As promised to myself, I have attempted to start playing the guitar again after 8 years of inactivity. I have a very bad knack of starting things and never finishing them. This time however I promised myself I'll pick up at least ONE song on the guitar, and I'd have to be a song I actually like as opposed to something merely easy to play. Tonight after looking hopelessly at gchat for an unnecessarily prolonged period of time and thinking about what a silly bird I am, and will always be, I decided to start trying to re-familiarise myself with the chords. Long story short, there was much giggling at the ridiculous sounds I produced, and lots of WTF-ing at the chords which seemed to demand far longer fingers than I possessed.
On another bizarre note, I just accidentally kicked my desk with my foot, prompting the phone on the table to somehow resettle itself in its charging port. It made a beep, startling me after I went "ow".
Thursday, June 30, 2011
48 Hours
It's been about 48 hours since I started feeling really sick, and although the symptoms are abating, I still feel pretty terrible. I've spent a good portion of the past 48 hours lying about in bed, sleeping at odd times and generally feeling sick and dizzy if I'm awake. Though, that being said, I'm not sure how much of it is due to jetlag and how much of it is exactly due to the flu.
I have finished reading Diary of a Nobody, which was a good and short amusing read. Perfect for sick people, with its humour and nicely cut pieces of information (diary entries, after all). Motivated by my visit to Russia, I bought a book of Pushkin's stories (the Russians use a hard /P/ in pronouncing his name, a long sound with pursed lips - something I found highly fascinating) from Foyle's. Perhaps I shall start that book next.
It stormed like mad today, with such grey clouds that it blotted out the sun's existence entirely. Haven't seen it rain like that in ages.
I have finished reading Diary of a Nobody, which was a good and short amusing read. Perfect for sick people, with its humour and nicely cut pieces of information (diary entries, after all). Motivated by my visit to Russia, I bought a book of Pushkin's stories (the Russians use a hard /P/ in pronouncing his name, a long sound with pursed lips - something I found highly fascinating) from Foyle's. Perhaps I shall start that book next.
It stormed like mad today, with such grey clouds that it blotted out the sun's existence entirely. Haven't seen it rain like that in ages.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Murder on the Orient Express
I have taken to waking up around 2:30am again, now that I'm back home and the sleeping draught (oho, a Christie word!) has worn off. I must say while waking up at that time when I was back 3 months ago sent me into a frenzy, now I am rather sanguine about it. I just polished off Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express, which was highly enjoyable but definitely less satisfying than And Then There Were None.
As I went to use the bathroom, I saw a medium sized cockroach peer at me from my brother's towel which was hung on the rack. URGH. Nothing says 'welcome home' like disgusting bugs, which seem to live mainly in warm tropical areas. I quickly went back to my room, since I didn't know what else to do. I hope it's still not there, if I have to go out again later. That and I need to see that the towel is tossed into the laundry hamper before it's actually used on his person.
As I went to use the bathroom, I saw a medium sized cockroach peer at me from my brother's towel which was hung on the rack. URGH. Nothing says 'welcome home' like disgusting bugs, which seem to live mainly in warm tropical areas. I quickly went back to my room, since I didn't know what else to do. I hope it's still not there, if I have to go out again later. That and I need to see that the towel is tossed into the laundry hamper before it's actually used on his person.
Influenza, Hospitals and Jetlag
I am back home. One 12 and a half hour flight from Heathrow, 3 movies and an episode of Law and Order UK (Enter the Dragon, Les Femmes du 6 étage and The Adjustment Bureau) later, I am back to what feels like 100% humidity and 30 degree celcius weather. Also, yummy food.
