Two More Books

Over the past few days I've finished another two books, Relics by Tim Lebbon and Family Life by Akhil Sharma. Relics was a low fiction novel, part one of a trilogy, and centered around a woman trying to find out what happened to her boyfriend. It reminded me a little of Neverwhere because of the whole low fiction setting in London, but that was about it. Overall it was not a bad book, but I don't think it'll be very memorable. I'd rate it 7/10.

Family Life by Akhil Sharma on the other hand, was a much more remarkable novel. The book is about a boy and his family, who live in India and then migrate to the United States. The book however, touches on several other topics beyond a straight forward immigrant narrative: a child's selfish/narrow point of view, having a disabled brother, family dynamics caring for a disabled child, bildungsroman, the Indian immigrant experience in the United States. As a result of these topics, this novel felt definitely relatable to me and my experience and knowledge - having a disabled brother and the strain on self and family, and personally knowing the geographical region (Queens, then NJ) where the narrator lives with his family. For such a slim volume, 218 pages, this book has sucessfully achieved every one of the ambitions it has had. I'd rate it 8.5/10.

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Tonight I leave for a early Wednesday morning flight to Singapore. The airport shuttle is picking me up at 9:45pm. Because I forgot to early check in (though I'm a little confused as I thought I saw elsewhere that I couldn't check in until 24 hours before a flight anyway - which I did), I don't have very good seats on both legs of the flight. I am really not looking forward to being stuck on a plane for the next 24 hours, particularly because the very bad bout of hives that started last weekend has now become very bad eczema on my legs. I don't think I've had such a a bad bout of eczema before, and I worry it will become itchy or irritated during the flight. I've been stressing out over what to wear as a result, and even went to Old Navy over the weekend to try and find clothing solutions. Besides that I've also been worrying in general about what people will think - the patches on my legs are so big and red, that I worry that other people might think I have something infectious, or will merely be disgusted with me. For someone that generally has a middling self-esteem, this eczema flare-up is certainly not doing me any favours.

Fingers crossed that everything goes well for the flight.  

The Turner House

Last night in a bout of insomnia (I finally fell asleep around 4:30am), I ended up finishing The Turner House by Angela Flournoy. I had first heard about this book years ago, and had actually pre-ordered it for when it came out on paperback (I really dislike hardbacks, because they're far too big to hold comfortably in my small hands). I had heard it was about a black family in Detroit, and it had won a bunch of awards. Sounded good enough, but also like one of those novels that aren't brain dead, and so I put it off for when I felt mentally engaged enough to deal with the subject matter, which apparently happened to be this week.

Overall the book wasn't as wrenching as The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears and the Book of Unknown Americans (God, these long novel titles!), and so was a relatively easy read. Last Summer in my American History class, I chose to review Thomas Sugrue's The Origins of the Urban Crisis - Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit, and so had some degree of familiarity with the problems that plague Detroit, and I found myself continuously thinking of Sugrue's book as I read The Turner House. But beyond history (The Great Migration, Detroit in its industrial heyday, mentions of the 1967 riots, the state of Detroit in 2015, etc.), the book also talked about family dynamics of a big family - the Turner family has 13 children (the closest analogue I could think of was my Mum's family of 7 children, and the associated family dynamics that come with an extended working class family) and gambling addiction.

At the core of most of the stories is, of course, the Turner family home in a now rundown and slightly dangerous part of present day Detroit; at the end of the book the oldest son, Cha-Cha drives to the family house and realises that scrappers have stolen the whole garage to sell for scrap metal - this part made me laugh because of believable and  how ludicrous it was simultaneously. As a bonus I particularly enjoyed reading the Acknowledgements section when I finished the book, and saw that Flournoy credited Sugrue's book for helping her 'establish' Detroit. Academia props!

I liked this book enough, but not as much as the previous two books. I give it 7.5/10. 

Immigrant Narratives

I recently finished two books that featured the narratives of immigrants in the United States. As an immigrant myself, there were many things that I found myself relating to about my experience here, and I found the two books to be good reads. The books were The Book of Unknown Americans by Cristina Henriquez and The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears by Dinaw Mengestu. I had bought both books at least a year before, and they've been hanging out on my bookshelf since. I picked them both up randomly, and I can't remember if I them back to back, or if there was a random trashy book that I picked up in between. Such is my vociferous consumption of literature during these summer months.

