Imported ThDC

Jam-packed week and -end. Been floating in the 'sick' region for nearly a week now; darn sore throat threatened to ruin my Wed Psych presentation but it suddenly cleared two hours before. Deliberately cut classes for the first time - two days in a row. Once to sleep in hopes of recovery, and once to burn rubber to Subang.

Last dance practice on Wed.

Last dance performance on Thurs. At least, until A2 ends in late Nov. =(



Thurs also happened to be Yee Fai's birthday; good thing it coincided with Subang's ECA Drive and they invited us to perform!



The circumstances were bad though; it was an outdoor affair and had rained thoroughly beforehand. The stage was soaked and I had to detour to pick up a hard copy of our soundtrack. Thank goodness I still made it in time.
Didn't know we were the first ones on; I hate rushing right before a performance. After rolling on the waterlogged stage and successfully ruining my hair within the first twenty seconds, I was only satisfied that I jumped decently high compared to past stage attempts!

Gosu on his way down.

After the nerves it was plain chilling.



ThDC cousins in attendance at TDC senior's birthday celebration! =)



It was good getting to know Subang more; we went to Fullhouse which I've been wanting to try for ages!




My father's now in Bangkok on seriously the best business trip. A man, an array of fishing equipment, and a body of water full of monster fish. Epic.




I looked up the firm he's checking out and found... Now this is passion.


Through fishing trips with local Thai anglers; conversations with them over many long days and nights; listening to lectures and applying all that to personal experimentation, I learned and perfected an entirely different way to fish.

Whether you're a beginner or seasoned angler ; whether you look to fish alone, with family, friends or companions; whether your budget is modest or generous; our team will help you forget - in just one day - the constraints and pressures of your hectic working life.

As far as fishing is concerned, I humbly admit that this old fisherman has learnt quite a few new tricks!
Is it not fantastic to be able to write such things, with all my experience, at 71 years of age?

It will be THE fishing event of the beginning of this millennium for Bangkok, for Thailand…my last love !



What a beauty.



Today was a full day out, productive but I'm so tired.


Things changed a little bit more on Tuesday. And even more yesterday.
I've missed being outdoors for too long. Everyday cooped up without seeing the different moods of the sun I love, forsaken in an iceberg of a concrete slab. So I went for a walk without telling anyone and it was just like last time. Even coming home, just like last time.

There was too much inside me. Too many thoughts, emotions, nuances, recollections, imaginings.
I wrote, and I wrote.

And I found myself again.

Ditto

Puke. Sprayed on the ends of my hair, on the tips of my toes. Mostly, on the great expanse of floor before me as I sought to check the next wave of nausea. Floor was carpeted - bad.

Only seconds before that, I was tottering faintly to the public restroom, uncertain if I'd reach in time to beat the rising queasiness in me. I felt a wave of horror as my mouth filled - but still I refused to unclasp my lips. Then a bigger torrent pushed it out; there was nothing I could do.

The washroom was down the corridor... after a right turn... which was after a left turn...

and ohmygoshHereItComesAgain; I heaved, splattering a second part of public flooring with vegetable soup and barley - I thought those were safe to consume, after having thrown up already not an hour before.

I can only wish my puke looked as pretty as this.

The cleaners glared at me. I crouched by a wastebasket, the vessel closest to me, as I gagged again. Finally I found myself at the toilet sink. And noticed I had red carrot bits up my nose.

When I'd washed away the mess, I gratefully dismissed the waitress who'd supported me all the way from the cafe I was patronising. Collected myself, and stepped out. Past the one particular cleaner who was still glaring at me. Back to Yang Kang who had settled the bill at the cafe.
Whottaguy. But he's taken, soshutyourtraps. =P

I pulled out a couple of notes each for the two cleaners, and went back to apologise for wreckage I'd committed. Surprisingly, the glaring one took the most persuading, but I held my ground. I guess sometimes the fiercest ones are those with the hardest principles, and that's why they judge so harshly.

Was actually planning to stay back for my friends' MUN exhibition, and to see Hong Onn's solo performance - MUN called her just the night before, in a state of panic. But after throwing up twice in the space of an hour, I wasn't up to it. In fact, I was too weak to even carry out the books from my car when I got home.

I just... slept.

Friggin' three-day-old tuna. I won't make that mistake again, trust me. Have never vomited or slept continuously for so long, in years.

Spitball

Week Two of Oct:

The hours of sleep I got were approximately...

