zHiRu

A resurrection entry

2006-11-28T18:39:00.000+08:00

Ok. I know I haven't been writing. Whatever. So.

I woke up to a gloomy morning which perfectly set the atmosphere for utter moodiness, especially when I didn't sleep well last night. All thanks to an injured toe. I must admit I was careless enough to allow a door to nearly pull the nail out of the skin. Less than three hours later, a frigging ass stepped on the same toe. No doubt it was an accident but I fumed because my toe was reduced to a completely bloodied mess. Not a pretty sight indeed. The pain threatened every step I took and walking was a chore. When I finally reached home and cleaned my wound, I was horrified to see that the nail was precariously anchored to a little area of skin. My parents scolded me, of course, and pressured me to give up the idea of going to the class chalet today.

Truthfully, I share their sentiments. I couldn't afford to injure my toe further. Seriously, the last thing I ever need is a smashed toe on prom night.

Enough of ranting.

Yesterday was truly one unforgettable night. My juniors were really sweet and the surprises they gave us were rather unusual. For one, they blindfolded us and made us do a row-call. Then, they also gave each senior a fighting fish placed in a cup. The dinner was quite delicious but I found the ice-cream too sweet for my liking. Needless to say, we took many pictures together. I am just glad I get to see some on my council friends the last time.

Before the dinner, I went to meet Xiuming and Haowen to shop for Suihang's birthday present. It was really a belated one because his birthday was in August but we were too busy mugging for prelims to actually fork out time to celebrate Suihang's birthday. We eventually settled on a Billabong wallet which was rather cool-looking. Suihang looked visibly surprised when the three of us gave me the gift and sang him a birthday song at the bus-stop after the JTS. I would miss the three of them, I just know it. They were once my best council buddies anyway.

Despite my bad toe, I enjoyed yesterday night. I didn't see it as a JTS, but rather, it was something of a last gathering for all the Aqua councillors and I shall keep that close to my heart.

Anyway, here are the photos.

Aqua JTS 2006

05S21 photos!

Adventure Challenge 2006

Aqua!

2006-08-12T22:58:00.000+08:00

I was reading Haowen's blog. His latest entry probably sums up what I've been thinking for quite a while. About Aqua, about my beloved HAT, about what we have done.

It's been a while since we have stepped down. And actually, the way we devolved our positions to our juniors and separated from each other was rather casual - no long letters of thanks, no tears, no hugs, no emotional reminiscence. I guess, we felt that we would still see each other in school anyway so there was no need to feel so sad about the whole matter.

But after Xiuming's birthday celebration and then Aqua winning the much coveted NE trophy stirred up intense feelings of nostalgia and sadness. I feel sorry for having left a HAT that means so much for me and sorely miss those good ol' days we once had together.

It sounds embarrassing but...I miss Suihang's almost nightly calls to babble about the what-to-do list. I miss listening to Haowen and Xiuming squabbling with each other and bullshitting like no one else's business. I miss those lame jokes. I miss staying in school late to prepare house stuff together. I miss the online exclusive HAT conversations. Guys, I miss you so!

It's sooooo mushy that I might as well save it for someone else. *coughs* But you guys really, really, really have been great friends to me and mean much to me!

We worked hard for this Cup...and now I shall look forward to witnessing my juniors holding the Cup high once again next year. And I shall hope my juniors have LOTS of fun and laughter together, like I once did with my HAT too!

A long-awaited hello

2006-07-08T14:00:00.000+08:00

Oh yay. I am finally here after so much that has happened. And so, eh, hello?

We've just gotten back our test papers and I can't say I'm very happy about it. In fact, I'm not happy at all. At this point in time, the most dreadful thing is getting E for your Math paper despite practising so hard for nearly one month. Godamnit. But I shall see to it that I eventually get my well-deserved A at the end of it all.

I know I must get to this somehow but-

Honestly, being with another person feels strange sometimes. Like a part of you that has changed but you don't know what it is exactly. I confided in Tiffany the other time about neglecting my friends but she reassured me that it was only but normal in the start of a new relationship.

I used to try to work hard to keep a balance between studies and friends. But now, I need to strike an extra balance between my darling and my friends too.

Wang Wang!

2006-06-02T10:50:00.000+08:00

This is Wang Wang, my beloved family dog!

Quiet family dinner

2006-05-28T21:34:00.000+08:00

It felt strange, like my family never ever had dinner together at all before, when we ate at some Chinese restaurant just now to celebrate my dad's fifteeth birthday. And though the whole affair was a rather quiet one, the silence being broken by our occasional compliments of the dishes, I felt like my family became more bonded.

Unlike some of my peers who enjoy particularly close ties with their families, mine aren't really the best of my friends. Yet, dinner just now was this one rare time, despite the lack of conversation, I really felt I love my family and I couldn't do without them.

COuncillor no more

2006-05-27T21:13:00.000+08:00

Finally, my days as a councillor are over.

To say the least, I feel a deep sense of ambivalence. My relationship with council wasn't exactly the most amicable one. It had been emotionally tumultuous for me. Now that I have left council, I am only glad that I had left without any ill feelings.

What more can I say? I wish I could let my feelings and thoughts flow freely through my words but somehow, they are stubbornly entrapped within. There are remnants of regret for things I wish I had done or had done better. But I guess, the only usefulness of regret is its reminder not to commit the same mistake. It's time to move on.

And take with me the fond memories and valuable lessons.

Thank you for having been my teacher, Council.

Soccer - my love, my life

2006-05-14T10:38:00.000+08:00

Soccer - my love, my life

And so our season ended with a score of 1-0 -a narrow loss to TJC- yesterday morning.

But, it was the best fight I ever remember ourselves putting up. In face of the TJC gals' strength and aggression, we never stopped giving up and continued to fight...and to fight... It was the best match I played for I never ran like I did before, never leapt at opportunities on the field with as much determination as I did before.

For this once, we truly played with our hearts and souls. That burning desire for the ball.

I left the field without regrets. I'm sure my team-mates did too.

My team-mate Cindy gave me this card which had this quote:

'It is not the mountain that we conquer but ourselves.' -Sir Edmund Hilary-

The results of the match didn't matter anymore...because if we overcame ourselves for that ball on the field, we have won.

The hardest thing is not about winning or losing, but persevering. The valuable lesson of persevering in spite of everything that I learnt during my short time in soccer shall remain with me forever. Like what Miss Ho says, I cannot but I must. On the field, I'm tired but I have to run, run, run because my team-mates are running too. I can let myself down...but I can never let my team-mates down. I am here on the field because they need me and it is my responsibility to go for the ball at whatever cost.

Truth be spoken, none other CCA has taught as much as soccer did. Because of soccer, I've grown up alot. Soccer has ignited in me a passion I've never experienced before and planted in me a such a strong determination to succeed. Because of soccer, I did things I never thought I could do. And I have become stronger and better person.

I really shall miss those fun and memorable times I had with soccer. You gals have been such great friends to me. I remember Candy, Mitchell and Yingying as those whom I often had private trainings during our spare time to practise our long balls plus other tactics...Weishan as the emotionally-charged cheerleader of the team...Xinyi and Shiqi as the crazy loonies...Peirong for the long and high flicks of the ball...Grace as the forever optimist...Samyu for her courage to persevere...Ezzah as the interesting gossip...Jaslyn and Qiling for motivating me so many times on the field...and many others who have made my soccer life so much more vibrant and fulfilling.

I really, really, really, really love you, NJC Soccer Girls...I really do. You are my love and my life!

