Ugly Stickers

It's the 6th week since I've started working in my first real job (although I mistakenly told a senior teacher I was observing last week that it was my 7th week then). I've finally worked long enough to kinda lose count as to when I've started working, which says something I guess. I had to check a desk calendar to count the weeks properly.

Work so far has its up and downs. Usually I'm so bored of myself/sleeping/reading/doing nothing that by Tuesday I'm raring to go. By Thursday/Friday I find that I can't wake up and Saturday is usually a whole day of me sitting stunned at my desk. Of course tonight is Monday night and I'm (excitedly?) thinking of what I need to do tomorrow when I get to work, thinking about the classes I need to plan and etc. Then of course you need to factor in Classes From Hell which I seem to be the only one of the newbies getting, which stresses me to such astronomical levels and whittles away at my self-confidence to such an extent that I feel that I either ought to be fired or quit before I get fired. Arghgarghbargh.

Hopefully my classes this week will be good.

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Today my brother managed to spent 2 hours eating his dinner. I don't know how he managed to do that, but I found it annoying for some reason.

I'm currently reading The Sisters Brothers, which I started on Saturday evening, and it's proving to be a real enjoyable read. In Littlebourne with Joaquin, we used to play Antonio's Red Dead Redemption. The Sisters Brothers reminds me quite a lot of Red Dead Redemption. Similar Wild West setting, the archetypical sort of characters, and the same sort of absurd many-happenings. It'll probably make my 2012 Top Ten List.

Pseudoephedrine

Yesterday I finally gave in and went to see the doctor. After weeks of insisting that I was not sick in a curable sense - I was merely allergic to the haze - I found out that I was sick in a curable sense. Given the cumulative loss to my standard of living over the past one month (and almost a month exactly it was to the date I came back home), I felt peeved. Like I had been cheated out of something, albeit by my own stubbornness. One of the medicines the doc gave me was pseudoephedrine, a truly peculiar drug.

According to wikipedia, pseudoephedrine is a commonly used drug-component fr a variety of reasons. The one applicable to me was as a nasal decongestant (hooray for finally being able to breathe out of my nose!) and the other is as a stimulant, to enhance waking. Now the strange thing is that for me, pseudoephedrine also makes me sleepy. But at the same time it makes my heart race. This means that it makes me fall into a strange trance whereby my brain slows down to a crawl while my heart thunders away. It is a very strange feeling.

I took my medication on the bus today, while on my way to work. An hour later, I was in a state that can only be described colloquially as feeling very gong. That is, I felt like someone had taken my head and smashed it into one of those large buddhist temple gongs. Stunned, into some strange twilight zone.

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Today I managed to return to a class I co-taught last week, because I wanted to spend more time with one of the students. This boy, quite a cute looking child I must add, seemed to be perpetually getting in trouble with the teacher. He was either unable or unwilling to follow instructions and pay attention to the teacher. It didn't help that he seemed to be a relatively weak student took. Last week I found myself taking him aside and going through everything that I had already done earlier with the other students. He had absorbed nothing of what I had said, and taken no notes down despite them being on the whiteboard. When I asked him to cross out a wrong answer, he responded by putting a little cross next to a string of wrong words -______-"

So anyway this week I returned back again. This time, I sat next to him as the teacher taught, and watched him to make sure he had the right worksheet, was on the right page and all. He was much better behaved this week, and actually seemed to be following the class. I also started to notice a few things about him, namely that he seemed like an anxious child. At the same time, he had lots of rubbish in his bag (complete with melted candy that made everything stick together) and his pencil case, which only made him MORE anxious when he tried to search for anything. Furthermore, I noticed that he had a strange habit of doubling up in laughter for a hell of a long time. Something that other students would laugh at for a few seconds, he would choke up in laughter for a full minute. Strange, but some how kinda cute.

The best moment came today when the class was doing a composition, and I turned to see him with his hands raised right up, looking intently at me. A few minutes later, he did the same. I was amazed because he simply waited there, patiently to get my attention. He didn't tap me (I was less than 50 cm away from him!) or ask for my attention. He just sat there with his arm up. LOL. And when he finally did get his attention, he said "teacher, can I ask a question?" and I went "huh, me?" forgetting that I was also in this context, a teacher.

After class was over, the main teacher was so happy because apparently this was one of those rare-few classes where he had been so well behaved. And for that, I felt really happy, because it felt like such a change from just last week. I'd love to continue working with him again, if it does him any good, but we'll see.

J-J-Jaded: bored; dull

It's been my 3rd week at M/s L and I've already been given my own class to teach. One of the words I had to 'define' for the students today was 'Jaded', and I went 'J-J-Jaded' each time, in some sad Aerosmith reference that none of them got. Well, at least they enjoyed it when I played hangman to get to to guess 'bored' and 'dull'.

This morning was horrid. I seriously did not want to get up. My legs felt stiff and unbending, rioting against the notion of getting up. When I finally did get up to blow my nose, all manner of disgusting things came out, URGH. Essentially, I felt wretched, and it got worse when I sat at my desk. Something about the air in the office perhaps? During the multiple sojourns I made away from my desk (to buy a bun and later to buy Children's Day gifts), I felt much better, nevermind that it was in a similar air conditioned environment. Perhaps it was the air.

