I deflect an arrow
A well meaning arrow
That aims to protect
Me
Its trajectory:
I'm unsure
I bolt to intercept-
Velvet lining
The diamond is unscathed
The diamond does not know
How much do I know?
As much as I have been showered
I drink in felicity
Unpolished
A diamond is but a stone
But I am confident
My diamond is forever
Tuesday, July 22
I couldn't enter the site. That was going to be RM440 down the drain. Not to mention a whole decade's worth of nagging.
How could I mistype my mother's name? I tried a gazillion permutations, to no avail. And there was no password retrieval system. Even if I called to ask if there was, what was I supposed to say? I forgot my mother's name? That was to be the joke of year.
My heart fluttered in its cage like a desperate bird, for I was sure the world was ending.
Wait, my helpline.
"I'm going to die." This I repeated to the person on the other end. Frantic. Pulsing. Dying.
"What's going on? Babe, calm down. Tell me."
So I said, "I'm going to die."
When rationality finally took control, I related my predicament, and was rewarded with an unexpected scolding.
The poor guy thought I had cancer or some terminal illness.
It stung, and there was nothing I could do. I went to bed early that night so I could wake up to make the phone call that would determine my fate.
As it turned out, the site only works with IE. I was using Firefox, not only on my comp, but also William's. Bill Gates must really own America.
From this I learned never to lose my head, or risk being bundled in a straight jacket. And also, for anything, anything at all, there is my helpline, who would, with the perfect balance of patience and kindness, knock some sense into me.
How could I mistype my mother's name? I tried a gazillion permutations, to no avail. And there was no password retrieval system. Even if I called to ask if there was, what was I supposed to say? I forgot my mother's name? That was to be the joke of year.
My heart fluttered in its cage like a desperate bird, for I was sure the world was ending.
Wait, my helpline.
"I'm going to die." This I repeated to the person on the other end. Frantic. Pulsing. Dying.
"What's going on? Babe, calm down. Tell me."
So I said, "I'm going to die."
When rationality finally took control, I related my predicament, and was rewarded with an unexpected scolding.
The poor guy thought I had cancer or some terminal illness.
It stung, and there was nothing I could do. I went to bed early that night so I could wake up to make the phone call that would determine my fate.
As it turned out, the site only works with IE. I was using Firefox, not only on my comp, but also William's. Bill Gates must really own America.
From this I learned never to lose my head, or risk being bundled in a straight jacket. And also, for anything, anything at all, there is my helpline, who would, with the perfect balance of patience and kindness, knock some sense into me.
Wednesday, July 2
How shall I have fun today?
That, for the past few weeks, was the only thought that entered my mind each morning. To enjoy myself, and to contribute to the foreign country's GDP, were my missions.
But the once-in-a-lifetime trip turned out to be more, much more than that.
According to Mooi, sharing a holiday is like having a microscopic view into the travel partner's character and personality. I cannot agree more.
I expected a hassle free holiday, short trips with different friends. The final leg of the journey- I wasn't so sure. My, was I surprised.
Did I harbour too high hopes because of our past encounters? I thought of how good we were together last year. Perhaps I overlooked some tell-tale signs? It was as if being in a different continent made you a different person. Halfway through I felt gratified that I did not travel as initially planned.
I suppose I was affected by it to a limited extent. Thankfully the remaining company and the awesome sights more than made up for the disappointment.
But Spain, ah, Spain was where the real fun started!
If my brain were spread out like a mind map, one would see clearly that Gaudi and "mini-ducks", and of course, Sweden, will always be directly associated with you. I knew you were easygoing (I'd like to think that I am quite too, and that I didn't pester you into visiting places that did not interest you), but we hit off with a solid note, didn't we?
While I basked in the warmth of friendship that Spain provided in abundance, Germany manifested the special bond between family members.
The genuine hospitality is an infinite times better than that found in any 6-star hotel. I felt so comfortable, and with gentle coaxing from the various beers you introduced to me, our conversation flowed like never before. I discovered what I've been missing, and that has only made me want to know you better. I'm glad I could spend some time with you, and I quietly believe that wherever the tides bring us, we will remain as we are: great cousins.
Now, time for my Oscar moment:
This trip would have been impossible without the support of Mum and Dad. Thank you for financing this incredibly expensive holiday of mine. And thank you Mum for having a sleepless night worrying for me when my luggage was "lost in transportation".
Thank you too, Fatty, for the countless e-mails. Words fail to explain how keeping in contact with you brightened my days.
Thank you to all the friendly and helpful people I've met throughout my trip. Every little bit succeeded in making the small yellow-skinned tourist a happy one.
And lastly, thank you to all my travel pals. I shed some old skin, took in a lot of exciting sights and knowledge, and discarded some excess baggage.
I had immense fun.
That, for the past few weeks, was the only thought that entered my mind each morning. To enjoy myself, and to contribute to the foreign country's GDP, were my missions.
But the once-in-a-lifetime trip turned out to be more, much more than that.
According to Mooi, sharing a holiday is like having a microscopic view into the travel partner's character and personality. I cannot agree more.
I expected a hassle free holiday, short trips with different friends. The final leg of the journey- I wasn't so sure. My, was I surprised.
Did I harbour too high hopes because of our past encounters? I thought of how good we were together last year. Perhaps I overlooked some tell-tale signs? It was as if being in a different continent made you a different person. Halfway through I felt gratified that I did not travel as initially planned.
