My housemates and I were talking about how nowadays, there seems to be a lack of good hongkong movies (see the Don's latest post for example). Jacky Chan is turning into a clown for Hollywood and most movies out in recent years feature the Gen Y boyish actors like Daniel Wu, Edison Chan and a few others who all look the same to me. Good-looking? Yes they are. But the plot is weak and their acting? Well, we sense they were no match for veterans such as Tony Leung, Anita Mui, Leslie Cheung, Gallen Lo and Maggie Cheung.
When was the last time you saw a really good HK movie? Mine was Kung Fu Hustle. Do you feel that the films they churn out now have very weird dialogues? There's a sense that they are trying very hard to imitate Wong Kar Wai, with all the weird scripts. Here's something that's rather typical:
Her: Don't you feel that love is like a cup of coffee?
Him: Hmm...
Her: It takes a lot of work to make a good cup of coffee... The water temperature must be just right, the amount of coffee powder to put has to be just so and with the perfect sweetness and just a tinge of bitterness...
Him: Yes! Love IS coffee!
Cuties girls just prance around the screen proclaiming their love for their new found sexuality while boys with devil-may-care attitudes seem more concerned about their hair than anything else.
We were also wondering whether there are any actors now who are really versatile. Those from Tony Leung's era don't count. Can you think of any? We can't.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Thursday, October 27, 2005
My first half day
Last morning, at about 3am, I was talking with my housemates. I was narrating to them my horrible firsts here in Australia. After groaning and they laughing till I almost cried at the terribleness of my experiences, E remarked that it would be a great idea to record our interesting days here in Brisbane where we only club and sing and hold house meetings at 3am. +_+ Right…
Anyway, I think E gave a very good suggestion right? So here I am, blogging about my first day in Brisbane. It was on the 9th of July, 2005. I had just spent a whole 30 minutes trying to get the keys to my room. What was the problem? I had stupidly arrived on a weekend. Even though it was 9am, there was no one around. Apparently, it is not the norm to work on weekends here in Australia, except for some of the shops that open until 3-5pm. So be warned! DO NOT ARRIVE ON A WEEKEND!!! Anyway, there was supposed to be someone around to pass me the keys but no! He did not answer to my pleading calls! The driver who drove me over and was supposed to see to my safety was fast losing his patience. He banged the phone, and I stupidly, apologized like mad even though it was not my fault. Bah! Blame my excellent upbringing. Hahaha… But he was not pissed at me lah… He had to drive other students to their lodging also.
Anyway, we went to the intercom of the building where I was SUPPOSED to be taking at shower at that time, and called up my unit.
Nothing. Bah bah bah! Finally, the guy answered his phone and arrived to pass me the keys and helped me bring my luggage up the stairs. Oh! Talking about luggage, I was struggling and running after my luggage while it was on the belt at the airport. I looked like an ass lor! Then this guy saw me running then he more hiong than me. He sprinted past me and lugged himself at my suitcase, heaved it up, turned it one round and bang! There it was, right in front of me. WooOoOO!!! My hero. Clasping my hands together in gratitude, I fervently thanked him. Before that, I was contemplating whether I should wait and wait and wait until everyone has gone then collect my luggage. Well, back to the story.
So I reached my place and saw the house that I would live in for the next 5 months for the first time. Wah! Bigger than what I thought leh!
Then hor, I felt a sharp pang of hunger. Die! NO FOOD!!! And according to what the guy said, there’s no shops that’s opened here on weekends. *sobs* Then I heard some noises. Hmm… I thought there was no one around when I came in? I walked out tentatively, wondering if it was going to be my first excitement in Brisbane. A WOMAN WITH LONG BLACK HAIR!!! She was rushing into the toilet, then I thought to myself: What a friendly housemate! Hahaha… It was E lah. She was sick and could hardly stand (That’s what she said during our morning conversation. Wu ngai bo? :P). Then I thought that it was great to have someone around; at least I know where I can get some food. But sadly, E wasn’t in the best of mood to entertain me. You can’t blame someone whose room spun around her when she stood up, can you?
Of course, the most important thing I had to do was set up my computer. TMD! NO FRIKKING INTERNET! What the hell?! Isn’t it supposed to be free like NUS and using wireless? What stupid things do I need to connect to internet? And I had to let my parents know what I have reached safely! How how?!
I whipped out my handphone only to realize that I pathetically did not have auto-roaming activated. How clever can I get? Room phone? Sure! But there’s no credit in the phone and I had to go to the office to top up phone credit. Guess what? Yep! It’s not opened on weekends! How nice! So I had to swallow my pride and knocked on E’s (who apparently did not want to talk) door and asked her how to get the internet up. She was very helpful; lending me an extra cable and coming to help me set up but to no avail. Why leh? Because I had no credit and I had to top it up in the bloody office that was so conveniently closed! There’s supposed to be a free internet account from school with a quota capped at 150MB but guess what again? I WAS NOT ENROLLED! I have to go through the whole orientation thing to be considered a student. What? I paid school fees right? Anyway, this blog is not about the idiosyncrasies of the administrative world.
