laundry day

What's worse than dumping men online?

Avoiding all niceties and simply chucking 'em on block and then deleting them from MSN. So basically you've just disappeared from their lives and axed them completely from yours and they don't even have a clue (till later, but that's really alright because there's no way you're going to meet them in a place as big as Singapore, right?). Talk about erasure.

But just so you think one actually gets away with something like that, let me just say Justice gets its day. In the end, some jerk will disappear from your life the way you disappeared from countless lesser-jerks' and all you can do is curse Karma (okay I don't because I'm good and Catholic right) or. Well, pretty much nothing else. Usually Catholics simply feel they deserved what came because they've been bad. Well, you could I suppose, do as darling friend who inspired post suggested, Good Deeds. Only, this disappearing act works up such a karmic stink that good deeds don't seem to help. But it's really quite fair you know, because if you do believe this Karmic business, the jerk'll get his share of shite too (if he hasn't already). And thinking that just made things a whole lot better :) You've just cleared your bad karma, and possibly, dished it right back at him.

Okay back to school now. Scrambling on a Sunday is a real shitty business. Especially when locked out of airconned rooms and trapped in the heavy heat outside the library with an old power plug powering 5 laptops that's just waiting to explode.

oyster

"I do not want people to be agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them." -- Jane Austen

Actually in my case, it'd save me the trouble of feeling obliged to like them. I've a soft spot for Nice people. You know, the painfully nice sort that leave you wondering how on earth they'll survive Real Life. I know I'm not exactly the least cynical of people, but anyone with a healthy dose of Reality would tell you -- Arm Yourself. Prepare to be spanked. Prepare to be throughly screwed over by Nasty people. And Fight Back.

Bugger. Some people are just so blissful in their ignorance like kids sucking their thumbs to sleep, one has no heart to wake them up. So, one simply feels for them, and likes them, and sometimes, goes to great lengths to keep the dream alive for them. Bugger nice people. If only everybody were nasty. It's harder to bear niceness than it is to deal with nastiness.

hittin' the fan

Every kid's ultimate nightmare. Well, you think you'd actually be able to escape unscathed after all these years, but no. Shit happens like pass the parcel, and you'll end up with it if you stay in the game long enough.

1. Finals have been brought forward by a week. 1 & 2 March.

2. Presentation's 1 Feb NOT 7 Feb as assumed.

I'd swear like a sailor, but I really need to be in God's good graces right now.

score

Music makes me strong and gives me courage to face things. It makes me vulnerable, it makes me cry, makes me smile, makes me purse my lips and slap on my shades and think, "Today's going to be Amazing" and believe it. Music just makes my day.

Sexyback blasting in the car to forget asshole tailgaters and take away fears of highspeed lane-changing.
Revolution (The Veronicas) turns me into superwoman.

Littlest Things for secret Sundays hidden away from the world.

Baby It's Cold Outside during Christmas, always puts me in the mood for some serious shopping :)
Isn't It Romantic for night strolling or cheek-to-cheeks.
Beautiful Ones when dressing for a party. Hell yeah : )
I Get Around, Kokomo or basically anything by the Beach Boys for the airport.
I Was Born To Love You when I'm feeling absolutely tacky!
Are You Gonna Be My Girl for Friday Nights or whenever I need to jump on the bed.
I'm Beginning To See The Light when I'm going to get buzzed :)
Crazy (Aerosmith) for long long roadtrips, one hand on the steering wheel (usually don't do that).
Nessun Dorma when sleep won't come.
Wa Jie (Nan Quan Mama) when I get sick of Jay Chou (haha).
Qing Tian because he kissed her in the MV!
Wo Yao Ni De Ai everytime I spy brandy and ciggies, and gogo girls! Or just one of those retro telephones :)

paneristi

My dad instinctively knows what people want, and figures out how to get what they want delivered to them precisely when they want it, in a style that is preciously subtle. It is the understated simplicity of it all that leaves one in a state of wonderment. How on earth does he do it?