Inspiring words

2006-04-15T09:43:00.000+08:00

By accident, I came across a junior college girls' soccer team's blog and therein, I found very inspiring words.

According to the blog, there are three golden rules in being a champion team:

(In case any one of the soccer gals come across this or something, I know it's kinda copyrighted but I seek your understanding in quoting such motivating words.=)

Rule number 1: You have to have a dream to have a dream come true

we only have to believe you can and thus u can. i rmb i was in primarcy school and i was playing in the inter class badminton match against some other teams. i like totally look down on my own friends and said they cannot make it. (paiseh, i primary sch tt time super mean one). then they all got super pissed with me and were determined to prove me wrong. and in the end they WON. i cant believe it, but yah, they WON, they were really qt lousy. i like waiyin's quote alot.. the ball is round, anything is possible. WE WILL PLAY IN THE FINALS GALS.

Rule number 2: Champions persevere to achieve their goals

this one sounds lame but its true. last time, i used to tell myself, i am weak i cannot run anymore. but its not true. i am not weak. i am hongli (get the joke hahahaha). anw the most impt thing is to persevere. trng may be harsh but everyone is gg thru this with you, fighting for the same goal. giving up and not being motivated wont get you anywhere. (like i've said, only the bus, mrt, taxi and aeroplane can). hang on!

Rule number 3: Courage is an ingredient that is indispensible in the recipe for success - the willingness to put oneself on the line, to risk embarrassment, to have no fear of failure.

Even to take the first step out to achieve what you want. If you are really afraid to fail then you may never try out new and innovative ways to improve. You may work hard yet eventually still overtaken by someone who is not afraid to fail. A method to ahieve this is to seek help from others and there are 2 types of people who attract truly qualified help: those who try hard, never admit defeat in the face of setbacks, and those who are always open to suggestions. Therefore, we as individual players must always be open to comments or even criticisms, and we must be willing to learn, pia and fight.

of course we know that we are not the only team aiming to become champions. There are others with the same goals in mind. in the end, I firmly believe that it still boils down to one very basic question once we set our goals, make our plans and begin our quest. We have to ask ourselves each and everyday, "How badly do we want it?" Because the thirst for victory is such a strong determination of success. Eventually, I believe that the team that wins it would be the one that wants it most.

FFOE

2006-04-06T21:29:00.000+08:00

I owe my friends a huge apology for not having been updating my blog. I'm so very, very, very sorry but life's been so very, very, very busy lately. 'Nuff said. I got back my CT results finally this week. Guess what?! I got FFOE.

Ah, hell.

I didn't study and couldn't care less. The tutors don't say anything but I cannot help but feel guilty when I see their eyes flicker over me briefly sometimes during lessons. Just today, Mr Chia called my name and reminded me that I was the only one aside from Liyuan who hasn't done the P&C online quiz.

Yikes.

And so now I'm online - finally. To finish up that disgusting quiz which I so dread doing the last few days.

If only mugging were as fun as soccer, ugh.

In one of my trainings...

2006-03-14T21:06:00.000+08:00

During a recent training when we played a mock match amongst ourselves...

"OH FUCK!" I spluttered in a moment of mild frustration.

"OOI! Zhiru, why did you say fuck?!" The coach yelled.

I sheepishly jogged back towards the area where he was standing.

"You know you can get yellow card for spouting vulgarities or not?"

"Errr...now I know."

'Then ah, if the referee gives you yellow card and you say 'What the fuck!' -hahaha- you get red card!"

"Errr..." I watched him running away towards the left flank.

Then suddenly, he shouted across to me,"But then hor, if you want to shout 'fuck' next time hor, make sure the referee doesn't hear you la!"

Soccer is a beautiful game

2006-03-11T17:28:00.000+08:00

I must first apologise for the rather long hiatus. You see, my life has been so busy, though emotionally fulfilling, that I simply allowed blogging to slip to the bottom of my priorities. Oh, you bet there were so many things I could write about but my mind just resisted any desire of doing it. But I do solemnly swear that soccer is threatening to take over my life. And I can never get sick of enthusing about it.

It is such a beautiful game. The miracles, the wonders you can do with a mere soccer ball are awe-inspiring, man. They never fail to rekindle a determination in me to master that ball. And a fierce passion takes root and gradually becomes more deeply anchored... so I shall continue kicking balls hard. =D

Would you believe if I say I really enjoy my life now? Though the common tests are less than a week away, and mugging starts to take precedence over anything else...but I still can't forget soccer! Everyday, I need to feel the ball and mess around it at least for a while. It really has become my new love for good.

One month to learn soccer!

2006-02-26T14:46:00.000+08:00

You know, truthfully, I didn't know soccer was that fun, that exciting, that exhilrating until I started to take soccer seriously. That is, I joined the girls' soccer team. Well, I know I must have shocked quite a few people for that. In a way, I also did surprise myself too.

Boy, I must admit I am nearly overwhelmed by the immense amount of stuff I have to learn. There are passing, locking, cushioning, spinning, creating space, blah blah... What is most daunting is the fact that I am left with one month to master the fundamentals and pick up real-life playing techniques before the girls gotta play in the tourney in April.

So, I thank my good friends for all the support they have shown me. =) You know, it's really much easier to be motivated to give your best when your friends give so much to you. Haha, I really do want to play in the tourney and that's why I want to give my all. No doubt, it gets quite stressful at times but I guess, as long as I do my best in every training and playing, I don't see why I can't make my own miracle in that damn fucking one month.

Letter to Mrs Cheng

2006-02-19T16:23:00.000+08:00

February 19, 2005

Mrs V. Change
Principal
Nuthouse Junior College
[Address: CONFIDENTIAL]

Dear Mrs Change

Request for a change of Chemistry tutor

I am a Year Two student in the Science faculty of this college and I would like to make a complaint against my Chemistry tutor and request for a permanent replacement of that tutor. The tutor is no other than _________ ; his face is God's sculpture of an epitome of irredeemable idiocy complemented with a clumsy grasp of teaching his subject. I am not insulting his intelligence. I am certain of his knowledge of Chemistry. However, knowing and teaching a subject are two absolutely different issues. His teaching is so terrible -oh, did I tell you- that he unfailingly pauses and falters as many as a few times per lesson to reflect his methods of solving tutorial questions. I assure you, he even has committed a few boo-boos before, much to the consternation of my classmates. Regrettably, we must express our horror that such a tutor was employed under your wise and capable management of our college. We could offer to do a petition for his immediate removal, if you want, to show our earnest sincerity in improving our Chemistry grades so as to maintain the college's excellent academic record. We absolutely do not want to defile this image that the school so assiduously builds because we want to serve with honour. Please, I beseech you, to consider our plea to install a new and better Chemistry tutor. Our precious As are at stake. Thank you.

Yours sincerely,
______________

Courage

2006-02-11T23:26:00.000+08:00

It is a curious thing, the way beliefs shape our way of thinking and how we act. No no, I am not going back to what I wrote in one of the previous entries. Rather, this has something of a personal value to me and how it greatly affects me.

This week was a sheer torture, to say the least. I never had so much self-doubt, so much fear, so much sadness. When I finally did what my heart had been urging me to, it triggered a chain of carthartic events which really, really changed me internally. At the end of it all, I could finally wipe my eyes and say,"I did it without any regrets."

I don't know what I did was right. I don't know. But my feelings were, and are still as earnest and genuine as before. The only thing that changed was that I needn't hide anymore. Maybe I still need to. But at least, the truth that I painfully hid so long was something I needn't deliberately conceal now.

I struggled with my imperfections and I loathed them. Yet, when I finally decided to use my tears to wash those vulnerabilities away, I felt stronger...

