man Utd's talent at judging player potential is more like an anti-talent, so like all the flops before him, he'll produce enough hot air to float a ship backed by enough shitty performances to fertilise the whole Trafford pitch (hurhur); at which point Ferguson (if he hasn't got sacked yet) will proceed to throw a shoe at him (throw accurate accurate can or not?) and then Looney will move to Real - who are nothing but a bunch of lucky buggers because they oso cannot beat the small small teams wan.

There he'll spend season after season warming the changing room bench, cleaning Raul's boots, and hoping he'll get to see even one blade of grass (sob sob). Eventually his ass will be numb from all the sitting, and he'll move to Man City citing "irreconciliable differences" (yea rite) to begin fading into obscurity (like David who?).

The End.

Guns don't kill people, people kill people

Three news sources gave three different figures today, but all the same story. A school was taken hostage by terrorists in Russia. The new school year had barely started and teachers, parents, and students were celebrating this. There were no political motives to the celebrations, they just happened to be 'convenient'.

Why do these senseless acts of violence always filter down to the children? 200, 300, possibly even 400 lives are at stake, many of which haven't even begun, all depending on the whims of a bunch of delusional psychopaths. I'm sure our hearts go out to them.

Ten bloody O' bloody clock

The synthesized strains of Fur Elise herald the start of the first fifteen minute break of the day, sending workers scurrying to the pantry for some coffee and other life-sustaining nourishment. The first half of the morning felt extremely productive because I'm finally coming to grips with the whole long-winded procedure for processing RTAs (Requests for Technical Assistance).

There are too many numbers - for each individual component: one number for drawing, one number for part, one old number for part, one part reference number, one drawing revision number, one material number, one weight number, one outside-diameter number, one inside-diameter number, one length number, one part description, system code numbers, user name numbers, password numbers...

EeeeEEEeeEEaarrgggh!

And as Fur Elise brings the break and this post to a tortured close, everyone files slowly back to their desks.

How to write an epic fantasy

1. Take one hero. Give him/her a few character flaws that they'll overcome by sheer strength of will. He has to be goofy but goodlooking with many hidden talents. She has to be hot and vulnerable (cliches sell).
2. Enter one sidekick - loyal, valiant, resourceful, and always saving the hero's ass.
3. Put both characters (merry band of comrades optional) on a long, arduous trek across burning deserts, icy mountains, dense forests, etc. Mention of deep and forbidding tunnels, abandoned castles, and lurking creatures are advisable.
4. Place one object in hero's care - ring, seed of life, the toilet mat, with the instruction to take it to [insert destination of your choice]. No real imagination is required here because if the words 'sacred', 'precious', or 'crucial to the existence of good' feature in relation to said object, it will command complete respect, and no questions will be asked of indicated destination.
5. While hero and friend(s) are on a perilous journey at great risk of life and limb, throw in a dark lord and his minions to harass the travelers and attack the world in general.
6. Two or three neutral characters driven by their own selfish motives will also add variety when hero and his comrades have been travelling for many months and are all getting damn sick of each other.
7. Add a noble king and devoted entourage. Slide in one or two spies to mix it up a bit. King's entourage should contain one stubborn headed fool who sees the error of his ways just before he dies (drama-drama a bit hor?).
8. Make the dark lord and king do battle when they'd much rather be swapping fishing stories. Throw in lots of hope, cunning, and betrayal.
9. Write in a wizard who could save the whole damn world on a lunch break, but sees this exercise as character building, and 'necessary for the good of mankind'. Have him die and resurrect for added spice.
10. Finally set the whole story in a land that is a geographical impossibility, then wrap it up with a 'happily ever after for now'. You want to keep the door open for sequels.

Of fish and other random things

I've gotten really good at Alt+Tab lately - fast reflexes and even faster fingers. I spent my lunchtime today reading about flatulent fish. Apparently herrings fart as a form of communication, and thus the gap between animal and human is narrowed further.

I was also thinking about digital cameras. I've decided that they're such hot sellers because they encompass two of the most popular pastimes of human beings the world over: 1) taking photos of themselves, and then 2) looking at themselves. We are truly so vain.

Anyhow, I spent most of the day struggling with instructions on the extremely user-unfriendly SAP (slow and painful) system. Apparently it's one of the most powerful tools in running a business, but it is unforgiving. With the fact that it involves so many number codes and references, my dyslexia took a pounding, and made me realise that all my intellectual synapses must've shut down over summer.

In true software fashion, it was system down after lunch. At first I was ecstatic at the implications of a work-free afternoon, but the joy was short lived - the internet had gone too, leaving me with two hours to recycle air before it came back online again.

I finished Elfstones of Shannara earlier this morning, it was entertaining, but reeked of Tolkien and the characters weren't as impressive. I guess there are only so many variations on the topic of quests and its related activities. I'm sad it ended though, I've got nothing else to read now.