So, no phone, no auto-roam, no internet. Telepathy? Sure, but I think my range is only 1km max and I was thousands and quadrillion of kms away from home. So an idea hit me! Try sms! Yay~ I could finally breathe when the sms got through and I msg a few key people. But I still wasn’t sure if they would receive my msg and so, again, thickening my skin, I asked E if she could let me use her internet account to msg my brother (whom I hoped was online and thankfully, was) on msn. If you had received my msn msg on that day, you now know how horrible the situation was!
Finally, I could shower and that was like the first thing that went well. After coming out from the shower, I smelt something cooking and all the saliva rushed into my mouth again. I was still hungry. E was at the stove whipping up pasta. PASTA!!! She offered me some but I declined. I didn’t want to appear greedy and besides, I wasn’t sure I could stop after “some”. Poof! E was gone, back into her room. Die! Still haven’t asked where to get some food.
Haiz... I opened the fridge and contemplated whether I should steal some food. Nah… I was going to stay with them and I can’t afford people poisoning my food subsequently. So I dragged myself back to my sparse room. I looked at the bed, it looked at me. My third contemplation of the day was whether I should sleep the hunger away or maybe buy some food from E. But it struck me. After sleeping and hopefully waking up, I would still have no food. So weighing the consequences of dying on my first day and that of having a bad start with a housemate, I decided the former was less dire. Besides, I would win her over with my crappiness soon, assuming she wasn't a ninny-putt (read: crappophobic and no, she’s not). Yes yes yes… I knocked again to inquire about how to get some food.
So she told me I could take a bus to this place called Hawken Dr. You know how I looked like? I was holding a pen and paper in my hand, asking for directions to the nearest grocer and taking down notes! What I wrote was “411” “Hawken Dr”. Yay! Time to get food! So I went to my room, gather some stuff like torchlight (Daddy’s order because winter day is short) and wore my track shoes (Mummy’s order because it was cold). Yes, I officially look like a nerd. Never mind. I can go shopping soon but that’s another story. So in broad daylight at 1pm, I placed a torch in my bag and wore track shoes to take a bus.
After leaving the house, I was stumped. Which direction do I go? E just told me to go to the bus-stop and take 411. Where the hell is the bus-stop? Die until cannot die. Luckily, I saw this good-looking guy walking past. Sad. How could I bring myself to ask for directions to the bus-stop in my cringe-worthy looking state? I could because it was a life or death situation. The chocolate Raymond and Linda gave me before I left was fast dwindling. This was our conversation.
Me: Hi. Can I know where is the bus-stop?
Him: Bus-stop?
Me: Yeah… ermm.. you know, to take the bus? (Right, he looks stupid. Nice-going girl!)
Him: Oh! It’s easy! Just go up the slope and you will see it.
Me: Slope?
Him: You know, the incline there. (Points to slope. Now I AM stupid.)
Me: Oh… And the bus-stop is there?
Him: Yes! You just go up, turn right, turn left, go up and you will see it.
Me (fervently hoping he would be kind enough to bring me there): Ermm… Ok… Thanks…
Him: No problem! Have a good day! (Lumbers off into the sun and gone from my sight forever. Haiz…)
I guess I was lucky I did not take down notes about the directions and appear to be a bigger klutz because you CANNOT miss the giant bus-stop. 黄熊熊 and Retarded Kangaroo will show you why:
YAY! Bus-stop!!! But where do I wait for the bus? For your information, the bus-stop is about 30m long and there were a number of signposts so I had no idea where to go. Then I thought the technique, monkey see monkey do was good. I saw this girl going up to one of the boards and decided: Yes! That’s the way. You use your eyes to see! Pray forgive how stupid I sound in this blog. I was jet lagged, had almost not made it to my lodging, met a housemate who appeared to want me dead each time I knocked on her door, approached a cute guy in track shoes, knowing I was carrying a torch in my bag in broad daylight, and was hungry enough to eat grass. You think you would fare better than me? Rubbish!
But! My heart nearly stopped when I saw the board. It was the bus timetable:
I WAS going to die on my first day. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Thankfully, I was in stupid mood the first time round. This is the full picture:
Now just have to wait for bus! Yay!!!
