Today has truly been an unlucky day.
First of all, I woke up with my left eye almost completely swollen shut. I had to lie on my bed for more than an hour dripping eyedrops before I could see with it without tearing too much. Of all the days to get conjuctivitis, it had to be the day of chemistry practical.
So with one leaking eye, I got out of the house and proceeded on the way to school. Halfway to the MRT station, it started drizzling on me.
When I reached it, I missed a train despite running to catch it, because of some bulky people who were rather slow in reacting when I said "excuse me".
Not to mention, chem prac was a disaster because I got hopelesslessly confused for the titration.
After that, I went to have dinner with Hannah, which improved my mood marginally. Unfortunately, on getting home, I discovered that I'm allergic to something I ate because I'm itching all over now.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Saturday, October 23, 2004
My mother said she was contemplating giving away our parrot fish to my uncle so that she could replace it with discus fish or something. Discus! What a dumb name. And my uncle! The reason for passing on the fish to him, she said, was because his own fish were dying. And I said: precisely! How can we give him our fish to die. And you know what? I think his fishes are dying from STARVATION. And probably boredom. He has no respect for the intelligence of parrot fish.
Anyway, I told her that if she gave it away, I would go to my uncle's house and steal it back.
Anyway, I told her that if she gave it away, I would go to my uncle's house and steal it back.
Friday, October 22, 2004
A rather small but amusing incident occurred today. When I got off an MRT, on the way home, I saw a flyer distributor somewhere down my path. Being the only person walking in his direction, both of us carefully did not look at each other, until I was within arms' length of him, where he stuck out a flyer and I, well, took it.
After reading several romance novels in one of my stranger moods, I have decided that nudity is overrated. Clothes hide all the flab that exist in the wrong places (for girls), (or for guys) fat that's supposed to be muscle. Those perfect breasts, well-defined chests with hard angular planes simply do not exist. Or perhaps more accurately, they form a minor enough proportion such that romance novels are written about them. This brings to light that Imagination is frequently better than the Real Thing. Not that i have any experience in the matter, but I suspect that in our world, most couples spend less time looking at each other and get down straight to, er, business.
In a nice long conversation with Lin Zi yesterday, we happily recapped some of the more ludicrous examples of romantic fantasy. One particular case that stuck in our memory was a fanfic detailing how, in a dark and stormy night, person A saw a blurred figure flashing by in the distance, who conveniently turned just before he disappeared so that his amethyst eyes could be observed. Under the conditions described, we all have to admit that those eyes must have been glowing as described by the author.
This brings me to my next point: it appears that attraction has surprisingly little to do with looks. After years of ridiculing my friends' choices, I mentally compiled a (dismally short) list of all the guys that I found marginally attractive in my short years, and come to the reluctant conclusion that my taste sucks too. Other than certain character traits or facial features that distinguish them (in my eyes) from the normal crowd, most of them are really amazingly ugly.
To the everlasting disgust of my conscious mind, I also identified a pattern among them--tall, skinny with relatively square shaped jaws. For some reason, the well-built, handsome variety merely inspires general appreciation equivalent to the experience of discovering a nice item in the shop window. This has led to the conclusion that there's really no accounting for hormones.
And (horrors and horrors), after all that criticism, I actually found the novels rather sweet.
After reading several romance novels in one of my stranger moods, I have decided that nudity is overrated. Clothes hide all the flab that exist in the wrong places (for girls), (or for guys) fat that's supposed to be muscle. Those perfect breasts, well-defined chests with hard angular planes simply do not exist. Or perhaps more accurately, they form a minor enough proportion such that romance novels are written about them. This brings to light that Imagination is frequently better than the Real Thing. Not that i have any experience in the matter, but I suspect that in our world, most couples spend less time looking at each other and get down straight to, er, business.