Courage heals pain. Sometimes, all we need to do is to feel our hearts and leap across our perceived obstacles and then we exhilrate in the knowledge that we have done something we once thought we never have the courage to do so. Truths are sometimes lies. Lies are sometimes truths. If we never go beyond those boundaries, we will never discover what is the truth, a sweet truth that brings true happiness.

Be Strong
Delta Goodrem

Are you swimming upstream in oceans of blue?
Do you feel like your sinking?
Are you sick of the rain after all you've been through?
Well I know what you're thinking
When you can't take it
You can make it
Sometime soon I know you'll see

'Cause when you're in your darkest hour
And all of the light just fades away
When you're like a single flower whose colours have turned to shades of gray
Well hang on and be strong

Where taking each step one day at a time
You can't loose your spirit
Let live and let live forget and forgive
It's all how you see it
And just remember keep it together
Don't you know you're never alone

'Cause when you're in your darkest hour
And all of the light just fades away
When you're like a single flower whose colours have turned to shades of gray
Well hang on, and be strong

No you're not defeated
And soon you'll be smiling once again
Then you won't have to feel it
Let it go with the wind
Time passes us by
And know that you're allowed to cry

'Cause when you're in your darkest hour
And all of the light just fades away
When you're like a single flower whose colours have turned to shades of gray
Well hang on and be strong

My man

2006-02-06T10:43:00.000+08:00

My man

Foreword: The entry was the result of an unwilling obligation to participate in some kind of spastic tagging game thanks to Miss Vanessa Oh - oops! (Joking, joking...hehe)

This is my (ideal) man!!!

Ideally, my man is 15 years older, a Caucasian, well-built, has sufficient body hair that exudes sheer masculine sensuality. Look at Hugh Jackman. Awww...he oozes so much sex appeal that he makes my heart pound wildly and sends my blood rushing to my nose and threatening to drool through the nostrils. However, due to circumstances, I am forced to give up the dream of ever marrying such a guy and embrace a few down-to-earth qualities I would want in my man.

So, I see him as

1. an average-looking guy. Walau, I absolutely don't wanna any girls to hysterically chase after him and go ooohs and ahhs over him because he is just so gorgeous. Oh, but he has to be taller than me and must be lean. I guess, it's pretty easy to qualify this aspect since I am afterall, urm...156 centimetres tall.

2. a sincere and kind person. Oh, I can't stress how much I'd love to have a man who genuinely offers friendship to anyone who seeks it or not. He doesn't bother with ostentatious pretensions to make himself look good. He thinks for other people and helps them if he can.

3. a family-oriented dood. If I am with a guy, I see him as someone who can be a life partner. So, it's imperative that he cares for his family and helps to run it. You know, it really shows when a guy bothers to help to do housework for his momma and wash bras for his sister. Okay, I was kidding the last part. But truth is, I just want a guy who works hard for his family and cares to give hugs and kisses to his kids.

4. a deep-thinker. The philosopher in me likes discussions of intellectually intriguing things. So, this guy has to be a sufficiently mature and analytical thinker who can tolerate my fierce need to ramble about all kinds of deep stuff.

5. a comfortable lover who gives me freedom and independence to explore things outside the relationship. I am wild at heart and I seek adventure in the new and exciting. So if he is too needy and not give me space, he's most probably gonna suffocate me.

6. someone who is independent and self-reliant. He seeks to earn his own merits and money by his effort and intelligence. I totally despise guys who are human leeches, sucking someone else's blood to live a high life.

7. a moderate romantic. Not too unromantic nor too romantic, with enough initiative to spring small surprises occasionally to brighten my day.

8. my best-est friend. I can be myself in front of him and not afraid to be vulnerable towards him. He can look at me when we just wake up and say "Hell, you look horrible!" and still love me like he shall always do.

Another embarassing moment

2006-02-01T18:48:00.001+08:00

Before I begin...

Oh darn it. I shouldn't have blogged that previous entry. People must be thinking that I am pining hopelessly for a guy or something. It was just a screwed-up attempt to bring a personal touch to an otherwise emotionally remote blog. So, I beseech my dear readers to treat it lightly.=D

And now...

Walau, this morning's prize-giving event on the podium was a colossal embarrassment for me. I cannot express enough how mortified I was. Even the thought of it now disturbs me. Yet, I cannot deny that it was quite amusing too, in some sense.

Oh, can you imagine how elated, how delighted I was when I knew Aqua had won the Best House Banner? Boy, was I swelling with pride when I took the trophy from Mrs Cheng's hands. And I even asked her for permission to allow me to cheer.

"Mrs Cheng, can I cheer my house?"

"Oh, of course you can." She smiled kindly. Oh great!

Then, I turned around to look at Haowen expectingly. But he had a weird look on his face, and he seemed to gesture to me urgently. What was it???

And then I knew. I caught sight of Mr Menon's grim face and I literally leapt off the podium la. I could hear the commotion breaking out from my house area. Goodness, this has to be one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, man.

I seriously cannot believe that I made another public blooper again. But I guess, it wasn't that bad, though my junior seems to mean another thing when he told me it was a 'little bit' embarrassing... =X

A dark secret

2006-01-31T22:55:00.000+08:00

Dear readers, I have been harbouring a dark secret for a rather long time. Well, actually, it's not exactly dark...but it's rather personal, rather private... You see, there's this guy for whom I have been having fond feelings. And you know, it's pretty difficult to maintain a rein on my emotions as they aggressively struggle to claw their way out of the heart whenever I see or even, think of him.

Management of emotions is a tricky and, yeah, nasty business. Sometimes, my heart leaps with joy whenever I catch a glimpse of him. Better still, when I get to exchange smiles with him albeit the thrill is always so short. When he smiles, the memory of it can drive adrenaline through my body and almost make me rocket into sky. Ahhhhh.... Yet, on some days, when I see him being so friendly with other girls, jealousy grips me so violently. And I have a tough time struggling to wrestle myself away from jealousy's claws.

Not that I am possessive. I am certainly not. Yet, I can never understand why my poor heart so willingly surrenders itself to such sweet misery. Liking him has created such tremendous emotional tumult I have never experienced before.

Pray, the-one-I-like, please save me from this craziness!

Blind faith

2006-01-30T02:33:00.000+08:00

Blind faith

Beliefs are ideas which are mentally accepted as to be true. When a person believes in something, he consciously judges the idea and then attaches the value of correctness to it and in the process of doing so, also attaches his feeling of correctness to it. Therefore, a belief is not only something you think is true, but also something you feel is true.

Some time ago, I was compelled to re-examine my beliefs and question myself why I believe in what I believe - including my religious faith. I remember there was once I declared to a good friend that having no religious faith is better than having one because faith, per se, can be dangerous. Indeed, it is.

Faith is a more intense belief; there is a very strong emotional attachment to an idea one thinks is true. And faith is an important element in any religion, for without faith, there can be no religion because religion itself requires a certain degree of submission to a fixed set of ideas. As much innocuous as faith seems, the potential dangers lurking therein are very real. In recent times, we have witnessed for ourselves the enormous extent of destruction of human lives and property wrecked by terrorists, who placed unquestioning, fanatical faith not in just their religion, but also in the ostensible religious leaders who have a far murkier private agenda. Such is the power of faith, that could drive a person to do the most unimaginable things. If you most implicitly believe that you could go to Paradise by dying under the right circumstances, you will be most predisposed to die under those circumstances - even if it means deliberately activating bombs on your body and killing other people (not just yourself) in the process. Such is the power of faith.