Anyway, I think E gave a very good suggestion right? So here I am, blogging about my first day in Brisbane. It was on the 9th of July, 2005. I had just spent a whole 30 minutes trying to get the keys to my room. What was the problem? I had stupidly arrived on a weekend. Even though it was 9am, there was no one around. Apparently, it is not the norm to work on weekends here in Australia, except for some of the shops that open until 3-5pm. So be warned! DO NOT ARRIVE ON A WEEKEND!!! Anyway, there was supposed to be someone around to pass me the keys but no! He did not answer to my pleading calls! The driver who drove me over and was supposed to see to my safety was fast losing his patience. He banged the phone, and I stupidly, apologized like mad even though it was not my fault. Bah! Blame my excellent upbringing. Hahaha… But he was not pissed at me lah… He had to drive other students to their lodging also.
Anyway, we went to the intercom of the building where I was SUPPOSED to be taking at shower at that time, and called up my unit.
喂喂喂, 你在不在?
Nothing. Bah bah bah! Finally, the guy answered his phone and arrived to pass me the keys and helped me bring my luggage up the stairs. Oh! Talking about luggage, I was struggling and running after my luggage while it was on the belt at the airport. I looked like an ass lor! Then this guy saw me running then he more hiong than me. He sprinted past me and lugged himself at my suitcase, heaved it up, turned it one round and bang! There it was, right in front of me. WooOoOO!!! My hero. Clasping my hands together in gratitude, I fervently thanked him. Before that, I was contemplating whether I should wait and wait and wait until everyone has gone then collect my luggage. Well, back to the story.
So I reached my place and saw the house that I would live in for the next 5 months for the first time. Wah! Bigger than what I thought leh!
G, E and N are my housemates. You can't miss me right?
Then hor, I felt a sharp pang of hunger. Die! NO FOOD!!! And according to what the guy said, there’s no shops that’s opened here on weekends. *sobs* Then I heard some noises. Hmm… I thought there was no one around when I came in? I walked out tentatively, wondering if it was going to be my first excitement in Brisbane. A WOMAN WITH LONG BLACK HAIR!!! She was rushing into the toilet, then I thought to myself: What a friendly housemate! Hahaha… It was E lah. She was sick and could hardly stand (That’s what she said during our morning conversation. Wu ngai bo? :P). Then I thought that it was great to have someone around; at least I know where I can get some food. But sadly, E wasn’t in the best of mood to entertain me. You can’t blame someone whose room spun around her when she stood up, can you?
Of course, the most important thing I had to do was set up my computer. TMD! NO FRIKKING INTERNET! What the hell?! Isn’t it supposed to be free like NUS and using wireless? What stupid things do I need to connect to internet? And I had to let my parents know what I have reached safely! How how?!
I whipped out my handphone only to realize that I pathetically did not have auto-roaming activated. How clever can I get? Room phone? Sure! But there’s no credit in the phone and I had to go to the office to top up phone credit. Guess what? Yep! It’s not opened on weekends! How nice! So I had to swallow my pride and knocked on E’s (who apparently did not want to talk) door and asked her how to get the internet up. She was very helpful; lending me an extra cable and coming to help me set up but to no avail. Why leh? Because I had no credit and I had to top it up in the bloody office that was so conveniently closed! There’s supposed to be a free internet account from school with a quota capped at 150MB but guess what again? I WAS NOT ENROLLED! I have to go through the whole orientation thing to be considered a student. What? I paid school fees right? Anyway, this blog is not about the idiosyncrasies of the administrative world.
So, no phone, no auto-roam, no internet. Telepathy? Sure, but I think my range is only 1km max and I was thousands and quadrillion of kms away from home. So an idea hit me! Try sms! Yay~ I could finally breathe when the sms got through and I msg a few key people. But I still wasn’t sure if they would receive my msg and so, again, thickening my skin, I asked E if she could let me use her internet account to msg my brother (whom I hoped was online and thankfully, was) on msn. If you had received my msn msg on that day, you now know how horrible the situation was!
Finally, I could shower and that was like the first thing that went well. After coming out from the shower, I smelt something cooking and all the saliva rushed into my mouth again. I was still hungry. E was at the stove whipping up pasta. PASTA!!! She offered me some but I declined. I didn’t want to appear greedy and besides, I wasn’t sure I could stop after “some”. Poof! E was gone, back into her room. Die! Still haven’t asked where to get some food.
Haiz... I opened the fridge and contemplated whether I should steal some food. Nah… I was going to stay with them and I can’t afford people poisoning my food subsequently. So I dragged myself back to my sparse room. I looked at the bed, it looked at me. My third contemplation of the day was whether I should sleep the hunger away or maybe buy some food from E. But it struck me. After sleeping and hopefully waking up, I would still have no food. So weighing the consequences of dying on my first day and that of having a bad start with a housemate, I decided the former was less dire. Besides, I would win her over with my crappiness soon, assuming she wasn't a ninny-putt (read: crappophobic and no, she’s not). Yes yes yes… I knocked again to inquire about how to get some food.