I enjoyed The Book of Unknown Americans a lot because it talked a fair amount about the American education system, and special education. I particularly enjoyed it because I felt like I knew exactly what was being talked about, like a chance to use the knowledge that I've gleaned from my current course at Hunter College. It also tried to incorporate many different voices of Latinx immigrants from different countries, socio-economic backgrounds, and ages, which I found interesting. I finished reading this book within 24 hours, because of how captivating I found the narrative. I give this book 9/10.

The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears is the first published book by Dinaw Mengestu. I read his other book, How to Read the Air several years ago, I think when I was in between relationships. I remember that because of his excruciating depiction of the slow, dying intimacy between the couple in that novel, I felt glad to be single. Because of that memory, I was of course drawn to this novel when I saw it on sale at The Strand, but put off reading it for the longest time because I recalled how depressing the other novel I read was, and reading depressing stuff gets tiring, you know. Anyway this book was about a small group of male African immigrants living in D.C.. Besides the obvious theme of immigration, there was also the theme of gentrification, which has been quite a current topic, especially living in a pricey city like NYC. I give this book 8.5/10. 

Saturday evening, July 2018

Last night Jon and I went out for dinner with his friends. His med school friend Eric came early to hang out with us first, and so we went to a bar opposite Midwinter Kitchen, where we were going to have dinner. Upon reflection, and thinking about how fast the happy hour mimosa hit me ($5!), it was the first time I've drank since a disastrous booze-and-hors-d'oeuvres-only wedding reception I attended a few months ago with Jon (we were told beforehand to drink a lot to help make up the money for the reception rental, and didn't know there was no dinner served until about an hour and a half in; you can use your imagination).

At 6:30pm, we left the bar and went across the road to Midwinter Kitchen to meet the others. I felt a little excited as Jon and I walk past Midwinter Kitchen all the time, but never went in because we were usually en route to somewhere else. So finally after about 2 years of walking past, we were finally entering Midwinter Kitchen. We ended up waiting a little because Nuno had parking issues, and so he and Hannah were delayed. It was fine because the restaurant wasn't crowded at all, which was also nice because we could converse in normal, human, volumes when they finally came. I ordered the chicken, which came out really nice with crisp roasted skin, though it was a little dry on the inside in some parts. Jon and I also ordered a side of roman gnocchi, and when it came out as a slab like a cake, I wasn't super enthusiastic. I had envisioned normal gnocchi, and thought 'roman' was the style of cooking. I tried to hide my disappointment, though of course I probably didn't do a good job with it, and Nuno laughed saying, "She's not happy!". It didn't taste bad, but of course didn't have the texture I was looking forward to with normal gnocchi. Live and learn I suppose.

After dinner we walked over to Momofuku Milk Bar on 2nd Ave and E. 13th, and Jon and I shared a soft serve cereal milk ice cream with cereal topping. It was the first time Eric, Nuno, and Hannah had tried the place, and Nuno looked a little confused and overwhelmed in the packed and tiny store. I vaguely remember my first trip there when I followed Shirin a few years ago, but I don't remember looking at the menu because I didn't want dessert. I probably must have been as confused when I went there with Marina about two years later around 2016. We then started walking up 2nd Avenue, and Eric peeled off around E. 17th to walk to catch the subway at Union Square. Jon and I ended up reaching home around 9pm.

Overall, it was a really enjoyable night. Good conversation, food, and weather.

Perfectionism and procrastination

I'm one of those absurd people who is a closet perfectionist. By this I mean that I typically come across as a very relaxed and chilled out person, especially to people who don't know me that well. This is usually because it's too tiring to care. This also means that for me, the adage, "If you can't do it well, don't do it at all," means I often either end up not attempting to do the aforementioned thing, or  put doing it off as long as possible because it will be tiring/not to my satisfaction and hence eat away at my soul.