I don't know. But I sure am glad to so often be at the receiving end of his delightful mindreading and benevolence. My mother too, is one helluva lucky woman. Thank you for another wonderful surprise, daddy. It's exactly as I would have wished it, only better now that I have it round my wrist :)

In other news, our turtle has run (rather, crawled) away, having hauled his lazy ass out of the tray he was in and is probably hiding somewhere in the garden. He'll probably have no need for us anymore, now that he has a whole field of grass and then some to munch on. So long, Freddy.

Work has finally sort-of begun on the report and presentation for the CHP, and it's Not Going So Well. We comfort ourselves with the fact that we really couldn't have started any sooner, because data analysis was only 80% complete yesterday, and is even now, still a work-in-progress. Well, jos' and my reputations as intelligent, eloquent, calm and collected ladies are on the line, so it's even suckier for us. We screw up, 240 people get to witness our mess, and remember it for life. As opposed to having a bunch of academics sift through a boring Boring report in the privacy of their cubicles, making the occasional snide remark nobody gives a crap about because it isn't announced via loudspeaker. Too bad though, when one has terminally ill luck with "lucky draws".

To end, words of wisdom from one Man-Eater gullible girls the world over should strive to live by: "My attitude toward men who mess around is simple: If you find 'em, kill 'em."

vent

This life's not for me. Endless days doing nothing constructive, stretching into night. Sleepless nights because too much of the day's been spent sleeping. It's the last third of January and school's barely revved into gear. Why so?

Because of the bloody CHP that's why. The Community Health Project. Divided into teams, my team's stuck with the final leg of the project -- Report and Presentation, which explains the apparent slackness. It's going to get Frantic real soon though. Guess who's stuck presenting?? Really oughta be spending all this "free" time mugging or understanding our CHP (Health believes and practices of Diabetics relating to their subsequent health outcomes), but lack the iron will to do so. Plus, there's the sorting out of study material, etc that's sort of a pain in the arse.

All this "free" time is killing me. It's playing games with my mind, and stressing me out. Because it simply means I'm not doing what I ought, and shall have to pay for it come Pros (aka Finals). I'm royally screwed.

And there're also overseas electives to sort out. "S/he's already got Harvard/Oxford in the bag." Gee, and on the application forms, you're not supposed to start applying till August (6 months before). This is totally freaky. But not unexpected, of course.

Ah bah. If only there were more men in my life. They never seem to find "free" time a burden, and the "whatever dude, just chill" thing is somewhat soothing to be around. Especially when one is a frigid finnicky high-strung wreck. It allows me to almost believe that everything'll be alright, in the end. Life's really not that hard, right? Why's it always stress me out when everything's going easy?

Somebody (!!) tell me to lighten up already.

the real deal

Fleamarketing is not for the fainthearted. It takes lots of hard work (the bangla sort), creative juices, and a whole lotta balls (alternatively, rhino hide) to make things work. Between us, mummy and I could've done with lots more help :P However, thanks to my lucky dress, and maybe with a little more help from mum's retrohip jewelry (genuine, from the 80s!) and vintage dresses, we more than made do. It was tough though, because the crowd only started picking up a couple of hours into the session, and even then, most of them were there to drive really hard bargains. Which was predictable, seeing that this was a fleamarket after all. Thank God for cash-rich aunties! I think the youth market must be a nightmare for those pandering to their fancies -- they're fickle, tightfisted and bitchy. So while we had fun, this really probably wasn't the ideal market, and we've decided that in the event we muster up some more stamina and muscle, we'd hawk our wares elsewhere : ) I love my mum!

grimacing... all this stuff! how to finish selling?

my wonderful elves : )
darling, gorgeous, happy mummy : )
mum's bestselling retro jewelry
random shots of our neighbors...
these girls make their own stuff!
belony's stall (newfound friend!!!)
outside...
what manual labor does to a girl's appetite.

december 2006
for posterity...