So she told me I could take a bus to this place called Hawken Dr. You know how I looked like? I was holding a pen and paper in my hand, asking for directions to the nearest grocer and taking down notes! What I wrote was “411” “Hawken Dr”. Yay! Time to get food! So I went to my room, gather some stuff like torchlight (Daddy’s order because winter day is short) and wore my track shoes (Mummy’s order because it was cold). Yes, I officially look like a nerd. Never mind. I can go shopping soon but that’s another story. So in broad daylight at 1pm, I placed a torch in my bag and wore track shoes to take a bus.
After leaving the house, I was stumped. Which direction do I go? E just told me to go to the bus-stop and take 411. Where the hell is the bus-stop? Die until cannot die. Luckily, I saw this good-looking guy walking past. Sad. How could I bring myself to ask for directions to the bus-stop in my cringe-worthy looking state? I could because it was a life or death situation. The chocolate Raymond and Linda gave me before I left was fast dwindling. This was our conversation.
Me: Hi. Can I know where is the bus-stop?
Him: Bus-stop?
Me: Yeah… ermm.. you know, to take the bus? (Right, he looks stupid. Nice-going girl!)
Him: Oh! It’s easy! Just go up the slope and you will see it.
Me: Slope?
Him: You know, the incline there. (Points to slope. Now I AM stupid.)
Me: Oh… And the bus-stop is there?
Him: Yes! You just go up, turn right, turn left, go up and you will see it.
Me (fervently hoping he would be kind enough to bring me there): Ermm… Ok… Thanks…
Him: No problem! Have a good day! (Lumbers off into the sun and gone from my sight forever. Haiz…)
I guess I was lucky I did not take down notes about the directions and appear to be a bigger klutz because you CANNOT miss the giant bus-stop. 黄熊熊 and Retarded Kangaroo will show you why:
黄熊熊's paw is pointing to the bus-stop at Chancellor's Place and R.K's snout is pointing to Hood St where I stay.
YAY! Bus-stop!!! But where do I wait for the bus? For your information, the bus-stop is about 30m long and there were a number of signposts so I had no idea where to go. Then I thought the technique, monkey see monkey do was good. I saw this girl going up to one of the boards and decided: Yes! That’s the way. You use your eyes to see! Pray forgive how stupid I sound in this blog. I was jet lagged, had almost not made it to my lodging, met a housemate who appeared to want me dead each time I knocked on her door, approached a cute guy in track shoes, knowing I was carrying a torch in my bag in broad daylight, and was hungry enough to eat grass. You think you would fare better than me? Rubbish!
But! My heart nearly stopped when I saw the board. It was the bus timetable:
NO MORE BUS?!
I WAS going to die on my first day. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Thankfully, I was in stupid mood the first time round. This is the full picture:
Heh heh... Yeah... I frikking blind
Now just have to wait for bus! Yay!!!
*** To be continued***
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
I sense the end of me...
One day, I was innocently doing my grocery shopping and this happened:
This is what it is:
I'll let you know the taste soon. In spirit.
I sense that my housemate will find me unconscious in the bathroom soon...
This is what it is:
Smells better than real chocolate
I'll let you know the taste soon. In spirit.
Retarded Kangaroo for your thoughts?
Welcome, welcome! Let's put our paws together for Retarded Kangaroo!
*Post inspired by Ms Ling.
If you are hungry, should you abstain from shitting? You need to keep all the food you can inside right?
*Post inspired by Ms Ling.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Retarded Kangaroo for your thoughts?
Welcome, welcome! Let's put our paws together for Retarded Kangaroo!
Starting from today, Retarded Kangaroo will confront us with the weirdest questions ever! In the inaugural post, R.K asks:
"If your partner sleeping with a member of the opposite sex is being unfaithful and unforgivable, what about your partner sleeping with someone from his/her own sex?"
Starting from today, Retarded Kangaroo will confront us with the weirdest questions ever! In the inaugural post, R.K asks:
"If your partner sleeping with a member of the opposite sex is being unfaithful and unforgivable, what about your partner sleeping with someone from his/her own sex?"
Now it's spring. The birth of wonderful insects, the screams of frightened housemates, the laughter from evil old me! Ah! I love spring.
The bugs love lights and would settle on my laptop. It's time for some fun! Here's the top Q&A for some bug loving!
Question: What do you do when bugs are attracted to your laptop?
Answer: Follow them with your mouse. It seriously freaks them out.
Question: What if they refuse to leave?
Answer: You squash them with your recipes.
Question: What to do after making a cup of coffee?
Answer: Cover it well. Unless you fancy drinking bugs for some extra protein.