Somehow, I managed to survive long enough to make it to teach my first regular class. And the following class 30 minutes later. It's interesting because the students were the same age, the material the same, but the classroom dynamics were so different. My regular class tended to be a bit more quiet, but they warmed up near the end of class. The other class exploded shortly into the lesson (45 mins in?), nevermind that they never knew each other before, and would not stop talking or do their work without me going 'DO YOUR WORK' multiple times. The first class had 4 students. The second had 3 students. WTF. I guess this means I need to ask some of the senior teachers about classroom control. It must also be noted that their personalities seemed vastly different.

Part of the problem of course, was that I let them walk over me. I wanted them to talk, get to know each other, and have fun. At the same time, I guess how I behave in class also influences them, and it seems when in doubt I attempt to be entertaining and over the top. Which reminds me of how when I was younger I once told my Dad I wanted to be a comedian, cause I liked seeing people laugh. I liked making people happy. Then he (an eternal pessimist) told me how it was incredibly difficult being a comedian. Instead I seemed have to become an unintended comedian now in my new career, cause the students sure laughed a hell lot today.

Oof tired. 

M/s L

Its been a good week since I've joined M/s L for my first full-time proper paying job. Needless to say, its been an interesting week, trying to figure things out and all. So far I've spent most of my time either at my desk trying to look busy, or in the bathroom blowing my nose. I'm still feeling sickish, part adapting back to home weather and part the haze. I think. I hope. Been feeling slightly guilty the past few days because everyone around me seems mad busy. The girl sitting next to me came back to work on her off day because she needed to get work done. Meanwhile I was zoning out and answering P3 English exam papers. Quite the contrast. But it seems like after 2 weeks (the training period), work will be hell crazy.

Yesterday the haze came back, and I felt quite wretched as I was working. My eyes were burning, and my nose and lungs felt stuffed. Last night when I came home, I ended up taking medicine and going to sleep around 10pm, only to wake up at 12pm this morning. Don't think I've ever slept 14 hours before.

Not sure what else to write, or what else I can write about my new job. I guess I'll figure things out as I stay there longer.

Assa and Karpo

In less than 24 hours, I had two very good experiences of customer service from Assa and Karpo. Considering that this is London, that in itself is quite extraordinary.

Yesterday night, after watching Rock of Ages with Malcolm, we went to eat as Assa. He'd never been there before (blasphemy!!!) and it was really near the Shaftesbury Theatre, so off we went. I ordered the sweet potato noodles with vegetables and pork, and he ordered the marinated spicy beef with rice. When my noodles arrived, I was upset when I realised there was just a tablespoon full of pork, and full of PMS-hormones, I complained. I must add that I've never complained at a restaurant before, because I dunno. Same reason why I get stepped on by some people I guess, I'm not too assertive a person.

Anyway I waved my hand to get attention, and I got the attention of someone that I presume was the boss - he was wearing a blue checkered shirt and not the usual waitressing uniform. When I explained why I was unhappy, he replied that in Korean cooking it was normal. That the pork was not meant as a main per se, but more for flavour. I was still a bit annoyed, but accepted his answer, just as long as it wasn't a case of the establishment being crazily stingy was good enough a reason for me. However to my surprise, even after apologising to me, the man came back. He explained that he'd asked the chef to cook more pork, in order to please me as a customer. Malcolm and I were really, really pleasantly surprised. It was good enough to receive a polite answer when I complained, but actually giving me more pork even when it wasn't necessary? Unbelievable!

So for this I must commend Assa, for their extraordinary service.

The next bit of good service I encountered was today, when I went to Karpo for lunch with Diego and Eugene. Essentially, I woke up late and I ended up running all the way there because I thought I was late. True Eugene fashion, he was late-r than me. But anyway I didn't know that, and tore right into Karpo (which is actually a fancy place BTW) looking frantically for Eugene and Diego. When I realised they weren't there I staggered back into the front bar area and stood about in a lack-of-oxygen haze, the bar staff nicely spoke to me and asked me if I wanted a drink, etc. And then I asked the maitre'd 'is there an Asian dude inside?', to which he replied 'Sorry, but I don't think there's any Asian dude inside'. Anyway I sat there at the bar, with a glass of orange juice, waiting for Eugene and Diego to go, half spinning myself about on the bar stool.

Eugene and Diego came after about 10 minutes, and we were seated at the back near the living plant wall. I had the risotto, which was really good. Then I ordered a hazelnut and brownie ice cream which was truly, excellent. Throughout, our server, gave us really good service. She was attentive, kept serving us water and so on. Anyway at the end, when we were about to pay, I noticed that my orange juice was missing from the bill. I waved to get attention for a good few minutes before the maitre'd noticed me and he came over and said 'where's the fire?' LOL. According to Eugene and Diego, when he arrived I said 'you forgot my orange juice' and he looked momentarily horrified before I clarified that I meant that they'd forgotten to bill me for the orange juice. Then he looked real pleased. He wandered over to the billing point and then wandered back soon after, saying that he felt lazy to punch it into the system (with a big smile!) especially since there was now a queue. Again, another pleasant surprise!

So there it goes: two experiences of lovely service from Assa and Karpo. 

Asbo

Today I went to Portobello Market with Joaquin, Antonio (his brother) and their Dad. Initially it was great, but then the skies went crazy and the rain started to come down at short intervals, raining out the market. My shoes got soaked right through. When I took them out just now, I noted that the water puddle inside was a weird maroon colour. YUCK. Still, I was pleased with the entire trip, namely cause I got to replace the amber ring I lost a few weeks ago at Joaquin's house in Kent. The ring is prettier, but not the same. That and the weaving in and out of shops, with Antonio playing with all the binoculars and Joaquin gravitating to all the camera shops.

