You Give Me Pomelo-atic Dreams

Third time's the charm, or so they say.
It certainly was a thrill to be able to accept TDC's third party invite last Friday, to celebrate Ian's birthday.



Lien Siaw and I drove over to Sierramas East and waited ages thinking we were at Sierramas West. T.T
That didn't dampen our spirits, though. The guests from TDC were so hospitable, it set us at ease soon enough.

Note: Lien Siaw wearing Chia Sern's glass-less specs.



It really warms my heart to recall how readily they extended their arms to welcome us ThDC reps.



Chia Sern lost the geeky specs, and I nearly believed he was wrongly tagged on Fb when I saw his photo the night before.

He was so hungry he started picking on the closest thing to him - which, before the biscuits came, happened to be me. Lol, just kidding. But it's true the guys began teasing me loong before Yee Fai and his carload of seven appeared on the scene.



I was standing on a ledge. =)
He's actually kinda tall.



Sushi served, in addition to satay, pasta, pizza and salad.



Well, the boys were so into making fun of Yee Fai and I that when the fellow in question really showed up, I felt like hiding under the table haha.
Yes. That table.

In the foreground we have Derek (a junior)
and Mabel (perky senior).



When I saw him, the first thing that crossed my mind was
He looks so tired...

And he really was. Two hours in one of KL's horrendous jams is no walk in the park.
He grabbed a quick bite and then curled up - but we'd give him no rest. X)



All bow to Master Fai!



Hilarious. He woke up and we scattered like ants from a descending shoe.



Besides my uncle's, I've never seen a grand piano in anyone's house before.



Sheng trying to appear less noob than he actually is, at the piano. =P



Then Ian brought down his saxophone and demo-ed.



*Flying kisses from TDC*



"Is the temperature alright, ma'am?"

Rofl! Jake getting a 'hair perm' from Ian and Chia Sern.



The Avatar pose I complied with.
An exhausted Yee Fai in the background.



Alan and Gosu were lobbying all night for this cause. - -''
That Alan, popping up at every opportunity to steer me towards Fai Fai.



Birthday gifts:
Ian with the vibrating headrest from Lien Siaw,
and one complicated, belted jacket (obviously chosen by girls)
above a simple, striped hoodie (obviously selected by guys).


ThDC left early, before even getting to see Ken Ming, Daniel and the rest.
Well at least they had a blast that night, and shared the first slice with us.
=)

As The River Flows

Tuesday, Carmen took me on a long-promised excursion to Decanter. I sat happily in the passenger seat looking about at the National Science Centre from sides I'd never seen before. Soon I found myself in Bukit Damansara and continued noting places of interest while Carmen drove around in circles trying to pinpoint Decanter's location.

At 3.01pm, we pulled up triumphantly at the shopfront.

And gaped at the ironically cheerful blackboard announcing they were closed for cleaning at 3pm that day.
Honestly!!
I was rather let down; the white wooden framework was exactly my cup of tea, and the menu seemed equally inviting. A waiter, clearly amused by our plight, told us we could go over to the other Decanter at Setiakasih - just a few roads away.

So we took heart and began the hunt once more.

Alas, it was obviously a pub and not the sort of place for a sunshiney lunch like we wanted. This time was no dismay, though, for nearby beckoned an understated establishment simply named The Bread Shop.



The name was enough to pull us in.



I found the exterior deceptively simple,
speaking nought of the stylish atmosphere within.



What a sight. The interior kept to the minimalist theme, but was tastefully done up in black, distressed metal and shades of wood lending their warmth.

It was a place with pastries screaming "take-me-home!"



No need for a fancy signboard outside, I now understood.
It had an obviously loyal clientele; I gathered by observing a steady stream of poised expatriates and trendy moms come to buy the bread after picking up their Sri Cempakan children.



And for good reason too;
our tea spread came close to RM50.

Now, don't let the prices take away your appetite,



the Mango Cheese Chicken Croissant was decidedly tasty!
Its cheese was melted into the bread, a move surreptitious enough to please anti-diary-product consumers like me!



Scones for the price of two lunches.
Would you like those with cream and jam?
Of course. Don't they always come together?

Apparently not here. A serving of clotted cream means an extra RM1, and for jam it's RM2.
The jam was slightly bitter compared to those in other teahouses, but together with the cream it was still good.



Hot cross buns. Real hot cross buns.
That's all I could think when I saw them behind the glass.

Before I'd swallowed my first mouthful, I realised I'd tasted this before...
A familiar aroma similar to that of a freshly painted house filled my nostrils and I forced myself to down the next several bites.
Next time, I'll just say it once.
Hot cross buns.



Cinnamon Swirl was named after two of my favourite things on earth though, so of course I ordered it.
And enjoyed it, nonwithstanding its tad excess in sweetness.

I only consider the Iced Chocolate a ripoff. There was nothing, nothing out of the ordinary to justify its above-average price tag. Just the usual cupful of milk with normal-grade chocolate syrup at the bottom.


All in all, a lovely outing.
I delight in driving wherever the road takes us, and stumbling upon exciting new eateries. Preferably the quintessential cafe.
Mmmm~



Return to the geeky retainers. X)
Two back molars growing at the same time, making it necessary to wear them full-time.

Varied response to them in college, ranging from:
"Since when...?"
and
"It's cool."
to
*Unrelenting shake of the head*

=) Well, at least now I can explain the sudden crookedness in my bottom row of teeth!

In Hand

Just booked my tickets for West Side Story, mid-AS.

It.feels.so.good!

Growing Like A Bamboo Shoot

Everyone seems to have a clear idea of how other people should live their lives, but none about his or her own.