In a nice long conversation with Lin Zi yesterday, we happily recapped some of the more ludicrous examples of romantic fantasy. One particular case that stuck in our memory was a fanfic detailing how, in a dark and stormy night, person A saw a blurred figure flashing by in the distance, who conveniently turned just before he disappeared so that his amethyst eyes could be observed. Under the conditions described, we all have to admit that those eyes must have been glowing as described by the author.
This brings me to my next point: it appears that attraction has surprisingly little to do with looks. After years of ridiculing my friends' choices, I mentally compiled a (dismally short) list of all the guys that I found marginally attractive in my short years, and come to the reluctant conclusion that my taste sucks too. Other than certain character traits or facial features that distinguish them (in my eyes) from the normal crowd, most of them are really amazingly ugly.
To the everlasting disgust of my conscious mind, I also identified a pattern among them--tall, skinny with relatively square shaped jaws. For some reason, the well-built, handsome variety merely inspires general appreciation equivalent to the experience of discovering a nice item in the shop window. This has led to the conclusion that there's really no accounting for hormones.
And (horrors and horrors), after all that criticism, I actually found the novels rather sweet.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
I am forced to admit that pack-rat tendencies run in the family. With my mother, this is especially so with regard to food, though I think my grandmother possibly surpasses her.
After rummaging in the fridge for a while (because I was hungry), I found one-quarter of a mooncake carefully stored away, which I discovered to have a layer of crust over its paste. This is presumably due to the more wintry conditions in the refrigerator, which slowly dries non-living things after a prolonged period of time. Having the same instincts to conserve food, I ate it.
Next was the discovery of half a turnip, leftover from a turnip dish cooked about one month ago. Before yesterday, it had several uncut companions sprouting in a corner of our kitchen.
My grandmother inquired over the nian2 gao1 (you know, the sticky brown cake that's supposed to symbolise prosperity and suchlike) that my mother threw away yesterday as well. We all complimented her on her memory, because it had been there since Chinese New Year.
There is also a little bag of sauce that was provided a few days ago, when my parents bought chicken rice. I have established a pattern to this. Usually, out of a desire not to waste food, my family will carefull keep such leftovers in the fridge, where it will reside for a few days until it becomes undeniably rotten. Then we will throw it away with a clear heart and an unburdened soul.
After rummaging in the fridge for a while (because I was hungry), I found one-quarter of a mooncake carefully stored away, which I discovered to have a layer of crust over its paste. This is presumably due to the more wintry conditions in the refrigerator, which slowly dries non-living things after a prolonged period of time. Having the same instincts to conserve food, I ate it.
Next was the discovery of half a turnip, leftover from a turnip dish cooked about one month ago. Before yesterday, it had several uncut companions sprouting in a corner of our kitchen.
My grandmother inquired over the nian2 gao1 (you know, the sticky brown cake that's supposed to symbolise prosperity and suchlike) that my mother threw away yesterday as well. We all complimented her on her memory, because it had been there since Chinese New Year.
There is also a little bag of sauce that was provided a few days ago, when my parents bought chicken rice. I have established a pattern to this. Usually, out of a desire not to waste food, my family will carefull keep such leftovers in the fridge, where it will reside for a few days until it becomes undeniably rotten. Then we will throw it away with a clear heart and an unburdened soul.
Monday, October 18, 2004
The house floor has been polished, and the furniture shifted back. Today I accidentally pushed back the chair after finishing my dinner, and this resulted in me and both my parents poring over the floor, gazing mournfully at a new scratch. I have thus far sworn to carefully slide off my chair in future.
So this leads to a discussion of a solution. My mother, as usual, suggested that we put a carpet under the dining room. This is certainly not a new preventive measure, since after the floor was polished, she went out to buy several carpets to prevent scratches. So now there's a carpet under the chair in my room, under the chair at the computer table, and a new one in my parents' room. I believe the ideal solution to this is to carpet the whole house, so that on occasion, we can lift it up to stare at the shiny polished marble, and feel a great sense of satisfaction that we have a nice floor now.