Mon Tues Wed Thurs Fri
2 3 4 5 4

...with Monday being the worst. All this was mostly on account of completing Lit analyses; but recall, I was also dealing with the hassle of ironing out details for D-day (Fri). Checking my inbox with unerring regularity, making frantic phone calls, hounding Fly Fm for their Myvi Troopers... Oh, and not to forget, practice for singing or dancing every single day. Sneaking lunch into class just so the lunch hour could be spent finishing the dance choreography.



And then came D-day itself.
The whirlwind began the moment class ended. We had to set up our food stall (I'd made brownies the night before and Carmen, egg sandwiches), as well as our T-shirt sales stand. I became Performance Director for the day and was practically running around everywhere.

The Troopers' Myvi broke down. Another performer's car had already beaten the Troopers to it the day before. My performances (backup singing for a rapper, and a dance routine) were the opening acts and it felt crazy hectic - but manageable.

Looking back after, I wondered how it looked like from an outsider's point of view. Was it an event in shambles? Or passable? Or better than both of those?

I know some performances were just sheer pleasure for spectators; the deafening-cheer-inducing dance battle, professional Latin dancers who had conquered in competition, a light-footed contemporary spin on Lady Gaga's Paparazzi, sharply executed routines from the Subang campus boys - later at dinner I discovered they'd only choreographed and practised it the night before! All in all, I would consider the event a success in parts. Worth falling sick for.




Week Three of Oct:

Aye, as a result of excessive loss of sleep and such, I fell ill with a cough on Sunday night and 'til now, have gone through the motions of experiencing fever, sore throat and a runny nose. After all those days obsessing over the earthly details of one event, I now felt removed from the world.

I didn't bother to dress up; was as animated as my outfits were all week. Plain. Never have I gone to college in the commonplace pants-and-shirt getup so dang repeatedly. But I dress according to what I'm feeling inside. And I felt bland, lacking in spirit and vigour, indifferent to the specifics for which I usually display concern.

By Wednesday (the worst), people were telling me how my face had "changed colour".
One lecturer even referred to me as a "walking spirit". I wasn't sure what that meant, 'cause as far as I knew, my face was wont to remain one shade whilst others' might be flushed or pale, depending on the circumstance.

I just want to get well; tired of feeling listless and falling asleep without brushing my teeth or changing out of my day clothes, sleeping 'til the morn.

"Just an hour... then I'll start my work..." doesn't work.

But over 2 nights, I'd accumulated a glorious 20 hours of sleep, and I never once felt like dozing in class subsequently! Been long since I last had that kind of focus in class.

Head lined with fuzz and edged in heat (fried like the edges of a sunny-side-up), I drifted off in uneasy stupor. I had to get well, somehow. I still hoped to be able to run on my Sunday's Jog for Hope.

And then we were running, for our lives, in a parking lot that morphed into open terrain. I scrambled faster than my girlfriends, away from the gang of sinister loiterers who'd suddenly started trailing us, smugly exchanging among themselves that it was "only 3 or 4 of them".

As one by one my friends faced captivity, frantically I looked about for a means of escape. "I" as the dreamer saw my dream self from above, as though in a figurine display. I watched as a car appeared out of nowhere and I got in without thinking, as all desperate people do. The no-gooders who were hot on my tail now pulled out guns, and while the distance widened slowly between us, their shots were spitting into the earth around me.

I saw the car start ascending a hill, atop which was raging inferno. It then occurred to me that if any of those bullets found their mark, the hilltop wouldn't be the only thing on fire.

That was right before I vaguely observed a single bullet arching towards my car; before it burst mercilessly into flames, and I with it.

A true dream, this evening while I was resting in attempt to recover from flu. No joint pains or nausea yet, so there's a good chance it's not H1N1 at all. But I did so want to run on Sunday... and does my dodgeball practice commence on this week's Friday? Oh man, I just want to be up and about again. Curse the unreasonable chill in my campus.

I Need Two Hands To Shop

My weekly red-letter day was spent at the Gardens, shopping while my mom had a facial. I gaily walked into Promod - good quality for reasonable prices. Slipped past the two store assistants who were chatting rather boisterously with a middle-aged customer; but that's the way I like it. To be left alone; not maddeningly tailed by some paranoid-but-acting-helpful shopgirl. It's majorly irritating, and doesn't help with "providing a great shopping experience" in the least!

