Gan canny or we'll dunsh summick

Ah divvent knaa hoo much funnier this gets! Ah actually foond a Geordie translator. Ev should understand this keind of taak bi noo, so this is a pick-me-up fre affta yer exams an aal tha.

How Ev, yee knaa what? Wi love you! Keep safe up there an we'll see yee soon! An Yer'sa monkey's uncle. Haha, Ah couldnt resist.

It's the wee-eekend

May and Shiv finished their finals today, it was so nice to see them smile for the first time this week. The whole house feels a lot more relaxed and just like they needed a break (and a drink) I think the guys who looked after them all week needed it too.

Beautiful weather today (don't I sound British). I actually got to take my skirt and flipflops out for a walk even if it was only down to Sains. This sort of weather really doesn't help the studying one bit.

You should be forewarned that the next three weeks or so will be almost nothing but gripegripegripestudygripegripe and generally griping about studying. You need to be an encyclopedia to comfortably store everything you're supposed to know in this course.

And they still havent dispatched my books. Do they not feel the urgency?

Waiting

You know that with the "Where's my stuff?" option on the Amazon account I'm going to be checking it obsessively. I get so excited about the simplest things. I want my books. It's Friday lunch time and they haven't even looked at my order yet! So inefficient!

Weng's having a marmite craving so he's looking up recipes on different dishes you can cook with the yeast extract.

I should put most of today to studying I think. Can't waste anymore time.

I've also realised that I'm sounding more and more like my mother over the course of the year. I wonder why, they must be as sick of hearing me nag as I am of nagging them. But really, wiping down a countertop or table after you've eaten is just common courtesy. So I'm not too bothered that I'm sounding more like my mother because someone has to, it's simply necessary.

Toilet material

Anyhow, Weng came in today, finally. I've missed him so much. He always asks after my welfare, which got onto the subject of going to the bathroom regularly. I blamed it on the lack of reading material, so he responded with a "Hey I've got something for you to read."
"Oh really?" I enthused.
"Here," He grinned, handing me "Ecomonics of Development, Fifth Ed."
"Ah," I said, racking my brain for a smart answer, "That might actually make the shit come out faster." +Badumdumpish+

Completely unrelated, I've placed an order on Amazon for a couple of books I've always wanted to read but never got around to. I have to count the pages very carefully now before buying a book to see if it'll last me long enough to be value for money - sounds horribly kiasu, but reading's an expensive hobby. Some books have the lifespan of a coral-reef pygmy goby compared to, I don't know, a redwood.

I'm not a cynic

cyn·ic
n.

1. A person who believes all people are motivated by selfishness.
2. A person whose outlook is scornfully and often habitually negative.

I'm not a cynic. I don't know where you got that from just because I warned you about how manipulative that kind of girl can be, it's happened so many times to you, in front of you, behind you, how could you not possibly see?

I'm not a cynic, I believe in love, I believe in hope, and I believe that people are generally good, I am in love, I'm full of hope for the future, and I know there are more people out there willing to share a smile than a scowl.

I lost the rose-tinted glasses a long time ago, was shocked by what I could really see, really feel. I still carry the scars, so I tell you things to make your scars less deep. Compared to many people, my views are still somewhat naive and too hopeful almost, and it's okay if you don't listen to what I say.

Sometimes though, I think you live in a bubble, and that it's really going to suck when that bubble bursts, but I'm not a cynic, so stop saying that I am.

Unbalanced

I'm going to buy the entire 'trilogy in five parts' of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Tish was right about Amazon, it is cheaper, and without another world to escape to I'm going nuts.

Hormonal highs and lows are exhausting, perhaps Arnie should get rid of the moon, just to make things easier for everyone all round. I got that from Ben's blog. But I took it out on Weng yesterday, and then Rudy, and partly Tish, and then Weng again. Poor poor boys, I don't envy them.

I just want to eat everything and punch something.