25 years : )

Greyhound Cafe, Bangkok

Napoli, Bangkok -- fabulous pasta place
dad's hands were itchy
really itchy (we're all getting impatient... hungry!)
finally! the famous pasta served in dough-covered pot piping hot and heavenly
mummy's birthday, 30/12 (with favorite aunty and cousin)
first time at K-box; mum loves to karaoke so we obliged

why I am destined for life in a convent -- look at what boys do when I kiss them!!!

deep thoughts

Put it up for sale (else get rid of it) when:
1. You've not touched it in 2 years. If wardrobe space is truly limited, 18 months
2. Even your brother notices it's not in fashion
3. It fits ill
4. Holes appear in undesired spots
5. It reaches your ankles and not your heels
6. The white's turned yellow
7. You need it to add a little pizazz to an otherwise plain selection of random stuff
8. It fetches lots of $ and you really need $
9. It doesn't match anything else in your current wardrobe
10. It smells funky.

Things my boyfriends must possess, on top of everything else:
1. An abiding love for orange pastilles and loathing for red ones, because I absolutely adore the red and detest the orange!
2. A sweet tooth, to polish up my dessert with
3. Big feet, so mine will feel small and dainty
4. Big hands, same reason as above
5. 20/20 vision, all the better to see roadsigns with
6. An impeccable sense of direction, so GPRS is something I'll never ever have to invest in
7. A giant umbrella, to shelter us both with from the elephant rain
8. Ball sense, because I've lost mine
9. A low sexy voice -- it's simply the biggest turn-on
10. Winegums, at all times : )

flee!

Our first fleamarket ever, going to be held this Saturday at Gashaus (dodgy pub, location rather ideal) along Middle Road. Am terribly excited and rather nervous, because I've never organized one before. If you know me, please please don't come. I'd die of mortification!! Am awful about having people see my stuff!

And to add to an *ahem* substantial list of housewifely duties that I am now perfectly capable of, apart from being able to fold clothes, make a bed (as you shall see later) and boil hot water, I can now iron enough for two households : ) (again, as you shall see). I simply adore ironing! It's so therapeutic and there's something so... satisfying about ironing out the crinkles in a shirt and straightening a collar, and making a tatty top look decent again. Almost everything looks presentable when well-pressed.

I think my mother is simply the most special person ever. The most special mum ever. I can't believe she's still all up for fleamarketing! It was entirely her suggestion (off the cuff last night "dad's away thank GOD now we can finally clear all this stuff!") and everything was settled by this morning (thanks to wonderful well-connected shopaholic girlfriends!!). And then as you shall see, the hustle of picking and choosing what absolutely needed to disappear from our lives and steeling ourselves to get rid of old loves that have no place in our new home completely drove us wild and turned our house topsy turvy. Ooh I do feel the odd twinge of guilt now and again (really oughta start mugging for Finals AND working on CHP) but it's really only 3 days of prep and sales. Can't be all that bad can it! And CHP really sucks.

Can't decide if fleamarkets make you money, save you money or lose you money. Am not very savvy, am I.

This is a bit of my virginal bedroom : ) All wardrobe, plus bed. Which really was beautifully made till I'd popped out of it. That's my trashy novel du jour and geeky goggles.

Told you two households didn't I : ) This is just one, and am only just beginning...
Ah yes -- bit o' self-adulation never hurt!
Some of mum's bits all over the floor. I don't know where they'd been hiding. They just materialized.
The pristine workstation.
Just for kicks : ) Mum's, circa 1992?
Box 2 of 5?

almost done, 4 hours later (doesn't look much more does it...hm.)

trousers
some vintage dresses (Mum's, circa 1980s)
that's mummy in the back there : )

others unto me

I never like being prescribed antibiotics, because I never finish them. While quick to dispense cure-alls to others, I am my own worst patient. Loathe taking medicine and reigning in my impulses. Did I mention what a fabulous Aunt Aggy I am? Likewise, suck at taking advice.