Case in point: cleaning the bathroom. It usually takes me ages to do because I really remove every single speck of dust and lost hair follicle, and so I don't do it very often and put it off for a time even when I realize the bathroom is getting dirty. Well, I finally did it today after telling myself several times that I really ought to clean it, and it took me close to 45 minutes and a lot of shed sweat - and the bathroom isn't even that big at all! It's debatable of course whether infrequent cleanings means more effort needs to be exerted during cleaning, but between our combined hair dropping everywhere (and boy do I drop a lot of hair), dust coming in from the open bathroom window, and the inky dark sediment coming from the African Black soap that I've been using for my easily irritated skin, the bathroom gets covered in a light layer of gunk very easily.

It boggles my mind how people with larger families and larger houses keep them clean. I'd probably need to hire a weekly cleaner to help me :/

A summer cold

Since last week Monday, I've been down with a nasty cold that lingered until now - almost one and a half weeks total. Between the cold and the crazy heat from summer, I not only feel quite out of it mentally, but also feel very lethargic and achey, despite my best efforts to go walking for a few hours since I've been getting better. It's not a very nice feeling at all, both physically and mentally, the recognition that not only has my ability to do things been hampered, but so has my enjoyment.

On another note, for the last week, I finished 3 books: The Waking Land by Callie Bates (7/10), The Relic Master by Christopher Buckley (8.5/10 - I really enjoyed all the historical medieval bits, which I could easily liken to all the historical coursework I've done), and The Magicians by Lev Grossman (7.5/10). I always like to try and read books regularly, to try and counteract the rate at which I acquire them. As it is, my bookshelf is overflowing. Sometimes I deliberately try and start books that I know will have no permanent place in my bookshelf, just so I can make space. The end result however, is that the books that I think I will really enjoy and find meaty are left unread, in favour of fodder that I know I will donate after I've finished reading them.

I've really got to stop buying books - but goodness knows that's my number one weakness.

Beasts of Burden

I've been a longtime fan of comics ever since I discovered Archie comics at a young age, thanks to my Uncle KL. This love has since evolved into a love of graphic novels and other types of more 'mature' comics, and one of my favourite stops in NYC is the Forbidden Planet store by Union Square to browse through the comic titles available there.

Last Saturday after a sashimi/chirashi dinner with Jon at Kotobuki, we ended up at Forbidden Planet on our meandering walk home, and I picked up Beasts of Burden: Animal Rites by Evan Dorkin and Jill Thompson. Yesterday I finished the entire comic during the course of the afternoon, and I am now lamenting that I finished the volume and don't have any more of it to read. The book married two of my favourite things: animals, and weird things occurring. The art too is also on point (at least in my opinion - even though I might really like the concept of a comic, the art can kill my enjoyment).

Tomorrow I need to sit for the Educating All Students test, as part of my teaching certification for NY State (officially the long acronym of NYSTCE, something I've mangled multiple times in my memory). I am definitely not prepared at all, mainly because I've been procrastinating and also spoiled by other classmates who say that the test isn't really studiable, because everything is so subjective. This of course gives my kiasu Singaporean ass a type of anxiety, but one that has been tempered by the fact that I seem to have acquired a 'head cold' (as the Americans say), and am feeling at 75% of my usual functioning. I hope I feel better at least during the test tomorrow.

Books on the Subway

Whenever I see someone reading a book in the subway, I always like to take a little glance at the cover to see if I recognise it. I'm sure that I'm not the only one who does this, and so on Friday when Jon and I were on the 6 and headed up to Pelham Bay Park station around rush hour and I saw a middle aged man crane his neck to glance at the book I was reading, I paused my reading and flipped the book upwards to show him the cover. We then had a brief conversation - he had initially thought the book I was reading, May We Be Forgiven by A. M. Holmes, was a non-fiction book about forgiveness, and remarked that it was a rather heavy topic. I told him that it was a fiction book, and that I hadn't yet reached the 'forgiveness' part of the story. I also handed the book over to him for him to browse through. He got off a stop later at 51st St, so the interaction couldn't have actually lasted more than a few minutes, but it was more than memorable for its substance.