I really want to spend the entire afternoon sleeping or watching ESPN (hurrah for CoolStreaming, thanks Han) but I have to get back to uni for testing at 2. Oh right, our pump failed so we're observing another group's pump performance. Doesn't that sound dodgy. But yes, an entire year's worth of design and manufacture culminated in a "Stiff, 37.5mm, FAIL". Don't ask me what it means, I haven't even seen our pump.

Haha, mg, I just realised what I wrote. It's a centrifugal pump, supposed to give 10m of head. Roflmao, no seriously. Who ever said engineering was boring.

I'm not usually this neurotic, only sometimes, and I'm definitely not obsessive-compulsive (I don't really know what it means but I don't want to be that).

Calculated relationships

What does friendship count for in this day and age? To let someone use you because you know they'll give you something back in return? An eye for an eye and all's fair.

Whatever happened to the days when you used to do something for a friend because you wanted to, because they're your friend and you would do almost anything for them and not expect something in return, knowing that if they did give you something, that the thought behind it was "I knew I could help you" or "I thought it would make you happy".

Is that overly idealistic, to be able to relate to someone else like that other than the one closest to your heart? I think friendship's like that. You go out of your way to do things because you know it'd make them happy, not because you know that once you do this, you've got one up on them, they owe you.

I think the biggest test of friendship is being able to go back to people you haven't talked to in ages, to still be able to share with them your latest joys or sad bits, or a problem, or just to have someone to listen, and have them know that if they ever needed you, all they'd have to do it ask.

Or maybe that's just a sad excuse on my part to make up for my terribly inconsistent emailing/calling/messaging, that I have very little to say on the grounds of small talk, and that I think real friends should understand that. I guess I value the one or two long conversations over the space of a month than twenty minutes of "Hi, how're you? Bye, gotta run" every day.

I don't know. But in the time I took to write this, I thought about the people I know, and I could count my nearest and dearest on one hand. I don't know whether to be relieved or saddened.

She just won't stop talking

My sister now owns two blogs. Both of which are highly amusing and gives a much deeper insight into the family I've tried to keep hidden. Just kidding. You'll notice that we talk alot about our dog, but she's the most entertaining member of our family, seeing as our brother is going through the 'angry teenager phase' and my mum and dad are well, adults.

http://ruzhen.blogspot.com and http://mesavis.blogspot.com

I'm not smart enough to html-ize links, but do go there, they're good reads.

Under my bed

My first wake up happens at 6.39 every morning, just when the sun gets bright enough to intrude upon the hazy awareness of my dreams. I can't even begin to tell you how irritating that is. I even dug up one of those airline eye masks to use, but when push came to shove, I couldn't bring myself to put it on because then I wouldn't be able to keep an eye out for monsters.

You know how if you take away one of your senses, the other four become sharper. No kidding, it really happens. If you take away my sight, my imagination goes into overdrive, which goes to prove that sight really limits the imagination, then again, to be fair, it doesn't take much to make me turn familiar shadows into agents of evil.

So my eyes feel kinda gritty now. But at least I'm alive.

Guildford: The Picture Story

One fine spring day, the three adventurers set off from their secluded retreat in Tish's extra-trendy Golf VW. It was pushing lunchtime (and Weng was hungry) when we happ'd upon the charming town of Guildford:

And when upon arrival, sought out a fourth fellow adventurer to help us 'adventure' Guildford, what with the fourth adventurer actually being a resident of the aforementioned urban area 33 weeks a year. She recommended Weatherspoon's, as she felt that it complied to Tish's request "Somewhere good but cheap", which wasn't a bad guideline seeing as Weng was getting increasingly hungry.

So we waited for lunch, and was so shocked by the size of Weng's meal that we felt we had to take a picture:

So here is Weng's 'Wild West Share platter' for one.

Several hours later, after only managing to finish half of Weng's meal, even with the three of us helping him, we located yet another comrade in arms, the other half of our very own itchy and scratchy show.

Here are Itchy and Scratchy having a serious conversation.

Which ended up in Itchy making it up to Scratchy by buying her a balloon with a hippo's backside. No, I jest, it so happened that the wind struck the helium-filled shiny plastic, and it just so happened that Tom had that expression. But isn't that sweet?! Cue collective 'eeeooowwwah'. The End.