Evidently, our beliefs permeate and influence much of our behaviour. Let's not debate about whether we should have beliefs or not but it's undeniable that beliefs play a crucial role in how we function in and interact with the external world. Because of the way we think, we inadvertently bring to life our thoughts in our speech and actions. Therefore, when we take up a belief so easily and so convincingly and not challenge it, the belief becomes dangerous. And it was on this premise that I told my friend that religious faith is dangerous. Because religion has an inherent tendency to explain the world in its dogmatic absolutes and command absolute belief in them - blind faith.

And so, I had been questioning myself whether what I had believed all along was truly and indeed based on blind faith. Did I believe because it was stated in the books? Did I believe because my parents do? Did I believe because everyone says so? Did I believe because it is comfortable to believe in what I do? Did I believe because my past experiences seemed to suggest so?

As these questions slowly sank in, it became clear that it was the ultimate question: What is true and what is not?

Instinctively, we believe in something because it is grounded in the reality, the truth. Yet, who is to know whether it is really the truth beside this thing called Belief which adamently insists that it is so? And is that something really the truth in the first place?

That is when a sceptical attitude is necessary in curtailing the dangerous power locked in religious faith. Ultimately, all, if not, most religions endeavour to alleviate suffering in one way or another by prescribing their believers a system of morals and conduct to follow. But instead of merely accepting it, we should be really asking ourselves: Is it really? We should rise to the challenge of actively questioning and testing those truths against reality and realize those truths ourselves based on human experience and then embody those truths in our speech and behaviour. The crux is then not a matter of whether God or whoever dictates us to do it, but a matter of how we live our lives.

Faith through practice then transcends blind faith to become something more personal and more real. Because this faith then possesses the testimonies of your inculcated virtues of compassion, wisdom and perseverence. Then, what is really true and what not do not matter anymore. Because you have attained the goal of perfecting yourself, at least to the best you can. In the process, you, too, have alleviated much of your suffering.

And it was this simple realization that I knew I am believing healthily because - well, wasn't I questioning and contemplating my beliefs just now?

The present

2006-01-19T21:01:00.000+08:00

Tomorrow's Physics test. I know I shouldn't be blogging now...but I must, to gratify the another sudden urge of self-expression.

So, today -

It was Chemistry lecture and I was sitting right at the back between my good friend and my male canoeist classmate. Unsurprisingly, my attention gradually trailed away from the lecturer's monotonous voice and I was soon chattering happily away with both friends. I don't know how but the conversation between my good friend and I arrived at graphology. In case my reader doesn't know, graphology is the practice of deducing certain personality traits from a person's handwriting. My good friend leaned over and took a glimpse at my scrawls on the notes before declaring,"You worry alot about the future, don't you?"

Yes, I do and I was taken aback. Really, I didn't expect her to be so right on.

Apparently, as I found out from her, the direction in which a person's handwriting slant towards to indicates whether he or she thinks more about the past or future. If your handwriting slants to the left, you are likely to be someone to remininsce the past whereas if it's to the left, you are probably a worrywart - which I am.

My interest piqued, I turned over to my canoeist friend and asked to see his handwriting. It was tilting to the left alright. And then -

"Of course la. Must reflect on the past so you know where you go wrong and can correct the wrong mar. Worry about the future for what? Why worry about something beyond your control? Must sui yuan (follow nature's course). If it's yours, it will be yours!"

I laughed. Yet, those light-hearted words stayed with me for the rest of the day. They reflected a certain truth that I had known but had been elluding me for ages.

That we can never predict or even control what happens to us.

Worry is fear of the unknown in the future. And since the future is pretty much unpredictable and uncontrolled, worry is absolutely unwarranted. However, so many of us worry about things still, some even spending sleepless nights over it. That is because we harbour an emotional attachment to desirable consequences of events. For example, if I worry about my exams, I am truly thinking that if I need the necessary grades to be happy. But will good grades really make me happy?

For so long, I have been worrying excessively about those unnecessary what-ifs and all it took was simple words of jest that jolted me back to reality about what things truly are.

And there were those moments of nostalgia and remininscence. While my dear canoeist friend was right in saying that reflection on the past is good, but the past is ultimately the past. It is useless and meaningless to dwell in memories which are basically just remnants of the past which cannot be undone.

In the end, what really matters is the present which we are really in control over. This knowledge should empower us and give us hope to persevere even in face of almost insurmountable obstacles. Happiness is our birthright and why do we have to deny it so willingly by imprisoning ourselves in the past and future? The present holds so much possibilities and that is freedom.

Orientation

2006-01-15T22:29:00.000+08:00

I feel compelled to blog. I fear that if I don't blog now, chances are, I won't in the future too. Now, now, I know my blog's been getting some positive feedback and people've been reading it on the daily to catch the latest updates. This is really encouraging but I must really apologise for not having been at my keyboard for quite a while. You see, I have been slogging my guts out for orientation. And that has left me very, very, very shagged. (So be prepared for a short entry.)

Anyway, on the subject of orientation, I must say it has been an extremely fulfilling and unforgettable experience. The amount of blood, sweat and mental labour is immeasurable. While there was fun, it was mostly hard work too. There was the challenge of waking up at 4.45 am on some days. I remember the alarm would suddenly blare like a siren and I would groggily reach my hand out to push the damned button down. But somehow, after a moment of silent respite, the *bleep* alarm would go off again and I would have no choice but to literally drag my feet and grope my way in the darkness to the toliet. And then, there was also the part about screaming and cheering. I never remember putting in so much effort in shouting. My poor throat was so overly taxed that I don't talk but croak. Croak. Croak. Croak.

Most of all, I think it's bonded the OGLs together, or at least, developed some kind of friendship amongst us all. Personally speaking, I had so much fun because of the people. There was so much bullshit but it was filthy fun nonetheless.

Ah well, so much happened but there's so little to say. (No doubt some memorable things happened but I am just too lazy to type.) And what's there to say was said. Orientation's over and it's now back to the books. Zzzzzz...

A letter

2005-12-29T21:45:00.000+08:00

A letter

Any thought of you inspires insufferable misery in me. You are the curse of my life and I wish I never have known you. Do not be mistaken. I do not fear you. Yet you have so tormented my soul that the immense suffering has borne a seething monster of hatred in me.

It all started with a nagging guilt for ignoring you. I just had to see and touch you but something of you suppressed any necessity in it. And the guilt grew...and grew. When I finally did pluck up tremendous courage to visit you, you attacked me - my intellect, my ego, my soul.

You should have known. I do not love you. Why do you dellude yourself that things are otherwise? Why must you cling onto me so tightly, so selfishly?

You scheming bastard. You played with my mind. And forced me to see and touch you. Each time I did left me emotionally and physically drained. You made me suffer. And I still suffer now. My hatred for you is so intense, so resolute, so immutable.

And you knew. You started hating me for that.

You had your revenge then. I was at fault for not knowing you well and consequently, helpless when you exacted your vengeance on me. You succeeded. Obviously.

Now, I want to have mine too.

I shall want to prove to you that I can triumph over you fucking filthy vermin of my life. You think you can destroy me with all the profound vulgarities of the academics. You are wrong.

For I shall destroy you one day with my astute intelligence and unwavering dilligence, you Mister Holmwerk.

Christmas at Orchard

2005-12-26T19:32:00.000+08:00

Christmas at Orchard

Looks like a weeping willow of dazzling lights.

Move over Santa, it's M&Ms now.

Can you see they are walking on the very road cars travel on?

Rare chance where trees get to photosynthesize 24 hours.