On the bus back, I did my first ever outright asbo (anti-social behaviour). I ate a packet of fish and rice (from the market) on bus number 7. I finished by the time the bus got to Edgware Road. I wonder if the smell was sufficiently irritating for everyone else on the bus, but I was really hungry D:

Am currently drawing a long, hot bath to soak in.

Carrie

I managed to spend pretty much my entire day today in bed. I just didn't feel like doing anything at all. Joaquin was busy, and the usual suspects were all gone from London (Cielo, et. all), so there went my usual sort of normality supports. I managed to nap so much in the morning, that I gave myself a backache. It's on my upper back, next to my neck, which is highly unusual. If I wasn't sleeping, I was reading The Hiding Place in bed (so far, OK a read), going to the bathroom, or eating shortbread from the fridge because I was hungry. There is also a mild possibility that I am mildly depressed again, but I can't quite tell yet.

Anyway the only thing that sort of dragged me to reality was that I'd arranged to meet with Jon at Atariya for a long overdue dinner. After stuffing our faces (I don't think I quite had my fix of sashimi though), we walked to HMV near Wardour Street and wandered about in the DVD section, and picked up a bunch of movies. After careful deliberation, Jon (the sugardaddy for the night since he's working now and gets paid) bought Osombie, RoboGeisha and Carrie. We walked back to my place, I picked up some Gu Chocolate Souffles from Waitrose and we settled down to watch Carrie on my laptop. After that, we ended up watching two episodes of an Idiot Abroad. I introduced it to Jon. We saw the Egypt episode, and I decided I wanted to show him the India episode.

Tomorrow Joaquin comes back from Kent, so perhaps it will be a more normal day.

Bathroom Musings and Croatia

Today after 6 days away in Croatia, I came back unexpectedly to find my normally un-occupied (not since Tiff and ZW moved out) house, occupied by my landlord's handyman. He'd swopped my broken loo (complete with chopstick flushing mechanism that I rigged up) for a new one and was in the midst of changing the little ventilation fan that never worked since we moved it. He was also sweating buckets, given the current heatwave in Europe that seems to have hit the UK.

After he left, I still had to wait a few hours before I could shower off the grime of a sweaty Croatian night (how savage a life without air conditioning is!) and a Ryanair flight. Because apparently he put new putty around my bathtub. I had no idea why since the only thing wrong with the old putty was that it was starting to look a bit mold-ey. So anyway I finally JUST got to shower. It was then a noticed a few things: the new toilet bowl is far skinnier than the old one. The old cistern was a large model, which meant we could balance lots of stuff like multiple loo rolls and a bowl of potpourri on it. The new one is a skinny bitch.

I also realised George (the handyman) had gone and removed the two lights above the bathtub, making the bathroom much darker than before. This means no more reading while soaking in the bathtub, though to be fair since it's so warm I probably won't take warm baths like I used to in Winter and Spring. I also noted that the towel that I had been using as a bathmat on the floor was missing.

While pondering all these great, life-changing differences to my daily shower, I grabbed the conditioner bottle twice and started scrubbing my hair. I wondered why it wasn't foaming up like normal, and why my hair felt so awfully slick. It was then I realised I was trying to shampoo my hair with conditioner instead of shampoo. I also then realised the only difference between Aussie shampoo bottles and conditioner bottles is that one is cream and the other is white. This is unlike Tresemme where shampoo bottles are black and conditioner bottles white. This makes it highly unlikely for any sort of silly mix-up, like the one I had. As a side note I was also shampooing my hair with 8 fingers and 1 thumb, because I cut my right thumb pretty deep on some sea walls yesterday at the beach. I also manage to cut my left palm on another rock.
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 I enjoyed my last 6 days in Croatia, especially with such kind and understanding company (Joaquin). I however did not enjoy almost constantly feeling sick from the heat (headaches) and getting tummy aches/bloating from the food. Also the apartment which I booked, which was in an awesome location, had no air conditioning - which meant many nights of shit sleep and insomnia as we struggled to rest. I also learned that Croatian sounds like Russian, Croatia will join the EU in 2013, and Croatia has a long way to go to properly develop its tourism industry.

We were mainly based in the city of Pula. Pula, a city on the Southern-most bit of the Istrian peninsular, has no beaches. Just rocky seafront. We learnt this the hard way. Pity because I have not seen such beautiful, clear, blue water in a long time. If it was Singapore, they'd have turned the whole place into an artificial sand beach (not sure if that's a good or bad thing though). We went to two beaches, Verudela (where I fell horribly sick from too much sun) which was mad crowded with both tourists and locals, and Valkane which was less crowded/built-up and far more nicer. It was also the place where we spent almost the whole of yesterday and where I cut myself.

Joaquin and I also visited the island of Brijuni, where Tito used to vacation. On the island there was a strange museum made of half Tito photos and half taxidermied animals. The tour we were on also took us to see a safari of animals left behind from old gifts to Tito (second-third generations), with an elephant and a Llama. LOL?

We also visited the towns of Rovinj and Fazana. Rovinj was beautiful, with an old city centre, cobbled alleyways and that sort of thing. Fazana was more like a smaller fishing/tourist town, that was charming in its own way. In Rovinj I had the best grilled squid, complete with lots of garlic and oil. In Fazana I had a short 30 minute Istrian massage which was immensely enjoyable. One memory of Rovinj stands out: sitting by the waterfront watching the seagulls float about just meters away, as a hobo fed them lots of bread. And watching little kids throw pebbles at the seagulls. And watching the seagulls fight among themselves. I felt so unbelievably calm and contented at that moment.