The bugs love lights and would settle on my laptop. It's time for some fun! Here's the top Q&A for some bug loving!
Question: What do you do when bugs are attracted to your laptop?
Answer: Follow them with your mouse. It seriously freaks them out.
Question: What if they refuse to leave?
Answer: You squash them with your recipes.
Question: What to do after making a cup of coffee?
Answer: Cover it well. Unless you fancy drinking bugs for some extra protein.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Cramp your fingers!
Feeling bored? In an artistic mood? No pencil and paper? Want to be challenged? STOP DIGGING YOUR NOSE!
Visit SketchPlanet today! While you are at it, check out what I have done!
Disclaimer: If you lose your painstaking work, do not blame me. I know how it feels. Give the guy a chance; it's still in beta!
Thursday, October 20, 2005
We have a winner!
A few days ago, I ask people to spot the wrongness in this:
I also provided some hints. Today, we finally have a winner!
*drumroll*
Congratulations anonymous -mon-! Here's your winning entry:
"Anonymous said...
or maybe it's the security cams on the roof of the bus. it could take down-blouse pics eh. -mon- "
For your stunning answer, I shall award you with an e-kiss! *smooch*
Here's the story behind the pic. One day, I was innocently on the bus, looking around me as I deliberated whether to dig my nose. Left was a friend who's used to my disgusting habit. Clear. Right was the window. Clear. Back were people who were too busy talking about their zits, boobs and bums. Clear. Front were two hotties sitting like they were pooping, therefore spoiling the hunk image. So clear. Then the top! OH MY GOD! THE TOP!
There they were, a few tiny globes scanning the bus. Can see?
So I could not dig my nose! Who was watching me? Nowadays, we have these surveillance cameras all over the place. Why? In the name of fighting terrorism. I think back in good ol' days, no one would take this lying down:
"The authorities have no right to monitor our every move!"
So is this now right then? I had no idea what the cameras were for and thus googled it to hopefully get some answers. Nope. Nothing. Zilch. No information whatsoever about why the all-knowing e-eyes were there and what they were looking for. Why are we living in such an Orwellian society now? Who is the Big Brother watching us? Is there any Big Brother at all?
Let's think about it. We can install an infinite amount of cameras but are they effective? That depends on what they are used for. If someone is going to commit a crime, will it serve as deterrence? If we have cameras zooming around, ideally there should be a team of people monitoring everything 24-7. Are there?
I can tell you what it is good for: I only dig my nose in the bathroom.
I also provided some hints. Today, we finally have a winner!
*drumroll*
Congratulations anonymous -mon-! Here's your winning entry:
"Anonymous said...
or maybe it's the security cams on the roof of the bus. it could take down-blouse pics eh. -mon- "
For your stunning answer, I shall award you with an e-kiss! *smooch*
Here's the story behind the pic. One day, I was innocently on the bus, looking around me as I deliberated whether to dig my nose. Left was a friend who's used to my disgusting habit. Clear. Right was the window. Clear. Back were people who were too busy talking about their zits, boobs and bums. Clear. Front were two hotties sitting like they were pooping, therefore spoiling the hunk image. So clear. Then the top! OH MY GOD! THE TOP!
There they were, a few tiny globes scanning the bus. Can see?
I pooped on the wrongness!
So I could not dig my nose! Who was watching me? Nowadays, we have these surveillance cameras all over the place. Why? In the name of fighting terrorism. I think back in good ol' days, no one would take this lying down:
"The authorities have no right to monitor our every move!"
So is this now right then? I had no idea what the cameras were for and thus googled it to hopefully get some answers. Nope. Nothing. Zilch. No information whatsoever about why the all-knowing e-eyes were there and what they were looking for. Why are we living in such an Orwellian society now? Who is the Big Brother watching us? Is there any Big Brother at all?
Let's think about it. We can install an infinite amount of cameras but are they effective? That depends on what they are used for. If someone is going to commit a crime, will it serve as deterrence? If we have cameras zooming around, ideally there should be a team of people monitoring everything 24-7. Are there?
I can tell you what it is good for: I only dig my nose in the bathroom.
WHO IS WATCHING YOU TODAY?
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Tremors of goosebumps
As she read it, she felt the prickling of her skin; waves of feelings that seemed to rise from the depths of her heart.
The performance
Furnerals are performances. It is not for the dead; it is for the living. The living do many things out of its norm. It cries, it rants, it rails and it acts.
At his furneral, many claimed to be his "brother". "Brothers" who were not by his side when he needed it raving at the injustice of his death; at the supposed caning he received post-mortem; at the guy who allegedly got him into trouble; at the girl who did not turn up when he had left a letter only for her.