Save for the (extra) lady's head, everything seemed so lovely.

Chilling out at Starbucks

Christmas musing

2005-12-23T21:23:00.000+08:00

Christmas musing

Rain always has this dangerous potential of dampening the human spirit. I was scurrying in the slight drizzle to seek the odd comfort of the empty, souless void deck. The cold moisture seemed to seep into the depths under my skin and nearly extinguished all happy thoughts in me. Nearly.

It always rain every Christmas season here. Just like how it always snows every Christmas season in other countries. Rain breeds the diseases of loneliness and gloom. One must wonder how the spirit of festive celebration remains undamaged by such oppressive weather. I certainly did. And I realised how tenacious the human determination to celebrate Christmas is. No one should feel lonely or gloomy.

Christmas is a reminder that we are not alone. Growing up, the draw of Christmas was the dazzling array of presents family and friends gave me. Now, somewhat nearing the end of my teens, maturity has added a touch of sentiment to the simple act of giving and taking. Affirmation of friendship through words thoughtfully penned on greeting cards is what never fails to warm my heart. And as all family practices to celebrate Christmas gradually cease to be one simple gathering of all uncles, aunts and cousins, I grow to appreciate the quiet strength of familial bonds. An exchange of a brief smile with a stranger takes on a new meaning too. Really, Christmas is a celebration of human connectedness.

And also a time to express our gratitude for it.

No matter how hard we try to be independent, we will never be. For even one simple bowl of rice, if you imagine how the farmer harvests the grains, how the factory worker packs the grains, how the driver transports the rice package to the exporting factory, how the supermarket man heaves the rice onto his shoulders and places it on the display shelf, you would be amazed at the extent of our reliance on strangers we don't even know. Such is the beauty of human connection. I can never stop being amazed by it.

Ah, for all these ramblings, what I really want to say after all is a huge sincere 'thank-you' to everyone, my best friends, my friends, my family for all the love and concern and - yeah, strangers too. For in some ways, have helped to make my steaming bowl of rice.

Romance and Friendship

2005-12-17T18:08:00.000+08:00

My friend was telling me today about this guy and girl from her class who have reportedly started dating rather recently. 'Romantic' can perhaps aptly describe the guy. He had once brought the girl to the beach to enjoy the sea breeze, and upon finding the place not as breezy as it should have been, had brought her there on the next date to catch the breeze again.

"Oh, you should have seen, they are so sweet together!" My friend gushed with much gusto.

I nodded wearily.

And she continued rattling about how another couple in school look so compatible with each other. Oh yeah. Did I mention that the girl is so pretty that my friend's guy friend (not the pretty lass' boyfriend, mind you) had once splurged fifty bucks on his first present to the girl?

Good grief.

I was exasperated by people, not just my friend, who have this irrational concept of relationships:

Romance equals to love.

And people waste their time endeavouring to be oh-so-sweet-and-romantic to the point when it simply becomes sappy imprudence. Their partners would then feel so pampered and so special that they think they are in love.

I know of this guy who buys presents for his three-month girlfriend every month to celebrate uhm, monthly anniversary. Monthly anniversary. When have anniversaries literally become a monthly thing? And so, if they are lucky enough to pass one year together and assuming he spends at least $20 for each present, by the end of that one year, he would have spent a minimum of $240. If he further embellishs his effort to be romantic, the total cost of being (unnecessarily) romantic amounts to an estimated $500.

How ridiculous. It's ridiculous enough that he splurges hard-earned money for the wrong reasons. Think monthly anniversaries. It's even more ridiculous that he sees a romantic relationship as an investment of red roses and kisses. He's not the only one.

Oh don't they see? Don't they see that a relationship is fundamentally still a friendship?

No wonder when these people break up, chances are, they end up not talking. Because the friendship was not deep enough to cushion the collapse of a love relationship. Because all they did during the days of togetherness were red roses and kisses and more red roses and kisses...when what they should be doing was building a firm friendship.

I think many people have this tendency to become engulfed by the heat of passion so much so that they eventually forget that such is only but transient. It is only natural that the initial ardour gradually turns cold as two people settle in a relationship. And that is when friendship becomes the essence of love. Your partner is your best friend. You are your partner's best friend.

This friendship would weather life's every trial and tribulation and emerge stronger than ever and keep the love going. Not sappy romance.

Avril Lavigne sings of this special friendship as thus:

Because I've never felt like this before
I'm naked
Around you
Does it show?
You see right through me
And I can't hide
I'm naked
Around you
And it feels so right

And I think it says enough of what the special friendship really means. Really.

What the fuck

2005-12-14T12:47:00.000+08:00

What the fuck

By definition of Cambridge Dictionaries Online, fuck, as a verb, means to have sex with someone. As a noun, it is an act of sex. When you fuck something up, you ruin something. When you fuck about, you are behaving stupidly and doing unimportant things. And 'fuck' is basically an emphatic word to express your anger.

"What the fuck is that?!"

"Man, she's a fucking bitch."

Just now, I did a tiny research on the origins of swear-words. Boy, it yielded so much more information than I have expected.

The origin of 'fuck' is still pretty much recondite. There are, however, two richly imaginative explanations for it. One version speculates that this word was born as an acronym from the phrase "Forced Unlawful Carnal Knowledge". Apparently, in colonial times, rape was then termed that way and rapists found guilty were branded F.U.C.K on their foreheads. Another variant of this phrase goes "For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge", in which, an adulterous couple would be punished with F.U.C.K carved on their skin too. The other version suggests that 'fuck' is an acronym of another phrase too. An injunction, "Fornication Under Consent of the King", was purportedly carried out during medieval times, shortly after the Black Death plague, to increase the population. Couples were given special permission to copulate and they hung the sign "F.U.C.K" when they carried out their reproductive obligation.

Then, we have a 'mother-fucker' to deal with. Surprisingly, it was created by the tongues of African slaves who were forcefully brought to America back in the past. It was used as an offensive name for slave-owners who raped the slaves' mommas. You didn't expect the word 'mother-fucker' to mean so literally: Mother-fuckers fuck mothers, did you?

How fascinating.

And you didn't know that the word 'frig' means to masturbate. So all the while, if you've been using the word 'frigging' unawares, perhaps that might provide some insight into some seemingly innocuous swear-words.

Even a harmless word like 'crap' does have its colourful history. In Victorian times, there was a plumber supposedly named Thomas Crapper who invented the toliet flush we know today. Most probably Crapper didn't wish for that, but his name became notoriously associated with toliets and their effective flushes. You got it. From Crapper to Crap. Crappers were toliets and crap made excrement which necessitated the existence of toliets. What brilliant replacement for 'shit'.

Now, enough crap, I need to go to the toliet. So sorry for the unintended pun.

PS If you want to read more of what I have read, go to:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A753527

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fuck

Housework blues

2005-12-12T20:24:00.000+08:00

Housework blues

This morning, while I was at the computer, Mom suddenly appeared next to me and in an imperious voice, declared,"I want you to go down and buy a bleaching solution and raffia string."

"Waaaaa..." I said weakly. I had almost sputtered a rude "Walau!" that might have earned me a disapproving look following which, another half an hour's worth of incessant clucking.

"What's this?" Mom demanded.

"Nooo...I don't want..." I moaned.

That was a wrong move, I tell ya. For Mom started angrily on the issue of -

"Why can't you do such simple errands? This is not the first time. I ask you to do housework and it's always this same response too. At this rate, I pity the poor bloke who marries you!"

I promptly shut up. And Mom went away to get her purse and a few minutes later - SLAM!