After 10 minutes of browsing, one of the assistants sneaked up on me and words started gushing out of her mouth - much the same way as when she yakked with the aforesaid customer.
I listened, stunned, to her tirade of Chinese gibberish and near the end, made out the word 'interview'.

Ohh.

That one word saved what would otherwise have been wasted breath for her. Without missing a beat, I replied: "I already have a job."
Take that! Bet you thought I was some pampered, unproductive student with nothing better to do for her semester break, didn't you?
=P

On another matter...
I've been reading Anne Frank's diary. Actually, I've been reading more than one book and though the idea doesn't appeal to me, I've had to because two books are from Kumon and I have to return them by Thursday the 4th because thats my last day there! And on the very next, I'll be off to church camp in Malacca. No time to mourn the loss of my little students!
Perhaps I'll miss them. I will remember some of them, I know. How to tell them I'm leaving? How not to tell? =(
Anyway, the point is, I've been reading Anne Frank's diary. (See how my train of thought trails all over the place?)
And... I'm near the end of the book. I don't really want to finish reading it, because...

because it's hard to believe that this girl, with so many ardent admirers at her feet, so many beautiful hopes and dreams and plans; she died. Three years younger than I am now.
That someone so bright had so deserved to live but instead passed on to the next realm, it saddens me.

She wanted to be a writer, because when she poured her soul into her diary, her restraints, oppression and frustration at being cooped up in a secret place for two years, melted away. And today her thoughts and musings have been and are being read by millions all over the globe. What a way for her wish to materialise. Which brings me to... Is it worth it, to die for a dream?

Not that she killed herself to get published, but the very sufferings which brought her life to a close were the backbone of her writings, and the fodder on which she became mature.
All this only after a single read. I shall have a second, and third, from which to glean more insight as to this interesting personality - in future when I'm at leisure.

Wednesday night :

Sean needed help in picking a shirt for prom. Weellllllll, he asked the right person! ^ ^
We went straightaway to OU. Spotted one in a rich, warm shade of red. After which he couldn't stop thinking about it. Ahaha. Plus, I got a free pretzel after 'scolding' the cashier at Auntie Anne's! Something like that. =P

Thursday morning :

Continued where we left off, this time at Midvalley. Found a dark grey one, so close to black. But he liked it, that's what matters. Then in Sub, I pulled shirt after shirt off the racks for him to try. This is one of my dream jobs. It'd be lovely getting paid... to spend other people's money. => There was a heartthrob of a shirt we both liked, only, it was more of smart casual and less of prom king. He might still get it, after all.

Friday night :

Fell prey to a sudden fever. Woke up every few hours in the night, aching and feeling sticky all over. It felt so horrible.

Sunday, after church :

I shot off to pick Yann up and then to the Mines!

Power Beat In The House, yo!

Another dance finals I've had on my schedule for months. The thing is...
after obeying the impulse of gaining access into the Mines residential area and ogling at numerous grandly done-up bungalows (including one with a weird wavy UFO roof, and Mahathir's own residence),
debating whether to get free parking at the Mines Clubhouse (which we did),
and having a casual, very filling lunch... we arrived in time for the results.

T.T

What a let down! Maybe we shouldn't have eaten so much. Maybe I shouldn't have cared whether that house was cooler than the other or not. Maybe I should have skipped the debate and parked in the hot hot sun for RM2. Then maybe I would've had time to squeeze through the tall tall crowd to watch the final contestants properly. I felt quite deflated, after all the fuss and anticipation generated (by me). Frankly, if it weren't for the ReadMalaysia book fair, it would've been hard to cheer up.

So much for the 'largest book fair of the year'. The organisers of the BU3 fair didn't know what they were talking about, because the Mines do was definitely more heavyweight. The centre English section was dwarfed by the Chinese one on the left, and Malay on the right. At least it'll encourage reading among those ones. *Ok, didn't intend to sound like the Prime Minister or anything...* =>

And this week'll be even busier. It's college hols all around; my darling 'nett and Sean are on break! I'm squeezing them into schedule wherever I can. Steamboat, Picadilly, Asia Cafe on the menu? Then for a free screening of Zac Efron's 17 Again? Oh, swell. Anything, because I don't have to spend a cent for a great time with ya'll.

If They Had You In My Size, I'd Fall For You... All Over Again.