Anyway I finally finished the book last night. Clocking in at 496 pages, it is a really fat volume, but worth enough the 496 pages. May We Be Forgiven reminded me of a more manic and bizarro version of The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen, and one that ended on a far more optimistic note. It was an enjoyable read, though I'm not sure how memorable it'll be in the long run; I give it a 4/5. 

Barnes and Noble

When I was younger I used to write blog posts about all the books that I'd buy whenever I went on a book shopping spree. As I got older and had less time, I started writing much less, and posting about  books much less too. I've also started consuming books that are far less literary, books that require less mental input. As of a few years ago I really got into the whole new female driven crime thrillers genre, ala Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train - females who are unreliable narrators and not professional investigators - real page turner fluffs that I can plow through in a few days. In contrast, I spent about two weeks reading A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, and found it utterly overwrought and unrealistic. At the end, I wished I had spent the two weeks reading enjoyable nonsense instead. Recently, I've also really started getting into fantasy novels, particularly those with female protagonists. Also enjoyable fluff that has larger ideas, if you feel inclined to use your brain.

Anyway yesterday I was babysitting, and Rudo's Dad came home early, so I unexpectedly had an 'extra' two hours to my day. Instead of dutifully going home and working on things for my horrid Summer Class (very badly taught and run), I went to Barnes and Noble at Union Square instead, since I'd have had to change from the 5 train at Union Square anyway. Happily, the Union Square market was in operation, and as I walked through to get to B&N I stopped to buy chocolate chip cookies and apples for $1.60 a pound.

At B&N I headed straight for my usual section - the discounted books on the 3rd Floor - and after browsing around I picked up a few nonsense novels and one slim looking literary book that had "10 Best Books - The New York Times Book Review 2014" on its front cover. I then went to the 4th Floor to look at the Sci Fi and Fantasy section, but couldn't really find anything new that I wanted to sink my teeth into. I ended up picking up a nonsense book from an overflow cart that someone had left by the Sci Fi and Fantasy section, and decided to get it since it was a mass market paperback at $9.99.

So this is my book haul from yesterday:
Family Life - Akhil Sharma
Last Train to Babylon - Charlee Fam
The Silent Wife - A. S. A. Harrison
The Other Widow - Susan Crawford
And an Archie Giant comics book, for bathroom reading.

In addition last night, I also purchased Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi on my kindle. I had heard about it for a while but felt reluctant to purchase a YA book. Last night I decided to bite the bullet and finally get it, as I think the inclusion of African folklore in a fantasy background would make it worth my while.

Very much a change from the books I would have purchased 10 years ago.

Confused Days

Today is Tuesday, but it really feels like a Wednesday. Yesterday was a Monday, but it really felt like a Tuesday instead. This is because on Sunday, Jon was working and I spent the day doing quite a lot of school work - it felt far more like a weekday than a weekend. And so now I feel psychologically confused, and need to think a little bit before I know what day it is. This in itself is a little disconcerting, but I suppose it must happen to a lot of people, for instance stay at home parents with newborns/babies, or someone retired. Either way, I don't quite like feeling so disoriented. 

Union Strike

Today while walking back home from another early morning babysitting session, I crossed paths with a grand total of three (3) striking workers. They were walking along E. 23rd St, and had that were tied to their necks with thin pieces of string. Their signs said that they were from AFL-CIO, and were electrical workers that were on strike. They seemed to be joking with each other a little, as they shuffled along the street.

I couldn't help but think that this was the saddest strike I've ever seen, not that I've seen a ton to begin with, mind you. But this is what unions apparently look like nowadays, almost 50 years after they had their teeth taken out of them from legislation.

Celebrity

For the past few months I've been intermittently babysitting a baby called Rudo. My babysitting gig is a little unusual in that I'm not with him at his place. Instead, we hang out outside the studios where his mum, Nefertiti, teaches. I also only babysit for about 2-3 hours each time, so not for long durations. I initially had hoped for longer hours (and of course earning correspondingly more money), but I soon realised that even just 2 hours of looking after a baby is super tiring - which of course makes me wonder how I'll cope when Jon and I eventually decide to have kids. Anyway overall, save for the early start times, I'm happy with taking care of Rudo once in a while. It's interesting watching him slowly grow up and learn, plus Nefertiti is a really cool and chilled out person too.