"At this rate, I pity the poor bloke who marries you!" These words kept replaying in my mind. For a while, I was completely pissed. What? My worth as a spouse is solely dependent on my ability to do housework? My ego was stung. So, Miss Tay would never be a good wife in her momma's eyes. Or is she?

Look. In this relatively modern society where the notion of feminity has evolved to embrace the female independence outside the perimeters of a household, a woman's ability to do housework should hardly affect her marketability as a potential spouse. I doubt most guys, save for an unusual few, would look to a woman's ability to do housework as a deciding factor in selecting their prospective spouses. That is, if they are serious in marrying someone they love. I know of some men who marry out of convenience or other practical reasons. In any case, if a guy wants to marry me, he should love me for myself afterall.

Besides, busy career women are too preoccupied with the daily challenges at work to bother themselves with the domestic trivialities. They have the money to hire a maid, anyway. And so, as long as the house remains clean and uncluttered, I don't see why not doing household chores should diminish a woman's value as a spouse.

I don't see why I cannot be a good wife just because I hate household chores. I just don't.

Then again, my imagination brings me to a scene in which, owing to unknown circumstances, I am forced to stay at home and look after a wailing baby of three months. There's no maid because I no longer work and the family income has reduced to a mere four thousand dollars, just enough for the three of us to live comfortably. I need to feed the baby now. I haven't finished mopping the floor and there're puddles here and there. My husband would be coming home in about two hours and I need to start preparing for dinner. Oh shit! I have forgotten to buy the brocolli and prawns. Everything's a mess and, and, and...

I didn't dare to think further. And against my wilful tendencies, I came to a conclusion that it is imperative for me to be adept in household chores.

Not just for marriage, but I guess it's also means of securing my independence. Imagine not being reliant on a maid or someone else to help you clean and maintain a house. It's freedom because you don't need to brood how much a maid is taking up your monthly expenditure. And being able to clean your house gives you a sense of control over your possessions.

Not that it is important but I guess it boosts your marketability anyhow. I imagine my husband telling his friends,"My wife is a doctor and you know what, she knows how to cook too!" How spiffing.

Mom's back now. And you know what, I shall go and help peel the prawns.

Deep thinking

2005-12-12T12:29:00.000+08:00

Deep thinking

A few days' of lapse in writing have amounted to a morass of unsorted thoughts that I feel compelled to free them in unbridled words. And so.

Another conversation with my best friend led to the topic of deep-thinkers. I think I might be one of 'em because simply, I like to think and analyse things around me. Sometimes, I wonder how I may appear brooding and pessimistic with all those unspoken thoughts afloat in my head. But that's beside the point.

Anyway, she professed to be a deep-thinker too and she doubts whether anyone knows this fact. I said,"I presume that's because you don't think anyone would understand, huh?"

"Yeah, along that line."

Now that is the universal problem faced by deep-thinking people like her or me.

No one seems to understand. I couldn't have put it better when she said that she could not bother with telling people what she thinks because chances are, they would misunderstand and she doesn't want to undergo further trouble in trying to explain what she thinks.

And sometimes, I doubt even my closest friends would understand despite the effort to lucidize what I am trying to say. But that doesn't matter as long as I have the freedom to write what I want to write.

Deep-thinking isn't a bad thing at all. In fact, I wish I know more people who bother to even think where their lives are heading. If only people can stop, and look, listen, think. The way I see most people out there is that, they are air-heads living a zombie's life. People give them shit and they take it happily and even want more shit. How sad.

You see, this life has no birth warranty. Anything can happen to you. Like how she puts it, what if it happens to me? And at the moment when your life seems to be about to be put out like a flame 'poof-ed' by a sudden gust of wind, imagine all those thoughts rushing in a blur through your mind. You wouldn't be thinking about how you are going to rush out the report by tomorrow, would you? Nor would you be picturing yourself shopping which you have long before planned. Because you would be overwhelmed with a mess of feelings: confusion, regret, shock, sadness.

Two days back, both of us were discussing about life's fragility.

And I said,"If I were to die NOW, I will die a person full of regrets."

To which, she jokingly said,"CHOY! TOUCH WOOD!"

Of course, I laughed. But I continued by saying,"Because I've hurt too many people. Have done too many mistakes and wrongs. Haven't done too many things."

She agreed.

Sometimes, abit of deep thinking serves as a sombre reminder of many life's tragedies. The truth is, suffering is only but universal and unavoidable. But many of us, surrounded by life's lush luxuries, have turned a blind eye to what should be the most important things in this world. We choose to remain seemingly ignorant of the brevity of life, thinking we are still young and take many things for granted. But self-denial never works. We may occupy ourselves with playing life's toys to distract ourselves from disturbing notions of sickness and death. We may find ways to stall ageing. But com'on, let's be honest. We all are gonna die - someday. It may be one year later, or decades later...or even the next minute, today.

Even a deep-thinker like me, as what she calls me, I tend to take things for granted too. But at least, I think. And I know. It's sadder for ignorant people to die without understanding and experiencing at least some of life's truths.

It's not my business to care anyway. Whether those people are thinking or not. It's their lives afterall. But sometimes, when you see too many air-heads, you just can't help but wonder, whether deep thinking really has become a lost treasure of life.

Speech can be power (from private blog)

2005-12-11T11:49:00.000+08:00

This was one of the stories I read in a Zen book a long, long time ago.

-----

"Lord Buddha can take me whenever he wants," said the patroness of the temple. "I am old; I have lived a full life."

Each evening, she would visit the temple, light incense, and intone these words for all to hear.

One night two boys hid behind the statue of the Buddha and boomed out:

"Prepare, old woman. Tonight is the night."

With which the old woman died of fright.

Although the two boys never told anyone of their deed, they carried with them for the rest of their lives an immense respect for words and the power locked inside a simple sentence or mindless jest.

This thing called love

2005-12-09T12:31:00.000+08:00

This thing called love

I had a late-night conversation with a guy friend who was suffering from unreciprocated love. I could acutely feel his agony. I most probably would be weeping days end if I were in his shoes. You know, it's really an irony that when love is supposed to be a happy feeling, it brings so much misery to people too.

However, if anyone ever bothers to examine his feeling of what he calls love, perhaps it isn't love at all. Because if it is a feeling of longing and clinging, then is it really love? And what is love in the first place?

I imagine love for someone really to be a pellucid understanding that the someone is just like ourselves -a human complete with thoughts and feelings- and we care for the someone as we would for ourselves. Which would mean love is without expectations because it transcends all physical and emotional definitions of a person. You love for no reason except simply because the person is a human being, like yourself, and you don't like him or her to suffer.

If that's really the case, then unreciprocated love should not hurt. Yet, an unreciprocated love hurts because we want the people we love to love us back. Then in the first place, what we have for the other people cannot be love because it selfish. It's like an emotional transaction: I love you, you love me back.

And there's also this funny part about people. Most of us design people to love. And so we come up with a list of desirable characteristic traits we want to see in a potential love interest. When tried and tested that a particular kind of person isn't suitable for us, we move on to other choices, ticking off those 'failed' ones. It is an insult to Love's name when we claim to love someone if we think he or she pleases us.

And I hope I shall never make this mistake of loving wrongly and ignorantly. For I want to love a man despite all his flaws and wrongs, and to the end, he can be sure that he would always be loved - no matter what.

Lessons in Drawing

2005-12-07T17:11:00.000+08:00

A perfectionist might well never be an artist in his own right.

That, was a lesson my drawings taught me.