+Pshhpshht+ Houston, we have a problem +Pssht+

There's something heartening about coming home and being greeted with a flurry of fur whether you've been gone all day or only twenty minutes. It's also nice when you're the only one at home and the little flurry of fur insists on accompanying you everywhere although she's getting too old to jump on the furniture by herself. I really miss my dog.

Getting back to the here and now, London stinks like a dungheap right after it rains and when it's warm. The slowly evaporating puddles release a miasma of stenches that make you wish for the haze back home and torrential rainfall. The colony of pigeons outsides Sainsburys looks happy enough though.

My motivation to study seems to be proprotionate to the proximity of the exams. I need another four weeks after this before I think I'll be properly ready - one week to bum around, and then another three to wish for four more. You know that there's always one bugger that'll use their last wish from a genie to wish for a million more wishes, and I think that'd be me.

The period leading up to the series of papers that'll define your entire academic life is filled with such extreme highs only to be followed by a despairing plunge into the depths of hopelessness. There's the excitement and relief of being able to finish a question on a practice paper, only to realise that you've spent two hours on that one question and in 18 days you'll be expected to finish at least four of those in that time. Thus, the ensuing fall from the stairway to enlightenment.

Two and a half weeks to exams and certain death.

Make mine a steak

I think my dinner just now was something like 63.4% vegetable, 22.1% carbodydrate, and (hold on while I do the math) 14.5% meat, followed up with a strawberry and banana smoothie, and now I'm cravin KFC. I need meat.

I'll put up some Guildford pictures once Weng uploads them - sometimes I honestly don't know why that guy has a camera, he's so reluctant to take it anywhere, be seen snapping pictures like a tourist, or upload them afterwards. So the tourist part is usually my job +beam+.

I'm in need of new music to listen to - happy music. No wonder people need at least 4Gb on their music machines; songs grow old so fast I'm impressed at how much a memory can retain. Actually no, my sister can recite the Astro programme schedule forwards, backwards, and sideways including adverts. My mum's favourite line goes "Now if only there was an exam..." Anyhow, I can safely say that everything academic has a hard time making much of a bumprint in the sponge that is my brain, but sports schedules and injury lists seep right into the cracks to stay.

Still struggling with EIC. What a dumb subject +grr+

White dielectric material

I liiive!

Eight hours of no internet connection is not particularly amusing. Fine, so ours isn't really up yet and I'm freeloading off of my neighbour's connection, but thanks to Darren everything's more or less dandy and I have wireless back.

Which means little to no work, not like enough was being done in the first place.

I've just started reading Bill Bryson's "A short history of nearly everything". Two pages in and I'm fully convinced that it'll increase my IQ by many points. It's like a hot iron on icecream.

I <3 sardines, it's such an underrated fish.

We escaped into the crocodile pit

We finally left Weybridge almost 40 hours after we had originally planned, reluctantly of course, and it was back to the stark cold reality that is London.

I've stalled for the last five hours. I don't want to start, so maybe tomorrow, with the beginning of the new (and very brief) term. The exams would be a little more comfortable if they were a week or two further back, but since they aren't, the countdown begins.

Arrgh.

Caught in the spiderweb

I'm quite glad someone's putting my tagboard to good use, expressing their less cynical views of the world, so you go youarealoser, keep it up.

Tish and I talked last night about being cynical and about thinking that all girls are just out to play every single red blooded male silly. I think it's quite true, but I told him not to lose hope because he'll hit his niche in 10 years' time when all the mothers on the KLite social scene will be trying to marry their daughters to him.

Weng's playing CM on the pretense of writing a draft for a report. I can hear the cheers, there's no fooling this one.

Reviewing Rudy

I figured I'd write it here, being more comfortable on my own turf than at Rudy's page, and besides, I get the most hits offa him so it's almost the same thing anyway.