Today was interesting however because while babysitting, I saw a celebrity! Not exactly a huge celebrity, but rather one whose work I know and respect, which makes it better of course. While cuddling Rudo and trying to get him to calm down (he was very fussy today), I saw one of the doors of one of the many trailers lining the street open, and saw Keegan-Michael Key step out on a puffy black jacket with brown furry trim. At first I was thinking "Oh my! It's the guy from Key and Peele!", and then I thought, "No way, can't be. I must be mistaken." But the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced. Still, I was afraid to say anything without verifying what I saw, but in the end I decided I was right and told Victoria, who was working at the reception, and she got all excited with me.

Anyway long story short, I told Nefertiti too when she came out from her class, and she got all excited too. Shortly after Nefertiti finished teaching her second class, Keegan-Michael Key came out of the trailer again, and I told both her and Nefertiti, and they ran to the window to wave at him like maniacs and he waved back with a big smile before returning to his trailer. I feel happy that they got to see him too, and that I wasn't mistaken, hah.

Just last week when Sindhu was here, I was having lunch with her and Shirin at Big Daddy's when she told us that she saw Janelle Monae at a Pastafina near Hell's Kitchen, and I was telling them that I had never seen a celebrity before. I attributed it to the fact that I don't go to ~trendy~ places, and don't exactly pay attention to the people around me. Well, I can no longer claim that I have never seen a celebrity in person.

Valentine's Day

The best Valentine's Day present thus far has been a clear nose. For the past weeks I've been taking various antihistamines to try and deal with a nose that has been alternatively so stuffy that I can't breathe, or flowing non-stop. At several instances where I've laughed over the past week, snot has come out. Things were getting worse too - it was starting to adversely affect my sleep.

Finally yesterday after much complaining on my end, and me feeling like I'm at the end of my rope, Jon came home with Sudafed. I ended up waking up at 7am today with my nose completely stuffed and feeling unable to breathe, and took the Sudafed before returning to bed. I woke up at 10am, to two completely clear nostrils. The realisation was exhilarating. I'd forgotten what it's like to breathe completely unhindered.

Tonight we'll get Mexican takeout for dinner, and I'll probably buy some macarons from the corner bakery. Happy Valentine's Day 2018.

First Day of 2018

The first day of 2018 was spent partly in a car ride from Fort Salonga to Manhattan via Sheepshead Bay, in an old teal Sienna filled almost to the brim with groceries and luggage, and a cat of unknown vintage in a black harness with attached leash. This was the first time Saffron was out in a harness and leash combo, albeit within the confines of a vehicle, because he had meowed so pitifully the last few times he had been kept in a carrier during a car trip, and it was fast apparent that he enjoyed being on a leash more than being in a carrier. He was largely well behaved except for wanting to hop onto Jon and explore the driver's seat, but was kept away by Serafin-Dad holding onto his harness and me holding onto his leash in the back seat.

The success of the leash was far more than we could have hoped for given that earlier in the day, Saffron was very upset and resistant. I put the harness on him and he got upset, and when I emerged from the bathroom I was met by Jon telling me that Saffron was currently hiding inside the sofa in his parent's room (according to Daisy-Mum) because he was angry and had trying to escape the noise of the vacuum. This cued Serafin-Dad, Jon and me to try and coax him out of the sofa by closing the doors and alternating between using a hair dryer and treats. While this was going on, Mona, the ancient matriarch cat was sitting on top of the bed, watching us with little interest. Annoyed at seeing little progress in coaxing Saffron out, I went over to Mona and flopped onto the bed, when I realised I saw a darker coloured patch on the air bed next to the main bed. Taking another look, I saw Saffron looking at me, sitting in plain sight on top of the air bed. All this time, he hadn't been inside the sofa at all, but instead must have been wondering what the commotion was.

Now that we had found him, we then tried to feed him a mixture of cat treat and cat melatonin to calm him down for the car ride. He ate a little bit, and then started running around the room wildly. When he realised he was trapped because we had closed all of the doors earlier, he started pushing against the door and trying to scratch his way out. We finally let him out after about a minute, in hope that he would calm down.