Yesterday I had another such moment at Valkane beach. I managed to stumble my way, falling once, (on a pebble beach) to where the sea was about thigh-high and sat on a rock for the longest time. I loved being able to feel the cold of the sea and the warmth of the sun at the same time. I sat there for the longest time, shifting to a side to lets some German kids play. During one of those moments when I was shifting about on the rock, I cut my palm, but was too chilled out to mind much. The young boy was collecting rocks with his older sisters, so I gathered rocks for him too. I liked yesterday.

Month of July and some of August

I don't think I've ever posted so little before in the entire history of this blog. The good part is that I have never been so stable and happy as I have been in a long time - that is for this past year. The bad part is that as a result, I feel less like writing things down. Yesterday I passed one of those growing up bench marks, hence I feel a bit more in the mood to reflect a bit. Yes, that's right, this person who permanently feels incompetent and overwhelmed has gotten herself a job. Hooray! I guess it's nice that even if I don't have confidence in myself, someone is still eager to hire me.

Anyway July was pretty much travelling month. After getting back from Turkey, I had the grand total of 2 days to rest and get ready to meet my Mum in Barcelona. From Barcelona we spent a few days, then we went off to Girona and to see Figueres. Then we flew back to meet my Grandma and Dad in London. The next day (10th July), we went to Hampton Court Palace where I found out my results. I had given Tiff my LSE details and she called me just as I was viewing some artwork by Titan, and the call ended with me screaming in joy cause I got a first class for my beloved dissertation.

The 12th July was my graduation, and that was an interesting day. Woke up early, got dressed, etc. Felt like Harry Potter when I wore the robes. After the ceremony, I met up with friends who had especially come to take photos, people like Dexter, Tiff and Shu who had their graduations at later times and dates. That was very nice. Lunch with my family was at the now-renamed Pu's Brasserie, for old time's sake I suppose. I remember napping after getting back, and then going out into the damp evening to meet my Aunt and Uncle in Hakkasan for dinner.

The 13th July to the 20th July was spent in North Italy. Saw lots of places, and went back to Florence, which I loved. My Dad drove through the Tuscan countryside, and we ate like pigs. I can see why Tuscany is so lauded for its beauty. We also visited a town called San Gimignano, which was overflooded with tourists, but still incredibly pretty. On the last day, in Milan, I ran into HM and her family in the Cathedral, which was a nice coincidence. The only problem being that when I met her, I sort of screamed, and then babbled stupidly about the dead saints I saw around.

Now finally after getting back to the UK, I'm going in and out of Kent with Joaquin. So far we've been spending at least 2 nights a week in Littlebourne, and seeing bits of the countryside at a time. Last week we went to Dover Castle, the week before that we explored Canterbury itself. Today we went walking about Littleborne for about 2 hours. I got stung by some strange plant that made my wrist itch and swell in bumps. We saw horses, cows and one Rolls Royce going at 80 miles per hour on a bike path. Tomorrow we're going on a longer ramble around Wye.

Seen quite a few performances lately too. I watched a production of Sleeping Beauty by the Peter Schaufuss Ballet Company and was not impressed at all. I spotted lots of mistakes, plus some of the choreography seemed outright vulgar. A few days later, I watched the Maris Liepa Gala and BOOM, huge contrast. The production by the Maris Liepa foundation and its guest performers was incredible. Met Cielo and Ian afterwards to rave about it in Chipotle over dinner. Then on Sat, 4th Aug, Shu and I watched As You Like It by Iris Theatre in Convent Garden which blew me away. I'm not a huge Shakespeare fan but wow, definitely one of the best plays I've ever seen, rivalled perhaps only by Woman In Black. The acting and singing were superb, the costuming lovely, and the set (the audience moves with the scene changes in the garden of St. Paul's Church in Convent Garden) mind blowing. Sunday Joaquin and I also saw Spamalot, which was the realisation of an old dream I had when I was into a huge Monty Python phase.

Should add that on Sat, Joaquin and I went to see the Africa Village by the African Olympic Committee, and got free Egyptian food lol. Reminded me a bit of the Shanghai World Expo, but on a smaller scale. Sunday, we went to Colombia Road Flower Market with Shu. I bought 3 lavender plants for £5, Joaquin and I got a small venus flytrap for his brother for £3 (that I dubbed Percy), and Joaquin bought me a huge bunch of lovely sunflowers for £5. Amazingly cheap! Was quite an experience too, with all the shopkeepers shouting over each other to advertise their wares.

Amazingly, I feel mentally winded now from typing so much. Phew.

Seagulls in Piccadilly

On Saturday Cielo and I hung out for the whole day. We went to Broadway Market, and had Banh Mi. As usual we talked about all sorts of off-colour things, and managed to chase away the middle-aged couple sitting next to us on a bench facing the canal. It was also the first time I had (and seen!) Banh Mi with fish. Cielo had jellied eel too, in an old eel and pie place that was filled with other curious souls trying jellied eels. GROSS.