What I think about Rudy's blog... If anyone's blog managed to peel away the layers, it would be Rudy's. His life is like a mug of hot chocolate, the best bit is the foam on top and that's pretty much what goes into his writing. He gives you selected insights that make his life seem so much more interesting than mine. He can talk about anything and sound competent - the mark of any true bullshitter, and he writes well.

He epitomizes dark coolness, and his blog is the very thing that shows you how it's done. But he's not offensive, there are some blogs that say the worst things at the worst times in an effort to sound cool. The only not-so-cool thing though is that he adores this one team that absolutely cannot be relied on to do anything right. All they had to do was beat Everton, but nooo.

A means of motivation

After much thought, I've concluded that that piece about only doing 'character building' things like climbing mountains or charity work all for your C.V. does sound quite shallow. Yes, I agree with youarealoser, you should do the things you like because you want to, not because it looks even better on paper.

But I also stand by the cold hard truth that the one with the better C.V. always wins, and I'd also like to point out that there are very few people in the world who are more concerned about doing something good and right than their own petty lives.

For example, you love the wilderness, so you go hiking for days and days with the barest essentials. It's going to be tough, but hey, you love doing it, and when you come out, you can either lock it away in a box inside your heart with the quiet glow of self-satisfaction, or you can slip it into a couple of lines of text that reads "Completed gruelling survival course" on the piece of paper that's going to make you stand out from 1430 other aspiring applicants.

So I'm not saying that people only do this stuff to fill up their C.V.'s, sometimes it even works out that you actually like what you're doing and it looks good in print. See how convenient that is?

It has begun

ruud :: viking cannibals on dinosaurs vs. ninja pirates on titans says:
constructive criticism for ash's blog:
I think your writing is very intelligent and witty
it's a pleasure to read because it is so well written
and you should really update more
as far as equating yourself to a Paris Hilton reality tv show, I dont think that's very fair at all. you're far more interesting and full of substance
in wrapping up, you've got a lot going for you, one of my favourite reads( I check daily). My only qualm being your adamant support and convicted views of a football team that I don't despise. but the way you and Tish go on about em, you just can't help but take a shot back
now your turn to review my blog ta-ta
i look forward to some constructive criticism

I knew I could count on you, Rudy, to be the first to get back to me.

They love me, they love me not

Some blogs read like spilling an entire dispenser of bouncy balls, not because they're thoughts are jumping all over the place (ah ha), but because they talk. and put the. full stops and commas exactly where they would. be if they were actually talking with the words running over each other.

Other blogs read like a round of gunfire, quick and to the point, and you've read to the end when you're really still processing the very first line; or with the self-righteous martyring tone of someone who's been victimised by their parents, their teachers, their employer, their family, their job, and their pet dog, Bobo.

I like to think that my style changes with my mood, sometimes it's incisive and witty (I really really want to think it's incisive and witty), while at other times it sounds like something from that Paris Hilton-Nicole Ritchie horror - the one that can but shouldn't be shown on national t.v.

I can't decide, to be honest, it's like hearing yourself on a recording - always a case of "Mg". Therefore, I think that after nine months online, it's time for some constructive feedback, and none of this "Man Utd rock" crap, please (and thank you).

It's people like this

Did you read about that kid that got accepted to Harvard on full scholarship even before finishing his A-levels, the one who climbed Mt Kilimanjaro, plays in the Asian Youth Orchestra, and taught English to Cambodian street children? How big do you feel? (Although I have it on good account that the truth in that article was somewhat stretched.)

This is what we're up against. I suppose it's my fault for spending my summers wallowing in selfishness in front of the t.v.. With people getting richer and borders coming down, there are so many more opportunities for our generation to reach out to more people, for new experiences, and turn our cv's into pure gold.

With people like Mr. Timothy Lim, how will we ever compare? Who's ever going to hire the ones who didn't climb a mountain or aren't musically inclined. Geez, as if things weren't hard enough.

Wasting time really

Shame on my subconsciousness. I think I'd do anything to keep from working, like expanding my Friendster circle and um, blogging. I totally agree with Rudy, Friendster blogs are at the most pseudo-blogs.