About 20 mins later, when the car was fully packed, we were left with the task of grabbing Saffron and putting him in the carrier. Given that he already felt very aggrieved from recent egregious human acts, getting him to go in was difficult. Usually I get him into the carrier by putting treats inside, and he complies with little complaint, but yesterday he was pissed and in between the carrier sliding away from me as I held Saffron and the door closing as Saffron struggled, I had to grab him another time and force him into the carrier. He meowed in an upset fashion as he was carried into the car.

On the way to Manhattan, we stopped by Sheepshead Bay to drop things off at Uncle Jimmy, Uncle Bum, Uncle Boy and Aunt Lulu's houses. I didn't leave the car cause I was holding onto Saffron leash, but we opened the doors to let Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Bum see Saffron. He looked at them and then went to the other side of the car, not the least bit interested in the outside because it was also exceptionally freezing yesterday (as has been the whole of last week, and continuing onto this week).

When we got him, he was the first thing we unloaded. I put him back in the carrier for the trip from the car to the apartment, and he was compliant. The first thing he did after I took off the harness and leash was use the litter box, then drink water. As Jon and I unpacked all the things we had brought to the apartment, Saffron ran about re-exploring. Then for the rest of the afternoon, he lay on our bed and slept.

And this is how our first day of 2018 went. 

Final Paper

I have a final paper due in a week that I haven't started writing yet. Two years ago this would have been behaviour that is completely unheard of from me - I'd be so stressed out I wouldn't be able to sleep and all - but I recently realised that as the priorities in my life have shifted, so does my focus and the things that cause me stress. What would have been extremely stressful before is now more of a thing of more minor grief and irritation.

And on another note, I just had a thought related to my paper topic: Has there been a refugee crisis in the past two decades that has not be caused by the legacy of colonialism?

Life and Death

Yesterday I felt like the proudest and happiest person on earth, because my niece finally entered the world. After wondering day after day when she would come, we finally received a text on Sunday night at 11pm that my brother-in-law and sister-in-law were headed to the hospital. When I was finished with my fieldwork at about 1:30pm, I got a text just as I was leaving the school with a picture of the baby. I felt so proud that I wanted to go up to random people on the street to show off the picture - look at her, isn't that hair amazing? And I felt slightly amazed at my reaction, cause I didn't expect to feel so overjoyed and proud. I always thought newborns looked like aliens, but this one seemed perfect to me.

Today however the mood I have is one that is considerably more sombre, because of the terrorist attack that happened near my fieldwork school. It's the first time that I've really been in the vicinity of a terrorist attack that took lives, and I suppose it's been down to sheer luck that this experience has only happened to me now at the ripe old age of 27. Considering that I came into age during the era of religious-based terrorism, and have lived in big cities that have experienced major terrorist attacks either before or after my residence there, it's been a strange sort of blessing that I've never had to text or call people to tell them that I'm safe until today. It feels a little unnerving, to be honest. On my walk back home, I also found myself regarding the streets with a keener eye and a more heightened attention than before, and that's when I realised the extent to which I felt impacted by this event. Sort of a delayed reaction, if you will.

Well, only time will tell about the extent to which this event and future others will affect life as we know it.

Sick again

Last night I had a nightmare where I dreamed Jon and I had to plan yet another wedding related thing, and I was super stressed and upset. In my dream I spent a lot of time trying to actually run away from events and hide because I felt so horrid about things, and people kept chasing me to get me to return. Urgh.

In other news, I am sick again. So far since July, I've been sick every two months, and it's driving me crazy. It's frustrating waking up with the sickening realisation that goddamn it, my nose is running and has been back-dripping into my throat all night long. Also now my throat is sore because of the back drip.