O.o

Labour Day has never meant much to me, until now. It's God-sent, being the only day on which I could spend time with Giovana, as both of us are now working and are therefore labourers! =]

It started out perfectly enough. I left the house early at 10.30 and found a decent parking spot in OU, though without the yellow lines around it, heheh. And then... and then...
I realised I'd forgotten my phone. As never before.

Honestly, of all days! Gahhhhh.

So I hastily went back to collect it; and like a warning not to drive too recklessly, I passed two accidents on the way. Oh man. A green Myvi did a total 360 on the same road my high school is on. I glanced at the good-looking women standing around the wreck with the police. One of them was holding a DSLR. Lol. And no one was trapped in the car. *If I laugh here, I must have a very twisted sense of humour.*

Once back in OU's parking lot, I cruised around for a full half an hour.

What for?

Oh, just taking in the sights, honey.
Row after row of endless cars, all parked resolutely in every parkable space available, with or without lines. After a dozen "Whyyy did I forget my phone??"s, a fellow Vios backed out of a PROPER parking space. I quickly replaced it. =D
Met up with Gio and we watched Threads of Destiny.
I'd forgotten how dramatic and nonsensical Japanese productions can be. It was a rather long movie, and dealt with loads of issues, among them drugs, boyfriend abuse, unrequited love, and suicide. Talk about ammo for drama! However, it was still a decent watch and I don't feel anything was wasted on it.

We ate Takoyaki for lunch and shopped til we were broke. Honestly, we were planning to have Haagen Dazs for dessert... before we checked our wallets and were faced with the truth. Ahaha. She gave the thumbs up for my long-looked-for handbag, and we combed through the racks at Voir, eager to make use of my membership card. It's so much fun to try clothes on together! It makes the word 'broke' much easier to bear. *Sheepish grin*

Vinod and Surendran were also in the queue at the cinema, and Joshua's family spotted us having a good chat at the Rainforest. Truly, it was a great outing! I love her. And shopping. No, just Giovana. Oops, I meant shopping. Teehee. XD

On a different day, I caught Make It Happen. And wasn't much impressed, after all the bustling and rushing I'd done to see it. I'd baked at top speed that evening, and thrown together a quick dinner before bathing and stepping into Yann's car with the wicked question,

"Are you ready for some rASH driving?"

One of her favourite phrases. =P

Anyway, the opening seemed so promising! It showed some unorthodox form of ballet that arrested my attention. The actress isn't as pretty as other dance movie stars, but it's the choreographer I mainly find fault with. I was captivated by the first couple of 'burlesque' performances but as the film progressed, the star's moves ceased to impress. Never mind the common and predictable storyline - for what else could they cook up? - but the ending...

was plain disappointing. Of all songs, choosing Lady GaGa's 'Just Dance' might've seemed apt; if based only on the title. But its execution was way off-mark. Completely unconvincing, even.

A let-down, for a highly anticipated dance show.

Sunday night, it was dinner with my father as usual. He mentioned 'pasar malam' in passing, and all of a sudden I remembered my craving to visit it. I haven't been there since... since my ex and I cycled there for the Hari Raya Bazaar.

Well, I enjoyed the buzz of it; the meaningless chatter around me, and the colours rushing to meet my eye, both bold and shadowy. Weighing the worth of fruits with my father, sneaking away while he selected them to look at cheap clothes. Brain working speedily to measure aesthetic value against value for money versus actual quality. Shopping is a three-way process, I tell ya.

Aesthetic value is what catches your eye at the very beginning. It's your heart tugging at you and your eye doing a double-take. Price is what you reach for next, to check that you're not appraising something you can only dream of owning. And quality is where your hands do the work of turning the item over, checking seams and feeling the material to check for suitability as well as sustainability.
Of course, more discernment is needed in malls than in a simple night market.

A spot of training never hurt, though. Practice does make perfect. ^ ^

I took off from work today. Bluntly put, I intend to recover from my second bout of flu (in a row, malangnye) tomorrow! Sent my mother for a medical appointment and had a sobering moment there. And right now I'm glugging down water like a... garden hose in reverse.



One more school of thought...

Pretty glad I can park properly now. On parallel parking... I used to be so bad at it, I censored the very words in my thoughts. Then all of a sudden, on a fairly unremarkable day, I just did it, no fuss. And mere hours later, this was followed by a perfect reverse parking. My very first. It felt so good; like the parking gods had decided to stop tormenting my little mortal self. Honestly, there were times I got so frustrated at finding myself a 'woman driver, after all', I could've shook my fist and declared "Curse youu, Buzzz Liiiightyeeearrrrrr!".
Just like that.