I miss home. I miss my dog, I miss my incessantly chatty sister. I miss my brother, my mum, and my dad.

I'm still on KL time, because I woke up craving curry maggi mee, which was exactly what I had with extra chilli oil, which I am now regretting like anything. Because even if your mind thinks it's 3pm in the afternoon, your stomach knows its 8am and just can't deal with it.

Up early from the first

My body's gone into a semi shock. Apart from having to deal with the time zone, we arrived expecting a more summery temperature of 20 but got hit instead by a blustery 3 deg. Weng touched down very chirpy having slept a full eight hours, which was good because he was the one who ended up carrying our luggage. I had packed to within 600g of the limit - I'm getting much better with the whole packing thing.

On the whole, it's back to London, back to work, and back to planning meals. It takes a lot of creativity to come up with something to eat time and time again +sigh+. It is good to be back though.

Two days to take-off

So my reintroduction into society last night went well I think. There's something about KL that just takes everyone down a notch. No one's (overly) stressing about work or future careers, no one's worrying about errands to run, there's a wonderful home to go back to at the end of a night out, and you don't have to feel guilty about the exchange rate.

Inevitably there was talk about summer jobs, internships, postgraduate degrees and all that. It's nice to come out with a Masters at the end of it all, saves having to apply for it again at the end of the Bachelors, but all that talk still made me want to run and hide under the covers. I don't want to grow up so fast.

I actually managed to wake up at 2.30am for one of the most memorable draws I've ever bothered to watch. Liverpool rock. I can honestly say that we deserve that spot in the semi-final, 'twas no fluke. Then I had to get up at 7.15am to let Weng in, so the rest of the day passed in a semi-conscious stupor.

When I finally had time to lie down and rest, the silence was quickly destroyed by:

1. Someone drilling a hole in the wall
2. My dog insisting on getting up on the bed to nap too - she's too afraid to jump up because she's winded herself too many times when she didn't jump high enough
   
3. My sister getting home - it's such a huge event all in itself that it's worth mentioning
   
4. My sister watching American Idol - something like "OHMYGAWDOHMYGAWD etc."
   
5. My mum and sister striving to conduct a coherent conversation through one floor and two walls - "WHO GOT KICKED OUT?! WHAT?! WHO?! OH NO!!"
   
6. The aspiring drummer that lives just above us - +BADADUMDUM+ pause +DABADADADA+ pause +CRASHCRASHPISH+
   
7. And finally, my mum lying down on the bed next to me to talk, emphasising each sentence with a hearty slap on my shoulder - I got the message
   

I've told myself that today is the last day I'll ever eat. Actually, I tell myself that every day. Not once have I felt any hunger pangs this whole month - disgusting.

I have to take my suitcase out soon.

i r antisocial

I'm five days away from having to get on that plane back to London, and while I don't want to leave the blistering sunshine and torrential rainfall, I think it's the only way I'll get some real studying done, and besides, I miss my housemates (I know).

The cable t.v.'s too good here, EPSN and StarSports dictate my every waking hour, and the stack of past year papers sit just as heavily in the back of my mind as on the dining table.

We were supposed to get back to Junlinn last week about dinner this week, but since Weng totally forgot to SMS the guy, we've hastily arranged dinner for Wednesday night, subject to confirmation. Wednesday night rocks - it's half price at the movies. Where else can you see flicks for RM6? That's less than a pound. You can't get anything for less than a pound in over there.

But yea, I'm giving that up to see people outside of Weng and my family for the first time in three weeks. Man, I'm so antisocial.

Other things I haven't done yet:

1. Eaten char kway teow - dammit Evan, I'm letting you down
2. Enough shopping
   
3. Gone swimming

And I keep on hearing these beeping noises - different ones, but can't figure out where they're coming from. I need to get out more.

Are you talkin' to me?