The day before my flight home I messed up and booked a cab for 3:30am instead of 3:30pm. The taxi company very nicely woke me up, and I had to haul my very dazed and sleepy ass downstairs to pay the driver, while beating myself up about making such a very silly mistake. Then I came up and found my grandmother waiting for me, which was even worse :/ Luckily she didn't tell my grandfather, or I'd never live it down. It's funny though, the transition from being fully independent quasi-adult in London to having to suddenly revert into the role of a subservient and obedient child the moment (grand)parental figures appear. I didn't really like it, especially since my grandparents are more domineering that my parents.
Today I went to the Singapore General Hospital, less than 24 hours after touching down, for my usual check ups. For once all my appointments were on time. Which is lucky considering that as my time there dragged on, I started to feel more and more sick with what I can only assume is the flu. That and I was jetlagged as hell and walking around the hospital in a haze. Things got interesting when I finally retrieved my Medisave form (some semi-medical state insurance in Singapore) from the nurse's office after 3 months and I realise the random doctor who signed off my form circled 'schizophrenia' instead of 'major depression'. Cue me staring at in a daze and finally deciding to go ahead and submit the damn form anyway.
As I sat in the Medisave office and looked even more confused over bureaucratic red tape (and jetlag), the Medisave woman took one look at my form and started talking to me in a very slow and low voice, enunciating every single syllable. I guess that's how they treat people with schizophrenia. How unfortunate.
For lunch I had awesome Teochew Mui (Teochew porridge) buffet and grabbed like everything available. It was the BEST MEAL I ate in a long time. That and I grabbed a whole plate of Ikan Bilis (small, fried fish). SO GOOD. Yes, I am a woman of simple tastes. I went home, took medicine, and slept my afternoon away.
The day before my flight home I messed up and booked a cab for 3:30am instead of 3:30pm. The taxi company very nicely woke me up, and I had to haul my very dazed and sleepy ass downstairs to pay the driver, while beating myself up about making such a very silly mistake. Then I came up and found my grandmother waiting for me, which was even worse :/ Luckily she didn't tell my grandfather, or I'd never live it down. It's funny though, the transition from being fully independent quasi-adult in London to having to suddenly revert into the role of a subservient and obedient child the moment (grand)parental figures appear. I didn't really like it, especially since my grandparents are more domineering that my parents.
Today I went to the Singapore General Hospital, less than 24 hours after touching down, for my usual check ups. For once all my appointments were on time. Which is lucky considering that as my time there dragged on, I started to feel more and more sick with what I can only assume is the flu. That and I was jetlagged as hell and walking around the hospital in a haze. Things got interesting when I finally retrieved my Medisave form (some semi-medical state insurance in Singapore) from the nurse's office after 3 months and I realise the random doctor who signed off my form circled 'schizophrenia' instead of 'major depression'. Cue me staring at in a daze and finally deciding to go ahead and submit the damn form anyway.
As I sat in the Medisave office and looked even more confused over bureaucratic red tape (and jetlag), the Medisave woman took one look at my form and started talking to me in a very slow and low voice, enunciating every single syllable. I guess that's how they treat people with schizophrenia. How unfortunate.
For lunch I had awesome Teochew Mui (Teochew porridge) buffet and grabbed like everything available. It was the BEST MEAL I ate in a long time. That and I grabbed a whole plate of Ikan Bilis (small, fried fish). SO GOOD. Yes, I am a woman of simple tastes. I went home, took medicine, and slept my afternoon away.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Shower Curtains
When we first moved into the flat less than a year ago, I changed the shower curtains. They cost about £3 from the nearest Argos, located a 5 minute walk away along Grey's Inn Road. Today as I took a shower, I decided to sit down in the bathtub and splash warm water onto myself. As I sat there, hunched over and switching hands to hold the shower head, I mused on how dirty the bottom half of the shower curtain had gotten. From a rather boring shade of beige, it had somehow transformed into a rather brownish-yellowy patch. It also had a strange smell to it. I wondered what substances exactly clung to its synthetic fibres; skin cells, follicles, residual soap and shampoo, urine perhaps? Perhaps other even more sinister substances that I couldn't begin to even imagine, or wouldn't want to think resided within the weave of my shower curtain. Bacteria. Fungus. Viruses.