At another furneral, she was refusing dinner, claiming to want to keep the dead company. Why did she not turn up on his birthday? Was it because there was not enough people around to witness it? If you did faint at the furneral from refusing food, you were then being filial and not being a nuisance, adding more problems to the sad affair? If you called the girl a bitch for not wanting to face the hostile "brotherhood", you were being a friend?
At his furneral, many claimed to be his "brother". "Brothers" who were not by his side when he needed it raving at the injustice of his death; at the supposed caning he received post-mortem; at the guy who allegedly got him into trouble; at the girl who did not turn up when he had left a letter only for her.
At another furneral, she was refusing dinner, claiming to want to keep the dead company. Why did she not turn up on his birthday? Was it because there was not enough people around to witness it? If you did faint at the furneral from refusing food, you were then being filial and not being a nuisance, adding more problems to the sad affair? If you called the girl a bitch for not wanting to face the hostile "brotherhood", you were being a friend?
Of the pic (Hints provided)
Wah! So many people (by my standards) responded to the pic I posted ah! Really top the number of comments I had in a while. I scare later the answer not sensational enough I will get bashed up. It is not a technical wrongness (i.e. not something problematic with the technique); rather it is something I feel is morally and ethically incorrect.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Spot the wrongness!
What's wrong with this pic?!
Nope, it's not the two guys sitting like they are pooping on the bus. Something much more evil.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Him
I remember the day he jumped. I got a call from SJ. I thought she was joking. It couldn't be true. I sat in the darkness of the room, I felt a little faint. I kept asking her to knock it out. He couldn't be dead. Why would he want to commit suicide?
I told my parents; they couldn't believe it. I was never close to him. We were just classmates but once, he was with my friend and frequently sought me out for advice on her likes and dislikes. Together, me, him and another friend went out to get presents for her. Throughout the day, I remember cracking jokes. I cannot remember specifically what it was, but I know it involved a lot of "pi sai". And I remember him massaging his cheeks, still laughing, pleading at me to stop for his face was aching. I felt happy to be thought of as funny and happy that people around me were happy. Yes, it was all about me.
Later, he bought us both presents; things we said we liked in the course of the day. It was his token of appreciation for our help in getting presents for his girl.
At the furneral, I burnt the incense in disbelief. We walked over to his coffin and it struck me. He was wearing his Blackburn Rovers jersey. There were scratches on his face. They were from the jump. All the memories of how he would fervently defend his favourite football team in class against all those Man U supporters came rushing back. I knew I was not his friend; had not been one for 2 years. Yet, I could not hold back the tears. Was it the guilt that I had not kept up the friendship? Was it seeing him lying there, perhaps finding the peace that had eluded him for so long? I did not know. And I still don't.
I couldn't stop crying. Strange glances were cast upon me. I could only remember the word "pi sai" and how happy he looked then. I was not his friend, yet my tears were streaming down my face. Someone should mourn, but who was I? Disgusted with myself, I left.
In the days to come, I went back and did not cry. I could laugh when they were talking about how he used to be. There was nothing I could do but send him on his last journey. I regret not knowing him before he took that path. Maybe I could have stopped him. But I know I was rubbish. I wasn't a friend.
That was four years ago. He was but eighteen. Today, I read about Clavion and thought of him. I hope they are both happier now.
I told my parents; they couldn't believe it. I was never close to him. We were just classmates but once, he was with my friend and frequently sought me out for advice on her likes and dislikes. Together, me, him and another friend went out to get presents for her. Throughout the day, I remember cracking jokes. I cannot remember specifically what it was, but I know it involved a lot of "pi sai". And I remember him massaging his cheeks, still laughing, pleading at me to stop for his face was aching. I felt happy to be thought of as funny and happy that people around me were happy. Yes, it was all about me.
Later, he bought us both presents; things we said we liked in the course of the day. It was his token of appreciation for our help in getting presents for his girl.
At the furneral, I burnt the incense in disbelief. We walked over to his coffin and it struck me. He was wearing his Blackburn Rovers jersey. There were scratches on his face. They were from the jump. All the memories of how he would fervently defend his favourite football team in class against all those Man U supporters came rushing back. I knew I was not his friend; had not been one for 2 years. Yet, I could not hold back the tears. Was it the guilt that I had not kept up the friendship? Was it seeing him lying there, perhaps finding the peace that had eluded him for so long? I did not know. And I still don't.
I couldn't stop crying. Strange glances were cast upon me. I could only remember the word "pi sai" and how happy he looked then. I was not his friend, yet my tears were streaming down my face. Someone should mourn, but who was I? Disgusted with myself, I left.
In the days to come, I went back and did not cry. I could laugh when they were talking about how he used to be. There was nothing I could do but send him on his last journey. I regret not knowing him before he took that path. Maybe I could have stopped him. But I know I was rubbish. I wasn't a friend.