Monday of this week was the first time I worked since G- summer camp ended in early August, and although I enjoyed it, I profoundly regret having worked now because in addition to being really tired right before I fell sick, the house is a huge mess and I've got a backlog of school work that I need to deal with. Every day Jon and I get back to the house past 7pm, and we need to leave early in the morning. This means that all the things that need to be done, like cooking and cleaning, have steadily been building up as the week progressed. It's overwhelming especially when you're already so tired. I really have no idea how families with two working parents do it. It already feels like Jon and I are barely holding on to things, and I can't imagining a newborn into the mix. Grargh. 

The Monday After

Last Saturday (7 Oct 2017), I finally got married again in the big religious ceremony + wedding reception. Today, I'm back at work again and struggling to find the words to best represent my thoughts on the topic of my history comprehensive exam. A part of me relishes the joy that comes from productive academia, but another part of me just wants to go back to sleep and play computer games all day after a thoroughly emotionally and physically exhausting day.

Although getting married with a big hullabaloo and seeing my friends again was very nice, DEAR GOD - weddings are a terrible business. I just hope I remember enough of the stuff to make things easier for my friends and my children when the time comes for their weddings, cause I never want anyone else to have to go through the bullshit Jon and I did at the expense of actually getting to thoroughly enjoy our 'big day'.

Avery Labels

One of the most amazing things I learnt from my internship at A- in Spring 2016 was the existence of Avery labels, and that Microsoft Word came pre-programmed (ok maybe not the right word) with layouts where you could easily print directly onto the labels. This blew my mind because I never thought it was that easy to print things onto labels, or that Microsoft Word has such capabilities.

Anyway I'm thinking about this again because I'm trying to get labels ready for wedding favours. I even ordered a dinosaur stamp with "J & M" on it to stamp onto the bottom part of the labels. 

Mighty Exhausted

For the past two months I've either been so busy or so sick that I've barely had time to stop and collect myself and my thoughts. July and the first half of August were all non-stop busy and stress-filled as I tried to maximise my time like never before, and the second half of August was spent battling a cold so nasty that no precedent appears in memory (thank goodness it's not a common occurrence at least). I foolishly thought that with the end of my summer class and summer job on 4th Aug, I could relax when I returned to Singapore for two and a half weeks, but instead it felt like a rush to get wedding related stuff done and to show Jon as much of Singapore as I could. A sample day (Thursday, 17 Aug in this instance) was:
- Bring one half of Filipino-side to Little India, while my Dad brought the other half
- Walk throughout Little India
- Take MRT from Farrer Park to Bugis
- Walk around Kampong Glam area
- Wait with Lola and Jon at Starbucks while the rest of the family went to see the Rochor area, because Lola felt way too tired from the walking
- Take MRT to Tanjong Pagar to meet Mum at the tailor's
- Fitting at the tailor's
- Shopping for a longer chain for the pendant my grandma wanted to give me as a wedding present, as it was way too short and choked me
- Taxi to the jewelry shop
- Buy chain, that is usefully also adjustable
- Taxi to Far East Plaza
- Fitting at the alteration shop (more like booth, because of how tiny the place was)
- Get manicure and pedicure
- Taxi home to eat dinner

Another day (Monday, 21 Aug) was:
- Wake up early to have breakfast with Dad
- Take public transport to the zoo
- Sort of rush through the zoo because it was really hot and humid
- Eat KFC for lunch
- Go to the river safari and enjoy the panda exhibit because it was air-conditioned
- Take a taxi to Lucky Plaza
- Eat halo-halo 
- Visit Takashimaya and Kinokuniya, see Ion briefly
- Take public transport to Star Vista to meet Uncle KL and family for dinner
- Have dinner and desert, shop for a bit
- Get fetched home by Uncle

On the way to Newark from San Francisco, I ended up sleeping throughout almost the entire flight. When I got back to Fort Salonga, I pretty much spent only 4 hours of the next day awake because I just felt so incredibly exhausted. The following day, Saturday, I felt much better and we all headed off from Fort Salonga to NJ for Sona and Tim's baby shower. At the baby shower however the husband of Sona's best friend was sick, and I think just by being near him I picked up a nasty virus, because by Sunday night I started to feel a little ill and by Monday evening my body was aching all over. 

So the past week, incidentally also the first week of my second semester at Hunter, has been a miserable and snotty blur. Here's to hoping I fully regain my footing soon.