I love drawing. The love was already there when I started doodling nonsense. When I was a toddler, I drew on paper Mom gave me. When I was five, I drew on the underside of my bed, the sides of my parents' bed, the wardrobe surface - everywhere you can think of. Mom whacked me quite a number times for vandalism but the crime continued until I went into primary school. When I was eight, I drew in my assessment books secretly when Mom left me to myself during 'study-sessions'. And she once tore one of my uniforms for drawing instead of studying.

The funny thing was, the kid I was then loved to draw real stuff. When I say 'real stuff', it really means that I liked to draw realistic drawings. And I still now. I was particular about how a human should look like in my pictures. And to the best I could, I would draw them as real as possible. I remember how once, I discovered how to draw the high-heels on a woman's feet and I was so happy about that because kids around my age that time only knew how to draw flat shoes. And then at a tender age of around seven or eight, I discovered that women should have breasts. And so I incorporated the chest swelling in my women pictures from then on. For a period of time, I drew naked people (complete with the necessary parts) when I came across an art book Mom had. Once at my grandpa's house, I drew a naked man and a woman, reminiscent of Adam and Eve, and showed it to him. Imagine his shock. He reeled and started scolding a string of undecipherable Teochew words, presumably berating me for drawing such shameful stuff at such a young age. I was only eight.

My art teachers liked my drawings. And they frequently would tell my classmates to learn to incorporate some realism in their drawings, like what I did, instead of drawing deformed people with huge round heads without ears, and short and shapeless bodies.

Then suddenly, I lost drawing - its art and passion, almost everything.

When I drew on a few occasions, I was so angry with the state of my drawings that tears would spill. Because to me, what I drew lacked what I wanted. Life. Passion. Feeling. They weren't in my drawings. Worse still, the faces looked distorted. The human bodies weren't as magical when I first discovered them at age eight.

I just gave up.

Then, holidays came. And a few days back, I came across a very pretty face in a magazine. So inspired by the human face, I decided to experiment drawing a face as pretty as that one. It was completed and I gazed at it in awe because for such a long time, I never seemed to get 'it'. So I tried a second drawing. I wanted to draw a woman's face smiling. I did. But the process was not exactly a happy one for I was soon gripped by the disgust of the face staring back at me from the paper. I was angrier still when Mom pointed out and confirmed that my woman's face was distorted. When I was correcting the face, tears spilled again. But I told myself, never give up. The face was completed. Though it wasn't exactly what I had imagined earlier, relief washed over me. It was still a face alright. Distinguishable. Human-looking.

Day two. I started drawing again. Drawing from my imagination as I once did before. The face gradually manifested as one of a lady with her lips slightly apart. Prior to that, I read up on how to draw a good proportionate face. The face was so much better looking. And as I drew, for once I threw my expectations aside and concentrated on crafting a face and just that.

I rediscovered my childhood joy in drawing.

The perfectionist in me wanted to emulate the great artists and rejected my desire to learn as a result. If you cannot learn, you cannot improve. And if you don't enjoy learning, there's no way you can improve.

As a young kid, I drew what I wanted and I celebrated each effort in every drawing.

As an adolescent, I drew what I wanted and I booed each drawing for its imperfection.

Now in my late teen years, I have re-learnt the appreciation of every drawing and embrace each effort in every drawing.

Now, I see my man portrait and know his nose is abit crooked. But heck. Because every drawing is worthy in its own way.

Portrait of a Man

2005-12-06T09:14:00.000+08:00

Zhiru's Man

A less than ideal face that Zhiru PREFERS in an available (preferably) Caucasian boyfriend-going-to-be-husband.

Lips

2005-12-05T09:30:00.000+08:00

Woman with slightly parted lips

I certainly feel that this portrait is much better than the previous one and I hope my reader agrees. The previous face was not so realistic -just look at the eyes and the face is abit too big. Whatever. I have churned out another drawing from my imagination yesterday night, indulging my artistic sense. A few problems remained in this picture. I have yet to master the technique of shading; my shading is still rather amatuerish. I have yet to capture the liveliness of the eyes. But she's certainly my best work to date.

Young Girl

2005-12-04T07:02:00.000+08:00

Young Girl
( an inspiration from a very beautiful face in a magazine *lol*)

Grad Nite 2005

2005-12-03T08:01:00.000+08:00

Grad Nite 2005

Aqua(!!!) seniors & juniors

My senior class - 04S21

More pictures? Hee...

A Girl's Body

2005-11-30T21:23:00.000+08:00

Abs

Today, I had a quite interesting conversation with two girls (call them A and B for privacy reasons) who were attending the same time management workshop as I did. We three had formed a group to discuss how to categorise our daily activities as namely: Urgent and Important, Not Urgent but Important, Urgent but Not Important and Not Urgent and Not Important.

A said thus,"I think we should put sports under Urgent and Important."

"Wow, you exercise on your own!" I exclaimed, not in surprise but rather in a manner suggesting her to explain her seemingly shocking statement.

"Ya, I do pumpings and crunches at home." She then continued to talk about maintaining her abs flat.

"Same! I also use that Osim thing to keep my abs flat!" B enthused.

"Huh, crunches with that Osim thing?" I was incredulous.

"No, no... That Osim thing which wraps around your stomach...massages your stomach and breaks down the fats. You know, one side of my stomach has sort of curved inwards because the Osim thing seems to work on one side..."

"Orh...you are so spoilt, la!" A said in mock envy.

"Ya, la. Oh my God, I would never have such luxury to work my abs! I still have to manually work my abs!" I said.

"You do crunches too!" A said, her voice with an undertone of surprise.

"Yeah, I do 4 different sets of crunches. Each set consists of 12 reps,"I explained.

"Wa! You are so hardworking la! I'm very lazy one. One set of crunches will do," she declared. As she did, she reached over to touch my tummy, and then exclaimed,"Not bad!" I felt flattered.

Her act inspired B to reach out to touch her tummy as well.

"Ooi! B, you don't anyhow touch people's tummies! Haha!" A laughed as she tried to push B's hand away. I watched on, feeling quite amused.

Let's face it. Slim girls are attractive. But slim girls with toned and flab-less bodies are more attractive. Fergie darling, can I borrow your abs for my washboard?

Enough harping. Time management: I should go and do my crunches now. It's Urgent and Important.

Rain & misery

2005-11-30T14:24:00.000+08:00

Rain & misery

It is raining now.

I hear the muffled battering of the rain against the ground outside. At times, I hear the sudden, loud booms of thunder which then reverberates somewhere far away... The cold breeze teases my bare skin and slowly permeates my body. I feel its icy fingers wrapping around my heart and cruelly draining away all the possible happiness I might have felt minutes ago. Gloom settles in its new nest and breeds thoughts of misery and loneliness.

I sit silently and listen.

And then, I hear. Hear my own breathing.

Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Exhale...

My thoughts of misery and loneliness are with me. But I have become acutely aware of a new presence - the rhythmic breathing of a human.

There she sits quietly, her every breath sustaining the warmth of life in her.

Each breath relights life in every present moment, never will be extinguished by the rain.

I smile at the quiet realisation. And every thought of misery and loneliness evaporates with each

Inhale... Exhale...

Eye power

2005-11-28T13:28:00.000+08:00

Eye Power

To any Miss LonelyHeart out there, here's a glimmer of hope for you to find someone you like, or make someone fall for you!

Maybe for me too, huh? Whatever, but here's the good news.

Science has proven that prolonged eye contact with your person of interest helps to make him fall in love with you.