"Ego trip. Ego trip. Ego trip," reminds Steffy, buffer and shaman who keeps the Evil at bay. Now, to be compliant.

martian logic

This conversation came about when J asked an inevitable question girls often find themselves facing at one point or another, which eventually led to a tutorial given by H & Y, self-professed love gurus (both attached to "above-average" female specimens) and fellow meddies, on why men don't make a move, despite sort-of-liking someone:

1. They're just not interested enough
(aka He's Not That Into You (haha Berger was right after all!); "this [reason] is probably the most common, lah. Also the best excuse! (turning to J) I know it sucks :P but it's true!")
2. They have achieved self-actualization
(i.e. don't need female companionship to be happy or its inherent complications to mess up their lives "eh we're not talking about resorting to porn or you-know-what ok")
3. "Shy lah"
(aka hum chee; i.e. they don't particularly relish being blown off by a bitch)
4. Their mates don't think she's hot enough
("we're paiseh to show that we have bad taste")
5. They've been burnt
("we have feelings too you know -sniffle-")
6. The girl seems high-maintenance
("we hate those girls who really demand a lot of your attention, affection, time and worst, money")
7. They're not done looking around
("why settle for just one?? doctors are HOT PROPERTY ok" right...)
8. They've spent the last of their bucks on car parts/Maxim subscription/gaming/whatever
("no money. full stop.")
9. They think they're not good enough
("okay lah this [reason] is quite rare, cos most of us know our limits" heehee the irony!)
10. They're too busy. Really.
("you mean you got time to date? so many bloody exams!" guess this one applies exclusively to med muggers hahaha)
11. She doesn't seem interested
("sometimes, girls gotta help a guy along; I mean, we need to know we got chance right?" see also, reason 3)
12. She seems too interested
("then again, nobody likes the despo, clingy, 'anybody-also-can-I-just-want-a-boyfriend' type" also, "if a girl just comes on to me for free, I'll definitely not value her as much")

And ladies, that's all the time we had. This was like, a reason a minute! 10 minute coffee breaks are shaping up to be lots of fun hahaha. Well, I actually think everything basically boils down to Reason 1. Therefore, as opposed to asking questions and coming up with a bunch of excuses for a man who clearly doesn't think you're worth it, it's best to just get a move on. Which as we conclude, is easier said than done :)

sunday, in bed

'Littlest Things', Lily Allen
Perfume, Patrick Suskind
Moscato
Red Delicious, DKNY
Nadia Comaneci, Montreal 1976
Dial M for Murder
Socks, thick & woolly
Hotwater Bottle
Icebucket
Fizzy Fish

Curtains drawn, no clock, door locked, mobile hidden.

"Sometimes I wish we could just pretend, even if only for one weekend."

perfection is possible

drumskin

Bone weary.

Nothing but bad luck on the roads. Last night, a horrible nightmare for a dear friend. This afternoon, a malfunction in the mini along one of the busiest flyovers. The rain?? Perhaps.

Back to the grind once again.

8 hour days at a Polyclinic in (no offense intended) one of the most farout boondock towns. The route there is so awfully convoluted and full of motorcyclists from JB speeding despite the rain. One crawls at 70kmh on the slippery expressways just to be safe. Two expressways and many many roads. Have never seen so many hideous cars in my life. I loathe the North. Danger compounded by the torrential downpour. Makes me wish I didn't have to drive, but the alternative would be a 2 hour journey by train which makes no sense since one is expected by 730am. Endless hours on our feet conducting surveys which take a half hour to complete per patient, madly translating medical terms into mangled mandarin that is practically incomprehensible. Pushing on despite the weariness just to hit the target number of patients for a project that is frankly, completely redundant. A freaking lodestone round our necks that adds absolutely no value, either to our education or to the public.