That was four years ago. He was but eighteen. Today, I read about Clavion and thought of him. I hope they are both happier now.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
The big and small of it
As far as houses go, most would think the bigger, the better. Everyone can have his/her own personal space and there’s plenty of room for this and that.
When I was young, we all stayed in the same room. That may not sound like much until you hear that there were 6 of us to a tiny room. How did we all fit in? There was mum and youngest brother on the double bed, dad and elder brother to the bunk bed. Finally, younger brother and I were on mattresses on the floor.
To many, it would be a tad too clamped I think. How can we stand one another? On the contrary, I think it was part of some of the best times I had. Let me narrate the sleeping procedures. Every night, we would be ushered in to sleep. Some nights my parents would still be watching television in the living room but we never dared venture out when we were told that it was our bed time. Other nights, mum and dad would be turning in with us. So the logical thing to do was go to our individual sleeping area. Mine is mattress number 2 as you can see from the layout.
So we would all be in our beds and ready to travel to dreamland. But! The crucial question was, who would turn off the lights (which is at the foot of mattress 1)? Now, by logical deduction, you can see that it’s not going to be mum nor baby brother because they were furthest from the switch. So that’s two down, four to go. Judging from how dad is the man of the family, it would hardly be his role too right? Three to go. Elder brother was sleeping on the top bunk, so it was too much of a hassle. Besides, he might step on my leg and break it in the dark. I might not have to go to school after that, but I think it would hurt. Bad.
In the end, it was left with yours truly and younger brother in mattress 1. Remember, we were but kids. Like all kids, the only solution out of all these was a round of scissors, paper, stone. But luckily for me, younger brother was a very obliging boy. He would automatically get up and turn off the lights. My, it was a performance. Firstly, he could barely reach it and had to tiptoe. Secondly, there was the counting down. While contests had drumrolls before revealing the winners, my brother had his three-two-ones before turning off the lights. Sometimes, to break the monotony, it was three-two-two-and-a-half-one. You can imagine how it went after he learnt fraction in school.
Lights out and it was time to sleep. But sleep was not immediate. All of us would lie quietly in beds, listening to our parents talk. I can imagine that most adults are not used to sleeping at 9pm. So my parents would talk to each other about their day; typically with mum gossiping and dad saying “ah ha, ah ha”. It was in this cosy and tranquil state in which we fell asleep for most nights.
During the night, younger brother on mattress 1 would sneeze and sniff. He suffered from asthma and sinus. He would get up and rub his nose very loudly before returning to sleep. With me just next to him, it was not always easy to get uninterrupted sleep. But I had never once wished that he was somewhere else. I guess this is what they call family love.
Sometimes, I would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. It always made me feel better when I saw my dad just next to me. Although when I turned to my left, I would face the darkness below the bunk bed, it never quite freaked me out. I suppose monsters under the bed was not my kind of thing. On very bad nights, when I simply could not return to sleep, I would wake mum up and tell her about it. Being a pragmatic woman who knew that she had to grab her sleep whenever she could because she has four kids, mum would tell me to count the stars. And I did. Somehow, it had a calming effect and I would sleep again.
In the morning, there was the clearing up duties. My younger brothers were usually exempted from this because they were not quite tall enough. It would be up to me and my elder brother to stack the mattresses onto the top bunk. Back-breaking work I tell you but what has to be done, gets done.
Now, we have a different configuration. After my grandfather passed away, I had his room. Ah! The privilege of being the only girl. Shortly after, my uncles got married and moved out. Then my three brothers shared that room and my parents finally gained their own space. Some days, I would venture into my brothers’ room to talk to them. Most of the time, our post-dinner activity was to gather in my parents’ room to watch television together. I don’t think I can get enough of that.
So the adage “bigger is better” does not always apply. Not to me anyway.
When I was young, we all stayed in the same room. That may not sound like much until you hear that there were 6 of us to a tiny room. How did we all fit in? There was mum and youngest brother on the double bed, dad and elder brother to the bunk bed. Finally, younger brother and I were on mattresses on the floor.
To many, it would be a tad too clamped I think. How can we stand one another? On the contrary, I think it was part of some of the best times I had. Let me narrate the sleeping procedures. Every night, we would be ushered in to sleep. Some nights my parents would still be watching television in the living room but we never dared venture out when we were told that it was our bed time. Other nights, mum and dad would be turning in with us. So the logical thing to do was go to our individual sleeping area. Mine is mattress number 2 as you can see from the layout.
So we would all be in our beds and ready to travel to dreamland. But! The crucial question was, who would turn off the lights (which is at the foot of mattress 1)? Now, by logical deduction, you can see that it’s not going to be mum nor baby brother because they were furthest from the switch. So that’s two down, four to go. Judging from how dad is the man of the family, it would hardly be his role too right? Three to go. Elder brother was sleeping on the top bunk, so it was too much of a hassle. Besides, he might step on my leg and break it in the dark. I might not have to go to school after that, but I think it would hurt. Bad.