I suppose I was affected by it to a limited extent. Thankfully the remaining company and the awesome sights more than made up for the disappointment.
But Spain, ah, Spain was where the real fun started!
If my brain were spread out like a mind map, one would see clearly that Gaudi and "mini-ducks", and of course, Sweden, will always be directly associated with you. I knew you were easygoing (I'd like to think that I am quite too, and that I didn't pester you into visiting places that did not interest you), but we hit off with a solid note, didn't we?
While I basked in the warmth of friendship that Spain provided in abundance, Germany manifested the special bond between family members.
The genuine hospitality is an infinite times better than that found in any 6-star hotel. I felt so comfortable, and with gentle coaxing from the various beers you introduced to me, our conversation flowed like never before. I discovered what I've been missing, and that has only made me want to know you better. I'm glad I could spend some time with you, and I quietly believe that wherever the tides bring us, we will remain as we are: great cousins.
Now, time for my Oscar moment:
This trip would have been impossible without the support of Mum and Dad. Thank you for financing this incredibly expensive holiday of mine. And thank you Mum for having a sleepless night worrying for me when my luggage was "lost in transportation".
Thank you too, Fatty, for the countless e-mails. Words fail to explain how keeping in contact with you brightened my days.
Thank you to all the friendly and helpful people I've met throughout my trip. Every little bit succeeded in making the small yellow-skinned tourist a happy one.
And lastly, thank you to all my travel pals. I shed some old skin, took in a lot of exciting sights and knowledge, and discarded some excess baggage.
I had immense fun.
Thursday, June 5
Friday, May 30
Now that the traumatizing moment has passed, I can concentrate on having fun. Suffice to say that the results were satisfactorily lousy. I'm surprised I managed to scrape through SS with a decent grade though.
I suppose after the rejection by Alberta the quality of my shock absorber has increased significantly.
Anyway, having delivered the unsavoury news, let me share with you the most beautiful place I've been to thus far- Bray.
A simple search on Wikitravel will probably form an image of a bygone coastal town in your head, but that's exactly the way I like it. Grace, Becca and I hiked up Bray Head, with the sushi nestling safely in Grace's backpack. The ascend was tiring; my legs started screaming when we were only halfway through. The view at the peak, however, was most rewarding.
Grace and I looking like siamese twins on the stony cliff.
The sky and sea diffuse into each other. It took my breath away.
One of Becca's rare appearances.
I suppose after the rejection by Alberta the quality of my shock absorber has increased significantly.
Anyway, having delivered the unsavoury news, let me share with you the most beautiful place I've been to thus far- Bray.
A simple search on Wikitravel will probably form an image of a bygone coastal town in your head, but that's exactly the way I like it. Grace, Becca and I hiked up Bray Head, with the sushi nestling safely in Grace's backpack. The ascend was tiring; my legs started screaming when we were only halfway through. The view at the peak, however, was most rewarding.
Grace and I looking like siamese twins on the stony cliff.
The sky and sea diffuse into each other. It took my breath away.
One of Becca's rare appearances.Grace should be awake anytime soon, then we'll be walking to Becca's place for tandoori chicken. Till later!
Friday, April 25
The latest story about how Singapore's favourite fugitive, Mas Selamat, escaped has been released.
Some "private time" in the toilet cubicle with an ungrilled window? CCTV cameras not yet in commission? And I heard, 7 rolls of toilet paper to cushion his fall? Most people don't have their prayers answered even on their deathbeds. Clearly someone had been praying very hard.
To me, it's a gross error that's almost, well, laughable. Had Mas Selamat been kept locked in any hostel in Singapore, he would have faced a tougher challenge en route to freedom. Take for example the NUS High School Residence, floor 11. Perhaps he could have jumped off the ledge if he sprouted wings. The fire escape method is suicidal. Good luck trying to rig the numerous CCTVs around the main hostel building. ( Though he could have observed the times when the security guard takes his 20 winks or advises an unknowing hostel kid to take the MRT rather than the bus to Orchard.)
Mr Wong, the hostel manager, certainly had all grounds covered and with this I wholeheartedly recommend him as a counter-terrorist expert.
Plus, NUSHSR is located just next to a Catholic church. We really should have more faith in our man- Mas Selamat.
*
I miss home and I can't wait for the holidays. Please come soon.
*
This is my 100th post. So much for blogging being a fling (Joleen, 2006). =)
Some "private time" in the toilet cubicle with an ungrilled window? CCTV cameras not yet in commission? And I heard, 7 rolls of toilet paper to cushion his fall? Most people don't have their prayers answered even on their deathbeds. Clearly someone had been praying very hard.
To me, it's a gross error that's almost, well, laughable. Had Mas Selamat been kept locked in any hostel in Singapore, he would have faced a tougher challenge en route to freedom. Take for example the NUS High School Residence, floor 11. Perhaps he could have jumped off the ledge if he sprouted wings. The fire escape method is suicidal. Good luck trying to rig the numerous CCTVs around the main hostel building. ( Though he could have observed the times when the security guard takes his 20 winks or advises an unknowing hostel kid to take the MRT rather than the bus to Orchard.)
Mr Wong, the hostel manager, certainly had all grounds covered and with this I wholeheartedly recommend him as a counter-terrorist expert.
Plus, NUSHSR is located just next to a Catholic church. We really should have more faith in our man- Mas Selamat.
*
I miss home and I can't wait for the holidays. Please come soon.
*
This is my 100th post. So much for blogging being a fling (Joleen, 2006). =)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)