"Dislocation/fracture/sprain?" Roads hardly visible through the shattered windscreen in the dark rainy night. Scared stiff along the twisty lanes driving an unfamiliar car, and route barely recognizable in the darkness. Dress drenched through and feet freezing in squelchy sandals, thoroughly ruined. Pavements and potholes flooded with muddy rainwater, gusts of wind blowing the rain beyond the shelter of our tiny umbrellas. Smoke from the bonnet camouflaged by the grey sheet, the scent of burnt rubber. Tow trucks sounding like a death knell. Freezing in the workshop, chattering like an epileptic to keep the shivers at bay.

I hate the Rain. I hate the North. I hate being grown up.

i see

People cannot be read.

Or perhaps I cannot read them anymore. Could I ever? There are those perhaps, who see clearly who and what they deal with, the saints, the scum. Not me. Seeing good in people, seeing bad... perhaps they were only what one wished to see, hardly ever the truth. Truth lies in action, not thoughts or impressions, or feelings. Feelings are too easily hurt, too easily made happy. Too hard to mend. Impressions too easily clouded, judgement often made too soon. Truth lies not in the ephemeral. My heart blinds me.

"A fortress around my heart." Such as I could never endure, will never. For so long as joy must come with pain and desire with despair, must not one remain vulnerable? A price to pay, then. But for whom, to whom?

Hope is a slippery, spiked thing tethered to the heart.

fluff

I don't know if I've ever told you this, but When Harry Met Sally is one of my favorite shows. And definitely my favorite screenplay. It's one of those rare ones that reads as well as it sounds on screen. It's clever, hilarious and most of all, so so true. And it has a happy ending :) Plus there's just magic between Billy Crystal (the unlikely playboy) and Meg Ryan (who is loveably neurotic), and I simply adore how they feature all these old couples with their special stories as little chapter divides throughout the show.

It says a lot when I watch it over and over, in spite of Billy Crystal being the exact opposite of a Wentworth Miller. And the bad clothes from the '80s. Am watching it now actually. We're at "Sheldon, the Wonder-Schlong".

If I had a Secret Single Behavior (SSB), it'd be watching When Harry Met Sally to sleep :)

calorie credit

Crediting calories is a concept most women are familiar with. What's worse than overspending currency? Overspending calories.

For example, when an irresistible wagyu comes along and you think, "Okay I'm going to master my craving and exercise self-control and eat only half of it," only to enjoy it too much not to polish the whole chunk off. After which you start planning how many meals you need to skip in order to pay off the calorie debt, or worse, the minutes (hours?) you'll have to spend on the elliptical machine burning it off. That's calorie credit.

Men especially, complain all the time about women and what fussy eaters they are. But these very same men also appreciate a lithesome figure in a well(low?)-cut outfit preferrably slit thigh-high. Well to be fair, so does everyone else. Thing is, you really can't have your cake and eat it too. I've tried. What works is having half the cake and eating half of half.

Anyway, here comes the clever bit. Fitting nicely into clothes is fun, but so's good food. So to accomodate them both while maintaining a serviceable calorie debt, I have finally decided on my New Year's Resolution for 2007: To Eat Only Good Food. Now isn't that brilliant?

religion

Realised something cool during dinner at Kazuyaku (great yakitori place) -- we were Catholic! All four groups of family friends. Which, if you were in touch with the Christian scene, you'd realize is really quite amazing because Catholics are a dying breed. Of course nobody realized but me, because I was sitting in a little corner all by myself feeling antisocial and being forcefed ("you've lost weight! eat more!" --> cunning excuse used by women of all ages to palm food off their own plates), sipping choya and turning fire-engine red, and thinking deep thoughts. Such as the state of the Catholic faith in Singapore. Why? I have no idea. Maybe because it was Sunday. I go to church less than 5 times a year. And I didn't even know my current church had moved until we went for Christmas mass (skipped new year's). But I do know the name of our pope though -- Benedict formerly Ratzinger, and I'd probably be able to identify him in a line-up (he looks like a rat). See? So random thoughts like that run through my brain and I think it's because I was grouchy and didn't sleep enough because I've been up reading a Really Wonderful Book. Which I am ashamed to admit I am reading so I shan't say what.