I close my eyes and feel the warm water running down my back. I think of Saturday, when I'll meet my grandparents at the airport for our holiday. I think of my exams, over just yesterday. I think of the irreverent ME NO UNDERSTAND QUESTION, complete with a dinosaur going RAWR that I drew for question 2 of my exam paper, because I didn't know how to answer it. I think of Rajan, and the whirlwind of the past few days. I think of the future, and feel the strange mixed feelings of my heart straining and the heady exhilaration of the unknown.
I consider putting him and our few days up on a grand, marbled pedestal. Pretend and tell myself that he's the love of my life, that I love him. Tell myself that, convince myself that, so I'll not be an emotional slave to another man. So I won't fall and be hurt again, in love instead with an impossible idea that only works because he's not around. Fall in love with an illusion, a memory, 7 days. Fall in love with what could have been. I think maybe I'll fly to America over Winter break, see him again, plan to do my masters in the USA. Start planning my life around him, think of our children running around our yard. Our exotic mixed-raced children. We'd have three of them.
Or maybe after Saturday when we both leave London I'll will myself to forget him. Erase from my memory the way his eyes crinkle up at the sides when he smiles, erase the smirk he always gives me, erase the way he smells. I'll never talk to him, never see him again for the rest of my life. Never send him the postcards I promised. Years later, when his name pops up in the papers I'll pretend not to know him. "But you went to the same university for a year," people will insist, "and you were in the same department!", but still I'll pretend to not know him even though I'll probably remember his laugh, the feel of his skin, thinking of him everytime I hear the word tautology.
He was my carpe diem, my trigger to remember why I'm living rather than just merely alive, a burst of life. And tonight, I see him for what could very well be the last time in my life. I will miss him, but it's the thought that he might miss me that makes things feel unbearable. That everything is so senseless. I think, rather pretentiously, of a Nietzsche quote, "what really raises one's indignation against suffering is not suffering intrinsically, but the senselessness of suffering".
I will see him at 6pm, and tomorrow I'll leave for a 12 week Baltic cruise with my grandparents.
I close my eyes and feel the warm water running down my back. I think of Saturday, when I'll meet my grandparents at the airport for our holiday. I think of my exams, over just yesterday. I think of the irreverent ME NO UNDERSTAND QUESTION, complete with a dinosaur going RAWR that I drew for question 2 of my exam paper, because I didn't know how to answer it. I think of Rajan, and the whirlwind of the past few days. I think of the future, and feel the strange mixed feelings of my heart straining and the heady exhilaration of the unknown.
I consider putting him and our few days up on a grand, marbled pedestal. Pretend and tell myself that he's the love of my life, that I love him. Tell myself that, convince myself that, so I'll not be an emotional slave to another man. So I won't fall and be hurt again, in love instead with an impossible idea that only works because he's not around. Fall in love with an illusion, a memory, 7 days. Fall in love with what could have been. I think maybe I'll fly to America over Winter break, see him again, plan to do my masters in the USA. Start planning my life around him, think of our children running around our yard. Our exotic mixed-raced children. We'd have three of them.
Or maybe after Saturday when we both leave London I'll will myself to forget him. Erase from my memory the way his eyes crinkle up at the sides when he smiles, erase the smirk he always gives me, erase the way he smells. I'll never talk to him, never see him again for the rest of my life. Never send him the postcards I promised. Years later, when his name pops up in the papers I'll pretend not to know him. "But you went to the same university for a year," people will insist, "and you were in the same department!", but still I'll pretend to not know him even though I'll probably remember his laugh, the feel of his skin, thinking of him everytime I hear the word tautology.