Every Man Has A Line He Draws For Himself

You know how chicken soup is reputed to be comfort to an ill person? Well, apparently it can't be all that good, 'cause I finished a whole can of Campbell's on Wednesday night - all on my own. Added with a couple of J.Co's the next morning (chocolate and mocha), it set me up for a steadily worsening sore throat. On Thursday night I lost sleep due to a majorly swollen throat. I fought with all the artillery I had - watermelon skin powder, Breacol, Strepsils, warm drinks, watermelon skin lozenges... The sore throat receded.

And it got replaced by a flu instead. It feels like I've been holding this off for weeks, staving off illness with a foot-long pole. But I can be grateful as this period has given me a much needed 10-hour sleep, and 8 hours for last night. I've been skimping so much, it's no wonder I went down.

This past day, I've been suspiciously waiting for a fever to continue the parade. But thank God, there's none. And I don't think there will be, if I sleep well again.

__________________________________________________

The afternoon before that disastrous can of Campbell soup, I finally got to catch Confessions of A Shopaholic! NyekNyek. It had some degree of unpredictability which made it a very watchable film, something I could see again... and even again! Highly entertaining; Isla Fisher carried the role superbly, making me want to laugh and cry, one after the other. This flick was touching, comic and poignant to all shopaholics - anyone who has ever dreamt of owning a DOZEN 'magic' cards. XD

And at work... I noticed a big-eyed, curly haired girl handing in her worksheet. A glance at her first page revealed her name to be Fairuz. I did a double take. Fairuz sounds very much male to me; nothing that would suit an adorable she-child with Barbie lashes. Naming your little princess Fairuz is, to me, like choosing to name your daughter Tom. Which would be short for Thombelina, probably. Or worse, like meeting a grown guy in business; and when you look at his name card, it says Sally. Jaf knows of someone like that. *Shudders*

The Day My Slippers Got Kidnapped

Sure, who'd want to spirit away my old, worn out flip flops? But I can't find them, seriously; those comfortable, brown foam critters flecked with pink and white. =S Maybe they're just jealous I bought new ones; a pretty pair of ombre orange. Hehe.

Well, today I finally sent my car for servicing - after putting it off again and again. Yann and I hung out at the side of the road like a couple of good-for-nothings, and even contemplated breaking into the Rojak Kasim truck. Or whatever the rojak guy's name is. Ahaha. His doors weren't even locked!
The sum I brought was enough to foot the bill and buy a model car, which Yann then bought from me. The red Ferrari with touch-steering; kinda fun. And I got a free non-touch-steering car with it, yellow in colour. My first little toy car, lol.




Went back to her place to make milkshakes. Mine was strawberry-vanilla with a shot of orange cordial thrown in. Whiled away an hour or so, chilling with Shadow Buddy. Her dog has a first and last name! Ahah. He came up to me; I extended my arm. He curled one leg around it with the other one resting on my chair, holding me close almost as a human would. But the unsettling thing was his expression; the way he eyed me as a dog would eye a ham, with his doggy teeth gleaming wickedly.
W-o-a-h!! Easy, boy. I.am.not.dogfood.
Solution : I scolded him and scrammed. =]

Shortly after that peculiar episode, we left to check out shooting locations around Taman Tun, for Yann's photography contest.
Our last stop was TTDI Hills, home of the filthy rich. We managed to persuade the guard to let us through with the camera, and made the most of it by checking out every single road and byroad. This is why only rich people stay here; because they'd have flashy cars to get them up the freaking hilly roads.
Still, I'd been raring to run (or jog, at least) and this here was my work out - we took the risk and ran like mad past some nasty hornets hovering near a wall of flowers. It was either that or going back the long way we'd come. Also, I wondered, why did we have to come here of all days, when I'd chosen to wear Apek clothes. Ahaha bet we looked real out of place, staggering up the hill in laughter dressed like that.
Well I say, let the good times roll. =)


P.s. There have been false bad tidings the day before this.
Giovana's father is NOT in massive jeopardy after all! Cancer only above the collar, and it will and shall be treated. Oh my; what can I say.
It's such a relief.

Do A One-Eighty

Finally, time enough to get back to baking. Tried out a recipe for brownies today, from my adopted mentor. She's a friend of my father's, and stays in Kelana Jaya too. The cool thing is, she sent the recipe together with a sample of the result. I loved it. Actually, I seldom eat brownies 'cause they always seem like such short farts compared to other cakes; so I don't really know what a brownie should taste like. Ahaha.