According to the iVillage article '5 Ways to Make Anyone Fall in Love with You', a Havard psychologist Zick Rubin did a research to discover a scientific method that could accurately measure the intimacy of a romantic relationship. It was found that, couples who are deeply in love with each other gaze at each other in the eye 75% of the time during the experiment, and are much slower withdrawing their gaze from each other when someone intrudes the conversation.

What is the link to making someone fall in love with you then? Apparently, when you give him your eyes 75% of the time of conversing, his brain becomes tricked into thinking that he is in love with you. As said, very loving couples gaze at each other alot and so when you do that, he is misled into thinking that he is in love with because he thinks he is gazing at you too. His body will release a love hormone called phenylethylamine (PEA) which causes him to have a sense of well-being and contentment, characteristic of someone in love. The more PEA, the more in love he is with you. Hey presto! You now hold a rein to his crazy heart.

Eye contact is a means of communication and a intensely emotional one too. You would have realised that you make eye contact with a stranger or anyone emotionally remote to you for less than one second. Even before half a second is reached, you would have torn your eyes away from that person. Unless you have intense feelings for the person -be it hatred or love- you won't bother even looking at them anyway.

It is no wonder that eye-contact is such a powerful flirting tool. If you allow your eyes to lay on the person you like for more than one second, and if he returns the gaze, chances are he's interested in you. Better still if he acknowledges you with a grin!

Com'on girls, give the boys an eye, man!

*Between: A Reflection

2005-11-27T13:46:00.000+08:00

*Between: A Reflection

* Between, sung by Vienna Teng in album Waking Hour (Virt Records)

We are not together here
though we lie entwined,
to make room for the other presence.
We both draw back in our minds.

An image creeps to the listener's mind: a couple (possibly married) snuggling up against each other on the bed, shrouded by the cold darkness of the night...and a palpable taciturnity that chills their hearts still. None speaks. It is so quiet. They look asleep. Yet, both are wide awake, their minds in turmoil, and they suffer in silence.

I have a prophecy
threatening to spill into words.
This growing certainty
of over.

She knows. There is this another person. No doubt of that. A separation seems imminent. But she shall keep quiet, refusing to declare this painful truth and accept it into her existence - just yet.

There once was a time I was sure of the bond,
when my hands and my tongue and my thoughts were enough.
We are the same but our lives move along
and the third one between replaces what once was love.

Memories pass in her mind as she savour each one with a sweet-bitterness. Oh, the carresses! The kisses! The husky murmurings of sweet-nothings! ...All but splintered fragments of the past... They all gradually faded away into nothingness as she melted away from his life - while everything seems to remain the same.

Freedom is being alone.
I fear liberation
but something more alive than silence
swallows conversation.
No pleasing drama
in subtle averted eyes.
The swelling fermata
as the chord dies.

She is scared of being alone. A fear courses through her body whenever she sees him, leaving a ghostly trail of haunted thoughts. He seems to read her thoughts and he shrinks away from her presence. The distance grows as they drift apart deliberately. The fear threatens to swallow her up as her world dims and slowly engulfs by a lonely gloom.

There's no denying we feel the third one;
we do
I'm tired of hiding and so are you.

He moves slightly. She jolts back from her thoughts and suddenly becomes aware of the moistness near her eyes. Pain is the reminder of reality. Courage is the healer of pain.

Chalet

2005-11-26T15:13:00.000+08:00

Whee! Chalet!

Whose butt is this?
(NOTE: No prize for correct answer.)

Activity: o5S21 Chalet Stay-over
Time: 22 Nov - 24 Nov
Venue: Downtown East
Fun factor: fuckin' good time!

They say pictures speak a thousand words. Here's a treat of pictures! =)

http://photobucket.com/albums/a370/elfianel/05S21%20chalet/

By the way, I have some pictures taken at 05S15's chalet. Oh man, it's freakin' good!

Two words. Wicked fun.

Splurge!

2005-11-21T11:31:00.000+08:00

I told my dad about four nights before that I needed to buy some clothes to wear for the Seniors' Night on 1 December. I can't believe that he actually gave my $150! Usually, I'd expect, say, $70 but I think he must have known that when daughters grow up...so do the shopping expenses... Ah well, whatever it is, I have spent about $130 within a few days.

First, I bought a pair of black career pants costing $49.

Second, I bought a black sleeveless formal shirt (with some elaborate patterns of course) for $43.

Lastly, I bought a black bag from Bega for $29. It's quite nice actually.

I spent so much (I know it may not be exorbitant for some richies) and I have serious doubts whether my dad would be as willing to give me $60 more this week for my chalet outing.... Argh!

Ice-cream auntie

2005-11-19T14:59:00.000+08:00

Ice-cream Auntie

This evening, I went home by the usual route which is along the sheltered pathway leading up to the traffic lights. Near these traffic lights was the ice-cream auntie. She is a common sight every day. But one has to see through this common-ness to feel the slight prick of compassionate pain at the heart.

From afar, one would observe her short and plump figure, carelessly clad in an oversized t-shirt and baggy knee-length shorts. She is a lady well in late middle-age. And age did not seem to bestow any bliss on her for if you care to examine her. Her already swarthy countenance is disfigured by an unsightly birth mark -an ugly brown formless shape- permanently embedded in the depths of her skin. And oh her eyes! Her eyes always seemed to conceal a silent, stoic suffering for they emanated an ineffable sadness. This industrious lady would always unfailingly set up her small ice-cream stall at the traffic-lights area in early afternoon, and as she sits or stands, depending on how tired her legs are, she would ring the bell at almost regular intervals to attract attention to her stall. People would walk past her, seemingly oblivious to her presence while occasionally, some would stand at her stall, purchasing an ice-cream waffle or other products. Sometimes, I would buy ice-cream from her and try to start a short casual conversation with her as she prepares my ice-cream. Her stall would stay there well into the late night and I must emphasize the word 'late'. Many a time, when I come home from late outings or prolonged stays in schools at around 11 pm, she would be there still, as if wistfully expecting more customers. And so she toils all day long, earning as much as she could, however meagre her earnings may be.

One must wonder what could have necessitated or even motivated this lady to work such long gruelling hours, regardless of rain or shine. I don't know but may I speculate that it could be because she has to maintain an expensive education of her son. I once saw this young teenage boy, not more than fifteen years of age, in TCHS uniform, helping that lady out at the ice-cream stall. It would be natural for anyone to assume the boy to be the lady's son and I did.

It was indeed an interesting sight to behold. For one, I would not expect anyone from that prestigious school to have such a humble family background. Also, it surprised me that she had such a young son, considering how aged she looked. Yet, reality suggested a truth far from my imagination that perhaps, she is supporting a disabled family member. Whatever the facts are, I would never know.

But I do remember vividly one incident when I bought an ice-cream waffle from her. As I took the waffle from her hands, I commented in Mandarin,"Auntie, it must be tough for you." She did not reply but smiled. A smile that spoke volumes of...sad truths not known to me and perhaps other people, including her family members...her son too.

So on this evening, I walked with my mother along this sheltered pathway and saw her...and not far from her, was this ice-cream stall manned by two much younger women in their thirties, selling ice-cream cones or waffles at one dollar for two. At this new stall, it was very much apparent that it was more popular than the auntie's for a small crowd was gathering at this stall. At the auntie's stall, there was none, not a single soul was there to buy her ice-cream.

What a wretched sight!

My heart took a hard stab and bled. The wound then festered into a new anger. An anger at those thoughtless, selfish women (fucking bitches!) who deliberately set up a competition for an evidently struggling auntie.

Yet, anger is helpless. And that gives way to another pain. A pain seeking an answer to an age-old question: Why is there suffering in this world? I know the answer and the knowledge brings tears to my eyes.