At the other end of Broadway Market, we came across a commotion. Lots of screaming and people standing about, watching. Afterwards, I bought a Big Issue from a seller and managed to get the story from him (in a heavy English accent which Cielo couldn't understand, LOL). Apparently two dogs had started fighting and the owners were freaking out. The owner of one of the dogs tried to pull her dog anyway, but the dog was hysterical and bit her by accident. And hence the police, and paramedics were called. Lovely, British tax dollars at work. Meanwhile the other owner and dog (the aggressor) had run away before anyone could stop her.

Afterwards, we took the tube to Piccadilly Circus because I wanted to go to Lillywhites to buy some running gear. As we were crossing the street (from Boots where I bought some Spongebob plasters!), we spotted a seagull flying about with something massive in its mouth. Just as we were waiting by the road to cross the street, the seagull dropped the object it was carrying onto the road, and we managed to get a good look of it. It was a pair of wings, grey, with pink bird legs - but no body! Instead where the body should've been was a mass of skin? and blood. WTF.

For dinner we met Hadi and ended up queuing something like two hours to eat at Pitt and Cue. I had to agree though, that the food was good. But as to whether it was worth the incredibly long wait, is another thing. The seating was quite cramped too.

On Tuesday afternoon, I went with Joaquin and his friends, Ting Yu and Wai Lam to Dover. We visited Dover Castle (£15 entry!) and it was super rushed. Still I liked the place. We split up and because we wanted to see different things, so Wai Lam and I rushed to queue up for the Operation Dynamo/Dover Castle tunnels bit. I don't think I was ever so anxious as I was when we queued up, because they only let a limited amount of people view it at a time. When it finally got to us, the man was like 'I'm so sorry, but there's just too many of you!' and he'd already chased the people behind us away. I begged and pleaded with him, and he relented and let us in (number 35 and 36 out of a group that was meant to be just 30) and God I think my heart almost exploded with thankfulness. Seeing the tunnels was great, and we leaned why the entry to Dover Castle was so expensive: the tunnels were decked with the most high-tech sort of projectors and all to tell the story of the evacuation of Dunkirk. I was very impressed. Never seen such effort put into a museum exhibit before.

Today I realised that I watch more Olympics visiting Joaquin in Kent than I do when I'm in London where the Olympics are actually being played. That is, I have access to a television whereas in London I don't even have a proper broadband connection. Pffft. Spirit of the age indeed.

Patatas Bravas

I must add that as I begin this post, I actually have no idea how to structure what I must say over the next few paragraphs. The last 72 hours, since I returned from Istanbul to London, and off to Barcelona again, have been utterly disastrous. To this I must add another, internal factor which only made things worse: I was PMS-ing.

A short overview of unhappy London shit:
- Found wallet missing when I got back to Central London. Last saw it at Luton airport. Was (and still am), utterly distraught, inconsolable. Very, very upset.
- Found small luggage I wanted to bring to Barcelona missing. Ex-upstairs neighbours forgot to return it, but not before I went mad searching tiny Flat 2 for it.
- Mice. Ate my bread when I left it on the kitchen counter in it's plastic packet. Waddled around my room the subsequent morning, making me scream.
- Dismal, rainy London weather.
- Exhaustion from traveling in Turkey.
- Feeling overstretched from crammed in social interaction.
- Disgusting gyudon from Hare and Tortoise, much more horrid than I remember it tasting last time I ordered it a few months ago (ate with Joaquin).
- Bland tori hiya-atsu udon from Koya when I had lunch there with Dexter.
- Clothes still damp, because of the dismal London weather.

And then somehow in between all of that, I managed to pack, get over to Joaquin's temporary abode near Warren Street tube and spend the night. He made a tasty masala potatoes with fishcake and rice. Mmm. But then the next morning, the trouble started again! (WTF.)

Joaquin walked me to the door of his temp flat, as he had yet to get dressed for the day and has his arm still in a cast. I kissed him goodbye, and headed off downstairs by myself. However downstairs, in my distraction and haste, I put my left foot behind the heavy metal door and neglected to remove it in tandem with me opening the door. Cue me falling to the ground in utter agony, tears falling uncontrollably. I ended up lying on the ground for a period of time, because it was that painful and all the strength drained from my body. To my dismay, I noticed the lift in the lobby moving, and soon an Indian lady stepped out, leaving for work. She was utterly horrified to see me lying on the floor. I ended up speaking to her for a while, saying I'll be fine after resting, and she left with an uncertain look on her face. Ironically, UCH was just 1 minute away.

By the time I looked at my foot, I realised to my horror that it was a pretty deep cut. Sort of more like a hole than a gash. And there was no blood yet cause I hadn't hit a vein, so I could see the depth of it. Somehow, I managed to get up (and stop freaking out), and limp my way to Boot's. The pharmacist gave me plasters and antiseptic cream. I hobbled to Warren Street tube, to take a train to Victoria.

The train however, from Warren Street to Oxford Circus was exceptionally crowded. Bodies pressed together sort of crowded. Unpleasant, but ok. It was from Oxford Circus onward that I suddenly started to feel a bit strange. It was when the train finally reached Green Park that I realised I was in trouble, and that I was going to faint. But yet I couldn't faint! 'Cause I needed to go to Victoria. It felt unbearably hot and stuffy. The train stopped twice in the tunnel between Green Park and Victoria. I was stripping off my scarf, my jacket and leaning heavily against anything. I was trying to squeeze my thigh muscles to increase my blood pressure. I wanted to grab the suited man next to me and beg for help, but realised I couldn't talk anyway. I was sweating like mad, and my hearing was starting to go, plus my head was filled with an unbearable feeling. I noticed a guy standing nearby watching me oddly. Yet somehow, I made it to Victoria. The moment I got off the train and walked to the nearest wall however, I finally collapsed. But it was OK, because at least I didn't end up at Brixton by accident or something.