It went pretty well; I was excited that the raw mixtures themselves tasted good already. Then I caught a whiff of that familiar burnt smell, and was so disappointed. But maybe I took it out in the nick of time, 'cause it was still edible! My oven is so hot, I can never follow the recipes' cooking times. All on my own intuition. Woman's intuition. =)


Then I just had to check the papers and see what movies I was missing; and apparently there were TOO many. So I called Yann on the double and we went to catch The International. Our official first 18SG ticket! Hehehe. She tried to get a student discount by using our old tuition student card. Dude, being 18 means we don't have tuition anymore! Lol lah.
It was nice being on time for the movie, sitting through all the trailers and ads again. And savouring the saltiness of my corn in cup while she ploughed through her box of caramel popcorn. I've disliked caramel for ages, but perhaps there's hope, 'cause I stole more than usual today.

The International was a fast-paced, complex story of espionage and assasination. My favourite topics, but the sheer number of male characters had me perplexed.
*Where did this guy come from? Hey, he looks familiar...*-kind-of-thing. Gah.
It was also full of shooting and squirmish scenes with blood spurting out of holes in men's bodies. Gushing and nearly spraying out, lol. The most hilarious part was the beginning; funny in a twisted way. Keep your eyes peeled for that.


And by the way, with the football craze back in season, I have made my choice.
Supporter of Liverpool, that's me; since two nights ago!
They kicked ass last night, with a whopping 5-0. Oyea.


This morning, I received news that Giovana's father had undergone the operation safely and that things were fine. But when I came out from the movies, I got a completely different message that brought me to an actual halt. I remember freezing in front of the Voir Gallery, right there. He had just been diagnosed with nose cancer. And the lump in his neck? Cancer cells that had spread. In fact, most of his body has already been infected. This is my closest encounter with a reputed terminal illness, and I am afraid. I know nuts about cancer.




How much calamity can God throw in your pathway? One after another, it seems. There's the sunshine, far overhead. So far.

Move Over, Bob The Builder!

There's a new handyman in town, and her name is Nicole; Ah Soh Soh, if you please. =P
Yesterday morning I assembled an Ikea garden bench all on my own. My fault anyway, for wanting one. Ahaha.

Spent close to an hour on my knees, lifting the planks into place and fastening them with nuts, bolts, a screwdriver and the works. I'm actually pretty handy with a spanner now. =D Sepanar Boleh Laras, always brings back those hot lazy afternoons in Form 1 Kemahiran Hidup.

Anyway, if you see a dark backless bench in front of my door one day, feel free to honour my hard work by placing your rear end on it. Tqverymuch.

Yesterday's afternoon was filled with music practices and Youth service, from 2 to 7 in the evening. Then straight to Ikea to change a faulty bolt. I may consider wearing big baggy clothes out for grocery shopping more often; 'cause of those whistling machen. Slap them, weii.

It was a very tiring 24 hours, rendering me exhausted enough to turn off my alarm as it performed its duty early this morning. Would've gone on sleeping, perhaps right through the Sunday worship service where I was to play keyboard!, if it hadn't been for my Piggeh and his timely text message. Go you. =)



Highlight of today was to be the DanzMania finals at the Sunway Pyramid arcade, with Giovana. This is where the pros show us their killer moves in time with the arrows on the Dance Dance Revolution platform screen. I was very much looking forward to it. That is, until I heard of my sister's father's admission into hospital. He is to undergo operation tomorrow morning, 8 a.m., for a growth in his neck that has been there for close to two years. Had no mood to go witness DDR anymore. I don't really like this cliche line, but there's always next time.

Another cliche I don't believe in is "Have fun". Ahaha, everyone uses it but sometimes it makes sense; those are the times I use it myself. What an overused phrase, honestly.

"Strangely Unemotional"

That was what I'd thought today would be. I thought I'd detached myself from that dependence that I've had on academic grades for all of my schooling life. Through the years, I'd allowed grades to dictate my mood for the day; and ironically enough, it was just before the most major examination of school life that I accepted that grades weren't that very important after all. And it was mostly thanks to my father; telling me not to place too much emphasis on studies.