News: I am officially a carnivore. I haven't had greens in over 6 days now, except for the bacon-wrapped asparagus just now. And choya is really strong stuff.

trimming

Hm. Think you know you've been out too much when 3 tequila shots in under 30s fails to get you buzzed :( Or when Harvey Wallbangers taste like crap but one downs them just the same because one is desensitized to lousy cocktails. Okay that one did the trick.

"3 nights out for every night of wallow" has been a marvvvellous albeit expensive prescription! Hate the sound of "wallow" but in spite of how things sound (that well, I've been and still am wallowing, which are so not the case), I've been marvellous. It's been a happy happy new year, a very extended enjoyable one :) And as opposed to feeling as though I've engaged in meaningless activities for the sake of them, what with travel and moving house and car racing and new year sales and especially, meeting new people, I feel more alive than I have in a long time.

It's a wonderful feeling -- being on top of things!

Sad to say though, am almost all but done with the nights and weekends out. Finals in 2 months' time. Not much time at all.

The Miracle Wand

What gets me up in time for early morning boring-as-hell COFM lectures?

YSL touche eclat.

I put it on my eyebags in the morning and I swear -- it wakes me up. Rather, it makes me look like I'm bright and "how wonderful to see you!" perky, and that's what makes me wake up. The Miracle. I am seriously not your perky morning muffin. More like soggy cereal and cold coffee.

Like many touche eclat virgins, I never noticed the sorry state of my eyebags till I finally decided to give this "miracle wand" a try. Simply put, what the mind doesn't acknowledge, the eyes don't notice. I've never bothered with concealer because I never gave eyebags a second thought so it never occured to me the difference a marvellous touche eclat would make to one's complexion. Plus, it's so soothing, like a soft cool cream that glides over the skin. Makes you wanna keep your eyes open. Trust me.

They put no.2 on my left eye and the difference was astounding. And then they did it for my right and I was ready to take on the world.

Okay minus supermodels and modelizers.

blurprint

For the first time ever, I felt a vague twinge of regret at not pursuing medicine overseas.

Was seated next to a delightful new friend at new year's lunch today, currently doing med in Dublin. And it wasn't the description of an overseas education so much as the way she carried herself and her perspective that really won me over. She's got so much more passion than the average med student in Singapore, so much more diversity of experience, is mature and grounded, and has her career path more or less nicely planned (postgrad in the US, and she's going to be mugging for the USMLEs in the new year). Which is something I'm not sure I can do, much as I'd like to because of The Bond. She'll be doing her electives in South America (Tropical Diseases) which your typical local meddie won't do because it's not "practical" and tough as hell to successfully apply there, but she's absolutely KIVing a few years with MSF so that's something she feels will be of interest. She's also taken a gap year (without which she'd currently be finishing up her MBBS) just to experience hospital medicine in Singapore and the UK. Pottering about hospitals doing admin, visiting various departments... which sounds a lot like what we do in clinical years, but she did them while she was in her second year so it really prepped her well for the Clinical Years. The last time someone tried to take a gap year here, he was advised to drop med for "demonstrable lack of passion". Which he eventually did.

Oh well :) I suppose everything'll work out alright eventually, only now that one is exposed to people with alternative educational paths, one wonders if one would turn out different if the other path had been taken instead. I only wish I'd be half as mature and prepped and enthusiastic as she is when my time comes. It's so wonderful to see :) I love med so much, I only wish it were possible to experience it all over the world, figure out which system suits best and then decide to my advantage!

New Year's Lunch was another Marathon Meal. 1pm to 4pm. Oh my goodness I'm not going to eat for all of January. Done that already these past couple of weeks!