"You hit me bulls-eye in the heart" - Student

"Wah, so beautiful" - Creepy old man

"Rrrr, clickclick" - Slimey man

"U really like dances so much?" - Student

"Hi can I know you?" - Friendster user

"Nice and simple guy looking foward for your message" - Another Friendster user

"Hello...I shall bestow the title of 'silent rock chick' to you...I bet you're the only girl I know who actually listens to late 90s alt-rock which is easily forgettable" - Male

"hi, how are you? May I have your details please? I want to know your sex, age, email address, name (nickname and full name) and your birthday. Hope you will reply me and have a nice day." - Pedantic

I'll admit that these guys have balls, just not entirely sure where they're being worn. Do they really expect us to go "Omg, take me!". I thought the last dude was pretty specific though; that kind of attention to detail is just so +rrr+. Haha.

Can you say photoshop?

One particularly slow afternoon I was sifting through the profiles of the people connected to me via Friendster, and being the picture book sort of person, that's pretty much all I clicked to see, pictures. There seems to be a fairly standard approach to the whole thing:

1. A flattering picture of you
2. A flattering picture of you and your other half (if appropriate)
3. A flattering picture of you and your best friend(s) - they don't have to look good, just you.

In the whole boring 20 minutes, I did not see a single unflattering picture of anybody - no one has the guts to put up an embarrassing photograph.

Which leads me to my next point. I wonder how long they took in choosing their pictures, what sort of effect were they going for as they slowly reveal how fun and interesting their lives, byte by byte, with the "in your face" happiness and perfected smiles.

'Coz, y'know, you flick through people's profiles, mostly those you thought were really wierd, despicably popular, or the ones you dated, and much to your dismay, they're still sitting high and mighty on the pile that is their life. It's nice to live in the past for one afternoon, but that's about enough for me. +shrugs+ And I'm not bitter. Or in denial. Haha, not me.

You guys make it happen

This is like my all-time high, and I owe it all to you. 220 hits on April 6th makes the rest of my hit-counter graph look virtually flat. Ah, there was a time when every additional hit (or not) made the graph jump around like a seismograph on speed. See? Every visit you make totally counts, and I'm so touched, mahalo for all your support!

It's days like these

Today was a bit more happening than normal. Weng and I sent the car to the carwash and waited for an hour around midday in a park with my dog. I can hear you asking, who in their right mind would sit in a park in Malaysia at midday for an hour? And I say to you, think about the poor one wearing the fur.

After a very quick study session that didn't really get off the ground, my sister and I tried to teach Weng how to play tennis. It was a struggle trying to get him to ditch his badminton/squash-hybrid forehand and backhand, but he eventually got it, and what can I say, my baby's a natural +winkwink+. We're waiting for all you people (you know who you are) to get back in summer so we can play!

Oh, and I got bit by a bee, so most of the evening was spent waiting to see if my whole right arm would go numb in which case Weng was all ready to rush me to get it checked at the hospital. The sting swelled up beautifully and everything.

Otherwise dinner was great, I've never laughed so hard (at Weng) as Lay Yean quickly had him on the defensive with all her bantering. There was a lot of talk about future careers and stuff, which made me think, I wish I could stay 20 my whole life, that no one would get older. I'm happy right where I am now. I know I sound completely unambitious, but I've never been more content.

Names sell

Tish, I can't believe you went to see that match - at least you finally went to one where they won though, but I still can't believe you got to see that match, and please tell Rudy that if Liverpool win the Champion's League, they qualify for next season's regardless of what position they finish in the EPL. That's a big if though.

After watching last night's matches, I'm so glad Lampard's playing for England now. That officially brings the number of skilled English players on the senior squad to a grand total of one and a half.

Be Cool is crap. It's full of awesome one-liners, but the movie has little else. A case of way too many cooks spoil the soup, there were just way too many semi-celebs with too many cameos to have any kind of character development. The whole movie had me sitting there thinking "Uh huh, right". The fact that Uma Thurman and Christina Milan was starring (and I use the word sparingly) alongside Travolta did nothing to hide the lack of storyline. Anyhow, it sucked, so I won't waste more words on this mega-flop.