So I loosened my grip, didn't buck up 'til the last minute; turned my whole study regime upside down. Where I once sent myself to bed before 11.30pm, now I stayed up burning the midnight oil - something so uncharacteristic of me, that I clearly remember. Where I once secured certainty in facts, now I floundered in queries and blurred recollections. The worst time to be lazy, for sure.

My preparations were hasty and panicked; in my mind I knew I'd fallen short of my old standards. Which was why I programmed myself to expect a very grounded result of 6 A's, minimum. Anything above that would make me happy.

And then there was the dream. Not long ago, I foresaw the exam slip in my hand; it showed 8 A's. Even in my sleep I felt that jolt of disbelieving pleasure.
To the right, there it was, just as I'd expected : A 'C' for Sejarah. Very realistic, very good.
Beneath that... a subject I couldn't make out, and a very, very clear 'F' for it.
This was where I wanted the dream to both be true and not be! 8 A's was the highest I dared hope for; to achieve it would be tremendous.

So came today, THE March 12th of all March 12ths. So far, so good. No sign of panic whatsoever. They delayed the release of slips by an hour, so 'nett and I had time to chat with a lot of friends. Then we ascended the steps to the hall and sat in a row ('nett, Nic, Ju, Vvan), all with different feelings as we waited out the vice-principal's speech. 'nett was positively steaming with tension =P . I was halfway pressing the 'Scared' button. Ju was completely ignoring the 'Scared' button. And Vvan was just plain scared already.

Without us even knowing, things swung into action. The VP started calling out the 3 students who'd scored straight A 1's, and then continued calling out others for some other (less) honourable thing; to which I didn't pay much attention to 'cause I was so sure I wasn't included. And suddenly I heard my Chinese name. As an automatic response, I stood up and mimicked the students that had gone before me by walking onstage, in a sort of fog. Didn't even know what I was up there for, but it must be something kinda good.
Otherwise my babes wouldn't be clapping so hard, right? O.O

The 11 people called onstaged lingered front while the others swarmed around teachers behind, getting the much awaited slips. I was already feeling out of sorts because of Najjua's bad news earlier on; and as I listened to Jafri's mom bawling with pride on loudspeaker, I felt like crying too 'cause it was just so mom-ish; something my mom would never do. Finally I slipped away, in time to see my girls get their results. 'nett had also dreamt about getting 8 A's. Only, her dream came true. Solid stuff lah. I felt so proud of her. And Ju, she got her satisfactory 6! Maybe 7, after getting rechecked. Vvan was very glad for her own grades, too. And Yann did just fine; won't need to sit for any dumb English test should she apply for TOA. =P

Reluctantly went down to pose for the school magazine, sweated like mad cow. Drove home on the double and showered even quicker, then it was off to OU to see Julius, who'd just come home from NS yesterday. Being tanned seems to suit him just fine, and he'd bought tickets while waiting for me. So it was pasta for lunch at New York New York Deli, where we also had a Harlem Chocolate Sundae and I drank a Strawberry Chocolate Velvet. To top it off, he ordered a Ms. Coco (dark Belgium hot chocolate) at the end of the very chocolatey day. Enough! Ahahaha.

As for the movie; I'd say Marley&Me is worth a pass, with the multitude of interesting movies out now. Some parts are rather draggy but overall, it was watchable. We didn't manage to shop for his necklace either; ran out of time. Another day, mate.

Sometime while waiting for the results, I realised I'd made a mistake in breaking tradition. Never thought I'd be the one to do this, but it just didn't cross my mind at the time when I committed myself to celebrating with another; which was early on in January! Very early, yes. And there was a time when I thought of the 3OfUs as my foundation; a home for the wandering me. But those years seem to have frayed by the sides, and that is why I didn't assume we'd still go out together on that big day.

Rushed to the hospital to help my mom with dinner, then go have dinner for real with my father. I've figured out the eating part; about why I'd frequently forgotten to have my meals. You see, after cutting up a plateful of food and spooning them into digestion, one feels as though he or she has already spent enough time looking at food on a plate. It doesn't occur to one that all that stuff didn't actually enter his or her stomach. Hmm.

Anyway, we celebrated at Telawi Street Bistro. The food there is the bomb; he had Lamb Shank and I had the Black Cod. Then from the hospital I came back and wondered at the many lives that have been intertwined with mine today; how there are people who care and then again, there are those who only care for themselves. And then there are people, like me, who still don't really think they've just got 10 A's out of 10.

Why Are There Only Two Sides To A Towel?