Today was a terribly unproductive day. I was supposed to go to school early for the second post mortem of our econs s essays. After carefully reminding myself to bring my Nitrogen Compounds notes (to check with my friend) and handphone before going out, I promptly forgot both on leaving.
When I arrived at school I sat through 4 hours and fifty minutes of Mr Cook RAMBLING. Rambling transcends simple REPETITION, requiring a certain long-windedness and lack of organisation. This must be one of the few lessons where I keep feeling a continuous urge to go to the toilet, and I did go for quite a number of times. Not that it made any difference, because when I came back he would still be talking about the same things.
So this leads to a discussion of a solution. My mother, as usual, suggested that we put a carpet under the dining room. This is certainly not a new preventive measure, since after the floor was polished, she went out to buy several carpets to prevent scratches. So now there's a carpet under the chair in my room, under the chair at the computer table, and a new one in my parents' room. I believe the ideal solution to this is to carpet the whole house, so that on occasion, we can lift it up to stare at the shiny polished marble, and feel a great sense of satisfaction that we have a nice floor now.
Today was a terribly unproductive day. I was supposed to go to school early for the second post mortem of our econs s essays. After carefully reminding myself to bring my Nitrogen Compounds notes (to check with my friend) and handphone before going out, I promptly forgot both on leaving.
When I arrived at school I sat through 4 hours and fifty minutes of Mr Cook RAMBLING. Rambling transcends simple REPETITION, requiring a certain long-windedness and lack of organisation. This must be one of the few lessons where I keep feeling a continuous urge to go to the toilet, and I did go for quite a number of times. Not that it made any difference, because when I came back he would still be talking about the same things.
Saturday, October 16, 2004
Since relatively exciting events are taking place in my otherwise dull life, I have decided it is time to update.
First and foremost, is the farewell assembly yesterday morning, which consisted of a powerpoint presentation by Mrs Chan and a rather lame concert which I actually found inordinately funny. Later, we went for a special CT session, which was actually a phototaking session (and in the case of my class, a storytelling session). After some great deliberation, the guys in my class decided to attempt lifting Mr Ng for a picture, despite some rather vehement objections from the latter.
The scene played out something like this:
(Mr Ng, face contorted in a rictus of terror. Many guys lifting him rather precariously from the sides.)
Guys: One, two, three! (Mr Ng is tossed up slightly into the air)
(Strangled shout ensues from Mr Ng)
Guys: One, two, three! (Mr Ng is tossed up slightly into the air)
(Strangled shout ensues from Mr Ng)
Guys: ONE, TWO, THREE! (Mr Ng is tossed up slightly into the air)
Mr Ng: ARgh
I also noticed several new additions to our school compound, the most notable being that of big red banners proclaiming: SingTel welcomes you to VJC! (Leaving us all in no doubt who our biggest sponsor for OpenHouse is). This is certainly a company rich in tradition, because the banner design looked twenty years old.
The second exciting thing happening in my life right now is that my house is having a major upgrade. This is truly an example of something that Started Out Small, but Became very Big.
The seeds of this project were planted in my mother's mind two weeks ago, when she saw two polishers working on the marble of our neighbours' flat. So she invited them over to give a quotation for our floor, and began to Make Plans.
Problem 1: How to shift the furniture out?
Solution: Our sofas are old. Good, teak wood; resources should not be wasted. Conclusion--Why not send it for a polish?
The Thought This Leads to: The display cupboard has VENEER doors and drawers, although the frame is solid teak. Therefore, we should replace the doors and drawers, since we're at it.
The Next Thought: Might as well do the coffee table too. It's in good condition, but it Can Be Improved.
So the contractor which helped to do our in-built cupboards was invited up to see a price. Since he was already in the house, it was Only Convenientthat he takes a look at the kitchen as well.
Overhanging in my mother's mind: The stoves are a little spoiled. How much to replace them?
Then: Come to think of it, the tiles are somewhat loose as well.