In the end, it was left with yours truly and younger brother in mattress 1. Remember, we were but kids. Like all kids, the only solution out of all these was a round of scissors, paper, stone. But luckily for me, younger brother was a very obliging boy. He would automatically get up and turn off the lights. My, it was a performance. Firstly, he could barely reach it and had to tiptoe. Secondly, there was the counting down. While contests had drumrolls before revealing the winners, my brother had his three-two-ones before turning off the lights. Sometimes, to break the monotony, it was three-two-two-and-a-half-one. You can imagine how it went after he learnt fraction in school.
Lights out and it was time to sleep. But sleep was not immediate. All of us would lie quietly in beds, listening to our parents talk. I can imagine that most adults are not used to sleeping at 9pm. So my parents would talk to each other about their day; typically with mum gossiping and dad saying “ah ha, ah ha”. It was in this cosy and tranquil state in which we fell asleep for most nights.
During the night, younger brother on mattress 1 would sneeze and sniff. He suffered from asthma and sinus. He would get up and rub his nose very loudly before returning to sleep. With me just next to him, it was not always easy to get uninterrupted sleep. But I had never once wished that he was somewhere else. I guess this is what they call family love.
Sometimes, I would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. It always made me feel better when I saw my dad just next to me. Although when I turned to my left, I would face the darkness below the bunk bed, it never quite freaked me out. I suppose monsters under the bed was not my kind of thing. On very bad nights, when I simply could not return to sleep, I would wake mum up and tell her about it. Being a pragmatic woman who knew that she had to grab her sleep whenever she could because she has four kids, mum would tell me to count the stars. And I did. Somehow, it had a calming effect and I would sleep again.
In the morning, there was the clearing up duties. My younger brothers were usually exempted from this because they were not quite tall enough. It would be up to me and my elder brother to stack the mattresses onto the top bunk. Back-breaking work I tell you but what has to be done, gets done.
Now, we have a different configuration. After my grandfather passed away, I had his room. Ah! The privilege of being the only girl. Shortly after, my uncles got married and moved out. Then my three brothers shared that room and my parents finally gained their own space. Some days, I would venture into my brothers’ room to talk to them. Most of the time, our post-dinner activity was to gather in my parents’ room to watch television together. I don’t think I can get enough of that.
So the adage “bigger is better” does not always apply. Not to me anyway.
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Things I think about
Traffic lights. I often wonder whether there are people who specialize in calculating when to make traffic lights blink and for how long. I thought it would be a fairly simple job. *tui tui tui, green man on, green man blinks, red man on* What would these people do after they set up the system? No more job? Ah ha! Traffic lights are tricky little things; they look deceptively easy to set up, no? But when you think of how you need to coordinate traffic light A with traffic light B and B with C and so on, you would think twice wouldn’t you? Furthermore, you need to estimate the average speed and how many cars will be stopping on a particular road when the light turns red and whether there is enough space for the perpendicular traffic to zoom by the last car. Many, many considerations my friend!
***
Animals. I think they are only as good as the extent to which you can control them (hmm… just like everything else?). You wouldn’t enjoy having a dog that barks twenty-four seven right? That’s why people have muzzles. Too inhumane to shut your poor cutie, sweetie chiwawa up you say? Well, think of the poor student who has to hear the din your beloved pet and others make at 6 in the morning. Some of us are just unfortunate enough to stay near a vet where the wounded animals make it a point to let you know just how they feel. Be humane to human first please.
***
Perception. Many a time, we feel hungry. Many a time, we walk around because we cannot decide what to eat. Many a time, we perceive that the stall with the longest queue is the only stall we can eat from. Many a time, we join the back of that queue only to realize it has been overattributed. Many a time, we curse like a sailor for sticking to such a misguided perception.
***
Animals. I think they are only as good as the extent to which you can control them (hmm… just like everything else?). You wouldn’t enjoy having a dog that barks twenty-four seven right? That’s why people have muzzles. Too inhumane to shut your poor cutie, sweetie chiwawa up you say? Well, think of the poor student who has to hear the din your beloved pet and others make at 6 in the morning. Some of us are just unfortunate enough to stay near a vet where the wounded animals make it a point to let you know just how they feel. Be humane to human first please.
***
Perception. Many a time, we feel hungry. Many a time, we walk around because we cannot decide what to eat. Many a time, we perceive that the stall with the longest queue is the only stall we can eat from. Many a time, we join the back of that queue only to realize it has been overattributed. Many a time, we curse like a sailor for sticking to such a misguided perception.
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