-The Alchemist-

Finally, I'm reading it! After years and months of putting it off. Yesterday I decided to treat myself to taking this hotcake home - to celebrate the end of AS trials. And before that, a group of us popped down to Pavilion for How to Train Your Dragon which - awww darnit - had some pretty cute dragons featured. Storyline was typical of a son-railing-against-father's-expectations tale, but the fanciful life of dragons - their characteristics, behaviour - engaged the audience well enough to compensate.

The boys cramming in for aircond while waiting for Vinna to change her outfit and pick us up.

Faces from left to right are of Aaron, Abhinav and Yohan.
Imran, Hari and Douglas are somewhere behind them. X)

Hmmm I think this was Aaron on Douggie.

Came back in time for another fruitful meeting with my organising committee for the Club's soon-to-be charity concert. I love how these occasions end up teaching me so much - in fact, my only vexation is how long everyone takes to show up. Precious time is lost!
Interviewing the committee members one by one allowed me to see from an employer's point of view; began to suss out the necessity of the questions which often make the interviewee squirm in their seat.
Interesting, really.


Strange-woman-who-smiles-at-me (how Red Indian is my vocab these days) seems to have joined the ranks of the remarkable people I've met in college; most of whom seem to be meant for a pitifully short term at TCSH.

These who have impacted me on a personal level include Ms. Thinking Skills (from scarily brilliant to respectfully human), Mr. Lee (the funniest, most candid Math lecturer) and - never forgotten - Ms. Ratnes (the best teacher I've ever had). I hate how the last three are all going, going, gone. At least we still have the powerhouse Ms. Anne for Lit!

Here's something I realise they have in common: all are highly experienced in their field, and that's what garnered my initial respect. But all also have personalities and attitudes which stand to firmly prop up their intellectual prowess - no wishy washy giggling here.

Of Ads and Building Blocks

Lately, an ad has caught my eye repeatedly and every time I read it, I snigger, or laugh, or smile. Different responses, but inside is the same admiration for the people behind the ad - especially its writers.

The only other ad to attract my attention this way was the Nike one featuring Josiah Ng, two years ago. I loved the tone of absolution in its lines; the chalky explosion of graphics behind my then-most-admired-sportsman, and the ending realisation of "I am... Courage." giving me that prod in the chest to wake up and see:
I needed to be brave enough to say No to my weaknesses. To want to break away from them. The distractions, the procrastination, the whatever that was keeping me from focusing on my SPM. That ad taught me that determination works the same way for a scholar as it does for a world-class athlete.



Now I'm starting to see where a major in Literature can take you. Not that I'm planning to do that. I'm pretty much set on Finance, Business or Economics. Just gotta sift through the finer details to know which I want. Or, I may discover something altogether different in the process. Like a returned interest in Fashion Marketing or some other. Accounting is something I could live with, but not choose to live for.

Back to the ad. Initially, I was merely drawn to the visual concept laid down - clean and uncluttered. I decided I liked it so much that I'd spend some time deciphering the tiny words the man figure seemed to be made up of. And boy, did it tickle me.



This ad has been critisized as feminist; misogynous, even.
But I snicker at the deadpan take on metrosexuality and, as quoted, "our genderless society" where there are now three options on official forms in some parts of the world:
Male or Female or Neither

I love the quaint reference to those "little old ladies" who "remain on one side of the street" as boys turn into self-centred, pruning creatures more concerned with turning heads than turning theirs to offer help.

And the remark on non-fat lattes and the salad bar?
Amusing, at the very least. Makes you think of the state the world has come to.



But I'm glad to affirm that there are still gentlemen bred into this generation. In one week alone, three different guys have held the door open as I traversed between carpark and college. Note: All three were strangers. And one of them even waited as I was quite some distance away.
That was a little while back, but I'll remember it fondly to know that we ladies still have a chance of getting our gallant knight.






Necessity is the mother of invention. Necessity has found me a new approach to studying;
I call it block mugging.
Thought I could never do schedules, couldn't stick to one.
But with my self-invented method, I should be able to redeem myself in the one month left to AS.
Okay, so it may have been used by others before me, but at least I thought of it myself; not by reference to them, teehee.



I feel like I can go go go.
Oooooyeah.

Reacquaintance with the Manual

What's that feeling when you are so drained from within that breathing is just as tiring as not breathing? Something similar to dejection. Ah, that's it. Heartsick. Came to mind because I feel the drain happening from there. It's like trying to draw breath from a deep, deep pit and your lungs never really fill 'cause there's just too much darkness weighing down the air.

Where are the fragmented thoughts which used to spew from the tips of my fingers; the result of fragmented periods of existence? I feel them returning, as a shadow takes its turn from sunbeam at nightfall. I've been happy, last week. The kind of happy that people ordinarily don't think about, but which I wonder at.

So I'm back here once more.

Why the chosen post title? I thought it'd be fun to have a turn behind the wheel of a manual this evening. Hadn't touched one since passing the driving test, more than a year ago.
This was a jeep so square and masculine it seemed so foreign. Taut, black leather seats and a wide glass panel to see the road through, with funny little wipers I'd like to fix onto my umbrella. And doors which are pushed open by button, and slam shut of their own accord, so don't leave ur leg dangling out the chassis - or else.

Well, it was nearly as bad as learning from scratch. By the time I got into my own car, it felt like a welcome home. Sank into the perfectly moulded seat. Shut the door myself. Locked, handbraked down and changed gear. It felt like a toy car now. The comparison could be of one between beef jerky and putty. Turned the steering wheel - too hard - and took a few minutes to reaccustom to my ultra-sensitive brake. My head started spinning and I got onto the highway.

It's not about the driving episode. There were other things. It's about how nothing seems to progress though you seem to be trying so hard.

I came home and cried and tried to dance the tears away.