Completely pointless

Have you heard 'Almost' by Bowling for Soup? Great song, only this is how it sounds on Malaysian radio:

I almost got +wa-wa-wa+ at school at fourteen,
Where I almost +skippedidee+ with the Homecoming Queen
Who almost went on to be Miss Texas
But lost to a +shoobydoowop+ with much bigger +beebop+ -tes
I almost dropped out to move to LA
Where I was almost famous for almost a day

The rest of the song barely passes the anal retentivity of the sensorship board, but c'mon, if you're going to sensor the words "drunk" and "made out" why even play the song? In fact, why play anything? And it's reverse psychology you know, because it just makes me pay even more attention to those specific words - and to go online and find out what they are.

Me and My Dad

This was snapped 20 years ago and the original was almost black and white, but not quite.

On my birthday

Here's me and Weng and my bionic dog.

London Games 2005

Here are the pictures I promised.

Going back to about two weeks ago, here's our London Games netball team

And at the same competition, this is the GIS Football team reunited. Okay not really, they insisted on calling themselves "Team Yeah!"...

And here are the jerseys they stayed up all night to make...

Starting to stagnate

I have, on my hard drive, episode 16 of Desperate Housewives and a moral dilemma. I really really really want to watch it, and so does Weng. I should be nice and wait for him, but since we rarely see each other (rarely being twice a week) that's an awfully long time to wait. I'd hate it if he had episode 16 and watched it without waiting for me. I'll think about it some more.

I honestly cannot figure out where the last two weeks went. I'm very sure I haven't been doing as much work as I should be, and I haven't been anywhere - my social planner is as wide open as Carroll's goal, so I suppose all that time has to be filed under "Miscellaneous".

I know that I did practice violin yesterday, and got chased off of it. It's discouraging when you're struggling with a study while at the same time knowing you're causing someone physical pain.

I promise I'll put up some photos very very soon to alleviate your boredom and release you from all this text.

What I did this weekend

We made a day trip to Singapore. Guess who could say "Oh, I'll be in shopping in Singapore today, so I can't make it" on Saturday? Not me. This Easter holiday is so quiet on the friends front that seven hours in the car was almost welcome.

Anyhow, we left KL at about 0530 and got home at 2300, that's about three hours up, three hours down, and three hours along Orchard Road. It was only three hours because it's really difficult making $100 stretch any longer than that. The rest of the time was spent at my Grandma's, with my baby cousin Nick and my Aunty, who, btw, has discovered my blog: "Hi Aunt June! I miss you guys so much!"

Then today was mostly at CBC. I love that place, the whole community spirit gives you such a feel-good vibe. Weng keeps threatening to eventually include me in the worship band but I'm completely talentless. I'm fully qualified but I just can't play. They've got much steadier pianists available, and the beginner's violin class every Sunday already plays better than me, which gets me thinking, I should really make an effort to do something more with my violin than look at it.

So that puts us very nicely half way through our Easter holiday. Damn, that's fast.

Step away from the instrument

My dyselxia does not let me play Yahoo!Graffiti. My sister totally whomps my ass and we're on the same connection.

Mum's desperately waiting for the fourth episode of Desperate Housewives to finish downloading. When I say desperately, she checks in every two hours to see how it's going, and since we're on a 512kbps connection, which actually comes up as a download rate of 0kb/s, the going is extremely slow.

I've resolved to seriously practice violin over the next two weeks. I rekindled my love for my instrument (it's so pretty!) just now, when my sister was stretching her vocal chords on the guitar. She's not a bad singer when she finds the key, but up til then, it's like a blindman looking for a contact lens - she sweeps back and forth across the entire range several times until she gets lucky. To her credit though, she's mastered several instruments, just not the most basic one. God forgot the singing gene when He made my family.

I drove the Merc today. I've never taken so long to get back from Hartamas before. It was a harrowing experience. It felt like I was driving a tank; now the BM'll feel like a Kancil.

I need to seperate my sister from her guitar now, she's determinedly ploughing her way through "2001 perennial favorites - with guitar chords" and that's the not the year on the front. Excuse me.