On top of it all: The cupboards are creaky.
The Final Conclusion: Major Upgrade
As of yesterday, she was eyeing the toilet, though fortunately no concrete plans have been made in that direction. I've been spending the week looking as inconspicuous as possible while my parents grumble at each other and at me; and I stayed up to three this morning to clear my room so that the polishers could work on it. (I must admit after coming home today that the floor is a lot shinier). Actually, this is a lousy time to be in the house.
I realised when packing the room that the Singaporean Kiasu spirit was ingrained in me. There is a burgeoning stack of written foolscap paper from practice papers in my room, which I hardly look at and don't know what to do with, but I just can't seem to bear throwing it away. I managed to recycle some though, because at least that satisfies the instinct for conservation.
Oh, and miracles of miracles: MY COUSIN CALLED FROM AUSTRALIA. (!!!) WE had a good chat though.
First and foremost, is the farewell assembly yesterday morning, which consisted of a powerpoint presentation by Mrs Chan and a rather lame concert which I actually found inordinately funny. Later, we went for a special CT session, which was actually a phototaking session (and in the case of my class, a storytelling session). After some great deliberation, the guys in my class decided to attempt lifting Mr Ng for a picture, despite some rather vehement objections from the latter.
The scene played out something like this:
(Mr Ng, face contorted in a rictus of terror. Many guys lifting him rather precariously from the sides.)
Guys: One, two, three! (Mr Ng is tossed up slightly into the air)
(Strangled shout ensues from Mr Ng)
Guys: One, two, three! (Mr Ng is tossed up slightly into the air)
(Strangled shout ensues from Mr Ng)
Guys: ONE, TWO, THREE! (Mr Ng is tossed up slightly into the air)
Mr Ng: ARgh
I also noticed several new additions to our school compound, the most notable being that of big red banners proclaiming: SingTel welcomes you to VJC! (Leaving us all in no doubt who our biggest sponsor for OpenHouse is). This is certainly a company rich in tradition, because the banner design looked twenty years old.
The second exciting thing happening in my life right now is that my house is having a major upgrade. This is truly an example of something that Started Out Small, but Became very Big.
The seeds of this project were planted in my mother's mind two weeks ago, when she saw two polishers working on the marble of our neighbours' flat. So she invited them over to give a quotation for our floor, and began to Make Plans.
Problem 1: How to shift the furniture out?
Solution: Our sofas are old. Good, teak wood; resources should not be wasted. Conclusion--Why not send it for a polish?
The Thought This Leads to: The display cupboard has VENEER doors and drawers, although the frame is solid teak. Therefore, we should replace the doors and drawers, since we're at it.
The Next Thought: Might as well do the coffee table too. It's in good condition, but it Can Be Improved.
So the contractor which helped to do our in-built cupboards was invited up to see a price. Since he was already in the house, it was Only Convenientthat he takes a look at the kitchen as well.
Overhanging in my mother's mind: The stoves are a little spoiled. How much to replace them?
Then: Come to think of it, the tiles are somewhat loose as well.
On top of it all: The cupboards are creaky.
The Final Conclusion: Major Upgrade
As of yesterday, she was eyeing the toilet, though fortunately no concrete plans have been made in that direction. I've been spending the week looking as inconspicuous as possible while my parents grumble at each other and at me; and I stayed up to three this morning to clear my room so that the polishers could work on it. (I must admit after coming home today that the floor is a lot shinier). Actually, this is a lousy time to be in the house.
I realised when packing the room that the Singaporean Kiasu spirit was ingrained in me. There is a burgeoning stack of written foolscap paper from practice papers in my room, which I hardly look at and don't know what to do with, but I just can't seem to bear throwing it away. I managed to recycle some though, because at least that satisfies the instinct for conservation.
Oh, and miracles of miracles: MY COUSIN CALLED FROM AUSTRALIA. (!!!) WE had a good chat though.