He was my carpe diem, my trigger to remember why I'm living rather than just merely alive, a burst of life. And tonight, I see him for what could very well be the last time in my life. I will miss him, but it's the thought that he might miss me that makes things feel unbearable. That everything is so senseless. I think, rather pretentiously, of a Nietzsche quote, "what really raises one's indignation against suffering is not suffering intrinsically, but the senselessness of suffering".
I will see him at 6pm, and tomorrow I'll leave for a 12 week Baltic cruise with my grandparents.
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
Monday, June 06, 2011
I feel free
After talking to Hadi on skype, I started walking about half packing and half studying, now that my boxes for moving out had arrived. When 7pm rolled about I decided to go out and get some food from Kung Food, but instead decided on the spur of the moment go try the weird Chinese buffet thing I had seen down Leather Lane. As I was walking back, I swore I heard the cyclers gathered outside the cycling shop making fun of me for getting Chinese takeout, and I started to feel annoyed. Somehow as I passed by the Holborn Wine Bargins, I decided to turn in and see if they had any Crabbie's. As to why I did that I did not know.
When I came home I opened the beer and started drinking immediately. Took a picture of what could very well be my last real meal in this flat for posterity and sat down in front of my computer. It was then I realised what I felt, I felt free. I felt free because last time part of my behaviour used to be motivated by peer pressure. Imagine Zoe's face if she had come home and seen me not studying and drinking beer days before I have an exam. She'd be aghast.
Thus it transpires that I decided to celebrate my freedom from anything whatsoever by being totally irresponsible. Hmm.
When I came home I opened the beer and started drinking immediately. Took a picture of what could very well be my last real meal in this flat for posterity and sat down in front of my computer. It was then I realised what I felt, I felt free. I felt free because last time part of my behaviour used to be motivated by peer pressure. Imagine Zoe's face if she had come home and seen me not studying and drinking beer days before I have an exam. She'd be aghast.
Thus it transpires that I decided to celebrate my freedom from anything whatsoever by being totally irresponsible. Hmm.
Portions for Foxes
Today as I walked back from Chancery Lane tube, after having sent off/help drag Zoe's luggage to the station, I felt a strange sense of lightness. As Zoe was packing up the last remnants of her possessions in her room earlier, I sat there watching her while eating what very well could've been my last Daddy Donkey burrito, and musing about how everything had changed from the day we had moved in last Sept 2010. Life, as we knew it, had taken some very strange turns, bringing around with it strange bouts of lowness and self-realisation. This year we took such a different course from all expectations. We made new friends, drifted away from old ones, dug deep into ourselves and found new things.
I chased a slow walking pigeon on the way back home. It was fat and merely waddled away, unfazed by this crazy Chinese girl flapping her arms at it.
Last night was probably the peak of this self realisation. I had earlier contacted a exchange student who was a classmate, telling him how much I had appreciated him, but lacked the guts to say so during term time. I had concluded that since I'd never see him again - why not? Instead I ended up spending a memorable night with him, laughing away and talking about all manner of things random and in common. It was there in that moment spent with him that I realised how deep my love for Christoph was, and that the idea of love setting you free was but a myth. But all the same here I was, with this person that I thought I'd never know, solely due to the ever changing mystery of life - that damnit life is worth living because I want to see where it'll take me. I want to live, and see where my journey ends up.
I chased a slow walking pigeon on the way back home. It was fat and merely waddled away, unfazed by this crazy Chinese girl flapping her arms at it.
Last night was probably the peak of this self realisation. I had earlier contacted a exchange student who was a classmate, telling him how much I had appreciated him, but lacked the guts to say so during term time. I had concluded that since I'd never see him again - why not? Instead I ended up spending a memorable night with him, laughing away and talking about all manner of things random and in common. It was there in that moment spent with him that I realised how deep my love for Christoph was, and that the idea of love setting you free was but a myth. But all the same here I was, with this person that I thought I'd never know, solely due to the ever changing mystery of life - that damnit life is worth living because I want to see where it'll take me. I want to live, and see where my journey ends up.
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