A few moments after I collapsed, the tube staff came running to assist me. A very nice Black lady at the platform called Sandra (which reminds me, I need to write in and thank her) ran towards me. Somehow more staff came, she kept talking, and a bottom of water was procured. I think I was slumped against the spot for a good 5 minutes as Sandra kept me company. After I got a bit better, she supported me and we moved to a nearby bench. She spoke about how women fainting on the tube nowadays was fairly common because it was so hot inside, and how it's usually women cause they're dieting. I lol-ed inwardly at that, despite feeling so utterly wretched. We ended up speaking a bit about the Olympics and all that sort of thing. After resting for another 10 minutes, I managed to persuade her that I was well enough to leave, "well, at least the colour's come back to your face!", and found my way to the Gatwick express.

The rest of my journey to Barcelona went comparatively seamlessly. I made faces at two little boys in front of me in the queue for security check. Was one of the last to board the planes 'cause I was limping everywhere. Changed my plasters a few times 'cause they kept coming off and there was blood and all soaked through. My mother of course, was upset to hear everything when I arrived. She already had to reckon with canceling my credit card from Singapore. This sort of added to the whole 'I'm not old
enough to be responsible for myself' thing. She wanted to bring me to a doctor, but it turned out that there are no GPs and clinics here, but only hospitals.

So, this morning we went to Hospital Clinic Barcelona. It was definitely one of the nicest hospitals I've seen. Managed to get by with pidgin Spanish and the considerably adequate skills of the various Spanish staff there. I got two jabs, one full of globulins or summat on my bum. I was not amused. The other was for Tetanus. The doctors were calling each other to peer at my wound, and my mum kept pestering them by asking silly over-bearing parent things like, 'I think she got a Tetanus jab as a baby!', even though the doctor explained in basic English that the jabs last 10 years only. This prompted the doctor to go, 'You have baby?!' to me because all she understood from my Mum's Singapore accent was the word 'baby'. And repeatedly asking the doctors about stitches, nevermind that the same doctor explained that the only stitching possible was to do a whole new large area around and cover it with new skin, cause the wound had been left open for too long. I was absolutely horrified at even the thought of that.

Spent the afternoon in the La Rambles and Gothic area of town, with a free walking tour. Ended up leaving a shopping bag at the restaurant we ate at for dinner, prompting a 15 minute back-trek. Reinforced my mother's notions that I am utterly incapable of independent existence.

I must add in my defence that none of this shit, or anything close to it, has ever happened to me when I travel alone. PFFFFFFT.

Turkiye

4th day/night here in Turkey, and I'm recovering from food poisoning. Last night was utter hell. I felt largely alright, bloated yes, until the end of Woman in Black (HM and Shu were really really freaked, lol), then suddenly everything started hurting and that's when I knew I was in trouble. Fail. Silly thing is, last night the 3 of us ate at a place called the Ottoman Kitchen, and we shared all our food. It was one of those point-at-ready-made-food places, so the food was actually kinda cold (red flag?) but it was insanely popular/crowded and located in a high tourist area. Waiters spoke English and all. But then again, Shu and HM were fine and I was not. I guess I have a very weak stomach.

But yes, last night was hell. All cold sweats, prayers, and multiple runs to the bathroom to puke (9 times?). On the 7-8 time I was thinking of asking the other two to bring me to a hospital. But then somehow in between vomiting, I googled my symptoms and they said not to go to a hospital unless it's more than 24 hours of non-stop puking. WTF? I think I'd have died after 12 hours of non-stop puking, much less 24. Somehow around 3am local time I managed to drift off to sleep, after about 4 hours of feeling utterly wretched. Pffft.

As a result, our planned day trip to Bursa today was postponed. We ended up waking late. Instead we went to see Galata Tower and the Istanbul Modern (Museum of Art). At the Galata Tower, Shu and I were talking when an American guy overheard and excitedly asked us where we came from. When we replied 'Singapore', his face immediately fell and in a disappointed voice he said 'I would never have guessed that'. I guess my pseudo-American accent broke his heart. After that he started ignoring us. LOL. Reminded me of how I was in Spain recently and confused all the travellers I met. One South African woman thought I was Australian though, which was funny. At the Galata Tower too, we met a second group of Turkish people who wanted to take a photo of us. A few days ago, a little girl came up to us and wanted to take a photo with us at the Spice Bazar, but HM vetoed the idea. Without HM however (she'd seen the Galata Tower before), Shu and I consented. It was rather queer.

On the second day we saw the Sultanahmet Mosque and the Hagia Sofia. At Hagia Sofia I lost my temper because of multiple rude tourists/tour guides. Also a woman accidentally stepped on my toes with the heel of her high heels. I don't think I've been so pissed in such a long time. I still feel annoyed now, thinking of it. After that we saw the Byzantine Cistern, and ended up walking all over the place. We stumbled across the Spice Bazar, and ended up finding out way to the seaside where we hung out for a good hour. HM bought nuts, I bought an apple (the boy had a cute apple peeling-cutting contraption!). I also played 2 shooting games, hitting 2/4 ballons each time, oho. At 4 shots for a lira, it was great fun. While sitting by the beach too, we saw a guy clear the entire 2 rows of ballons, and cheered when he was done. Later however, he and his friends came to try and pick us up, so we pretended to speak only Mandarin. We left shortly after. We topped off the day by having an awesome dinner nearby of Testi Kebab, which is meat stewed in a clay pot.