Just one of my idle thoughts as I spent time patiently in the ward today.I realised it was like asking, Why is water wet?, so I stopped. Ahah. It feels as though I haven't worn nice clothes for many, many days. Of course, in an environment where you sit or stand wherever available, always prepared for quick reflex action, the last thing you'd want is to be restricted by a too-tight sleeve or such.

There's a marked improvement in her condition today, and yesterday was long and difficult. Who knows what tomorrow may bring? Hopefully I won't be so absentminded then; when I came back before midnight, I tried using my car keys to open the house door.

Another random thought that crossed my mind while in the hospital :

Big noses suffer a major disadvantage, especially if they're oily, 'cause they glisten and SPARKLE.

Goodnight, ladies and gentlemen. XD

This Time

Very often I've thanked God that I got my driving licence pretty early - even before my SPM. This time, it was proven a very precious asset to me. I sent my mother to the hospital on Friday afternoon, canceling my plans with Kok Loong. Being unfamiliar with Bangsar, it was a miracle I found my way just fine to Pantai Medical Centre. Now, of course, I know the route fairly well. Enough to speed a little, ahah.

For once I felt disappointed that I hadn't been born earlier, 'cause I was technically an underaged person admitting a patient who didn't even know what day it was. Thankfully, the clerk let me sign all the documents without so much as a frown of disapproval. She understood. Understood that I couldn't pay, had no credit card to my name, and needed my mom to be attended to immediately.

We got admitted into a single ward - I remembered my mom always has a room to herself, sharing doesn't work for her 'cause other visitors are so noisy - about 4 hours later. By the time I'd finished settling her down in the ward and helped her with dinner, it was almost 9 and I realised that I'd gone without lunch and dinner. Looking forward to a 1901 hotdog, I took the lift down to the main lobby but the stall was closed. So I got something from Starbucks; a shiny, Cajun chicken, pie-looking thing which turned out to be just a freaking overpriced bun. Oh, I should also remember that
Cajun = spicy = tough on me. Lol.

Hurried back to the ward and there I found myself trying to eat, sleep and hold ice steadily to her mangled lip, all at the same time. It wasn't easy, but it felt not far from normal to me.

Next was the issue of where I'd sleep, for I'd decided to spend the night there with her. Having chosen the more economical Single Ward (RM50 less than a Private Ward), I was not entitled to an extra cot; only a lazy chair - a striped, rubber-ish, squeaky affair. To be honest, I've never enjoyed sitting on lazy chairs, and I sure didn't know how to sleep on one without squeaking the sleep out of my mom. So I slept on the floor. And that was how the doctor found me when she came in first thing in the morning. She seemed shocked, but to me it was the most logical decision since I definitely don't sleep with my back 90 degrees to my thighs. That's ridiculous.

In the past 48 hours I've gone from wary to anxious to distraught. In between was a long night, with only 4 hours of sleep and a very understanding friend texting for company. I remember wishing I could go out for a movie soon; it seems so petty compared to where I am now. A heart grows by leaps and bounds, it's true. I used to scoff when people said "You learn in times of trouble." but when God teaches you like this, you don't question it.
To be sure, I've learnt...
this time.

Am I a stubborn person? I don't recall anyone ever telling me that I was one. But I guess God really knows how to pack a punch; He hits me with the people I love most to get me to change. This episode has really stretched my limits, my capacity, for patience. I'm so patient now, I think I could sit and wait like a rock the next time I go prawn fishing. *Grins*

I was loathe to leave her side tonight; gave her medication on time and waited 'til I heard her breathing deep and regular - a sign of true sleep, I hoped. And I prayed,
because He can be where I'm not;
because the words, the plea, wanted so badly to be tumbled out knowing that He hears me;
because for the first time I know truly the meaning of

"We are only human."

Shelter Us. Please.

At first she couldn't remember to take her own medication.
I took over, memorising the timings like how I'd for a school exam..

Then she asked me the day and date, five times in a single hour.
My patience flagged; I nearly snapped at her.

Soon after, she lost all comprehension. Even a simple query like "What would you like for lunch?" made no sense to her. And she's been "mango"-ing me since the moment I woke up this morning. "Mangoes" are worrying her.
"Mangoes" are making me anxious, too. Whatever they are, I wish I could hurl them out the window.

Now her lip is bleeding, swollen to three times its original size, the work of her own unconscious gnawing.
And there is nothing I can do.

All I ask is for You to shelter us, Lord.