Yesterday/the third day, we woke late. We went to see the Tokapi Palace and the Archaeological Museum. Then we were real tired, and it was already evening, so we went to eat dinner at the fated place D: Tokapi Palace had a great view, and was quite nice, but I feel the experience was kind of ruined because of how many people were there. There were queues to see certain sections, and even then it was a mess inside. We ate a bite at the cafe there, and of course it cost a bomb too. The Archaeological Museum would have been far more gratifying if I wasn't so tired though. The amount of well preserved sarcophagi there was mind bogging. Saw a few mummies too.

Barely ate anything at all today, so my tummy's feeling a bit weird now as it seems to be getting better. Even eating Lentil Soup for dinner today made me feel real sick. Tomorrow we're going on the Bosporus ferry to see the surrounding areas, and watch a Dervish show at night. Hopefully I feel fine!

Chevron

Sailboats for Sail 

I don't know why, but I've been obsessed with chevrons lately. Tricky since chevrons aren't exactly a thing you wear, or decorate a place with. It's more like just a pattern on a cloth, and according to etsy, a popular choice for baby things (?!?!). Funny 'cause chevrons, besides being a pattern, remind me more of military usage, as ranks on uniforms. 

I have gone into full-scale loafing about after coming back from Spain. I remember little of what I have done over the past few days. Monday I went to court with Joaquin over the old landlord case, Tuesday was the England v. Ukraine match. Wednesday was Salsa (I tried a 2 hour lesson) and yesterday Joaquin and I watched Havana Rumba. But besides those 'significant events', I have no bloody recollection of what I did in between. I guess I went to the gym twice, had half a Waitrose Caesar Salad somewhere. Strange because comparatively, I remember my Spain trip pretty well. Perhaps it's 'cause I took the effort to write lots of things down in my dinky journal/diary.

Yesterday was unusually busy. Had lunch with J Foo at Tinseltown, then I met with Dex for coffee (tea for me - I usually get the fancy schmancy sounding Eight Butterflies Tea) at Fleet River. Then I rushed back to change and meet Joaquin at his, taking the tube down to Southbank. After we got back to his, we hung out with his flatmates as it was the 2nd last night before their dorm lease expires. 

Today I met CH for lunch at Abeno. Had okonomiyaki with noodles, and damn was I full. Then we took a little walk to drop off the stuff I wanted to donate to Oxfam. Rained on and off. Hung out with CH for a bit in his place, then I came back to chase what must have been 8 flies out of my room. Not sure why, but there are a hell lot of flies in our place now. They just cling to the windows (they're as unhappy at being in my room as I am with them) and won't fly out if I just merely open the windows. Instead I need to fling about with a magazine and curse at them (ok, don't really the cursing bit) before they slip out. These flies are massive too! Never seen such huge ones back home before. 

I guess I ought to write a wee bit about Spain before I go on my Turkish trip on Monday (at 6am in the bloody morning!!!). Soon. Tomorrow, or something.

SA105

It's less than 48 hours till my LAST EXAM of my UNDERGRADUATE STUDIES. Holy cow. I'd be all reflective and shit if it didn't cause me so much distress - it being a paper from a different department with different nuanced requirements and all that. Thank God for Joaquin, who as Jia terms it is like a 'comfort blanket'.

Meanwhile London's become a holy hell blaze of heat. Last week I went out and bought 2 fans. One for my room and one for Joaquin's room. I couldn't sleep/function otherwise. As it was, I barely spent any time at home and opted to roam about in school working. As a result, my skin has turned into an utter bitch and my itchy eczema has returned in full force and I feel like I'm scratching myself to death. Even worse, the little patch that formed over winter has quadrupled in size and gone all gross. It was formed in a funny/nerdy way too. Basically when I read in bed at night, and lay on my right side, the spine of an average novel would always rest on the same spot. After a while, a dry/inflamed skin patch appeared, but at least it was amusing then. Now come Summer it's like a Goddamned torture device.

That picture made me burst out laughing when I saw it online.

26 Hours

In 26 hours, I will be having my first exam. ANDOHMAHGAWD I don't know what to do. Looking through my notes doesn't take that much time, and I don't exactly have loads of past exam questions to waggle through. Write things down I guess, but even the thought of that makes me feel panicky - like what if I can't write ANYTHING down?

On a level, this is so silly because this is definitely not the first university exam I've ever sat for, but it feels almost like I forgotten how to study/revise for an exam. That and knowing what to do with myself in the interim bit, while waiting for it to just be over damnit. Doing anything else but studying feels like a sacrilege, but on the other hand studying seems a dire option too. PFFFFTTTT.

Better than Xanax

Sadly I realised the best was to not be panicky/hysterical over anything in life (GV227 exam on Monday for me, in this case) - is to FALL SICK. I have that horrible sticky throat feeling and ARGHGU(TNIV@(%CN()N(QE()

KNNBCCB.

Ryan

I have a younger brother, and his name is Ryan. My brother has severe non-verbal autism, such that even at age 17 (he'll be 18 in July) he can barely say anything intelligible, and even that's confined to a mere word. Sometimes when I look back, I wonder how it was like growing up with a brother like that. But fact is, when I was growing up, it didn't seem like anything remarkable at all. He was just my brother, and everything felt normal. Like everyone else after school had a life just like mine. Yet at times I really wonder how I did it. Again when I think back into the past, I remember that despite the immense love my family gave me (I've got a very close knit family), I was a fairly maladjusted child.

My teenage years were a mess, and I encountered so many teething problems with trying to find my identity, hampered by the existence and presence of my brother. If I was raised to be slightly off-kilter (thanks individualistic rhetoric sprouting Dad), my brother just made me all the more incredibly different from everyone else. And teenage society does not reward those that do not conform to their vision of normality within 1 standard deviation. I was probably 5 standard deviations off, hahaha. But then of course I learnt of a reason behind most of my trouble: I suffer from dysthymia, so perhaps it wasn't my brother that led to me being strange after all.

And then there were times when I wondered whether I had strains of autism too. I have a fascination with staring at the washing machine - the front loading ones with the clear window that is - watching clothes go round and round and round. That's actually what inspired this post, cause Zhi Wei came out of the bathroom and saw me watching my clothes in the laundry machine. Though I must say it's only MY CLOTHES that make me want to watch the machine. Everyone else's clothes can gtfo. Dryers work too.

Then there is the fact that I have incredible trouble communicating my emotions verbally. This is especially bad when it involves strong emotions, like after a fight. I find that I cannot even speak. Meanwhile my brain shuts down, and I become catatonic. At best after some time, I can write things down, but I still cannot say them out. Even in day to day life, emotional things often leave me unable to function fully, which is of course bad because I have quite an emotional disposition.

Still, despite anything (and everything?), I've made it thus far. Living away from my brother in London for the past 3 years has been real nice, but I do miss him. Plus he is (along with the rest of my family) never too far from my thoughts. Not sure if I'll be singing the same tune when I'm back for at least a year in Sept though, ahahaha.

AND presenting, a rare photo of my brother and I, taken last year Sept.

May Day

Last night as I struggled to sleep, I felt myself repeatedly seeking refuge in the idea of cross-stitch. I imagined myself sewing, and sewing away. And then of course I had to stop and wonder WHY was it that I was so drawn to cross-stitch, and working with my hands in general. When I did pottery I used to fall to sleep thinking about carving and shaping (damn I miss pottery). And then there was my mad knitting stage. Still got 2 uncompleted projects back at home, gathering dust.

I came to the conclusion that I found it reassuring because it was Sure and Certain. If I do XX then XX will come out, with the occasional hiccup of an XY. But life and everything is such that often when you put XX into it, ABCD comes out. There are just too many variables floating about for any real certainty in anything, and this makes me Anxious as hell. Especially since I just introduced (half of me screams WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!) another variable into my life in the form of a Romantic Interest. One that, yes, makes me bloody happy, but another bit makes me go 'WTF why are you letting someone else control your happiness?!' lest anything go Southwards. That and the knowledge that I am horribly dependent on a Partner when I get one, but when I'm single I'm most (80%) fine with being emotionally independent.

Yes I am utterly paranoid, but at the same time I can't help but feel scared for Everything and Anything that is part of the Ominous Future. ARGH*%U($MU@(X@

Columbia/Colombia

I realised today, after texting Cielo that I was spelling Colombia the country as Columbia, the university. A few weeks ago, I had all my hopes pinned on getting into a Master's programme at Columbia. I learnt I did not get in, and spent the next few days moping about. It felt like someone shot an arrow right into my chest, like a big THUMP and a WHUMP at the same time. Then the next day, I met a Colombian, at Ronnie Scott's when I was there with Ianthe. Feels funny thinking about it now (plus I can still recall the WHUMP at seeing the Columbia rejection letter, and all the subsequent sad feelings). Consolation out of all of this? I am now seeing the Colombian, drug lord jokes aside, and he's one of the nicest guys I've known. HEAVE a sigh of relief at not encountering another jackass, and at having given him a chance. The sweetest guy that makes me feel a bit melt-y inside.

Anyway him aside, I've got another lovely distraction. A distraction that is probably more all consuming than him. Right after I finished my dissertation, I went online and bought a bunch of cross-stitch sets. Yesterday after they came in the mail, I spent most of the afternoon working on a bookmark (that I intend to keep for myself), before rushing off to meet Joaquin. It's funny how I chose a Mackintosh design, especially after Ianthe and I practically skipped Glasgow, the origin of all this style of art deco. Spent a good portion of today working on it too.

Photo Booth blurry but, it's still a lovely work in progress.

The Book of Human Skin

Life, mood and horrid new Blogger layout have all conspired to make me neglect my blog recently.

I am currently reading Luke Rhinehart's The Dice Man, and it is proving a most intriguing read. Reminds me a little of Bret Easton Ellis' sort of ultra-masculine, no-holds-barred, sort of narrative.

I read a book fairly recently (a few books back), called the Book of Human Skin by Michelle Lovric. While it was a book that made me stay up when I was tired, it proved unsatisfactory. Everyone in the book, was one dimensional, with little depth. Sure, there were adventures, a clear villain(s) and heroine, but it seemed a bit like a grown up Disney story, except less charming.

Another book which made me stay up was Jane Harris' The Observations, which proved to be an enjoyable read. It only came to my attention though, because of the recent Faber collection about Lies and Deception. It was a right old mystery, with strange happenings and hearsay, and a lovely narrator.

I guess there's just sometime about books which makes me flee towards them in such times. Such times as being relatively homebound now, because of exams and a need to study. Of wanting to escape and not be here. Ho hum.

Today's a Bank Holiday.